The chimes sound. “I’ll get it,” Michael Robeson says to his wife, Denise. “Hospice must’ve forgotten something.” He opens the door and finds a man about shoulder-height to himself. The fellow is wearing a black suit, white shirt, and red bowtie.
When my broadcasting partner, Screwdriver Dan, drops his jaw, I think he has a dental problem. When the station manager texts me to stop by her office after our show, the thought of a raise flashes through my mind. The first inkling I get that something’s wrong is when our call screener informs us the… Continue reading The End Of The World by Dave Henson
The author of this piece has been around since the beginning and it’s lovely that Leila has chosen one of his pieces to Rerun – this is what she said:
One morning over coffee, Jessica says she wants us to take a horse to church. My wife doesn’t mean using the animal for transportation. She wants to walk a horse up the steps, down the aisle, and let it stand there during services.
Well Leila did a sterling job sending in a whole batch of Rerun suggestions just before Christmas so we had a lovely supply for the start of the New Year. This is one from a long time friend of the site with an interesting canon of work. This is what she said:
Leila has gone back quite a way with this one and singled out a long time friend of the site. David Henson has stuck with us for a long time and it’s great to see his work getting another moment in the sun. This is what she said:
“Letti the Yeti. Letti the Yeti,” the children chant. … “Mama, what’s Yeti?” “The Yeti is a monster, Letti. It’s also called Bigfoot.”
Still half asleep, I look to see if I need to fill the bird feeders before going to work and am shocked at the sight of a huge hot air balloon in the backyard. I get dressed, hurry outside and find a man, woman, boy, and girl in the basket.
A young man sat on a darkened stoop with a small child in his arms. There was lamplight at the head of the street and lamplight at the end, but the stoop where the young man sat was at the middle of the block. Only a bit of the light stretched down to where he… Continue reading Preach by Michael Henson
Dr. Simmons studies the results of our daughter’s blood tests. “Mr. and Mrs. Jacobsen, I’ll get right to it.” Glenna leans forward. I try to squint away the words I don’t want to hear. “Your daughter has Byrd’s Syndrome.” The weight of his diagnosis lands on my chest. My wife gasps.
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