Henry Searles, once an unknown character in this business, did not imagine what the insides of Ted Gentry’s house looked like because he had no idea where to begin his search for furniture, trinkets, odds and ends, lackluster fragments of Gentry’s past, lost articles in a blindly-kept closet holding piled up clues. It all appeared pointless and highly impractical, just a guy he met on the corner where the river slips under the bridge, had a drink with him at a bar, like they were old friends suddenly rejoined rather than new acquaintances, but Gentry, sort of mystically, left a note with the barkeep to deliver to Searles if anything ever happened to him, as though Doom itself had made the call.
Continue reading “The Lone Inheritance by Tom Sheehan”Tag: realtionships
It’s All I Can Do by Thomas Elson
Look closely. Near the walnut bookcase a friend built for my son. Can you see me? I visit here every day.
A couple of weeks ago, I told my son it was time. There were no miracles cures for me – ninety-two years old – not really high on the list of miracle-cure candidates.
Continue reading “It’s All I Can Do by Thomas Elson”Artificial by Tabitha Pearson
I hatched the plan for my sperm heist with my accomplice, James. I really wanted a baby and I had the uterus for it. But the only artificial insemination center in Mississippi had a rule. I needed an infertile husband before they would do me the honor of selling me three minutes of another man’s time.
Continue reading “Artificial by Tabitha Pearson”The Dying Disease by Elad Haber
I always thought that when it rains that means someone died. Funerals need rain like they need flowers or a priest or a rabbi or an imam.
It rained a lot that summer.
Continue reading “The Dying Disease by Elad Haber”An End Resolved by Hope Matyas
You feel it in your soul when the notes swing low and tumble over themselves after a hovering vibrato. The brass sax breathing warm air from wet lips, waiting to create a new feel.
Witness Mark by Emily A Garfield
A witness mark is a groove, a dent, left by people gone before. Sometimes they’re deep, gouged, gone over so many times by people, living and reliving moments on moments. Sometimes they’re just a scratch, easily sanded away.
It was Catia’s first time waking up in a coffin. It would not be her last.
Passion at High Elm by Tom Sheehan
For the first time a daughter had broken the absolutely perfect line of seven generations of newborn Brindamour boys.