Category: My stories

After we had grass rolled out on our front yard, I would let our cats out to roll around and play and stock out there. I got an Apple AirTag on a collar in case they would run off. They roll on the grass and the sun beams. They claw the trees. They look so happy. I let them in the backyard as well and they explore. I had to put planks of wood on either side of the shed to keep them from burrowing under there. It’s time to come in. I pick them up and they complain loudly.

I live near the bay, and when I go to the beach, I see pelicans and eagles and other birds hunting for fish on the water. I like to watch them striding along the shore or flying above, ducking their head under the water and pulling out a fish or swooping down. It’s just so graceful and peaceful to watch. It’s certainly more enjoyable than when I bring some snacks to the beach and I get mobbed by seagulls. One time I brought a burger and fries and I got set up on the moment I opened the paper bag.

It hasn’t rained here in Pleasant Valley for a while. The stream that goes under the old library bridge is dry. The pond in the park, you can tell from how the bank is exposed from the receding water. The almanac said that this year would be wetter than usual, but nobody believes it. Sundays, Pastor Smith leads the congregation to pray for rain, but it doesn’t rain. And then one day the skies went dark, the winds blew hard, and we were in the middle of a hurricane. Not all at once Lord, said Pastor Smith, and he laughed.

When I walk through the park that used to be a golf course, there are a lot of houses with their backyards facing the former cart paths and fairways and greens. I’d try not to snoop, but some people put decorations out just for the benefit of people walking and cycling and playing the frisbee golf course. And then there’s a house with the 7 foot crucifix and some solar powered spotlights that light it up at night. Whether it’s a symbol of their faith and devotion or a thinly veiled threat to trespassers, I’m not willing to find out.

Jake and Molly carved their initials in the grand oak in Somerville Park. The sheriff talked to their parents. They agreed on a punishment. The magistrate waved his hand in front of Jake’s eyes, and then he waved it in front of Molly‘s. And then he left. Is that it? said Jake. The sheriff nodded and he left. Jake shrugged and said let’s go to the park, Molly. She agreed and they walked hand-in-hand. But when they got to the park entrance, they stopped both were overcome by dark fear. Trembling, they turned around and walked back home.

During my daily walks, I see various creatures. Squirrels and birds and rabbits and turtles. This morning, I saw a turtle by the side of the road. And even though it’s Saturday morning, there’s a few cars going by. I pondered whether to pick up the turtle and carry it to the other side. But then, what if the turtle is just looking and doesn’t wanna go to the other side. And if I carry that turtle over, it will need to walk back across the road. If only this were a chicken, I’d make a joke out of it.

Molly and Mindy were identical.
Except that Molly wore a tragedy mask everywhere while Mindy wore a comedy mask.
Anyone who got to know them… really got to know them, they knew that Molly was the happy one while Mindy was the serious one.
But if you really got to know them, you knew not to bring this up with them.
Molly and Mindy each kept a razor in their left boot.
And if you brought up the thing with the masks, they’d draw their razors and cut your throat.
As you bleed out, each whispering in your ear… nothing.

I remember the last time I met Death.
We were on the ledge of a very tall building.
People on the street below.
Cars passing by.
And we were up here.
He didn’t have a scythe.
A pale horse.
Or a chessboard.
Just a man in a suit.
Checking his silver pocketwatch.
“Going to jump?” he asked me.
I thought it over.
“Not this time,” I said.
He snapped his watch shut, put it in his pocket, and went back to the void.
I sat there for a while, looking at the street below.
I thought about jumping.
Next time.

Danny rode his bike to the library every day.
He’d lock it to the lamp post, walk through the doors, and work his way down the stacks, one book at a time.
When it was time to go home, he’d make a note of where he was in the book, walk out the doors, unlock his bike, and head home.
This went on for a few years, until one day, someone had checked out the book he had been reading the day before.
Danny sat there, confused.
When it was time to go home, he just sat and stared more.