Category: fiction

Fiction: Floral Arrangement

Posted on by bryon

It was windy that day in St. James’ Cemetery, and the flowers that were laid with love at the eastern end of the cemetery had been repositioned to decorate other graves. I left my hat in the car so I wouldn’t have to chase after it.

Her stone was taller than it was long, and I used my pocket knife to dig in the painfully well-manicured grass on the windward side. I set the yellow rose, still in its water tube, in the little hole and scraped earth around it with the flat of my blade.

“Think nothing of it,” I said. “It’s just one flower.”

Janet didn’t respond. The dead are like that.

But then, Janet hadn’t spoken to me for almost fifty years.

Continue reading “Fiction: Floral Arrangement” →

Fiction: Marshmallow Workout

Posted on by bryon

Theo watched quietly as Rhonda sat at the table, holding as still as she could. She closed her eyes and held her hands in front of her, just above the table, as though she were holding a large ball.

A foot in front of her hands sat two ceramic mugs of hot chocolate. The one on the right had a large marshmallow bobbing gently in it.

Continue reading “Fiction: Marshmallow Workout” →

Fiction: Far from the Center Ring

Posted on by bryon

The door of William’s inner office opened and a sad clown walked in. He quietly closed the door behind him and shuffled to a corner where William could see him but where he was out of the way.

William regarded the clown sourly but said nothing and bent his head to his work. He made occasional furtive glances at the corner and saw the clown standing there, regarding William morosely. Each successive irritable peek at the clown led William to work harder to plow through the stack of papers on his desk.

Clients came in to keep their appointments, and William would talk them through their financial concerns and what the next step in the process would be. If any of the visitors noticed the clown, they were polite enough to make no mention.

Continue reading “Fiction: Far from the Center Ring” →

Fiction: Politeness

Posted on by bryon

On such a warm, beautiful spring day, Cal didn’t care to be cooped up in his office one minute more than necessary. A vendor provided a couple of hot dogs and a cold drink, and Cal found an empty park bench and made himself at home. He used his left hand for his meal and held his smartphone in his right hand, checking his messages.

As Cal was halfway through his second hot dog, he suddenly found a gun in his face. The young man wielding the gun snatched Cal’s phone and ran off with it, shouting, “Thanks, man!”

With his newly free hand, Cal reached into his jacket. He yanked out his revolver and fired two shots. The thief spilled to the ground, still clutching the phone.

“You’re welcome,” Cal yelled.

Dad was right, he thought. “An armed society is a polite society.”

Fiction: Pants on Fire

Posted on by bryon

A quick, gentle tattoo sounded on Don’s hotel door. He left off icing the champagne and all but danced across the room. He pulled on the handle.

“You’re early, my dear Mel— Erin!” A flash of surprise crossed his face, but he kept his smile in place. “Erin! Why, I’m so glad to see you, honey!”

“The hell you are,” she spat. “You’re expecting Melanie, here, even though you told me you were flying to Calgary for a meeting this weekend.”

“Well, it was canceled, but my colleague at work, Melanie, and I decided that we could go ahead and prepare…”

“Shut up! I’ve had enough of your lies. You’ve lied to me from day one. We’re finished.” She started to walk away.

“But, Erin, I love you!”

Erin stopped to glare at him. “How appropriate: your first and last lies are the same.” She turned and walked quickly to the stairway, which offered a more immediate exit than waiting for the elevator.

Don closed the door and went back to icing the champagne. “It’s all right,” he told himself. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t miss her.” He picked up two champagne glasses and swirled some crushed ice in them. He watched it spin. “It’s all right. Really it is.”

Moments later, another knock came at the door. Don opened it cautiously.

There was Melanie, all smiles, and Don smiled too.

“Hello, my dear Melanie!”

“Hello.” She hugged him. “Anything wrong?”

“Nothing at all. What could possibly be wrong? We’re here together and … I love you.”

 

Fiction: Call and Response

Posted on by bryon

In most of the pews, one hand held half the hymnal, and the other fanned its owner.

This Sunday had been overcast, and the wind, which had whipped ladies’ hats from their heads before morning services, had died away to nothing by the time worshippers arrived for evening services. Now a sticky stillness permeated Cherrydale.

“Blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus!” they sang in the sanctuary of the First Lutheran Church, a moderate brick building erected twenty years earlier when the town and the congregation were growing before the Great Depression began. “Thou hast loved us, love us still.”

Eyes kept going from the hymnals to the windows. Evening was coming, to be sure, but too quickly. The unnatural darkness had everyone on edge, even in the house of the Lord.

And so they sang with more feeling than usual: “Blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus! Thou hast loved us, love us still.”

The Rev. Morton stepped into his pulpit. “Be seated.” As his flock sat, he stole another glance out the windows himself.

Continue reading “Fiction: Call and Response” →

Fiction: Perks

Posted on by bryon

“Off to work?” Amy asked.

“As always,” Will said. “Off to bed?”

“Yes. Long day.”

“Sleep well.”

“I hope to.” She smiled at him. “Don’t get caught up in your work.”

He grinned back at her. “I haven’t yet.”

“Oh, you might keep an eye out for a pair of earrings that would match the lovely amethyst necklace you got me.”

“I know just the place to look,” he said. “Good night.”

“Night.”

She snuggled into her cool bed, wishing again he was going to be there to share it with her. Still, despite the negative aspects of Will’s job, there were some perks to being married to a burglar.

 

Fiction: Hippocratic Oaf

Posted on by bryon

Shawn began a lap around the hotel’s pool. He wore shorts, sandals, a tank top, and a white lab coat with the name Dr. Kemann stitched underneath the hotel’s name and logo.

This was one of his favorite parts of his most excellent life in Ecuador. He had spotted a nubile young blonde on the other side of the pool. She was sunning herself and was a scant few centimeters of fabric shy of getting an all-over tan. Kemann would go over to her, introduce himself, caution her to take care in the sun, offer to apply more medically thorough sunscreen, and — if history repeated itself — end up in her bed that evening.

The beautiful young woman, and more than a hundred others before her, was why he had become a hotel doctor in the tropics.

As he approached her, the pager in his lab coat pocket chirped at him. He frowned; this was no time for some guest to have indigestion. Still, such interruptions ensured his continued employment.

The little screen said merely “Urgente.”

Continue reading “Fiction: Hippocratic Oaf” →

Fiction: Nickles and Dimes

Posted on by bryon

“There’s your receipt,” Laura said in a bored, friendly way. “Thank you for shopping at MacKenna’s today.”

“You forgot my change,” the customer said.

“Change?”

“Yes, I gave you a $20 bill and the total is $17.22; I should get $2.78 in change.”

“Oh, right.” Laura’s chin began to quiver. “Not again,” she moaned softly. “Um… Look.” She paused and tried to keep from crying. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I can’t give it to you.”

Continue reading “Fiction: Nickles and Dimes” →