Tag Archives: #shortstory

Safe Passage

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Bombs rained down around the village, now a target in a tyrant’s senseless war. Heorhiy thumb the cracked screens on the electronic gadgets in his hands hoping the screens and circuitry survived the concussive force of nearby explosions.

He was a farmer, not a fighter but she knew he would defend his homeland to the end. First worked to secure safe passage for his family. Lesya did not want to leave him but he insisted. She understood and accepted his need to see them safe. She watched him frantic, harried, as he searched for a signal from anywhere. Seeking information on the safest corridor, ensuring they safely fled to refugee centers across the border.

As they joined the convoy of millions moving north she could see he was torn, tempted to stay. She begged him to abandon this foolish fight and stay with them. The losses inflicted were enormous. She knew staying was a death sentence.

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The Ancient Gods

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Dr. Hiltunen stood at the center of the dig site deciphering an inscription carved on stone. As he read aloud he recognized the verse as a variation on an old Finnish rune. Ancient mythology had consumed him from a young age.

As he continued, the winds began swirling and the clouds spun clockwise. The doctor did not notice the coming storm even as the others scramble for shelter. The sky above Hiltunen opened and a rainbow column descended from the heavens. The doctor and the stone were pulled through the beam into the clouds, into Asgard.

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Hayin’ Season

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Late June in Ontario, Dad’s station wagon pack and pointed northward. It was hayin’ season on my Uncle’s farm and for the next week it was all hands on deck.

Riding the fields, we’d watch our fathers, row upon row, hooking the rectangular blocks emerging from the contraption sandwiched between tractor and trailer, neatly stacking the bales, back to front.

Somewhere in the middle we’d play in the hayblock forts fashioned for us while they toiled in the midday sun.

As always, the harvest would come to an end but we wished we could live on the farm forever.

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Jack’s Secret

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Elsie and Jack had dated for awhile. They’d been to her apartment but any suggestion of going to his place was met with resistance. She thought nothing of it at first but as time passed it became odd. Was he hiding something? A wife, children, his victims? She thought the worst as she slipped the key from his chain…

Everything seemed in order walking through the immaculate brownstone. Leaving the bedroom until last, Elsie opened the door and came face to face with Jack’s mannequin.  

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Good at Goodbyes

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Fourteen years, I’m certain she was shocked we’d made it this far and had likely thought about leaving at least a couple of times a week from about year four onwards. I believed I must have some magical powers that kept her hanging in. What else could it be?

Me, I’m just an average guy with an average job. Two nights a week at the local tavern with the boys plus golf in the summer and curling all winter long. Never less than five or six cases of empties waiting to be returned to the beer store and a fridge full of new ones just waiting for me to walk past. Trust me the wait is never a long one.

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Twelve Steps

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“I knew it was going to be one of those days,” Jeannie started. “When I pulled back the curtains, the bright blue of the spring sky burned in my eyes and my temples pounded — boom / boom / boom — from the wings of a butterfly that fluttered by the window and too much cheap wine.

“I didn’t think it could get any worse,” she continued, “but my mouth dropped open when some dark haired naked dude stepped through the bedroom door and into my living room. ‘Babe, what a night; you got da bod and da moves,’ he said in that greasy New York accent I despised.”

“I wished I was a ghost, I wanted to disappear into the weaving of the couch fabric. Unfortunately, I can recount too many stories like this one. I was scuffling and knew it, I’d hit rock bottom. That is why I am here seeking help. I am Jeannie and I am an alcoholic.”

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The Lament of an Older Parent

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Having kids when you are young is a very difficult task; I mean, most days you struggle to care for yourself. Christ, you’re barely an adult, still trying to reconcile the memories of your parent’s handy work with your naive idea of parenting. Everything is a crisis, usually warranting a trip to the family practitioner or the emergency room. Nothing is more embarrassing than waiting six hours to watch a doctor slap a band-aid on a scraped knee and send you home.

A distance from your own upbringing and the knowledge gathered through life provides you with a sagacious foresight that translates into a more confident parenting experience. The problem for older parents is how tired they are at the end of every day; why do those little rug rats need to be so damned rambunctious!

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Better Off

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“She’s so capricious! Who in hell is she to tell me to ‘accept the ramifications’ of my actions?” an angry Romeo bellowed. “I’m better off without her!

“What now, Julian?  I can’t just go on without her?” Romeo queried through melancholy.

“Hey Jules, what say we check out the cougars prowling Blue Suede Sue’s tonight.”

Blue Suede Sue’s was a successful fifties / sixties style nightclub in Mississauga, Ontario. The best I can tell was claimed as a victim of COVID-19 restrictions. It was the place to go from the mid-nineties onwards if you enjoyed dancing, drinking, and having a good time.
…and yes it did have it share of ‘cougars’ out on the prowl, especially on Friday and Saturday nights.

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Not Me

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My heart races as the world closes in. Periphery blurring to gray as my jaw tightens. The room seemingly devoid of air. Fingertips numb and tingling, I clutch at the pain in my chest…

Embarrassed and disoriented, I wake to the voices of the paramedics. As I recover I downplay the significance but inside I’m freaking out. Could I have had a heart attack at 27?

After several hours in the ER, the doctor shares his diagnosis, “Your heart looks good, I suspect it was an anxiety attack.”

“Me, panic?” I reply. “Not a chance. You better check again.”

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Before I die…

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Time...

At 29, I wrote a list of the things I wanted to do before I die…

It was long and varied and even as I crossed items off, it continued to grow. At 74 years and 3 months, and just diagnosed with terminal cancer, I may never complete that list. We may be reticent to admit it but no one has the time to do everything they want, and I will not mourn for things left undone. I choose to celebrate that which I have been fortunate to experience and the friends and colleagues whose paths crossed mine along the way; they are the treasures I will take with me from this world.

Until the day I seek redemption before my maker, I will continue to live and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find the time to cross a couple more items from my list before the clock winds down to its final tick.

Disclaimer: For the record, I am not 74+ years old yet and I do not have cancer. These six fictitious sentences were inspired by Sadje’s What Do You See? image prompt. It started me thinking about how someone just diagnosed with a terminal illness may view their bucket list when faced with the inevitable. If and when I get there I hope I handle it like the 74 year old in my narrative above.

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