short story

Love and the Summer Night

He was a peasant, a man of the soil. Or so he claimed.

She never believed him. He owned a farm house, but someone else owned the barn and fields. His hands were huge and strong, but sensitive. A potter’s hands.

“You’re an artist,” she said. “Admit it.”

They were in bed, katydids singing through the window screens.

“Don’t call me that, girl.”

“I could call you worse.”

“Yes. An old artist.”

“No! I wouldn’t!”

His hands were on her, transforming her indignation, and they kissed.

Out beyond the barn and the fields that were not theirs, heat lightening flickered.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #345 at Velvet Verbosity.

How Nan Got Her Maple Trimmed

By Jim Anderson

Nan wanted a bough or two cut off the big silver maple in our backyard. So I hired a crew. Then she was hot to put in her garden and didn’t like having to wait.

“It’s too early to plant, anyway,” I said.
When the crew got here, she was hot for the climber. “You should see the hunk trimming my tree,” she told her sister on the phone.

“Why don’t you go lick the sweat off his pecs?” I said. “You know you want to.”

“Hey, it wouldn’t kill you to work out, Bobby.”

Well. She had me there.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #344 at Velvet Verbosity.

Lights

By Jim Anderson

A young lieutenant sat with his back against a stone wall and his shirt front soaked through with blood. He was bare-headed, and looked about fifteen. He stared up at Gunther. “Lights,” he whispered.

Something like that. [Read more…] about Lights

Forever Hold Your Peace

By Jim Anderson

Tony shuddered when the tinkling started. He sat in a sparsely populated corner of the hall, far from the head table, closer to the keg, drinking beer out of a plastic cup. As the tinkling grew in volume, Tony kept his eyes on the wet rings his cup had made in the paper tablecloth. A cheer arose. He knew she was kissing him, and the thought ate him alive. It’s your own damn fault, he told himself. You had your chance to speak. What is there to do now?

After a minute, he got up and headed for the door.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #342 at Velvet Verbosity.

A Couple Days from Cheyenne

By Jim Anderson

A couple days from Cheyenne, out of food and luck, we follow the shallow river. In late afternoon, a lone, dappled horse grazes on the far bank.

“It’s a wild horse,” George says. “I’d eat horse.”

I have the rifle. It’s an easy shot.

“Go ahead,” George whispers. “Before he spooks.”

I take aim. The horse lifts its head and looks across the river at us. George and I stand still in the shadows, hardly breathing. I start to squeeze the trigger. It isn’t right. I know it isn’t right. We’re almost to Cheyenne, and a long way from starving.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #341 at Velvet Verbosity.

Two Boys, a Girl, and a Fire

By Jim Anderson

Paul and I drew water from the lake in plastic buckets and dumped it on the coals. Steam rolled skyward. From her perch on a nearby log, Susie clapped. Paul lifted his bucket as if to throw water on her. “Don’t you dare!” Susie darted away across the sand as he chased her with the empty bucket.

I guess that was when I knew. So it was no big surprise when she let him walk her home.

I carried the buckets back to the cottage. Behind me, on the beach, hope like some great bird flapped off into the night.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #340 at Velvet Verbosity.