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Latest Stories

September 28, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

Autumnal Sonnet

The mist heralds a dreamy, tender Apollonian dawn. I philosophize about wings of hawk or king – sparrow. In amazing grove at the Blue Hours – was born here a fawn. You should adore as well as praise charm such a moony morn. The beauty of world is indeed so…
September 28, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series, Chapter 3: Friendships

The Skirmish - 1991 This was the place to be in the city of Shortland. Anyone who wanted to be someone was there, as was the someone who was known by everyone too. It was a gorgeous hot summer afternoon, on a Sunday. The pub garden was huge, and scattered…
September 28, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

Flower-Like Sonnet

I cherish the dreamy crocus. I love the moony cornflower. I make love to bemused cactus. I affect dreamed daffodil. You are fond of vague elder. You love back a misty dahlia. You dote on languorous heather. You idolize the faint freesia. We prize hazy…
September 28, 2022
Flash Fiction NT Franklin

Smitty Gets Away

Smitty was where he wasn’t supposed to be and saw it all. Diamond Bill and two of his goons roughed up a fella, but it was the boss that shot the fella once in the head and twice in the chest. It was at that time he stopped trying to pry open the back door to…
September 28, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series, Chapter 14: The Proposition

February 2004 Jason was very tempted to go to the ladyboy bar, named 'Jenny's'. The music was always very good, a buzzing crowd, and some stunning looking lady boy's were there as well. He looked up and saw a load of girl's, well men, dancing on poles and…
September 28, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The Flower-Like Second Sonnet

I conceive the brilliant lilac. I build admirable holly. I design pleasant marigold. I constitute pleasing lily. You devise outstanding iris. You discover awesome poppy. You establish fine orchid. You forge an amazing pansy. She forms surprising peony. She…
September 25, 2022
Fantasy Stories Peter Greenhall

Energy, Volume II

Summer 1992 "Mummy, when I see Graham Alexander play football, I see fire inside his stomach. It burns really brightly, it's very nice to see". Hilary could see her daughter picture the image in her mind, completely fascinated by what she had witnessed…
September 25, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series, Chapter 2: The Brookies

September 2000 JJ entered Angie's bar to meet his potential new supplier, in an area of Brookbourne he'd never been to before, called Rippon. He was confident his connection to this guy was safe so he wasn't nervous about the person being an informer, or…
September 25, 2022
General Stories Lawrence Hartmann

God: A Dating App Adventure

“I won’t be hard to miss,” He had said on the phone. Well, He was right. When I got to our assigned meeting place – a Burger King on the outskirts of town – I could see Him from the parking lot: this incredibly bright, white light, there in the corner of the…
September 20, 2022
Poetry Peter Greenhall

Tribute to Queen Elizabeth II. RIP.

As you lay you to rest, in your final state, Westminster, UK, The World, Demonstrate, Your purpose, Your sense of duty, Was clear to see, Let's not forget, your family As time ticks towards the eleventh hour of the day, The funeral, The service, Melancholy. A…
September 20, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series: Chapter 8. Stamping Authority

 This was it, it was now or never. He knew this day was coming, he'd have to fight 'Big Ryan', the guy everyone said couldn't be beat. They all walked out of his apartment, all serious faced, not knowing if the fight would spill over and some of 'Big Ryan's'…
September 20, 2022
Flash Fiction Ava

Emotional Unstable

IS THERE ANY PLACE THAT I CAN STUDY IN? “Breakfast time.” White toasts with a slice of cucumber, a slice of tomato, half spoon of orange marmalade and a vegan sausage. A boiled egg. Granola with yoghurt with granola with yoghurt with corn flakes. A glass of…

Cal and Carrie Dodd, each twenty five, left their apartment at 9:00 AM and loaded their car with camping equipment. “It looks like we have everything we’ll need for a week. There’s plenty of food in the coolers, and we can always catch some fish,” Carrie said.”

“I have my hunting knife, and I put the hatchet in the back. We might have to chop some fire wood. I guess we have everything, Carrie, so let’s go camping.”

They left their town and headed for the mountains.  After driving for two hours, they entered Running Creek, a small town that was the gateway to the Mitawin mountain range. “I think we should stop and get some lunch before we head up the mountain.”  There’s a diner, Cal,” she said and he drove up to it, parked, and they went in and sat at the counter. A waitress went to them and placed silver ware and menus on the counter. “Welcome to Running Creek.  You folks planning to go camping?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Cal said.  “Say, what’s the meaning of the name of the mountain?”

“It’s Lakota for ‘my wife’. Some time ago, the Lakota lived in this area. Apparently, a Lakota village was attacked by the tribes’ enemies, and a girl, who was recently married to a young brave, was kidnapped by the invaders. The brave was heart-broken. He left the tribe and went out on his own to try to find his wife. What people here believe is that the young brave can be seen on the mountain searching for his wife. It’s a nice love story.

“So, what can I get you?”

After eating, Cal and Carrie drove toward the mountain. “What did you think about the love story?” Carrie asked.

“No matter where you go, there are folktales about spirits and ghosts. They’re just old, wives’tales.”

After driving along a mountain road wide enough for their car, he came to a clearing and stopped. “This looks like a good spot to set up camp,” he said and both unloaded the car and set up the tent.

“Cal, according to this map, there’s a lake about a mile to the west.  Let’s go fishing.”

“Good idea,” he said, they got their fishing gear, and headed for the lake. As they approached the lake, they stopped in their tracks. “What the hell.”

“Cal, do...do you see an Indian?”

“Yeah. I see an Indian, and he’s coming toward us.”

“The love story. Jeez, Cal, it’s true.  My God.”

“He’s coming straight at us. Jeez, he’s holding a knife,” he gasped, as the Indian ran at Cal and stabbed him. Carrie screamed as Cal fell to the ground, dead. Before she could move, the Indian picked her up and ran into the forest.

****

One month later, the Running Creek sheriff entered the diner and sat at the counter. “What’s new, sheriff?”

“A mystery. A man’s body was found not far from Crystal Lake. He had been stabbed. We found two fishing poles but only one body. We searched the area and found a camp site and a car. I ran the tag on the car, and found the owners…Cal and Carrie Dodd from Brainerd. We learned that they came up here a month ago to go camping. The mystery: who killed the man, and what happened to the woman?”

 

The End

While teaching speech and English at a community college, Mr. Greenblatt wrote short stories and plays, one of which won a reading at Smith College.  After retiring, he wrote short stories, novellas, and plays.  Several of his stories were published in on-line magazines, and others were published in print anthologies.

 

 

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