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Over the years, I have accumulated quite a bit of life experience. As I look around in the world of literature, I see some very good writers but it seems to lack a certain wholesome appeal. I find very little literature that I would want my grandchildren reading. I set out to create some short stories that anyone, young or old, could read without compromising their morals or scruples.
I have finally developed a style that folks can enjoy reading and decided to take a run at publishing them for your enjoyment. I welcome you to take the journey with me as you travel to places unseen and experience the natural world in its timeless beauty. They are designed to be read in one sitting, so grab yourself a cup of coffee or tea, sit for a while, and escape into a world of love, laughter, and adventure.
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Sample:
Ben slipped into bed with eager anticipation for tomorrow’s adventure. He had only found out about the trip earlier this evening when Jake, his Father, had come home. “Make sure you get your homework done early and get in bed, boys,” his father had said. He had paused only long enough to see the interest grow in their eyes; once he was satisfied that their curiosity was piqued, he gave the answer that their eyes and ears sought. “We’re going fishing tomorrow!”
To Ben’s 8-year-old imagination, the statement might as well have been delivered by a town crier walking slowly down the street while swinging a loudly ringing bell in an exaggerated arc. The words conjured images of secrets and shadows – as if they were to be inducted into an age-old tradition whose members were only known to each other by certain glances or key words.
His father’s fishing excursions were usually shrouded in deep mystery. Questioning his dad about his fishing trips would only get the barest response, so as not to give away any of the sworn secrets that only the true angler had learned over the years. His father's answers were given with the practiced efficiency of a secret agent about to go on a covert mission behind enemy lines. Ben and his brother would watch him drive off into the morning darkness without really knowing where he was going, or when he would be back.
At that time, they were at the dining room table working on their homework. Looking around to make sure that no one was within listening range of the three of them, Will, who was older than Ben by 5 years, dared the most sacred of all questions: “Where are we going, dad?”
“You’ll see,” came the casual reply. Ben was in awe at the restraint with which his father had answered the question. Not even the slightest bit of the ancient knowledge of the angler was given away.
“Now go get your homework done. Supper will be ready soon and you guys need to be in bed early tonight. We leave before daylight.
***
Ben and Will were just finishing the last pieces of their homework when Ellen, their mother, called them to the dinner table. Ben, who was still anticipating tomorrow’s trip, ran to the table as if his pants were on fire. He filled his plate from whatever bowl was handy and had stuffed his mouth with a forkful of mashed potatoes before he realized that everyone else at the table was staring wide-eyed in his direction.
Jake was the first one to speak. “Certainly, you wouldn’t mind sharing some of that with the rest of us, would you son?”
Ben’s cheeks glowed bright red as he tried to get a muffled apology through cheeks that resembled those of a chipmunk with one peanut too many. It was no use. The words lost their clarity somewhere in the back of his throat and the sound that escaped past the mashed potatoes reminded his mom of a car engine barely able to turn over on a frozen morning.
Ellen bit her lip as she glanced at Jake. Regaining her composure, she looked back at Ben and spoke with a gentle sternness in her voice. “And how many times have you been told not to speak with your mouth full, young man?”
Ben’s head craned forward like a chicken about to take a step as he attempted to pull his throat around the food in his mouth. With a grimace, he swallowed a good portion of what was there and pocketed the rest in one cheek while the words “Sorry Mom” muffled through the small space that was made by the strained attempt to swallow half of California.
“I should say so, young man. Now pass some of that food to the rest of us.”
Ben quickly started the various sized bowls around the table and regrouped for another attack on what he had earlier placed on his own plate.
While Jake passed one bowl and grabbed for another, he glanced at Ben and quietly set the bowl down. When he did this, it caught the attention of everyone but Ben; and a telltale silence ensued. An amused twinkle entered Jake’s eyes as he watched the spectacle that was occurring at the other end of the table.
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Sample:
Stephen looked up and saw a blue sky that, in this temperature, was clear and deep. Small, wispy clouds dotted the blue canopy with a quiet serenity. The sun spilled across the sky with a silent beauty that seemed to make time hang in limbo. There was a wonderful silence all around Stephen. The only thing he could hear was the crunch of the snow beneath his feet.
He made his way closer to the pines at the top of the pasture lot. A couple of days ago there was a heavy snow followed by a light rain. It was unusual for this time of year, but the rain did not last long. As the evening temperatures dropped below freezing the night air worked its magic on the evergreen branches, freezing the water around them.
Stephen stood still for a moment. His breath nearly stopped. The soft rays of the afternoon sun shimmered against the icy fingers that hung below the snow-laden branches. Taller white pines stood watch over the evergreens. They were hardened sentinels gilded in silver coats, gleaming against the crystal blue sky overhead. Below them hid the scotch pines that intermingled with the cedars. The thick ice hanging from the lush, full branches of the scotch pines glistened like tinsel in the soft light of the sun's gentle touch. The tawny cedars, slender in their appearance, posed in their dashing attire of silver and blue. They reached out for each other in the gentle breeze, branches gently swaying as if waltzing to nature's silent orchestra.
Stephen had seen something this spectacular only one other time as a young teenager. He and his dad were driving to town. They rounded a corner and happened to look at the mountains ahead. The scene of frozen beauty caused his father to pull over and they both got out to enjoy the moment. His father had passed on some years ago, but he continued to live on in Stephen's own love for nature's artistry. With the warmth of that memory, he trudged into the forest and was embraced by the familiar scent of fresh pine.
Here the mountain became steeper. Stephen's pace slowed as his breath came harder. The cold temperatures caused his lungs to burn, and his legs began to ache with the effort against the sharp grade. Even in these frigid temperatures, Stephen was beginning to heat up. The layers of warm clothing were trapping his body heat. Before he started to sweat, he stopped long enough to remove his jacket and placed it in his backpack. Allowing his body to sweat in temperatures below freezing would encourage hypothermia as the sweat began to freeze. The thermal undershirt and sweater he was wearing would keep him warm enough while hiking in these conditions.
He continued his slow and steady pace to where the pines gave way to hardwoods. Their leafless branches were held captive in winter's sleep. Its ice-laden grip rendered them brittle and vulnerable, giving the timberland an ominous presence in the growing shadows of the now late afternoon sun.
Stephen did not realize how long the climb through the pines had taken. He was standing on a small ridge that was level enough to make camp for the night. He found an area below a small cluster of pines that had been sheltered from the snow. There was only about six inches covering the frozen ground. Stephen grabbed a pine branch from the ground and swept an area big enough for him to set up his tent. He stepped from beneath the pines into the more open area of the hardwoods to take off his pack.
A small creaking sound was the only warning that he had before an ear-splitting crack echoed through the forest. The sound came from overhead and was close. Stephen looked up just in time to see a large branch breaking from the weight of the ice and snow.
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Sample: While the chicken cooked, he decided to stretch his legs. Grant turned off the lantern, took a couple of steps to the cave entrance, and stood in full view of the heavens. The moon rose full on the horizon. The stars, so brilliant that you could almost feel them on your face, burned into the black canvas surrounding them. They winked at Grant from every direction like fireflies dancing in the night. Moonlight spilled out of the big dipper like cream and lit up the desert landscape so well that Grant could see the jeep at the base of the mound. A small breeze blew across the desert, causing the sagebrush to stir.
He smiled as he turned his attention to the grill. Turning the chicken caused a loud hiss and sizzle followed by orange flame that was quickly devoured by the night. The smell of the spicy chicken and mesquite caused his mouth to water.
The coyote pack howled in unison, this time much closer. Grant was so enjoying the evening that what happened next caught him by complete surprise. To his close left, he heard a howl that was much deeper. More than just a coyote, less than a wolf, the bone-chilling howl was so close that Grant leapt into the air with fright. When he landed, he stumbled back and tripped over a rock causing him to roll a short distance down the mound. It has to be the large coyote that followed me earlier, thought Grant.
He stood and looked around to see where the coyote was. A large four-legged form ran to his grill, grabbed a piece of chicken, and ran away. Grant's fear left and anger took its place.
He ran as fast as he could around the butte in chase of the bandit. He saw him go into another small opening in the soft sandstone wall. Grant gave chase and entered the cave as well.
“You're not getting away with my chicken!” Grant shouted. He continued in the dark, feeling his way along the walls. He bumped his head on a small outcropping and swore, something he rarely did. Another rock bruised his knee. His anger turned to fury. Soon after, he came out at another point in the butte. The cave had taken him all the way through the mountain of rock.
Standing just outside was the coyote, grinning back at Grant with the chicken firmly planted in his mouth.
“Get back here!” Grant yelled into the night. “That's my chicken!”
The Coyote turned and ran. Grant followed easily in the well-lit desert but the coyote was much faster. Grant ran around the base and just as he came back to his camp, he saw the large coyote and one more member from the pack grab all of the chicken from his grill and run off into the night.
Grant trailed the thieves for a short distance and shouted into the night. “Ya pack of thieving outlaws! Hasn't anyone told you!”
He formed his right hand as if holding a book. With his left hand he pointed to the mock book and yelled. “It says right here in the rule book! Coyotes don't interact with humans! Didn't you get the memo! For crying out loud guys, that was my chicken, not yours! I was looking forward to that!” He shook his fist as he yelled, “I hope you choke on it!” In response, he heard one long, deep howl followed by a yelp and several yips. Again, he was being laughed at.
He walked back to his camp and dejectedly opened the cooler. He looked for a long while at the lonely piece of chicken staring back at him. He placed it on the grill and after a couple of flips, managed a small taste that didn’t begin to satisfy the longing in his stomach.
He walked to the opening of the cave. With his hands resting on his waist, Grant stared somberly into the night. A regular Billy the kid, you are, he thought. Yeah, that name fits you. Billy it is. He was an outlaw that Grant enjoyed reading about as a kid. He was known for being charming and polite while stealing you blind.
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