Kindle is one of the greatest inventions since the pop-top beer can. Anyone who has had to pack and move hundreds of books from one place to another should be grateful for it. I look at my tablet, amazed that I have thousands upon thousands of pages stored in it; enough volumes to make my place look like that of a hoarder. I now own maybe three hundred paper books–down from the high of about fifteen hundred I had on hand in the 90’s.
Continue reading “Week 476: Xtra, Xtra Read All About It; Five, Make That Six Good Reads; Inked Jocularity”Category: All Stories
Fractured by Lisa Lahey
I sat in Clarice’s office every week. My bedroom closet was bigger. A black leather couch with holes in it took up half the room. White stuffing like cottage cheese spilled out of it. Her pine desk overflowed with files. Clarice had more books on her wall than a library. They were in boxes on the floor. All that knowledge. Nowhere to put it.
Continue reading “Fractured by Lisa Lahey”When Pain Grew a Beard by Rania Hellal
It’s been almost a month now since she first became acquainted with pain.
When she’d first glanced at him, half dazed under the strong pull of morphine, she knew straight away, even then, that she would never forget that face.
It was the face of a young man; Plump at the cheeks and lips and sharp at the jaws. Round and soft where one would expect it to be, yet angular in all the right places.
A perfectly balanced face, she thought.
However, it was the eyes –or rather the lack of them- that grabbed her attention, almost by the throat.
Continue reading “When Pain Grew a Beard by Rania Hellal”Initiation by Fiver
Okay. I’m being serious now. Not that I haven’t been serious all along. But this I gotta say. If there’s anything…anything at all that’s important to me, it concerns this matter—this matter of the heart.
So…
Continue reading “Initiation by Fiver”Threshold by Amy Tryphena
Ghosts of the old world make their presence still known upon the moors. Known by their ancient stone walls and standing stones that still litter the landscape. The walkers, incongruous in their primary colours, garish symbols of the twenty first century.
Continue reading “Threshold by Amy Tryphena”Friendship by Brooklyn Peters
In a house in the woods, smoke churned and twined through the red bricks and out into the cold autumn air. A very pale girl sat on a sloping hill and watched the smoke huff and puff and disappear.
She remembers now. It does not always stay with her, like a word on the tip of your tongue. She can almost taste it but in the end it evades her, staying silent and unknowable. Today is different.
Continue reading “Friendship by Brooklyn Peters”Sunday Whatever Horton Hears You by Rosemary Grant
This is another of those stories that we really wanted to publish but for various reasons it wasn’t a good fit for the usual posts. It was too good to pass over and so – we give you-
Horton Hears You by Rosemary Grant
The paramedics found him in the snow at a bus stop, nursing what they called a Hennepin Avenue cocktail: grape juice and Listerine, mixed half-and-half. When he got to the emergency department, he did nothing but stand at the door of his room and stare through the glass. I walked in and introduced myself as his nursing assistant. He took off his Horton Hears A Who! t-shirt and said he was cold. I asked if he wanted a sandwich. He replied: “I never killed anyone.”
He stood in the corner of the room as I took his blood pressure and temperature. He didn’t look at me. His arms were circled with lines of round cigarette burns, spiraling down his palm and across his hands. Seven on each finger, four on each thumb.
When I left his room, the doctor was at the door talking to his nurse. He couldn’t stay, the doctor said. He was sober enough to walk and talk. He wasn’t suicidal or homicidal. He burned himself and drank—but that was how he lived—and maybe he acted psychotic, but only God could say for sure, and he didn’t meet criteria for admission, and anyway the hospital was full and the hospitalist would spit in his face if he asked for another bed.
“Should I call a cab?” said the nurse.
“He wants to walk home.”
He walked out into the snow as I was checking in a woman who had three children with the flu. I didn’t see him again.
This story really impacted the team here and so we approached the author to suggest we link to a couple of sites that care for homeless and desperate people.
Madison Street Medicine brings together doctors and healthcare professionals to provide healthcare for homeless people in Madison, WI https://www.madisonstreetmedicine.org/about/.
and
MEDiC is a system of student-run free clinics affiliated with the University of Wisconsin that provides free care to underserved populations, primarily homeless people and undocumented immigrants https://www.med.wisc.edu/education/medic/.
Checking In by Frederick K Foote
She was the craggy-faced, big-boned, broken-nose blonde on the ripe side of 50 working the night shift at the front desk at the small New Hampshire Hotel.
Continue reading “Checking In by Frederick K Foote”The Smiling Man at the Foot of My Bed by Noah Love
Tonight, there was a man in my room. He appeared when I turned out the lights. He wasn’t there before. And then he was. Crouched at the foot of my bed. Smiling
It’s just his white eyes. His dark pupils. Always looking at me. His teeth are glowing in a big smile as he stares at me. The whites of his eyes pronouncing the void of his pupils as their darkness looks unblinkingly at me. Ready to welcome me into bed.
Continue reading “The Smiling Man at the Foot of My Bed by Noah Love”