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Game Over

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I continued tapping my feet on the ground while staring at my college professor.

There was nothing more intimidating than meeting a teacher during office hours since most professors thought too highly of themselves because they were a lot less enlightened than they realized.

“I’m sorry.” Ms. Cork reached for her mug, taking a large sip. “But I’m not going to change your grade. It’ll remain a B-.”

I furrowed an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

Tears came to my eyes. “But I did the extra credit revisions. Doesn’t that mean anything?”


Pancake Eyes

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George picked her out of the line-up.  The line-up meant the group of hookers on the corner of Maple and Flour.  Given its proximity to the interstate exit, the area invited the drifters who got tossed aside by those who really knew them.  Some honestly wanted a better life, but most wanted to stay in their cycles.  George embraced his own cycle.

She stood under five feet and like the others, wore a tight top and a loose skirt for easy access.  Only her eye shadow caught George's attention.  He pictured the caked on mess of cobalt blue hard enough to require a chisel for its removal.  George grinned, pointed to her and opened the door.  She climbed inside like a kid running to greet the ice cream truck.


The Other Side

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“Dinner’s done.  Come and get it,” Joan Carr called, and her husband, Jack, and their sixteen year-old daughter, Diane, came into the dining room and sat down.

“Mmm. Everything looks scrumptious,” Diane said and put food on her plate.  “Say, did you hear bang about ten minutes ago?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” her mother said.

“I didn’t hear anything,” her father said.  Could you tell where the sound came from?”

“It sounded like it was in the wall. There it is again.”

“Hmm.  Honey, I didn’t hear it,” her father said.

“I didn’t either,” her mother said.

“It must have been my imagination,” she said as she ate.


A Sleight of Hand

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She tips back her head and shakes the canteen over her open mouth, praying for one more drop. One last wet lick. But like yesterday, and this morning, it remains dry, and she tosses the empty canteen along with the last of her hopes to the burning sand.

Stretching stiff fingers, she counts off the days.



Three. Three days since the food ran out. Three. She squeezes her eyes tight. Shakes her head. Gasps in a deep breath, her fisted hands buried in her eyes. That means Mark’s been dead a week. A week…


The Stranger in the Woods

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The Appalachian Trail near Damascus, VA contains some of the most beautiful and breath-taking scenery in the Eastern U.S.  So it’s no wonder I was drawn to the area for my post college hike, a kind of reward for graduating from Amherst University Summa Cum Laude.   I have always enjoyed the outdoors and the thought of hiking this area was too compelling for me to pass by before the start of law school in the fall.  An additional attraction to the area was the fact that my great grandfather, Benjamin Hefler, was a prominent politician in this area of Virginia in the early 1900’s.  The family had moved from Virginia to Ohio after Benjamin died a suspicious death at age 43.


A kiss is but a kiss

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“I guess I would say, seeing the Pacific Ocean.” Paul said picking up the paper menu on the table. He raised his head and glanced across the diner at the attractive redhead staring out the window, “Yes, definitely. The Pacific.” He returned his attention to the menu, folding its edges, flipping it over and folding it in half.

The man across the table from him regarded Paul and his dexterity. He curled his lower lip and nodded. “Interesting. Why Pacific?”

“First time we saw it, it was a summer day. We had just driven across the country from Boston to LA.”


Queen Anthea

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The little Princess Stephanie dropped the red ant into the vibrant nest of black ants. The mass of black ants turned on the solitary red ant and within seconds had torn it to pieces. Her eyes lit up and she smiled to herself.

She walked around the large expanse of garden, before she came to a beautiful butterfly perched on a leaf. She crept slowly to it and cupped her hands around the insect. She returned to the nest and dropped the butterfly into the swarming mass of ants. The ants overwhelmed the butterfly and devoured the poor thing with their strong jaws.


Death Is Half The Rush

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Sara was in the bath, while Beth cooked dinner. Jack Rowland stood at the window looking out at the yard.

“ Sweetheart, “ he said. “ You better have a look at this. “

Beth peeked out the window. She was alarmed, but not worried by what she saw. The family dog usually drooled, but never paced like that. The dog was growling, stopping momentarily to look at them.


How to Interview a Goddess

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The Guest

I open the door and what does he do? He holds out a beautiful, delicate white rose. Typical. When he anxiously releases the flower above my waiting hand, I let it slide off my palm and watch his eyes follow it to the glass floor. Of course he's startled— they always are when I reject their gifts.

I usher him inside to the largest room and sit him on my baby blue sofa, positioned directly below the glass dome towering far above our heads. From the looks of his face, he's no different from any of the others; mouth agape and eyes wide behind glasses far too big for his head, the guy sits on my sofa in complete shock. He looks ridiculous, cocking his head this way and that, drooling like a malnourished ostrich. It's disgusting.


The Wrong Murder

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I sat down at the dining table in my apartment, chugging down some coffee while my husband Julian flipped through the newspaper.

“So have you had any nibbles on the apartment you’re trying to sell?” I asked.

His attention remained focused on the newspaper. “No. I’m not sure anything will happen with that place.”

I furrowed an eyebrow. “You know, you could at least look up at me.”

He lifted his gaze off the table. “I’m sorry! Would you like to talk about the weather?”


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