Grant’s Last Campaign

On a porch near Saratoga Springs, he gathers his forces from a rattan chair. The Great Captain, bundled in blankets against the summer air. Death is close, tasting like a damp cigar. “Grant’s Last Campaign,” the newspapers call it. He scratches away. Shiloh, The Wilderness, Cold Harbor. Has he said enough? Too much?

Blue lines sway along a sandy Virginia road. They serenade him with “John Brown’s Body.” Ahead, fast columns block the retreating army. More blood. More bodies to molder in the grave. Word comes from Lee. He will meet.

It’s all there, complete.

Victory is the only justification.

Until you walk it

By Jim Anderson

Jerry limped to the top of the hill, then stopped. The two-lane blacktop wound down the hill and disappeared into the trees. Beyond the trees, out of sight, lay the river.

Jerry had driven this road many times, hundreds of times, but never walked it. You don’t know a road until you walk it, he thought.

He looked back. A gauzy haze hung on the horizon. Three black threads of smoke rose into the gray sky.

Nothing moved on the road. No cars. No people. No dogs.

Jerry’s feet hurt. His shoes were not made for this.

He went on.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge: Road at Thin Spiral Notebook.

Tony’s baby

By Jim Anderson

Parenthood hit Tony Lawson like a summer storm. Yes, very much like that. A sudden, unexpected stroke of fury, a violent collision of opposing fronts.

“Tony, you jerk, meet your son.”

The sky was cloudless above the executive lot, but the air crackled around the words.

Tony fumbled his iPhone, and it fell toward the brilliant concrete.

He caught it, held it against his heart.

There stood Sandra behind his silver S-Class, rolling a big navy-blue stroller forward a few inches and then pulling it back, coming closer each time to the rear-bumper of the coupe.

My baby! he thought.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge: “Parent” at Thin Spiral Notebook.