-
Elena’s Tale – a morning at the gun club
An American Landscape Short Story Livermore Pleasanton Rod & Gun Club One Sunday morning On her first day off in several months, she pulled through the large parking lot, parked her gleaming white BMW 640i, and retrieved her shotgun and gear from the vehicle’s trunk. Her father gave her that shotgun when she had graduated from college. Her grandfather bought her the sports car when she joined the CIA. Both men were dead now. Shooting vest loaded with shells and with the 12-gauge Perazzi HT 2020 open and cradled over one shoulder, she headed toward the trap range office to find her squad and the day’s schedule. That’s when she…
-
Be Brave
Remember writing book reports during high school? Oh, how I dreaded book reports. Other than Speech class and a consistently heckling tormentor, book reports were the absolute worst part of high school. Here, I’ll be brave, though, to be more accurate, these are book reviews. I’ll tell you a little something about the things I’ve read and enjoyed so far this year. (In future pieces, keep an eye out for TV series and movies I’ve been watching this year.) Hannah, Kristin. The Women. Ms. Hannah writes women’s fiction, stories about powerful, capable women, in harrowing circumstances. The Women has summited a lot of lists, and for good reason. My wife and I…
-
The Bitches in #366
The Unraveling of a Winner’s Tale (Author’s note: During a recent dinner party, one of the guests arrived late. She was abuzz with that afternoon’s acquisition of eighteen female mannequins for her boutique. She shared a picture of them in a storage unit, Unit #366.) Decisions are easy to make; sometimes they’re hard to live with. Imagine one of those TV mysteries that starts with a young woman walking a stream-side path during a misty night. Trees heavy with moss drip from a recent storm. Gravel crunches underfoot. She’s alone. The score is tense, the deep tones pounding, prickling your fight-or-flight responses. Her path is lit in a weak, sepia-orange light. She comes…
-
The Orville
Do you geek out over Star Trek? Do your friends lovingly call you a Trekkie? If so, welcome to the club! I’ve been a card-carrying member since the shag carpets and lava lamp days of the 60s. Hence, when The Orville hit the screens, a creation daring to trace its lineage back to the original series but not birthed by the Paramount clan, it felt like a mutiny. I staunchly refused to give it a peek. Now, quick disclaimer, I’m as into contemporary American TV as a vegan is into a bacon sandwich. I’ve managed to dodge every episode of Family Guy like a ninja, and while Ted, the movie, did have its moments of…
-
How Deep?
What’s the depth of your literary (or any) mastery? This question, of course, leads us on an introspective journey, more rhetorical than realistic. I dream of wielding my pen with the grace and poise of Gabriel García Marquez. Or perhaps, mirroring the prolific nature of, say, a James Patterson. In the happy place of my mind, my stories would captivate readers who like novels from a couple of my favorites, Kristin Hannah and Jennifer Donnelly. But reality loves to bring one back down to earth, reminding me that I lack the talent and maybe the genuine passion needed to soar with my heroes. Yet, I’m constantly studying the craft, chipping…
-
The Joy of Simple Pleasures: A Perspective on Entertainment
What really tickles your funny bone? Or, digging deeper into the matter, have we lost our ability to let loose and revel in simple joy? I’m no expert on the subject, merely a humble observer, sharing my thoughts. In the comfort of our homes, we are spoiled for choice when it comes to entertainment. We can indulge in a smorgasbord of digital delights on our sleek flat screens, immersing ourselves in the enchanting wonders of our natural world through documentaries, staying abreast of global happenings, enjoying the latest cinematic releases, or indulging in marathon sessions of our beloved series. Yes, we can also Netflix and chill, but let’s park that…
-
Dow 11,000
As the new millennium dawned, the Dot-Com bubble teetered on the brink of collapse. The Dow Jones had scaled the dizzying heights of 11,000 points, but my boss, a petroleum engineer with a shiny Penn State masters, was prophesying doom and gloom. His wisdom was legendary, but on this occasion, I felt compelled to disagree. You see, I was neck-deep in an electrical engineering course at the time, hoping to transition to the sunny shores of project management. As the Dow crumbled down to a pitiful 7,000 points and NASDAQ tumbled a staggering 77%, my boss remained steadfast in his belief, saying, “The Dow will never hit 11,000 points again!” …
-
Reviews on Google Maps
You’ve likely heard the saying, “If you want reviews, you gotta write reviews”—perhaps written in another writer’s newsletter. It never hurts to be reminded, and I admit I often remind myself. Picture this, pre-pandemic, I embarked on a journey, penning down my thoughts on eateries, inns, and attractions. Google Maps became my canvas. What type of processor are you? Let’s switch tracks momentarily. Are you the visual-processor type? You know, the kind who comprehends things better with visuals than reading the directions? For much of my life, I didn’t realize I was one of them. Here’s a scenario: If we’re in an unfamiliar town (not a Stephen King-esque ghost town,…
-
Once Upon a Serene
A short piece of flash fiction for your reading pleasure. On a serene day at a lake, paddleboarding took a shocking twist when a ghostly, bikini-clad beauty floated into view. EMS was called. Chaos and speculating bystanders were just the beginning. So, I was meditating. All right, some would call it paddleboarding. But that’s where I can let my mind go limp. And, yeah, limp might not be the best word to use here. Let’s start over. Out to relax, spend time on our community lake, and get in a bit of exercise, that’s when it happened. Yeah, and you want to know about ‘it’. Pushy, pushy. Give me a…
-
La Petite Cathédrale d’Elsie
(Author’s note: This story was selected for the 2021 Napa Valley Writers group Anthology, Third Harvest, released December 8, 2021 – available HERE*) Father Paolo gripped his cloak tight around his face, bent into the snowstorm, and moved on. A numb grip held his walking staff; fingers a mottled pink and pale, ghostly white. Aroused by the assault of another gust, he realized he no longer climbed with each step. Was this the vale he sought? When the wind abated, snowflakes surrounding him held motionless, as if considering their mission toward earth. He caught the scent of burning wood. The snowflakes returned to their downward flutter. He stopped and turned toward…
