“His eyes are sewn shut,” Marc whispered. “Don’t move. He’ll hear you.”
The three boys quieted as the monster crept through the woods. Tree branches snapped. Leaves rustled.
“Raaa!” The monster jumped out and tried to devour the others.
“Get back to base!” Marc exclaimed, inhaling sweet summer air.
In September Mr. Rodriguez caught Tre with a lighter in the boys’ bathroom. He confiscated it.
Tre challenged him all year. He interrupted his lessons — even got into a shouting match.
One day in June, Tre held out his hand. “Thanks, man.”
Mr. Rodriguez pulled his student into a hug.
When Tammy Two-Socks turned seven years old, she finally stopped sucking her thumb.
“Thank the Lord,” her father said, tired of sending the poor kid off to bed with socks on her hands.
Before he had a moment’s peace, his son growled and came into view, crawling on all fours.
He knew she would say yes.
She would say yes…right?
When he asked her on a moonlit beach, minutes from their shoddy apartment, the response was muted by crashing waves — completely muffled by the powerful sea.
Later, alone, they twirled in the blackened night, their only witnesses the stars.
“Go — creep into the world. Set fear in their hearts. Strike hard and fast in the East!” Death ordered her loyal followers as they set out on the warpath. The initial attack was key.
Soon, the pandemic engulfed the world.
But the tide shifted; normalcy returned.
Human spirit proved unconquerable.
“Freddie?” Mrs. Price asked.
The young boy picked his head up off the desk. “Yeah?”
“I was hoping you could tell me the capital of New York.”
Freddie rolled his eyes. “Albany.”
Mrs. Price tilted her head. “Been studying?”
“Nope, just Googling. It’s way faster.”
Happy New Year, everyone!
I’m a little late getting around to posting this, but I wanted to share another publication update. The Daily Drunk Magazine published my hybrid flash fiction story “New Attendance Codes” on Christmas Eve. I was excited to add this to my list of publications for 2020.
I wrote “New Attendance Codes” in an attempt to capture the pure absurdity of this school year. Schools and families are doing the best they can – I mean that earnestly – but this year has been unlike anything we have ever faced before. Each day poses a new challenge, and the challenges are far from what we used to typically experience.
Writing this story was simply one teacher’s way of having a laugh to help find his way through an obscure time.
I hope you enjoy it!
They lived a quiet, simple existence in the cabin. The forest, a meadow, and red foxes were their neighbors.
Edith prepared supper every night while James tended to the woodstove or read the paper.
One night, it dawned on him: We’re running out of time.
She never cooked alone again.
Under the cover of darkness, Milo hopped aboard the westward-bound freight train. He slipped inside a boxcar. Moonlight glimmered on his face.
“Hey,” a seasoned, smoky voice called from the shadows. “Where you heading, kid?”
“I don’t know.”
“No? Well, where you from?”
The man’s voice cracked. “Me too.”
Paula and Martin couldn’t afford presents this year, so they wrote each other stories and poems. The newlyweds rolled up their creations and placed them carefully in the tree.
Christmas day was spent laughing and crying as they reflected, reminisced – dreamed.
In the end, their greatest gift was each other.