NATIONAL SHORT STORY MONTH


May is National Short Story Month. As such, I am re-posting three of my stories for you to enjoy.

First up, I give you, A Reliable Death, a story about ol’ reliable Jim and his night at a diner.

A RELIABLE DEATH

Jim Brody sat in his fourteen-year old reliable Honda Accord contemplating the futility of his existence. For the first time in his life, he truly regretted the comfortably predictable life he’d always led.

Sighing deeply, he turned off the ignition, pocketed his keys and exited the car. Slipping slightly on the ice, he reached out for the trunk of his car to catch himself. Jim glanced across the parking lot to see if anyone was around. Only two men huddled together smoking were present. They seemed to be watching him. Maybe they were waiting for him to fall so they, too, could laugh at him. Why not, the rest of the town probably was by now.

The warm, cozy interior was briefly interrupted as the front door of Mike’s Diner opened. The strong winter wind blew in snowflakes along with good old dependable Jim. He stamped his large booted feet on the floor then shook himself. Large snowflakes fell and immediately melted forming a puddle on the dingy white and black tile. Removing his ankle-length black, triple fat goose coat, he hung it on the coat rack to the right of the door. Looking around at his fellow diners, he grumbled a quick hello. He had been a regular here for 15 or more years. He knew everybody by his or her first names.

There was Stan and his brother Davey that he’d helped when their cabin caught fire two years ago. Sitting at the counter was Phyllis, the town spinster, Marty, the town drunk and Facey, the town gossip. All of whom owed Jim more money than he cared to think about. Standing by the jukebox were the Carter twins, Bailey and Brandon, whom he’d just written letters of recommendation for, for college. They were like his family, the diner—a second home.

Click here to read more.


Join me next week for my story, Deep Breath.

Until then,

“A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it.”
Edgar Allan Poe

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