Short-Story.me! Horror, Mystery, Science Fiction...

...Print and Electronic Publisher of Genre Fiction

Home

Author Biographies

Allen Kopp

Wednesday, 18 November 2009 14:22

Allen Kopp is a technical writer and lives in St. Louis. His work has been published in Foliate Oak Literary Journal, Temenos, The Legendary, Danse Macabre, Bartleby-Snopes, Skive Magazine, Hoi-Polloi, Conceit Magazine, and Dark and Dreary Magazine. Future work will appear in Sunken Lines, The Storyteller, and The Bracelet Charm. Allen was a contest finalist in the Bartleby-Snopes dialogue-writing contest and a 2009 Pushcart Prize nominee for the story “Hermaphrodite Ward.”

Get New Stories Sent To You By Email Free

Subscribe
Unsubscribe

<html>
<head>
<title>Incarnadine Stars
</title>
</head>
<body>
<table style="width: 100%;" border="0" cellpadding="10">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A New Story from Short-Story.Me!
 
 
<img src="http://www.short-story.me/images/stories/logo468.jpg" border="0" />
</td>
<td rowspan="4" valign="top" bgcolor="#eeeeee">

What's hot?


<hr />
Newest Stories

 
<ul>
<li>Newest Stories sample item 1
</li>
<li>Newest Stories sample item 2
</li>
<li>Newest Stories sample item 3
</li>
<li>Newest Stories sample item 4
</li>
</ul>
<hr />
Popular Pages

 
<ul>
<li>Popular Pages sample item 1
</li>
<li>Popular Pages sample item 2
</li>
<li>Popular Pages sample item 3
</li>
<li>Popular Pages sample item 4
</li>
</ul>
 
<hr />
<div style="border: medium double black; padding: 3px;">
Our "Best of" ANTHOLOGY is available!:

 --To buy the electronic version for the Kindle: 
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B003F777ZQ" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B003F777ZQ
</a>
 --To buy the print version in our E-store: 
<a href="https://www.createspace.com/3445134" target="_blank">https://www.createspace.com/3445134
</a>
 --To buy the print version in the Amazon Bookstore: 
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Short-Story-Me-Genre-Short-Stories-Anthology/dp/1451593201/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271975184&sr=1-1" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Short-Story-Me-Genre-Short-Stories-Anthology/dp/1451593201/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271975184&sr=1-1</a>
 --Go to 
<a href="http://www.short-story.me/about-short-storyme/89-our-books.html" target="_blank">"Our Books"
</a> to see the 24 Authors & Stories included and the cover.
</div>
<hr />
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="80%" valign="top">
Incarnadine Stars

 
LEGAL NOTE: All Short Stories and other material on our site or that we distribute are Copyrighted.
We want you to enjoy the stories, but they may not be reproduced, or otherwise used, without express
written permission.
 
 




Magenta moon and... - Editor


 




Incarnadine Stars



by Chris Deal

“When's the sun come up?” he asked from the other end of the bench, his voice quiet, not his
usual boisterousness. He was shrinking into himself as the night drifted.
“Not for another hour.”  I looked up, past the lamp's halo, past the city’s lights, into the
pale gray of the birthing day.
“Shit.” He spat the cigarette butt away, onto the walkway.

“Think you'll make it?” I light a another smoke and hand it to him, his hand shaking, weak, then
I do another for myself.
“Nah. Wish I would, but don't believe it to be.”

I lean forward, elbows on knees, and there's a smudge on the black leather of my left shoe. With a
clean handkerchief I wipe away the dull incarnadine.  It came from him.
“Stars sure are clear,” he said.

“Yeah.  I figure that’s 'cause it's so cold.”

“How's that?” He coughs, and it is the sound of a blade cutting through wheat.

“I think it's the cold, it keeps the molecules in the atmosphere from vibrating, making the stars
appear clear.”
He grunted, or made a sound that could be construed as a grunt.

“But I ain't a scientist or nothing, so I don't know.  Could be we’re closer to them in orbit
or whatever.  I don’t know.”
He didn't say anything, and neither did I, for several minutes, we just sat there, looking up at the
sky, and it was getting to be a brighter shade of gray, the same color of the ash that was growing
on his cigarette, between his fingers, unmoving on the armrest, the cherry dying, fading.
“Sorry it went down like this,” I said.

I stood and walked toward the car, stopping only to pick up the lone casing, then away, towards
where the sun will soon be.
©2009


 
 
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
<a target="_blank" href="http://www.short-story.me/component/vemod_news_mailer/?unsubscribeall=1&userid=userid9999987">Click here to end Your Subscription, if you must
</a>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
This is system-generated short story distribution; please do not respond

</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
</body>
</html>

<pre>A New Story from Short-Story.Me!

Incarnadine Stars
LEGAL NOTE: All Short Stories and other material on our site or that we distribute are Copyrighted.
We want you to enjoy the stories, but they may not be reproduced, or otherwise used, without express
written permission.

_Magenta moon and... - Editor_

INCARNADINE STARS

by Chris Deal

“When's the sun come up?” he asked from the other end of the bench, his voice quiet,
not his usual boisterousness. He was shrinking into himself as the night drifted.

“Not for another hour.”  I looked up, past the lamp's halo, past the city’s
lights, into the pale gray of the birthing day.

“Shit.” He spat the cigarette butt away, onto the walkway.

“Think you'll make it?” I light a another smoke and hand it to him, his hand shaking,
weak, then I do another for myself.

“Nah. Wish I would, but don't believe it to be.”

I lean forward, elbows on knees, and there's a smudge on the black leather of my left
shoe. With a clean handkerchief I wipe away the dull incarnadine.  It came from him.

“Stars sure are clear,” he said.

“Yeah.  I figure that’s 'cause it's so cold.”

“How's that?” He coughs, and it is the sound of a blade cutting through wheat.

“I think it's the cold, it keeps the molecules in the atmosphere from vibrating, making
the stars appear clear.”

He grunted, or made a sound that could be construed as a grunt.

“But I ain't a scientist or nothing, so I don't know.  Could be we’re closer to them
in orbit or whatever.  I don’t know.”

He didn't say anything, and neither did I, for several minutes, we just sat there,
looking up at the sky, and it was getting to be a brighter shade of gray, the same color
of the ash that was growing on his cigarette, between his fingers, unmoving on the
armrest, the cherry dying, fading.

“Sorry it went down like this,” I said.

I stood and walked toward the car, stopping only to pick up the lone casing, then away,
towards where the sun will soon be.

Click here to end Your Subscription, if you must
http://www.short-story.me/component/vemod_news_mailer/?unsubscribeall=1&userid=userid9999987

This is system-generated short story distribution; please do not respond

Our "Best of" ANTHOLOGY NOW AVAILABLE!:
--To buy the electronic version for the Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B003F777ZQ
--To buy the print version in our E-store: https://www.createspace.com/3445134
--To buy the print version in the Amazon Bookstore:
http://www.amazon.com/Short-Story-Me-Genre-Short-Stories-Anthology/dp/1451593201/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271975184&sr=1-1
</pre>

<pre>A New Story from Short-Story.Me!

_Magenta moon and... - Editor_

INCARNADINE STARS

by Chris Deal

“When's the sun come up?” he asked from the other end of the bench, his voice quiet,
not his usual boisterousness. He was shrinking into himself as the night drifted.

“Not for another hour.”  I looked up, past the lamp's halo, past the city’s
lights, into the pale gray of the birthing day.

“Shit.” He spat the cigarette butt away, onto the walkway.

“Think you'll make it?” I light a another smoke and hand it to him, his hand shaking,
weak, then I do another for myself.

“Nah. Wish I would, but don't believe it to be.”

I lean forward, elbows on knees, and there's a smudge on the black leather of my left
shoe. With a clean handkerchief I wipe away the dull incarnadine.  It came from him.

“Stars sure are clear,” he said.

“Yeah.  I figure that’s 'cause it's so cold.”

“How's that?” He coughs, and it is the sound of a blade cutting through wheat.

“I think it's the cold, it keeps the molecules in the atmosphere from vibrating, making
the stars appear clear.”

He grunted, or made a sound that could be construed as a grunt.

“But I ain't a scientist or nothing, so I don't know.  Could be we’re closer to them
in orbit or whatever.  I don’t know.”

“Sorry it went down like this,” I said.

I stood and walked toward the car, stopping only to pick up the lone casing, then away,
towards where the sun will soon be.

Click here to end Your Subscription, if you must
http://www.short-story.me/component/vemod_news_mailer/?unsubscribeall=1&userid=userid9999987

This is system-generated short story distribution; please do not respond

Select your preferred e-mail format

	HTML		Preview
	Text		Preview

(AU)

Stories By Genre

Administration

Author Badges

Search Amazon Books

Amazon.com Widgets

PayPal Donate

Buy our NEW Anthology at:
--The Kindle Store
--The Amazon Bookstore
--Our E-Store

Newest Stories

Popular Pages

Use our Google Gadget!

We have a Google Gadget that displays titles and links to our stories as they are published - yet another way to keep track of our short stories! If you use Google Desktop, just click on the plus sign to add gadgets, search for "short" (ShortStoryMe) and click "Add Gadget." OR, look in the Fun and Games Category.

We Love Kindles!

Hall of Fame

The following donated their Author Fees to charity: James A. Stewart, Iheoma Nwachukwu
The following donated their author fees to Short-Story.Me! site costs: Kevin Atherton, Augustus Peake, Robb White, Helen Garton, Stephen Pohl

Testimonials

"I have been dealing with a lot of webzines the past few months and yours is easily the most professional one I have encountered. I will be recommending you to both readers and writers alike." --B.V.
"I can't tell you what a pleasure it is dealing with you. I've had alternate experiences. Thanks again." --G.C.

TOP OF PAGE

Fun free sites for writers
to analyze your writing:
I Write Like
The Gender Genie

Writers on Writing

"Real writers are those who want to write, need to write, have to write." Robert Penn Warren

"You may be able to take a break from writing, but you won't be able to take a break from being a writer..." Stephen Leigh

"Writing is easy; all you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until the drops of blood form on your forehead." Gene Fowler