Grandpa Al radioed coordinates in the Korean War.
He was quiet, loved his Yankees, and sipped O’Doul’s in the summertime.
He had a fake leg and owned a ukulele, too—
a sweet, beautiful instrument boxed up in his basement.
I can see him now.
He’s smiling. Sipping. Strumming and plucking.
Justin Deming lives and teaches in the Hudson Valley region of New York.
Resembling a Samurai statue wrapped in a tattered blanket, the homeless man sits on the city bench. A plastic bowl rests on his lap. His hands emerge; each holds a wooden chopstick. He drums the bowl and stares ahead like a cymbal-banging monkey.
Change lands in the bowl. He nods.
Jeffrey Albright is an aspiring writer of compelling fiction. His passion for storytelling was fostered by years of working in and owning a boutique hair salon where, from behind the chair, he has heard many a tall tale and met enough characters to cast his stories for years.
Francine picked at the stitches, removing them one by one, each a separate, deliberate act.
In the hearth a log shifted as those beneath it burnt away. Sparks glittered momentarily before extinguishing themselves. She glanced up at the sound it made, fingers never stopping, never ceasing to pick, pick, pick.
Stuart is absent without leave from the majority of life and finds that writing helps him remain that way — he occasionally blogs a story at www.diamondsanddross.blogspot.com