SHORT STORIES

Red Kristmas

December 25th, 1981, Leningrad: The offices of the First Chief Directorate were drafty and chilled despite the lingering odor of cheap-burning kerosene. Its barred windows, rattled by nighttime Baltic winds, were streaked by horizontal flurries turned the color of blood by some unseen red light outside the concrete walls. Nearly midnight, most of the sparse …

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Gros Bon Ange (The Tormented Tale of Chesapeake Charlie ~ A Prequel)

That pet hound of yours with the big brown eyes, floppy ears and wet kisses ain’t the same temperament as the half-dozen ones who’s claws ripped through the cold mud in pursuit of human flesh that long ago October night. Those Eastern Shore hounds of old knew a thing or two about tracking down a …

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A Holy Crock

“Good evening,” asked the young man with a few raps on the open office door, “Professor Wheeler, isn’t it?” “Yes,” said the professor sitting at his desk in a small pool of somber lamplight. “May I have a moment of your time?” “It’s been a bit of a rough day. Tomorrow might be better.” “I …

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The Penny Walk

Her pretty young fingers twisted a strand of colorful Christmas lights around a nail-head on the fireplace mantle covered thick with old paint. She merrily hummed a vintage carol. “Where did you get the lights, my dear?” asked the young man shuffling bills at the kitchen table. “I didn’t buy them, darling, if that’s what …

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Wahatche

When you’re a negro living in Elbert County, Georgia, it ain’t never a good thing to see the local sheriff walkin’ up to your cabin porch, especially not when the pits of his uniform is tight and sweaty. At least, I’m old. The law don’t mess as much with negros’ old as me. “Are you …

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Nog

I hate Canada. I know it ain’t fair to judge an entire country base upon the ass-kicking I routinely receive in the little barn just across the St. Lawrence River, but every time someone even mentions the country, I instinctively clinch up in preparation for a boot on my bottom. These Canucks don’t do no …

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