I wish there were giants. Real, human giants. You know. Twelve feet tall. I was watching a program on the history channel the other night and a gentleman was showing his magnificent collection of antique guns and swords. He was most proud of a sword from the 19th century that had been made for a man described as “a lighthouse among lamp posts.” The sword was so long that the six foot tall collector couldn’t unsheathe it in one pull. It had belonged to a Kentuckian that was seven feet, nine inches tall. I would very much like to have been that man’s friend. I am a non-hugger and I come from a long line of non-huggers. Growing up, I… Continue >>
Bill was my best friend from college, where we were both studying to become High School Math teachers. We were both in our late twenties, we both had wives and small children and were struggling to get through college and on to a better life. We met in Calculus class and hooked up the first day because it turned out that we were in the wrong Calculus class and shared a bonding moment of embarrassment. For the next three years, until we graduated, we were Ray-and-Bill, never just Ray, never just Bill. I tutored Bill in all his math classes and dragged him through his ignorance to graduation. Bill tutored me in life. A quiet man, Bill taught me that… Continue >>
I was, I suppose you could say, in a PREpartum depression. It started when my wife, Connie, decided it was time to have a baby. I was thirty-one and she was twenty-eight, a circumstance which I reminded her in my argument against the idea was no cause for alarm. But after she’d voiced her ambition–and thereby made it real to herself–the achievement of motherhood became an obsession for her and she would not leave me alone about it. Finally, after several months, my reluctance to enlist in her project compelled her to resort to a not so veiled threat: “Steven,” she said. “Either we have a baby now or I’m going to leave you.” All right, I told her, get… Continue >>
Elizabeth folded a plaid shirt, size eight–the same shirt she’d folded three times already. Her neighbor, Lara, volunteered to help her in the garage this spring morning for the sale, so Elizabeth let her pile the boy’s clothing and re-write some of the prices she’d written earlier on masking tape and little cardboard signs. She didn’t know what price at all to put on some items. She straightened, tucked, folded every size from infant to eight. She didn’t mind it, but she should sit down because she felt so drained, she only took time today to put on an old house dress that came to her calves. Her stockings were still rolled down to her slippers, and her hair straggled… Continue >>
HOLE # 1, PAR 5, 516 YARDS, #3 HANDICAP, NOTE: WATER ON LEFT “Got some crazy pussy last night,” Tom shouted to us. He was standing on the first tee taking practice swings. Larry skidded our cart to a stop near the ball washer. “Your wife went nuts in the sack, Tom?” asked Larry, sitting in the golf cart filling out the names on the scorecard. “I’ve got an idea,” I said. I stepped out of the cart drew my driver out of my bag. “No one can talk bullshit ’til we get to the fourth hole.” “Who made you the boss, Jack Riley?” asked Tom. “Where’s EdBob?” asked Larry. “He’s always late,” I said. “You wouldn’t believe her nipples,”… Continue >>
Often, usually around the holidays, my large, extended family causes me to go to my “Happy Place” (usually, The Bahamas). I can go there any time I want… without moving a muscle. All I do is look to the sky and make myself believe that it is the sky above a beach in the Bahamas. I’m there that quickly. “It would be a gray world without the family,” says my wife, Linda. It’s always the same: My niece, Beth, calls a month before Thanksgiving to invite me, Linda, and our daughter, Shelley, to the Annual Thanksgiving Family Feast. “And, this year, Jimmy is doing the Small Turkey in my back yard. He bought a deep fryer at Big K” Beth… Continue >>
Ever realized that the writing on the page is nowhere near as good as the idea in your head? You’re not alone…
pjmorledge.com is having a short story competition. Check it out.
Bob Jacobs has been the administrator and member of many successful online writing, creative writing and short story forums (fora??) and has written a great couple of articles about how you too can make it through the forest of critique and encouragement… Bob has previously had this short story featured on Backhand Stories.