March 23, 2010

From “Côte d’Ébène” by Donovan Williams

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“You don’t understand me,” Brown cried. “This city’s about to fall! She’ll be killed if she stays! I’m just trying to do my job!”

The bartender sighed. “Listen to me, Marine. Perhaps you are right; perhaps when the rebels come they will kill Ms. Anne. But perhaps not. Perhaps the rebel at the very front of the column was a schoolmate of hers. Perhaps the soldiers that burst in here know her from playing in the streets. She grew up here, and cannot believe the land would allow any harm to come.”

“But…”

“I have survived several coups, Marine. I will survive this one as well. The men are always thirsty. They are thirsty for other things as well, and if Ms. Anne wishes to wait, to see her old school friends’ faces when the men come for her, who are you to deny her? Go. Ms. Anne does not want to leave, and I will shoot you if you try and take her.”

 

March 22, 2010

From “Savage Duchess” by G. Franklin Corley

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The book had obviously been well-used; it was worn and tattered, so much so that Kim could barely make out the title: “Collected Rhymes and Verse, 5th ed. 1919. Brylhard Faberhart, editor.”

She ran her hand over the cover, feeling the decaying cloth that held the volume together. Gingerly, Kim made her way to the attic window. Carefully, she opened the book and held it up to the light. Written in ink on the first page were the words “To Francine, with love and hope, from John. Dec. 24, 1920.”

“He gave this to her,” Kim murmured. “He gave this to her less than a week before he died.”

 

March 21, 2010

From “Unity” by Claudette Armstrong

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An ancient Ford Model T lies in the center of the field, slowly rusting away. Bare rungs that once held a roof jut nakedly into the cold morning air. Stiff oxidized springs squat forlornly where a driver had once sat; the soft padding long ago dispersed by countless mice and birds. The entire front end of the vehicle is missing, its parts no doubt scavenged to prolong the lives of other vehicles. It looks like the skeleton of some forgotten animal, forever lifeless and condemned to stand as a memorial to what once had been.

“Are you sure this is it?” Sam says.

Her grandfather pokes a finger through what looks like a bullet hole on one of the rocker panels. “How could I forget?”

 

March 19, 2010

From “The Poison Pride” by Aurelio Frank

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Harve shook his head. “No. I won’t. You can’t make me.”

“Why not?”

Harve’s eyes flashed. “I don’t need to explain myself to you!” he shouted, “I don’t owe you anything! I said NO, and I mean it. Now leave me alone.”

“You’re just afraid,” came the reply. “You’re a coward and a weakling.”

“Wrong.” Harve said through clenched teeth. “I despise you–and I’m not going to let you have you the pleasure of seeing me give in.”

“I’ll make you.”

“Good! Go ahead and try. Nothing could be better than spitting in your face when you try to muscle me into doing things your way.” Harve smiled bitterly. “Go ahead and try.”

“All right. I’ll enjoy wiping that smile off.”

 

March 17, 2010

From “Escape to Sea” by R. Maxwell Clay

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Joshua nodded. He glanced out the window, eyes streaming with tears. The intense light had faded from his eyes, and now they brimmed with sunlight.

“So what do we do now?” Margie said. “They’ll be looking for us. When Wright doesn’t report, they’ll send someone out.”

“We’re stabbed the Entente in the back,” Lightoller sighed. “We’ve stabbed the Germans in the back. Everybody here is going to be wanted wherever we land.”

“We’ve got to go on,” Joshua said, finding his voice. “Henriques and Lily gave us that obligation through their sacrifice. If we sit here, if we turn ourselves in, if we give up…we’ve betrayed everything they gave up for us.”

There was silence for a moment. “So what do we do now?” Margie asked again.

“We live,” Joshua said, “and we keep on living.”

 

March 16, 2010

From “The Withering of Deerton” by Gerard Potts

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And so it was that the Center was boarded up and locked. Weeds grew in the sandy volleyball pits, and the vibrant red letters faded. Six months after its closure and the firing of Jon Eckles, the city council approved the center’s demolition as a derelict building; they cited “safety” as their primary concern. The equipment that had stocked the Youth Center was sold at auction or destroyed along with the building.

A year later, the council approved a plan to build low-income housing on the plot, saying it would increase tax revenue by attracting students from nearby college towns. That same year, ninety percent of the high school’s graduating class of 137 left the town. When the new apartments opened, 97 people had signed leases.

 

March 15, 2010

From “Last Days at Eveline Manor” by Kevin Rockwell

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Jim gave a wry smile. “I see a little problem with your idea, Mary.” he said playfully.

“And what would that be, sir?” Mary asked with exaggerated care.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Jim was gone in a flash, laughing and running.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Mary lunged after him, giggling, but Jim was already far ahead.

They chased each other about the grounds as the shadows grew long and the light golden, either ignoring the pall that hung over the next few days or willfully disregarding it.

 

March 13, 2010

From “Brokedown” by Benjamin Johnson

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Harry gnawed meditatively on the end of a pencil, leaving deep tooth marks.

“That’s a bad habit,” I reminded him, as I always did.

“And you have a bad habit of reminding me that it’s a bad habit,” came the standard reply.

Everyone has a nervous habit, and Harry simply preferred pencil-chewing. He claimed it was cheaper than smoking, and better for the environment to boot. In front of the bank of computer monitors in his apartment, there was always a fresh batch of pencils in a little jar. I once got a good laugh by replacing one with a yellow pen, which burst and gave Harry a blue mouth for a week.

Don’t get me wrong–I want to be sad about what happened. But how can I be, when every memory I have of Harry is so much fun?

 

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