Short Story – Page 13 – Sam's Online Journal

July 8, 2013July 8, 2013

Standing in the Rain

I am standing in the driving rain, waiting for a taxi that will probably never come. That’s what she said to me over the phone on the night she died and I ceased living. I am standing here, she said, soaked to the bone and wishing I was back home. With you. And I remember … Continue reading Standing in the Rain

June 16, 2013June 16, 2013

My Dad’s Shoelaces

What I remember most about my dad were his shoelaces, slapping against the asphalt as he came out to greet me at the bus stop every day. I guess it was about convenience for him at the time, but to a six-year old it just seemed sloppy. I can still clearly recall him standing at … Continue reading My Dad’s Shoelaces

June 11, 2013

Haunted

The Mitt Romney poster stared out at them incongruously through the grime in the attic window as they looked up from their spot on the uneven sidewalk. Jon, Ryan, and Kisha had probably walked past the daunting house a million times in their young lives, going to and from the playground, to and from each … Continue reading Haunted

May 13, 2013

The Sundial

I lost my sundial in the summertime. From off a balcony. In Los Angeles. Quite fitting, perhaps, for someone born in winter. In a log cabin. In North Dakota. It was a family heirloom, the only one I was handed down when the wills were read. Out of a possible ten heirlooms, I was given … Continue reading The Sundial

May 11, 2013

From the Vault: The Contract (6/23/11)

Lena didn’t know whether she should kick him out or hug him tightly. In the end, a fist bump worked well enough for “Hammerin’” Hank. Sadly, he had gotten the nickname from beating on his first wife, but he had since reformed. Well, he had reformed as well as could be expected, considering he was … Continue reading From the Vault: The Contract (6/23/11)

May 5, 2013

Watching the Box

The idiot box sits, in an oaken cabinet, in the far corner of the spacious room, a testament to the generation of distance that placed it in such a precise spot. Opposite the behemoth sits a man of indeterminate age, in a worn leather reclining chair that has outlived the TV by several years. For … Continue reading Watching the Box