All Stories, General Fiction

The Last of the Roses by Tom Sheehan.

That morning I was a thorn between two roses. My wife Kay sent me out to water the flowers along the front and the driveway side of the house, and my mother, just now marking her first year as a widow and not yet a pest by visiting too often, coming for the day. It… Continue reading The Last of the Roses by Tom Sheehan.

General Fiction, Short Fiction

 The Quiet, Empty Bedrooms of Saugus by Tom Sheehan 

                          As all of earth once growled and gnarled its way to an instant conflagration, a calamitous roar, all its gears beginning to shift, in the near-middle of the last century, Saugus, Massachusetts, a small town just north of Boston, started to empty its bedrooms… the ones in the attic, in the space out… Continue reading  The Quiet, Empty Bedrooms of Saugus by Tom Sheehan 

All Stories, General Fiction

 A Little Red Wagon, a Long-remembered Face III by Tom Sheehan

One Christmas many years ago there was for me one present from my parents, a little, done-over red wagon with a long hauling handle, and slatted sides. The sides were for extra cargo! For overload! The name, the logo, of the wagon has not stuck with me, but its ownership has. That the wounded wagon,… Continue reading  A Little Red Wagon, a Long-remembered Face III by Tom Sheehan

Short Fiction

Literally Reruns – Johnny Igoe, Spellbinder Remembered by Tom Sheehan.

I view Tom Sheehan’s Johnny Igoe, Spellbinder Remembered as more of a link to rather than an item lost to the enveloping past. This tale is full of remembrance, Ireland, poetry and a melancholy for those little things lost. There are certain persons in our lives (sadly, too few) who make you sad to think… Continue reading Literally Reruns – Johnny Igoe, Spellbinder Remembered by Tom Sheehan.

All Stories, General Fiction

Hard-pressed My River Is by Tom Sheehan

Even with a personality of its own, my Saugus River is hard-pressed to be itself… so many things have happened to it, on it, with it, because of it. Did I dream all these scattered events, these small terrors? Perhaps. I was dreamy as a boy, romantic as a young man, possessed now. Possessed.

All Stories, General Fiction

Smoker’s Holiday by Tom Sheehan

Ahead, Big Coppitt Key flared suddenly behind the rowing fisherman who had rescued him, like carnivals appear around far corners, though sounds not audible. Randy had no idea how he had gotten out here on the Gulf, afloat in a dory. He’d only guess. His head hurt. His ass hurt. His gut hurt. Blisters rode… Continue reading Smoker’s Holiday by Tom Sheehan

All Stories, General Fiction

From an Appalachian Peak, a Small Red Star for Me and My Father by Tom Sheehan

This appointment came when light tired, this arrangement, this syzygy of him and me and the still threat of a small red star standing some time away at my back, deeper than a grain of memory. I am a quarter mile from him, hard upward on this rugged rock he could look up to if… Continue reading From an Appalachian Peak, a Small Red Star for Me and My Father by Tom Sheehan

All Stories, General Fiction, Romance

Cold Night’s Dark Advances by Tom Sheehan

And always it is this Gift-giver, this woman from the other side of midnight, this darkness that is not taken from. And she comes in pieces, trajectories, soft angles and planes, curves from a world galore I look for in this, her classroom of touch, taste, and sleek terrors wherein she says, Hello, Two-Dream Tommy,… Continue reading Cold Night’s Dark Advances by Tom Sheehan