Tag: death

All Stories, General Fiction

GranCel by Leah Mullen

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Wednesdays were egg salad.  Strong opening gambit from Linda: she was testing the waters.  She and Clint were meeting for the first time.  Her carer Lupe had shown her how to use the app which paired her with Clint, she explained, “just before she had to go back where she came from”.  That left Linda alone, at the tail end of hip surgery recuperation, still prone to falls but with wits enough about her to click on Clint’s profile.  Lucky for both of them, Clint was a fan of egg salad.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Book of Condolences by Evan Parker

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I remember my niece best as a child: red hair, faded blue eyes, skinny arms and legs; her movements so fast and agile that I called her Rabbit. She was a rare soul. This became apparent when, at four years old, she entertained her parents by gently guiding their old cat, Charlie, towards their neighbor’s timid puppy. Her small hands coaxed them closer until they sniffed each other tentatively, her face brightening with a hopeful smile. But after that greeting, the cat lashed out with a paw, leaving behind a bloody cut and a whimpering dog.

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All Stories, General Fiction

At the Zoo by Gil Hoy

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It’s late in the afternoon in late October. I’m at the zoo with my ten-year-old son, Elijah. His mother, my wife Sally, chose our son’s name. Sally comes from a religious family and goes to Mass daily. Elijah’s staring at the elephants, the largest land mammals on earth. One of the three is particularly massive. He has a huge head, large ears, and a long trunk that is sucking up drinking water from a ​big puddle of rainwater​. My son and I have been coming here most weekends as of late. Ever since I lost my better paying job and Sally started working part-time. I’ve been coming here since I was a small boy. Elephants have been a main attraction here for as long as I can remember.

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All Stories, General Fiction

My Mom Died Yesterday by Zora Foote

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My mom died yesterday. No bull, well maybe a tiny bull, by the time you read this it may have been last week, last month, or last year, but I’m pretty sure she will still be dead. I am not astonished. I am not mollified. I am not even a tad bit sad. By contrast, my German Shepherd died four months ago, and I had to be medicated. Our relationship was not a good one, the one with my mom, not the dog. I loved my dog.

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All Stories, General Fiction

When Pain Grew a Beard by Rania Hellal

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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.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Could-Have-Beens by Mason Yates

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I’m well aware there are endless possibilities, limitless universes where people live rather than die, where situations work out rather than fall apart, where superb memories are made rather than never created, and where love blossoms rather than weakens.  I’m unsure how to reach these complex destinations, but I know they’re out there, situated somewhere on a higher dimension or hidden behind the veil we call reality.  They conceal all the could-have-beens, circumstances that might have occurred if given the opportunity but, of course, never came to fruition due to some seen or unseen event…

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All Stories, General Fiction

World Tilting at Bedtime by Katya Lee

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By the time my mother mentions falling, I let the drone of her voice fade to the unawake part of my mind. Her words are a steady hum, punctuated by rattling breaths and muffled snorts as she clears the tangy scent of antiseptic from her nostrils. If I let my gaze drift away from her paper-white figure on the hospital bed, I can pretend that I’m alone. In my peripherals, she blends into the monotony, clear and soft as water. The only thing that moves is her mouth, but her ramblings are like static – barely present, and even more unintelligible when I focus on them.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Also Henry by Tom Sheehan

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Jim Hedgerow was the boss of Riverbank Cemetery’s burial crew, and this morning he was scratching to make sure he had enough help to “open up” a few places for “quick deposit.” At 7:30 the sun had jumped overhead, birds had their choirs in practice, and he had seen hard evidence of overnight guests in among the trees and full foliage at the edge of the cemetery along Fiske Brook.

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All Stories, Fantasy

A Bad Day for Death by Thurman Hart

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When I walked into Helen Arbuckle’s room, I knew something was wrong. Her eyes were bright. She was watching television and smiling. She was alive. And I mean that in a way that the nearly-departed are not supposed to be alive. She was dying, for Hell’s sake. The least she could do is have the decency to look the part.

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