Fiction: Easter Bunny

Nothing like getting up for sunrise Easter services to make for a long day, Ruth thought. It wasn’t such a problem even a few years ago, but now…

Her niece, Clio, and Clio’s husband and two girls came over to take her to church. As always, the service was beautiful, although Ruth was a little distracted.

They went back to Clio’s home afterward for a big brunch and the children explored the goodies in their Easter baskets. Clio drove her Aunt Ruth home about 1 p.m.

“You’re a little quiet today, Aunt Ruth,” Clio said, keeping her eyes on the street.

“Am I? Well, perhaps.”

“I know; it’s not the same.”

Ruth smiled a little. “Nothing is ever the same, dear. Even in our most carefully practiced traditions, something changes, whether large or small.” She sighed. “This latest change, though, is harder to get used to. The hardest one since Mother and then Father died. I’d had years of small changes, or of exciting changes, like your girls coming along. Losing Esther…” She trailed off.

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Fiction: The Ice-Cream Parlor

The funeral had ended. The casket was buried. The dinner at the church had been eaten. The guests had expressed their sympathies and gone.

They were back at the house now, and it was just family. Helen was straightening things up, whether they needed to be straightened or not. Her Uncle Curtis was in the room with her, picking things up, studying them fondly, and setting them down again. Two people were missing.

“Where’d they go?” Helen asked her uncle.

“To Father’s study. The moment the last guest left, they both made a beeline back there to start going over his papers again. They’re going to work out to the penny what he was worth, and no matter what they learn they’ll be angry.”

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Fiction: A Quiet Cup of Coffee

Croxen sat down in the booth across from Pereson and, without a word, opened a vial containing a white powder and emptied it into Pereson’s coffee.

The vial went back into his left jacket pocket and he waited.

“Just like that?” Pereson asked, and Croxen nodded.

“Just like that. If you spill it, I have more.”

Pereson stared at his cup and looked fretfully around the little coffee shop.

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Fiction: Little Drummer Boy

The ghost was back again. Every day in the early evening, just for an hour.

“Listen!” the ghost said cheerfully.

Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat.

Warren tried to work around it, tried to do the crossword puzzle in the newspaper, tried to wash the dishes, tried to weed the flowerbed. He could hear it wherever he went in and around his house.
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Fiction: Death in Store

“Good morning, ma’am. Welcome to Op-Mart.”

“Good morning, sir. Welcome to Op-Mart.”

“Good morning, ma’am. Welcome to Op-Mart.”

“Good morning … Death.” Fred laughed.  “Welcome to Op-Mart. That’s quite a costume, sir. Or ma’am. But I’m going to have to ask you to leave the scythe either in your car or over at the help desk while you
shop.”
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Fiction: One Big Joke

A man is at his lawyer’s office. The lawyer says, “Geoff, this is your third divorce. This is stupid. Tell you what you do: just go out every five or six years, find a woman you can’t stand and buy her a house.”

🙂

A kid comes up on a man’s porch. “Say, mister, did you see the truck that hit your dog?”
“No!”
“Neither did your dog.”

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