Stories tagged father

Please Take

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I have a ball-pein hammer in my coat pocket.

Widowers

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My son’s lived in my basement since his wife, two years ago, died of breast cancer...

Bucolic

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He could smell the vestiges of alcohol on his folks. They’d let him stay up till midnight to mark the new year, and his mother had sneaked him a taste of her whisky. He remembered now what she’d last said before sending him off to bed, how strange it soun

Resonate

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In September of that year, our neighbor Wayne had this idea that he could get rich by selling groceries Amway-style, and he booted his 12-year-old boy out of his own bedroom and put up shelves loaded with packages of spaghetti, cans of roast beef, soda po

The Hollow Affronts, Internal

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And it's a tough thing to become a father, a contradiction; guiding a child to avoid the things that you know about so well.

Windows

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I sat there for two hours, waiting for you.

Her Head Sounserals Away

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"Bortne! Bortne! Shushort!" she exclaims, shooting her hands over her wobbly head in pleasure, causing it to again pop off. This time, it's a three story drop from a balcony. Terrified, he yells "Sneeeeew nuuuu! Oh nee padoooo!"

Phlegmatic

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Eddie Dorsett was a dumb kid. Nobody could dispute it. More than that, Eddie Dorsett was a fat, slothful, whining, shilly-shallying, phlegmatic zero of a kid, the lowest of the third-graders for certain and a prime contender for the lowest of the entire R

Hotel Khadijah

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"A prostitute of the Hotel Khadijah in Rahab fell in love with my father...."

Christmas in Humble, Texas

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All the Jack Daniels does not help me sleep.

Fred, Again

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Fantasy is useless but here is mine.

The Sweet Spot - Chapter One

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Now it was, distorted as it was through the sepia tones of mourning. It's that sweet spot - the place where fantasy and memory collide. It's what makes reality livable.

HER DREAM

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She is a little girl riding on a blue horse, Her arms around her father’s waist, Her cheek press against his back. They ride through a field crimson with poppies. I am dead.” A tide of darkness sweeps him away. “But, Father,” she shouts,

Learning

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Father, what did you think I would learn? That the heart, with an uppercut had fists in return?

Big Fat Apple

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His death at forty is not one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Of all the things he did, death is not one of the things he did well.