 |
 |
| SHORT STORY
CLIPS |
Just the Ticket (1245
words)
Barnaby had a neck brace choking his chubby neck.
He limped along, one foot bound in a sneaker, the other covered only by a grey
athletic sock. When he walked, he drug his left foot as though he were hobbled.
He carried a Pepsi in his left hand and brought it to his lips, sucking in a
tiny sip, pulling it from his lips then pushing it back to his open mouth
immediately for another draw. It was like watching a wind-up doll, walking
sipping, walking, sipping as though his arm had to pump the can to his face in
unison with his leg.
Dead Love (473 words)
The old man leaned against a
worn rucksack, his back hunched against a stained wall of the Firenze station.
A knit hat was perched on his skull, lopped to the side like a lazy sock.
Fragments of grey hair wafted around his ears like broken guitar strings. He
slept restless, twitching legs heaving through torn trousers. One leg, smaller
than its counterpart, lay limp across the other as though it belonged to a
child.
Perfect (1423 words)
Neal was making small talk with Rita Thompson at the post
office at 9am the next day when he heard the sirens blasting through town
towards Simmons Ridge. The fire truck, two squad cars and the county ambulance
meant real trouble in a town this small. His pager was still going off when he
jumped into his truck, jamming the four wheel drive through its gears to catch
the parade of sirens. By the time he arrived, six men were carrying a body bag
from the underbrush just beneath the old bridge, its weight banging their legs
as they climbed from the ravine.
|
If interested, please email
me for the full product.
|
| SHORT
STORY CLIPS ::
MEMOIR ::
HUMOR ::
POETRY ::
NOVELS |
|
|
|
|
