The Case of the Gruesome Grizzly

Bruce Zimmerman

“Hey man, pull over wherever you can. You can’t see shit in this weather. Turn on those flashers and the strobe. Base, this here’s Steve; I’m with the rookie,” he said shielding the mike against his chest.

“What’s your name son?”

“William, but everyone calls me Billy Boy.”

(Cough) “Billy Boy… Visibility zero, squall winds, lightning striking trees everywhere.”

Then as if orchestrated, there was hostile stillness.

In an instant, it turned dead calm. Just like the eye of a hurricane. Eerie and chilling silence. Hell, you could almost hear the fish fart. No birds chirping, no crickets or love calls. No animals rustling along the leaf carpeted paths.

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Patricia R. Antolino

I remember meeting her. It was the beginning of September when the days are starting to gently shift into the Fall season. Mark had just broken my heart. He decided having a girlfriend our last year in college was just not doable and, well, sent me on my way. Five years, and he sends me a text saying we were done. As I look back, I know that was a gift, but right then … when it happened … my heart broke. I felt the shards ripping my insides apart. The text came when I was just about to walk through the park to meet him at the fountain … what we called ‘our fountain.’ Overly dramatic I may have been, but at that age, it definitely felt appropriate. The tears just came. Full on sobbing, nose running, tissues all balled up in my hands. I sat down on the nearest bench and was relieved that no one else was around to witness my breakdown. Just me and my broken heart and snotty tissues.

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Un-Natural Causes

Marilyn Myerson

This week we take another journey into the fanciful worlds imagined by Marilyn Myerson with a double bill of two somewhat unnatural tales. A sneak preview of each one is provided below. — Editor



I Go By Many Names
“I go by many names. I am the Boogeyman, the monster under your bed, I am the monster in your closet, the monster deep in your subconscious. You have never seen the real me: your imagination fails to capture my likeness. Still, in the marrow of your bones, you know me…you know I exist.”

“Once upon a time, the saga began, the world was unbelievably different from the one we now inhabit. In addition to we plant folks, there were sentient beings known as animals. Strange, lumbering smelly beasts, many of them. They were unable to make their own food supply – can you imagine?”

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A Foxhole Conversation

Bruce Zimmerman

Scene: September 1944, somewhere in eastern Netherlands. Two American soldiers dig in their positions in preparation for Operation Market Garden, a bold effort to push into German territory just three months after the Normandy invasion….. 

“These hills are kind’a rough Frank. They seem to drop that artillery right down your neck—”

“Aw, we got it easy. I heard the jokers in Company ‘C’ are really having a rough time—watch it Joe…shelling again.”

“Yeh, we got it easy—just like riding a log down Niagara Falls. Say, how about that picture of that doll of yours? Where did ya’ ever hook up with a trick like that? She your steady?”

“More than that me lad. Keep yer head down, and I’ll give ya the story of Audrey G.—the sweetest little girl in all of Brooklyn ….,     

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The Moon

Patricia R. Antolino

The Temple to Luna, Goddess of the Full Moon, was built in the sixth century B.C. by Emperor Augustus on the Aventine Hill, overlooking the Tiber. There were tumbled tiled floors, double curved stairs, high archways, views of the river on all sides, groves of olives and lemons. On March 31st, upon the completion, a ceremony was held. It is said that the Emperor had commanded Homer to write a hymn invoking Luna, which was to be sung by 27 girls. And the story goes that, when the hymn was sung, Luna rode across the sky in Her silver chariot drawn by two horses, one white, the other black, pulling the Full Moon.

It became custom for a festival to be held each year on March 31st. This year was no different. The Temple had been busy all week …         Read more

The Flag in the Window

Mary Bowers

The whistle screeched from the old kettle, heralding its success in having boiled the water. Louise turned off the gas under the kettle and poured the boiling water into a chipped mug. As she stirred the tea in the mug, she thought again about how that mug had gotten chipped. Davey was almost two when he tipped the empty mug, hoping for a taste of the sugary tea. His little hands couldn’t contain the weight of the mug, and the edge of it fell against his beautiful left incisor, leaving chips in both the mug and the tooth. Louise recalled the hoop-la when Davey lost the chipped tooth the day he turned five. The new permanent tooth had so far lasted the rest of his life…

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Fangs: Fear and Fascination

Bruce Zimmerman
Marilyn Myerson

Snakes were the subjects of a recent challenge issued to the Imaginative Writing Crew.  Some weeks later two contrasting stories arrived in our mailbox, and we thought it fitting to combine them for this week’s blog. Here’s a little taste of each story…..

Blocking my exit was the largest, meanest, blackest water moccasin I had ever, ever seen. Hell, years ago me and the kids would race through the swamps, and never fear o’ nothin’, but this guy was really, really mean looking. As he started his curl, ready to strike, his green eyes flashed from the light of the newly banked stove…..

 I reached out, a mite tentatively at first but soon enough my arm stretched out in full confidence to savour the first touch of this magnificent creature. Her skin was dry, nothing “ooky” about it at all….

Ride On — A Love Story

Al Carlson

I didn’t intend to write this story myself; I wanted you to do it. My plan for our Valentine’s Day issue was to share a song with you–a song I thought everyone knew–and ask you to tell the story behind its ambiguous lyrics. Like “American Pie” but on a much smaller scale. I hoped to publish at least two stories. One small problem emerged, though. Nobody I talked to had heard of the song. Nobody. Which led me to suspect I’d get very few responses to my challenge.

But we still needed something related to love for today’s issue.  So, I accepted my own challenge and wrote the story.  The song is “Ride On”, written by Jimmy MacCarthy and released on an album of the same name by Christy Moore. I’ll add a link to it at the end, but you’re welcome to use Google to have a listen before you read my story, if you wish.

Read On

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