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Submitted to Contest #231
I, Marjorie Dunlop Baines-Rutherford, do hereby resolve that this year I will:1. Change my name. I’ve always disliked Marjorie, which my father chose. He named me after his deceased, sainted grandmother, with whom I was frequently compared and found wanting. Even Mama, my only advocate, could not dissuade him. She was a gentle buffer against my father’s harsh disapproval till her death when I was five.My nickname is even worse, rhyming as it does with “large” and “barge.” Given my plumpness as a teenager, my classmates referred to me as “lar...
Submitted to Contest #178
A fire crackled in the stone fireplace of the festive living room, the silver tree ornaments mirroring the flickering yellow flames. A picture-perfect Yule, straight out of a Hallmark movie. Except that it was September, and this was definitely not a typical living room.To my right, on a Christmas-red sofa, sat a middle-aged man and woman. The woman’s rosy cheeks gave her the appearance of having just come in out of the cold. She looked fit—a regular runner, I’d say. Her hair style was neck-length and utilitarian, and her jeans and shirt wer...
Submitted to Contest #176
“Hi Jack, I’m Dr. Stanley. Do you know why you’re here?”Do I look like a moron? That’s how I wanted to answer this patronizing shrink. But I’d figured out by now that a bad attitude wouldn’t get me very far. So I said nothing.“I understand you and Stevie were best friends a long time, ever since—” Dr. Stanley raised her eyebrows and nodded, a prompt for me to fill in the blank.I capitulated. “Grade Three,” I mumbled.The doctor smiled. “Tell me about Stevie. What was he like?”Her use of the past tense irked me. The assumption Stevie was dead....
Submitted to Contest #144
“Phillip, stop fidgeting with that dusty old thing,” Darlene scolded as I looked through the viewfinder of my vintage 35mm camera. “I can’t even see the rest of the group, we’re so far behind!”I was too busy lining up the shot to answer her right away. This place was so stunning it begged to be photographed.I’d tried many times to explain to my wife the mechanics of 20th-century photography and its superiority over what passes for photography in our day. How the point-and-click of a retinal implant produces images that are clear, accurate—an...
Submitted to Contest #134
Pisa, June 1609Orazio looked around the cluttered studio, unable to identify many of the objects within it. Diagrams of heavenly orbs, a metal triangle inscribed with figures, large tomes on the sciences and mathematics, and strange objects whose function he couldn’t begin to guess at. He shook his head, half smiling, remembering his few childhood encounters with the fascinating man who lived here. The professor was just a year his junior; they’d both grown up here in Tuscany. Though they’d never been close acquaintances, they’d known many o...
Submitted to Contest #124
AgatheShe struggled with the map, giving her shoulder a good heave forward to keep the strap of her ample handbag from sliding off. The strong breeze certainly wasn’t helping as it grappled with her for possession of the map.She had just managed execute a few folds and wrestle the thing into a small, compliant square when she heard someone speak. She glanced up reluctantly from the now subdued map.In front of her stood a smiling man, probably a little older than her father. He was pleasant looking and appeared to be in his right mind. In her...
Submitted to Contest #72
Lucy was leaning over the counter whispering something into the bartender’s ear. Andy. He laughed and shook his head. Birt wished he could hear what she was saying, but he was sitting too far away. Anyhow, this was the time; he was sure of it. He’d been coming here every Friday and Saturday night for several weeks now, the nights Lucy was working. By now she knew him by name. He’d chatted her up a bit, but didn’t want to come on too strong. Didn’t want her to think he was a weirdo. Because the Lord had revealed to him the first time he’d l...
Submitted to Contest #71
I nearly dropped my steaming tall latte when a ghost from my past blindsided me that morning.Funny how I’d recognized Kirsty Marshall so quickly in the Starbucks line, even though it had been decades since I’d last seen her. I gripped my cup and hurried to the elevator, not daring to look back, and pushed the button for the 12th floor. As the door closed, I breathed out and took a long sip of the latte.Not that there was any danger of her remembering me. We were a long way from Creighton Junior High. So why the increased heart rate? I tried ...
Submitted to Contest #66
Palfrey’s was abuzz that Friday. Frank Palfrey was making an announcement, and everyone sensed it was something big. He’d scheduled a meeting of the board of directors for two that afternoon, and they were all jittery. A few stopped by my desk to find out what I knew.First came Gord Crandall, self-styled ladies’ man. He referred to all female employees under 40 as “Gorgeous,” “Babe” or “Doll. I still wonder if he actually knew any of their names.I looked up as he approached my desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Crandall?”“Hey, gorgeous, has y...
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