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Latest Stories

May 17, 2022
Flash Fiction Sharmila Ghosal

The Fateful Evening

Barrackpore, a small town was situated a few kilometres from Kolkata. My father had recently been transferred here from the State Bank of India Kolkata branch. Life was enjoyable. Every day in the evening I would go for a walk near the riverside with Malati…
May 14, 2022
Flash Fiction Ben Macnair

A Conversation With Your Seven Year Old Self

The first thing you notice about him is the jumper he's wearing. it is one like you had when you were younger. You wore it out, you liked it so much. This jumper is a lot newer than the old one you had. The colours are brighter, it is a better fit. Then you…
May 14, 2022
General Stories Yolanda Billingsley

The Prophet Who Struck At Midnight

Introduction Prophetess Tanya didn’t just attend Church ; she considered herself to be the epitome of all that Church should be. She was religious and loved it. She was a prosperous business woman, she wore the finest clothes and shoes and always had a…
May 14, 2022
Mystery Stories Beauty Anyanwu

Of Fire And Heartbreak

AGATA'S POV Nasty C said ‘we start to question GOD like we can play his part’ and nothing has resonated with me so much in my entire life. When I think of the butterfly effect, and how the flap of a wing can change the course of our life—I remember those…
May 14, 2022
General Stories Luke Beling

The Rosebush

"We're going to revisit your blood, run some extra tests since it's your third miscarriage in as many years, Mrs. Cozbi." Susan stared into Dr. Tims' cold eyes, one hand gripping Chuck, the other the arm of the teak chair. "I thought it was because the fetus…
May 13, 2022
Horror Stories Pavan Kumar

A Grisly Party

Albert hosts a party to his coterie of friends on the eve of getting a promotion and increment in the salary. Three of his friends (Michael, Peter, and Robinson) attend the party in the evening and fill the aura of his house with excitement and joy. An old…
May 13, 2022
Crime Stories Doug Jacquier

If You Cuckolded Me, I’d Have To Kill You

It was a fact that Phil had organised for Matthew to die. Phil took full responsibility but there would be no trial. He could have confessed but he chose not to. On principle. When the Reverend Matthew Patterson and his wife, Penny, moved in next door they…
May 13, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The Marvel Of The Freedom

In patches The vault opens oneself at dawn. The calyx of an Arctic alpine forget-me-not reopens for an enchanting glory of the sunshiny dreams, because of the eternally august poem, that reads lenient and benignant. Throughout the day: there is up there a…
May 13, 2022
Crime Stories Mike Merchant

The Molly Prom

The airpods looked like pallid worms crawling into Robby’s brain. Or maybe crawling out, leaving a nest of annelids inside. His slack jaw and laugh-at-anything smile suggested the latter. His head bobbed to the music like a tzadik at the wailing wall. “Yo,…
April 20, 2022
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

She

Everything about her was human except she wasn’t. She was humanoid. Model SHE0456. Her male counterpart was a HE. Her name was Mira. She was a generation three model SHE. She was fifty-seven years old but didn’t look a day over twenty. She kept herself well.…
April 20, 2022
Horror Stories Alexander James

3:33 AM

Ever since they moved into her grandmother’s old house way on top of Bannockburn Hill, he had woken up every morning at 3:33 A.M. without fail. He hated the old house. He hated the way it creaked and moaned. The way it seem to attract the wailing wind on cold…
April 20, 2022
Crime Stories L Christopher Hennessy

Dead Dogs Are Good Dogs

Sweetheart, I’ll tell you exactly what’s going to happen if you drink with me tonight. First we’ll get talking, then we’re going to laugh a bit, and then we’ll hit our third drink each, and I’ll be in your lap crying like a baby. I haven’t held a woman…

The eyesore arrived at our house on the evening of November 22nd, 1963, when I was eight and Joey was eleven.

At school that day, the loudspeaker crackled to life, and Principal Edwards announced that President Kennedy had been assassinated. I’m not sure any of us third graders knew what that meant, but we figured it was bad – especially when Mrs. Green let out a howl and dropped her head in her hands, shoulders shaking with each loud sob. The second that happened, all of us girls and a couple of the boys cried, too. About an hour later, Mama came to my classroom to get me. Her eyes were red and puffy. Then we went to Joey’s sixth grade class to pick him up. Mama said she was taking us out of school early because she “didn’t want to be alone on such a terrible, terrible day.” When we were in the car, I asked Joey if he knew what all the fuss was about; he lifted his shoulders, let them drop, and said, “How should I know, Debbie? You ask the dumbest questions.”

We spent the afternoon in our rooms playing while Mama sat staring at the television set, watching news reports of the terrible event.

That night, Daddy came home early. He was on the road a lot with his vending machine business, so it was a special treat for us. He told Mama to take us down to the basement until he said it was okay to come back up; said he had a surprise, something that might make us feel better after such horrid news. While we were downstairs, we heard a bang, bump, bang then a thud. A couple minutes later, Daddy called down for us to come into the living room. He’d skooched the furniture over to make room for a large, rectangular object. We couldn’t tell what it was because Daddy had it covered with one of Mama’s favorite sheets.

“My favorite bed linen! What’s gotten into you, Frank?” Mama asked. “And look what you’ve done to the living room!”

As usual, Daddy grinned and waved her off as if he were swatting a fly. He walked over and pinched the sheet at the top of the object. Eyes sparkling, he yanked the linen off and said, “Ta da!”

Oh - my - goodness; it was our very own candy bar vending machine! There were Nestle’s Chocolate Bars and Sky Bars and my favorite, Zagnut. There was some other stuff Joey liked, too, but I didn’t care about that. I remember jumping up and down and clapping, but when I looked at Mama’s face, I calmed down real quick.

She’d crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes boring a hole through Daddy. “Have you lost your marbles?” she asked. “You can’t possibly think that eyesore’s going to stay in the house!”

Well, it did.

The first time Daddy opened Eyesore to fill it with more candy, I was fascinated. Joey was, too. He lost interest once he’d seen how it worked, but I never did. Daddy knew I loved that machine as much as he did, so he made sure to tell me when he was going to “feed” it again.

To hear Mama talk, she wouldn’t be caught dead near “that beast.” Truth was though, when Daddy worked late and Joey and I were supposed to be sleeping, I’d sometimes hear her slide the lever on Eyesore. I’d wonder what yummy treat Mama selected then I’d remember she’d probably pick Necco Wafers. Or Chuckles; she loved those fruit-flavored jelly candies, even though I thought they were yucky.

Mama dreaded the neighbors finding out about Eyesore, but it turned out they thought it was pretty cool. They’d come over during the day to buy candy and chat with her. Even Joey and I ended up with more friends than we thought possible.

Once Eyesore jammed, and I watched Daddy take it apart to fix it. Again I was fascinated. I couldn’t keep my fingers out of Daddy’s toolbox, so he let me use his screwdriver to take out one of the screws. That was fun.

When I got older, I went out on the road with Daddy. He taught me the ropes as he called it, and I learned to love the life he’d built. When he passed away years later, Mama asked me if I’d be interested in “a unique focal point” for my own living room. The first thing you’ll see when you walk into my place is the Eyesore – where memories of Daddy and childhood make me smile.

 

 

Bio:

April Winters hopes to help people forget their troubles through her stories, even if it’s only for a little while. Her other works can be read at The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Linguistic Erosion, The Short Humour Site, The Story Shack, and here at Short-Story.Me.

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