Healing through story

Category: short fiction (Page 1 of 10)

shortfiction24 – no sleepover tonight

A planned sleepover is blown away by a school shooter. Maggie’s quick wit saves her friend from bleeding out after a school shooting.

Enjoy the story. I hope it does even a tiny bit to raise awareness of the horrific events.

No Sleepover Tonight

Bob Gillen

Maggie’s seat near the back of the American History class made it easier for her to text her friend without the teacher spotting her. 

can’t wait for the sleepover tonite

The girl sitting next to Maggie reached for her phone.

so ready, good for vaping?

 Brooke smiled across at Maggie.

Maggie dropped her phone and stooped down to pick it up from the floor.

The roar of an automatic weapon erupted in the hall outside the classroom. Maggie heard screams. 

The classroom door smashed open. 

Gunfire sprayed the room. 

Maggie stayed near the floor. Huddled into a ball, covering her head. She felt a weight fall against her.

In the hall men shouted. Maggie heard Pop Pop Pop. Someone yelled “clear.”

A moment of silence, followed by more screams, moans, sobbing. A boy yelled, “Help me!”

Maggie tried to move the weight off her back. The weight slipped to the floor. 

Brooke! 

Covered in blood.

Brooke opened her eyes, looked at Maggie. “Is that my blood?”

Maggie stared in shock. Brooke said, “Don’t let me die, Mags. I don’t want to die.”

Maggie checked Brooke’s body. Blood poured from her shoulder. Maggie reached under her desk for her backpack. She pulled out a handful of period pads. 

Without speaking she stuffed several pads into Brooke’s shoulder wound. “Roll over,” she told Brooke. “There must be an exit wound.” Brooke groaned as she turned. Maggie shoved more pads into the exit wound. Brooke rolled back. Her eyes met Maggie’s. 

“Don’t let me die.”

Maggie sensed chaotic activity in the room. Someone was directing the uninjured out of the room. A female police officer stepped up to Maggie. She examined Brooke. “A shoulder wound?”

Maggie nodded. 

“EMTs will be here in a few minutes. Hang on.”

The officer looked at Maggie. “Are you hurt?”

Maggie looked at herself. Hands and arms covered in blood. Jeans soaked from kneeling in blood. “I’m okay.” She pointed at Brooke. “It’s all her blood.”

The officer waved an EMT over. The EMT checked Brooke’s wound. He poked at the blood-soaked pads. He looked at Maggie. “Did you pack the wounds?”

Maggie uttered a weak, “yes.”

“You saved her life. Nice work.”

Tears poured down Maggie’s face. She reached up to wipe the tears, ended up smearing blood over her face. The EMT handed her a wipe.

They placed Brooke on a gurney. Brooke touched Maggie’s hand. “No sleepover tonight.”

“I’ll sleep over at the hospital one night.”

They wheeled her out. Maggie attempted to stand and look around. The female officer blocked her vision. “Nothing here you want to see.” She escorted Maggie out to the hall and away from the classroom.

Students were streaming out of the building. Police and first responders rushed in. Teachers helped with directing traffic.

The police officer took Maggie outside, steering her to a bench. “You saved that girl’s life. Be proud.”

Maggie lowered her head. Tears flowed. A teacher came over, said to the officer, “I’ll sit with her.”

Ambulances screamed away to ERs. More responders roared in. News media swarmed the scene.

Maggie and the teacher sat in the middle of it all. She wiped her blood-soaked hands on her jeans. She turned to face the teacher. “Did they kill the shooter?”

The teacher nodded.

Maggie stood. “I need to go back in there. I want to kick the shit out of the fucker’s dead body.”

***

shortfiction24 – estranged no more

Jack spends a few days at Diane’s house recovering from prostate removal surgery. An unexpected visitor brings possible healing to a long-estranged family member.

This is #8 in the ongoing Jack and Diane series of stories, which originated in November of 2021. As I have said before, I have no plan, no story arc, for the series. Each story has arisen from the prior ones, the characters not willing to fade away.

You can read the first seven stories here.

Estranged No More

Bob Gillen

Diane Somers idled her old Volvo 142S in front of the hospital entrance. She slid out of her seat as a hospital volunteer pushed Jack Marin’s wheelchair out to the curb. 

Jack managed to stand on his own, hang onto the door, and slide into the Volvo. A few curse words ensued. Diane thanked the volunteer, got Jack’s seatbelt secured, and climbed in. 

“Ready?” she asked Jack.

“So ready. Wait, do I need to tip the volunteer?”

Diane grinned. “Not necessary.”

Jack squirmed to adjust himself in his seat. “My doc had said two or three days in here after the surgery. It took five days for them to release me.”

“It was a big surgery,” Diane said. “You were on the table for five hours.”

“Yeah. They had some job removing my monster prostate.”

“Your doctor said it was thirty five grams.”

“More like twenty pounds, I think.”

Diane laughed. “Let’s get you home.”

Jack enjoyed seeing the familiar sights as they drove to Diane’s house. He squinted into the bright sun and moved the sun visor down. A piece of paper fell into his lap. He reached for it. A photo. “This looks like you with your husband and Margaret.”

“Wait till we stop for a red light and I’ll take a look.”

At the next light she glanced at the photo. “Yeah. Me and Frank, and Margaret.Frank must have put it there.”

“I’ve only been to your place a few times,” Jack said. “I don’t think I saw any pictures of your family.”

Diane sighed. “I have one picture in my bedroom. Our wedding picture. I like to think about beginnings, not endings.”

“Nothing in between?” Jack asked.

“I put all the photos away when Margaret alienated herself from me.”

Diane pointed. “Put the photo back in the visor.”

As the traffic light changed, she said, “I set you up in the spare bedroom…and cleared the couch. You should be comfortable for a few days till you get your strength back.”

She backed into the driveway to position the passenger side near the front door. Jack pulled himself out of the seat and stood holding onto the door. Diane came around and supported him.

“Let’s try the couch for a while,” Jack said. “I could use a dose of TV.”

Diane got him settled on the couch, set a blanket over him, and tucked a pillow behind his head.

“How about a sandwich?” she asked. “A turkey club?”

“Sounds good. Washed down with a beer?”

She handed him the TV remote and headed to the kitchen.

Jack rested his head on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. “I could sure use a shower but I think I should wait till tomorrow.”

“No worries,” Diane called from the kitchen. “I’ve got room deodorizer.”

“Funny.”

Diane came in with a luscious sandwich and a sweet pickle slice on a plate, a cold longneck in her other hand. 

“This looks great,” he said. He reached for the bottle and took a long swig, a smile breaking across his face.

“Beats hospital meals, I hope.”

“It does, but you know, their food wasn’t that bad. A turkey dinner one night, meatloaf and mashed potatoes another night. Not bad at all.”

Jack devoured the sandwich. “How about another beer?”

“Let’s take it easy,” she said. “You’re still on meds. Why don’t you take a nap?”

Jack nodded, leaned back, and promptly fell asleep.

The following morning, after a breakfast of bacon and eggs in bed, a home health physical therapist named Molly showed up to assess Jack’s condition and start him on some core-building exercises.

“I know you’d rather stay in bed, but we need to re-build your strength after the surgery. Are you in any pain?”

“My lower back hurts,” Jack said.

“We can work on that.” Molly put Jack through a series of PT exercises while he was lying down.

“Now let’s get you up to a standing position.”

Diane handed her a walker she had rented for Jack till he got stronger.

Jack tried to sit up and swing his legs off the bed.

“Oh…oh, sweet Jesus!” he cried. “I can’t do this.”

Molly stepped forward with the walker. “Hold on to this, roll your legs off the bed, pull yourself up.”

Jack grimaced, cursed. On the third try he got to a sitting position on the side of the bed.

“Can you stand?”

Gripping the walker, Jack hoisted himself to an upright position. “Standing is easier.”

Molly helped Jack walk through the living room and into the kitchen.

Standing against the counter, she had him move up on his toes, then back on his heels, ten times.

“I want you to do this twice a day,” she said. “And I’ll leave you with a page of exercises to do. I’ll be back in two days.”

“This isn’t too bad,” Jack said. “It’s the getting out of bed that hurts like hell.”

“That will get easier as you build your core.”

Later that afternoon, after a nap, Jack watched TV from the couch. Diane brought him a cold beer. She sat, leaned gently against him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty shitty, overall.”

He sipped the beer. “I think I need to go to the bathroom.”

Diane had stocked the guest bathroom with adult disposable underpants. Jack dragged himself to the bathroom. He struggled to get his pants off and change the paper underpants. “Taking these big-kid underpants on and off is a real pain,” he called out.

Diane cracked the door, handed him a package. “I also bought you men’s pads. You can change them without taking your pants off.”

“Brilliant,” he said.

“We girls been down this road before.”

Later, at dinner, Jack devoured chicken tacos, rice and beans. “You’re spoiling me. I won’t be able to do this when I get back to my own house.”

Jack lowered his head into his hands. He sighed deeply. “This isn’t how I pictured my life going.”

“It is what it is,” Diane said. She rubbed his shoulder.

“Lying in the hospital bed all I could think of was how fucked up my life is now. After my wife died, I mourned for a year, then found a routine. It wasn’t much, but it worked for me. Now…that’s all in the wind. I can’t travel any distance because of the incontinence. I can barely get out of bed. Instead of walking, I’m teeter tottering. I could never pass a DUI test.”

Diane smiled. “Relax. It’s only been a week. You’ll get there.”

She got up and cleared away the dinner dishes. “How about watching a movie?”

Jack smirked. “If I can stay awake…”

The following morning Jack pushed himself to get up from his bed and use the walker to move to the kitchen table. Diane stood at the stove in her robe, flipping buttermilk pancakes. 

Jack poured a mug of coffee and sat at the table. “You are clearly spoiling me.”

“It feels good to have someone else in the house. I’ll feel lonely when you go back to your own place.” She set a plate of pancakes in front of Jack. “Syrup’s there if you want it.”

The doorbell rang.

“Huh.” Diane said. “Who could that be?”

“Expecting any packages?”

Diane shook her head as she stepped to the door.

A woman stood in the door, backlit by the morning sun.

Diane peered at the figure. “Margaret?”

“Mom.”

Diane stood frozen for a moment. 

“Have you been driving dad’s Volvo?” Margaret pointed to the driveway.

“A mission of mercy.”

“Can I come in?”

Diane stepped aside. “Of course. Forgive my shock.”

Margaret entered the house. She wore jeans, a loose sweater, her hair in a long ponytail.

“Who is it?” Jack called from the kitchen.

Margaret whipped around at Diane. “That’s a man’s voice.”

“Come in and meet Jack.” Diane walked into the kitchen.

Margaret followed her. She stood staring at Jack. A man at her mom’s kitchen table. In his pajamas. Eating breakfast. 

“Jack, this is my daughter Margaret. Margaret, Jack.”

“We’ve met,” Jack said. “At the cemetery last month.”

Margaret said nothing. She glared at Diane.

“Do you want coffee?”

Margaret shook her head.

“How could you?”

“How could I what?” Diane said.

“You kept dad’s terminal sickness from me three years ago. Now you have a guy living in with you and you didn’t tell me.”

Margaret turned, ready to storm out. Jack stood, awkwardly, and reached out to her.

“Please stay,” he said.

Margaret said, her back to Jack, “Why? More lies. She’s replacing my dad already. I’ve had enough.”

Diane flared in anger. She threw a dishtowel down on the table. “Hold on. You chose to stay away from me for these three years. Now you show up out of the blue and begin making judgements on me and Jack.”

“I can see what this is,” Margaret said, turning back to face Diane.

“No,” Jack interrupted. “You’re not seeing what this is.” He grimaced in pain as he moved, and quickly sat down.

“Margaret, I don’t know what brought you here today.” Her anger softened. “But I am thrilled that you’re here. Can you sit and talk with us for a few minutes?”

Margaret glared at both of them, then slowly sat, hanging her purse over the back of the chair. Diane put a cup of coffee in front of her.

Margaret had estranged herself from Diane since her father’s death three years ago. The separation had sat heavily on Diane’s heart, carrying her husband’s loss alone until she met Jack.

Diane spoke. “Let’s clear the air about Jack. He is someone I am seeing. We met on a dating app maybe six months ago. We have both lost spouses. Both retired. Both looking, quite tentatively, to have someone in our lives. Jack is here because he’s recovering from surgery and needs support for a few days till he can go back to his own place.”

Jack leaned on the walker. “I had my prostate removed because of a carcinoma. I was on the table for five hours. Your mom is helping me. I can barely get out of bed. I am fumbling all over the place. And I am now incontinent from the surgery.”

“TMI,” Margaret said, holding a palm up in Jack’s direction.

“Just putting it all out there,” Jack shrugged.

Diane spoke, “We are moving slowly in our relationship. And as to intimacy, that’s none of your business.”

Margaret spoke softly to Jack, “When I saw you at the cemetery with my mom, I figured it was something serious. She wouldn’t bring just anyone to dad’s grave.” 

Diane had taken Jack to Frank’s grave on Margaret’s birthday a month ago. One of the three times each year she visited the grave. Watching from a distance, Margaret had tried to talk to Jack while he strolled around the cemetery. Jack had refused, saying he did not want to get in the middle of the two and their difficult relationship. It was later that Diane had told him, you’re in the middle, or you’re out. Your choice. Jack had chosen to continue his relationship with Diane.

“And speaking of your dad,” Diane said, “it was his decision, not mine, not to tell you how serious his illness was. He didn’t want you suffering through his last weeks. I brought you in only when he said he was ready to see you.”

Margaret began crying. She rubbed away tears. “I could have sat with him in those last weeks.”

Diane also began crying. “We wasted these three years. I could have told you this if you had listened…if you had not stayed away.”

She stood and hugged Margaret’s shoulders. Margaret put a hand on Diane’s arm. “I couldn’t deal…”

“You’re here now.” She pulled Margaret to a standing position and hugged her hard. Both sobbed deeply. 

Jack sipped his coffee. 

After the two women had eased their sobbing, Jack said, “It’s good to see you two together. But the pancakes are getting cold. Margaret, please sit and eat with us.”

Margaret sat, grabbed a couple of napkins to wipe her eyes and nose. Diane reached for another plate.

“But I’m curious,” Jack continued. “What brings you here, Margaret? Why today?”

Margaret smiled, met Diane’s eyes. She set her hands over her belly. “I’m pregnant.”

***

shortfiction24 – talking an old man down

Travis ditches school for one more day on the water before fall turns to winter. He encounters an old man languishing in the marshes. Is the old man there to die?

I first posted this story in June of 2020. This is a revised version with more depth of feeling, I hope, Please enjoy the story.

Talking an Old Man Down

Bob Gillen

Blowing off a school day in mid October, Travis steered his small boat down the creek and out toward the open bay. A last day of freedom on the water before the seasons changed, before fall slipped into winter. A light breeze carried the sharp, sweet smell of wood smoke from nearby chimneys. A brilliant blue sky dotted with white cloud specks offered the perfect backdrop.

Travis moved east, passed under the railroad trestle that intersected the bay, and swung south. He soon eased up to a narrow beach accessible only by boat. Tiny black snails littered the sandy bottom at the shore’s edge. He tilted his outboard motor out of the water to keep the propeller from striking the bottom. He slipped off his sneakers, rolled his pants legs up to his knees, and hopped out of the boat into the clear, warm water.

All summer Travis had spent hours scouring the bay’s beaches and marshes for treasure, anything useful washed up or adrift. The best thing he had ever found was a varnished oar.

Today’s scrounging yielded nothing but a shredded nylon rope. He pushed the boat off the beach, left the motor tilted up, and used an oar to pole his way parallel to the beach till he reached the narrow channel he knew snaked through the marsh that filled the center of the bay.

Travis took in the slight odor of decay underlying the salty smell of marsh grasses and tall reeds. The tide ran high. He had a few hours till he needed to worry about getting caught in the shallows.

A swarm of flies surviving from summer flitted frantically around the boat. His oar sent up a billow of sand every time it touched bottom. A horseshoe crab glided by under his boat, dodging his oar. A battered rowboat appeared, stuck deep in the marsh grass. A quick glance told him there was nothing to be salvaged from the wreck.

Fifteen minutes later Travis rounded a curve in the narrow channel. The grasses here grew straight up over his head. He spotted a boat up ahead. Bigger than his. A tiny cabin, looking like an afterthought, stood at the bow. 

Got to be something useful on this boat, Travis thought. He edged his own boat closer. He spied an outboard engine on the stern. “Oh wow! A motor!” he said aloud. He poled closer. 

Stopped cold. 

Sitting on a tattered beach chair in the back of the boat was an old man. 

An old man with his back to Travis. Dozing?

“Hello,” Travis called out. The man jumped, shaking his boat, ripples playing out into the channel. He turned to look at Travis.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus. “Beat it. Keep moving.”

Travis ignored the old man’s hostility. “Sorry to startle you. I’m just moving through the channel.”

“Well, move on by.” The old man gave a sharp gesture toward the channel.

Curious and confused, Travis moved closer to the old man. He got a better look at his boat. White paint faded, peeling in places. Barnacles and sea grass adhering to the boat under the waterline. A dented outboard motor tilted up out of the water.

“Did you run out of gas?” Travis asked.

A croak. “I said, keep moving.”

Travis hesitated. He couldn’t leave the old man stranded. Could he? “I can spare some gas, or tow you out of here.”

“How many times do I have to say, get lost?” The old man turned his back, wrapped his arms around himself.

Travis felt an uneasy vibe. He poled his boat closer to the old man’s. 

“Are you hungry? I’ve got a couple of sandwiches I can share.”

Silence, broken only by a screeching gull.

Travis noticed that the propeller on the old man’s motor was missing.

“Where’s your propeller?”

The old man pointed toward the marsh grasses.

“It fell off? I can help you find it.”

“I don’t want to find it. I threw it in there.” He waved towards the marsh. “It’s gone.”

Travis let his boat nudge up against the old man’s boat. He gripped it to hold the two together. 

The old man turned, glared. “Don’t touch my boat.”

Travis could see at least a week’s worth of gray stubble on the old man’s sunburned face. His shabby clothes hung loosely on his frame. Cigarette burns dotted the edge of the old man’s boat. 

“You look hungry.” Travis dug out a sandwich and offered half to the old man. “It’s only peanut butter and jelly.”

The old man looked at the sandwich. Pushed Travis’s arm away.

“What are you going to do?” Travis asked. “The tide will be going out soon. You’ll be stuck in here.”

The old man shrugged.

Travis shook his head. “You’re weird. You going to sit here till you die?”

The old man looked hard at him. A single tear rolled down his craggy cheek.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

That silenced Travis. He wants to die out here?

Travis continued to hold the two boats together as they bobbed gently.

“When was the last time you ate?”

The old man ignored the question.

“You going to die hungry, or do you want the sandwich?”

“What do you care?”

Travis stared at the soggy sandwich in his hand. “Not sure I care either way…I guess I never gave any thought to dying. It must be hard. But I don’t think I would want to die hungry.”

“Come back in a few days. I’ll let you know… if I’m still breathing. Otherwise, you’ll have to figure it out for yourself.”

Travis could think of nothing to say for a few moments. Then, finally, “This is an awful place to die.”

“Not so bad. Water, open sky, quiet.”

“Won’t people miss you? Look for you?”

The old man shook his head. “No one cares.”

“Where do you live?”

“The south end of the bay.”

“Do you have family?”

“One son… lives three states away. Haven’t seen him in years.”

“No one else?”

“No one.”

“Neighbors?”

“None worth a damn.”

Travis waved a few flies away from his sandwich. He  bite into it, wiping stray grape jelly off his face.

“Why are you here?” the old man asked. “Isn’t today a school day?”

“I ditched.”

“Won’t they look for you?”

“They’ll call my mother. Get her voicemail.”

“What will she do?”

“Not much. Cry about how hard life is, how much she sacrifices for me.”

“My mother was like that too.”

“School sucks.”

“No argument there.”

“Today is my last day out on the water before I have to haul my boat out for the winter.”

“So you came in here to mess with me.”

The boy smiled. “It’s quiet in here. Peaceful. Away from everything.”

“So maybe not a bad place to die, huh?”

“I guess… how are you going to do this?”

“Sit here till death finds me.”

Travis once again offered his sandwich.

“Do you want half?”

The old man hesitated, stared at the sandwich. “If I eat it, it’ll take me longer to die.”

“Yeah, so…a few more minutes enjoying this.” Travis waved his arm up to the sky.

“Peanut butter?”

Travis said, “Yeah.”

“What the hell.” His hand trembled as he took the sandwich and stuffed it in his mouth.

“Why not die at home?”

The old man opened his arms to the marsh. “Why not here?”

“I got no answer for that.”

The two ate in silence for a few moments. 

“Am I supposed to talk you out of it? We have a suicide hotline at school. They try to talk you down.”

“You called the hotline?”

“Once. Mostly to see what it was like.”

“You wanted to die?”

“Not really. Just got sick of everything. Wanted to see if someone had a better idea.”

“And?”

“Nothing better. Just stuff about my future… about hurting my mom.”

“Was that enough?”

“Not really. I mean, I’m not depressed or anything. I just get tired sometimes.”

“I didn’t know kids felt like that.”

“I get tired of trying to figure things out.”

“What do you have to figure out at your age?”

“Girls.”

“Ah. Yeah, I get that.”

The old man finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his pants. “So… are you going to beat it and leave me to die?”

Travis had no answer.

“This is what I want, buddy.”

“Really?”

The old man closed his watery eyes, drifted into silence once more. A silence that seemed to fill the entire marsh.

The old man’s eyes popped open. He turned to face Travis. “Want to know the truth, kid?”

“I guess so.”

A hoarse whisper broke from the old man. “Dying scares the shit out of me.”

“You said you want to sit here till you die.”

“Yeah, I said that.” The old man stared down at his feet. “I got nothing to live for here. I lost my pension. No one cares if I live or die. He pointed to the sky. “But the thought of the other side. I mean, shit, who knows what it’s like.”

“Do you believe in heaven?”

The old man took a deep breath. “What is that, really? Sit and stare at the clouds day after day after day? I don’t want that.”

“It’s supposed to be happiness…forever,” Travis said.

“Look, I’ve been sitting here for two days. I thought it would be a peaceful way to go. And… I am bored out of my skull. And when I die? More boredom. Only it will never stop.”

Travis felt his boat pulling away from the old man’s boat. He had to grip more tightly to keep the two together. 

“Tide’s shifting, isn’t it?” the old man said.

“Feels like it.”

“You don’t want to get stuck in here.”

Travis nodded. “I’ve got some time yet.”

“Don’t waste your time on me, boy.”

The marsh grass rustled as the afternoon breeze picked up. Gulls screeched off in the distance.

“Should I get someone to come in here for you?”

“No…not till I’m gone.”

Travis couldn’t bring himself to leave. “Let me take you home. Your boat can stay here. It’s a piece of junk anyway.”

The old man grimaced. “You takin’ a shot at my boat?”

“No offense, but it’s older than you are… and more messed up.”

“You think I’m in better shape than my boat? Thanks for the compliment.”

Travis laughed.

The old man smiled.

“I could help you fix it up,” Travis said.

“She looks like hell, but she’s tight and dry.”

“The bottom is covered with barnacles. It would have to be hauled and scraped. And it needs a good paint job.”

“More work than I want to do.”

“I could come weekends. Once my boat is out of the water, I won’t work on it till spring. I’ll have time.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know… I love working on boats. We could fix yours up pretty easily. Together.”

The two locked eyes. “And maybe it would keep you from dying.”

The ebbing tide increased its pull on Travis’s boat.

“Look, I gotta get out of here or I’ll be stuck till the next high tide.”

The old man said nothing.

“Come with me. Get in and we’ll tie your boat to mine.”

“Get going. I want to stay.”

“You just said you’re scared of dying.”

The old man smirked. “You were listening.”

“I always listen…at least outside the classroom.”

 “You got any more sandwiches?”

“You’ll have to get in my boat to find out.”

The old man cracked a thin smile. “A tough negotiator.”

He leaned over from his chair and gripped the edge of Travis’s boat. His feeble legs kicked the chair aside as he swung into the smaller boat. Travis held the old man’s arms. 

Travis took a length of rope from the floor of his boat, tied one end to a cleat on his stern, and tied the other end onto the old boat’s bow cleat.

Then he let go of the old man’s boat, felt the towline go taut, and began poling the boats out through the narrow channel, south toward deeper water on the old man’s side of the bay.

The old man said, “How about that sandwich?”

Travis handed over a sandwich. “What color can we paint your boat?”

“Whatever’s on sale.”

The old man chewed the sandwich while Travis stared at him. Did I just talk him down? Cool. 

“Not what you expected today, huh, kid?”

“Nope.” Travis grinned. “It sure beats Social Studies.”

***

shortfiction24 – on shooter watch

Retiree Will Morris appoints himself a watcher for his local neighborhood school. To protect against active shooters. The police and the school administration are wary of his motives.

Please enjoy the story.

On Shooter Watch

Bob Gillen

Will Morris had just poured himself a coffee from his Thermos container when the police cruiser pulled into the parking lot of the James P. Madden Middle School and positioned itself in front of his CRV. Will watched as a female officer keyed his plate number into her onboard screen. Apparently satisfied that both he and the car were legit, she slid from the patrol car and stepped over to his driver-side window. Will rolled it down.

“Morning, officer,” Will said, raising his coffee cup in her direction.

“Morning,” she said in return.

She took her time looking around the interior of Will’s car.

“Would you mind stepping out of your vehicle?” she asked.

Will set the cup of coffee carefully on the dash and got out.

“Are you carrying a weapon?” she said.

“No. Don’t own a gun. Don’t care to, either.”

The officer had Will step to the side so she could see clearly into his car.

“I see coffee and snack bars. You planning to be here for a while?”

“All day,” Will replied.

“What’s your business here?”

“Watching.”

The officer shook her head. “Watching for what?”

“Trouble…specifically, an active shooter.”

The officer’s facial expression turned to steel. “Active shooter?”

She motioned for Will to turn around. She frisked him. “No weapons.”

Will turned back to face her. “Officer, I retired six months ago. I have nothing of any consequence to do with my life. I watch the news all day. It tears me up every time I hear of yet another school shooting.”

“And this is your business?” 

“I can help in one small way by watching this school. I live a few blocks over. It’s convenient for me to watch here.”

The officer raised her head, looked off into the distance.

“Is there a problem with that?” he asked.

“We had a call from the school’s administration that an unknown man was loitering in the parking lot.” The officer stared straight at Will. “That would be you.”

Will shifted his stance. “First of all, I am no longer unknown. I saw you key in my plate number. You have my identity.”

The officer maintained her steely expression.

“I am trying to render a service to my community.” Will paused. “If I may express myself more clearly, since the gutless politicians in Congress turn their faces away from the many children murdered by guns in our schools, I figure someone should step up to help avoid more shootings.”

“That’s a fine motive,” the officer said. She gestured toward the school building. “But you’re making the people inside nervous.”

“I am not a creep or a perv. Perhaps I should introduce myself to them. Would that help?”

The officer stood tall. “Perhaps you should go home and leave the watching to us. One of us is always five minutes away.”

Will shook his head. “If I went home and something happened here – God forbid – I could never forgive myself.”

“You’re not armed.”

“No, ma’am. I have no intention of trying to stop an active shooter. Only provide an early warning of his presence.” He smiled. “I’m not a good guy with a gun.”

The officer took a deep breath, blew it out slowly. “Maybe we should take this inside.”

Half an hour later Will and the officer returned to the parking lot after a tense discussion with the school administration. The school principal reluctantly agreed to Will’s watching from the parking lot during school hours every day. Their attitude was, it can’t hurt. So long as the police vetted Will.

The officer again noted Will’s license and registration. Will offered her his phone number as well. “If you see my number come in on 911, you’ll know there’s trouble.”

She nodded. “My name is Stanton. Call this number if anything looks amiss.” She offered him a number which he immediately added to his contact list. “Keep your head low. I don’t want any trouble from you.” 

She drove off.

Will sat all day in his car, with time out for a bathroom break across the street in a fast food facility.

At the end of the school day he watched the children run to meet their parents for their rides home. The students screaming, laughing, hurling backpacks into the cars. The joy of another school day finished. They get to go home again. 

Will continued to watch, every day, for several months. The school staff warmed up to his presence, occasionally bringing him donuts or fresh coffee. He preferred to lie low and not be noticed.

In mid November, as the weather turned colder, Will sat in his CRV with a blanket wrapped around his legs. He sipped coffee, nibbled on an energy bar. Early snow flakes fell from a gray sky.

Late in the morning, Will spied a car pull into the parking lot. A beat-up Chevy splotched with rust and faded blue paint. The car circled the lot slowly, stopping for a few moments near the school’s entrance. Will set aside his coffee, yanked the blanket off his legs. Trouble?

The car circled for another pass. Will jotted down the license number. The car paused at the far end of the lot. Will saw the driver pull a beanie down low over his head. Will dialed Officer Stanton’s number. She picked up right away.

“I have a suspicious car cruising the parking lot. Here’s the plate number.”

Stanton said, “I’m on my way. Stay in your car.”

Will called the school office. “I’m seeing a suspicious car in the parking lot. You may want to lock the doors for a bit. Police are on the way.”

A siren pierced the quiet. Officer Stanton’s cruiser swerved in behind the suspicious car. Before she could get out, another cruiser roared in and blocked the Chevy from the front. Stanton eased out of her patrol car, hand on her gun holster, and stepped up to the car. 

Will heard Stanton shout, “Get out of your vehicle. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Moments later a young man in a baggy hoodie stood up against his car, legs spread, hands on the roof. The second officer peered in to the passenger window. 

“Cuff him,” he said to Stanton. “He’s got an assault rifle on the seat.”

Stanton yanked the man’s arms back and cuffed him. She spun him around. The second officer frisked him, found a hand gun stuffed in the pocket of the hoodie.

“Why are you here?” she asked him.

The man shrugged. Said nothing.

Two more police cruisers and an ambulance screamed into the lot. Several officers moved to protect the school entrance.

Stanton yanked the suspect away from his car. Shoved him in the back seat of her cruiser.

“Call the bomb squad,” the second officer said. “We’re not taking any chances with this vehicle.”

School officials put the school on lockdown as a precaution. 

Will remained in his car, watching the activity. While officers ran tape around the Chevy, Stanton stepped over to Will’s car. Will rolled the window down. She said, “You might want to move your car away from here.” Will nodded.

Stanton tapped the roof of Will’s car with her knuckle. “You did good.” She stepped away.

A broadcast news truck rolled into the lot as Will drove out. Will smiled. Said to himself, “Yeah, I did good, didn’t I? Kids will get to go home again today.”

***

shortfiction24 condoms underfoot, stars overhead

A grieving man meets a distraught dad on a starlit night. Each struggles to make sense of their losses.

This story began as a dream I had about starry nights. Enjoy!

Condoms Underfoot, Stars Overhead

Bob Gillen

My name is Frank. At the moment I am sitting in my four-wheel drive Jeep in the parking lot at the top of Lump Rock. One a.m. on a Wednesday in mid December. A night that would be pitch black if it were not for the universe of stars blazing above me. Why I’m here isn’t important. I have nowhere else to be.

I live in a town that has as its motto: Where Boredom Goes to Die. We try to imitate other places. Never works. Vegas can build an entire city with imitations of other cities. Paris. London. New York. Right in the middle of a friggin’ desert. Not us. We never get it right. 

TV and movies will tell you that when you want to get laid, you drive up to Inspiration Point. Beautiful. Quiet. Get the job done. We have Lump Rock. Yeah, it’s a magnificent vantage point once you get here. But getting here, that takes a lot out of you.

Lump Rock lies twenty miles north of my town. One lane winding road, unlit, badly maintained, all the way up. No passing lanes. Ever have that nightmare about driving a Porsche and getting stuck behind a VW micro bus? That dream would be set here.

In the dead of winter it’s near impossible to get here. The crews rarely salt and plow. Why bother? The town horn dogs could just get a room in town or out on the interstate.

Early winter is, in my mind, the best time to be on Lump Rock. No people. No north winds. They come later. If you dare to get out of your car, the soiled condoms on the ground are frozen and the empty beer cans could be kicked aside without splashing beer on your shoe.

So here I am, early winter on Lump Rock. It’s been a year since I lost my wife. We ran a bed and breakfast in town. Did so for twenty of the twenty-five years we were married. We called it The Hi and Bye Inn. We knew our clientele. Travelers passing through on their way to somewhere else. We gave them a clean bed, coffee, a hearty breakfast, and a wave goodbye. We had no rack of sightseeing brochures. No point. No one wanted them. 

She’s gone now. I sold the B&B right away. Couldn’t bear to run it without her. Got a good price for it. Haven’t figured out what I want to do yet. Maybe move someplace far less boring. But for now I find myself on Lump Rock in the middle of the night. Alone. Not even pondering what to do. Just sitting. Alone. 

The view is spectacular. Nothing but a blanket of stars spread across the night sky. Immense. Powerful. Planets. Galaxies. Millions of years of energy and light.

I get out of my car to better see the stars. I step carefully. State maintenance crews only come up here to clean a few times a year. They keep a chart behind the supervisor’s door. When complaints reach fifteen, the supervisor begins to eye the junior staff, or the ones who piss him off. At twenty complaints he sends two guys in a pickup truck to clean the parking lot. Brooms. The only way to do it. Sweep and dump in a barrel. Back at the garage, the rest of the crew would gather and cheer as the two toss the barrel’s contents into trash dumpsters. 

Headlights surprise me as they pierce the black parking lot. A nondescript sedan pulls to a stop on the side opposite where I am parked. I wait. No need to interrupt the deed. But there is no movement.  

My curiosity gets the better of me. I dodge condoms to walk over and peer in the passenger window of the other car. I see a man, maybe late thirties, sitting at the wheel, hugging a backpack to his chest. His head slumps forward on the steering wheel. I can see his chest rise and fall. He seems okay.

Something prompts me to tap on the window. The man startles, looks around.

“Are you okay?” I ask through the glass. He nods. After a moment he rolls the window down. 

“Who are you?”

“My name is Frank. I saw you pull in. You looked slumped over. Just checking.”

The man pops the lock. “Get in. It’s too cold out there.”

I slip into the passenger seat. Take a deep breath.

“I can sit here with you if that’s what you need.”

The man shrugs. “I don’t know what I need.”

I sit in silence. Stare out at the star-studded sky. Try to breathe easily. 

After maybe ten minutes, the man grasps the backpack on his chest, holds it out to me. It’s pale blue. The word Cheerio is printed across the front. I do a double take.

There’s an enormous dark red stain across the front. In the center is a jagged hole.

“My kid’s backpack,” he says. “A bullet hole. Her blood.”

“Shit.” I say. “Is she…?” 

“Dead? Yeah.”

“The school shooting over in the next town? Three months ago?”

He nods.

I can’t find the words to even say Sorry.

“It was a seventeen-year old kid with an assault rifle. What world of pain does a kid have to be in to do something like this to children?”

I remain silent. 

“He tried to kill himself. The gun jammed. He will now spend his entire lifetime in prison. In a whole other world of pain.”

The man says, “My name is Jerry, by the way.”

“Hi, Jerry.” I slip the backpack to the floor of the car where I cannot see it.

Jerry turns to look at me. “What’re you doing up here?”

“Just hanging. No where else to go. My house is empty.”

Jerry nods. “Who did you lose?”

“My wife. A year ago. After twenty-five years together.”

“Kids?”

“Nope. Not a conscious decision. Somehow we just never got to it.”

“Saved yourself a lot of pain, let me tell you.”

“It hurts bad enough losing my wife. I can’t imagine losing a kid.”

“No one can imagine it. Talk about a world of pain.”

We stop talking for a while. Sit under the spread of stars. I think, What words could possibly change the course of this universe?

I think I may have nodded off for a while. I wake to find Jerry gone from the car. I peer out into the darkness. I spy his silhouette over near the edge of the hill. Something tells me to sit tight. I wait. I try to recall what I had seen in the news about the school shooting. Four kids and a teacher dead. Lots of kids wounded. Like Jerry said, a world of pain. Created by one shooter. 

I find myself crying. I haven’t cried since my wife’s funeral.

After I wipe away the tears, I look again for Jerry. 

Do not see him.

I jump out of the car. Dash to the edge, dodging the frozen condoms and cans on the ground. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Over here, buddy,” a voice says out of the darkness.

Jerry steps towards me.

“Did I scare you?”

I nod.

“No worries.”

He takes another step closer. He waves up at the sky. “My world of pain is about that big,” he says. “But it’s my world of pain to deal with. I won’t add to the pain already in existence.”

Here we are, side by side, in the darkness and the cold, under a sky pierced with countless lights. “My baby’s light is up there somewhere,” Jerry says. “She will shine on forever.”

Two strangers, standing together. Two broken, empty hearts. 

Frozen soiled condoms at our feet. A universe of stars above us.

***

shortfiction24 inking ignites a spark

Brad and Jordan shop for a tattoo to seal their love. The tattoo artist is a speed bump on their road to ink. Are they ready for “permanent?”

Enjoy the story.

Inking Ignites a Spark

Bob Gillen

On the sidewalk outside the tattoo parlor, Brad and Jordan studied the samples in the window.

“I love that you’re doing this for me,” Jordan said, squeezing his arm.

Brad nodded, smiled. “Yeah, pretty cool.”

They stepped into the parlor.

“Hey, dudes,” a heavily inked man in a sleeveless shirt greeted them.

“Hi,” Jordan said. “My boyfriend wants a tattoo.”

“Welcome to my shop.” He gestured to the room. “This is all my work.”

Brad looked around at the samples lining the walls and counters.

“Any thoughts on what design or style you want?”

“He’s thinking of my name…Jordan. Right?” She turned to Brad.

Brad nodded.

“What about color? Black only, black and gray, full color?”

“I guess it depends on what I see,” Brad said.

“Are you guys in high school?”

“Seniors,” Jordan said.

“You have to be eighteen to get inked in this state,” the artist said.

“I turned eighteen a month ago.”

“Okay. We can check ID when we finalize this…Any issues with your folks over getting inked?” the tattoo artist asked Brad.

“I didn’t ask them,” Brad said in a low voice.

The artist nodded, paused, rubbed his tongue across his teeth. “Where do you want the tattoo?”

“My right arm, I guess.”

“Everyone will see it there, okay?” The artist walked them to a display of names and fonts.

Jordan said, “On your bicep. That will work.”

“Will the name run up and down, or across, your bicep?”

Brad frowned.

“Let’s experiment.” The artist reached for a chiseled marker. “I can wipe this off with alcohol when we’re done.”

Brad shoved the sleeve up on his tee.

“The name?”

“Jordan.”

The artist drew Jordan in simple block letters up and down on Brad’s bicep.

Brad slipped his sleeve back down.

Jordan squinted. “Oh.”

“What?” Brad asked.

The artist held up a mirror for Brad to see the image clearly.

What they all saw was dan. The Jor was covered by Brad’s sleeve.

“Everyone will think you’re in love with a Dan,” Jordan said.

“All right then, we go with your name across the bicep,” the artist said.

He wiped the image off with a tissue and alcohol. He then drew Jordan’s name across Brad’s bicep, below his sleeve.

“I like that,” Jordan said.

“How much do you charge?” Brad asked.

“My prices run from a bottom of about eighty dollars upwards through the hundreds.”

“I saved one hundred.”

The artist nodded. “That would eliminate color.”

Jordan made a face. “No color?”

Brad shrugged. “That’s all I have.”

The artist cleared his throat, said, “I don’t want to throw shade at your project here. I have to ask, How serious are you guys?”

Jordan piped up. “We’re going to the same college. Serious all the way.”

Brad smiled. Weakly.

“And if your parents are not fully on board, you may want to ink yourself where they can’t see it. At least, not till much later.”

“Yeah?” Brad felt unsure. “Where would they not see it? I’m on the swim team. They come to all my meets.”

“Some people get their ink on their butts,” the artist said with a grin.

“Oh, sure,” Jordan squeaked, waving her arms. The artist took a step backwards. “Ink my name on your ass. I don’t think so.”

Jordan continued, “Brad, be more confident. I’m sure they’ll be okay with this.”

The artist watched Brad’s face, hesitation written all over it.

“Let me toss out another question,” the artist said. He stared directly at Brad. “Four years from now, when you’re both college seniors, will you still be together? If not, you’re stuck with Jordan’s name inked somewhere on your body.”

“He won’t be stuck with my name,” Jordan flared. “We’re never breaking up. This is forever.” She hugged Brad’s arm.

Brad closed his eyes. Breathed in the smell of ink. Forever.

The artist sighed. ”Look, guys, I don’t want to turn away any business. But I am proud of my work. I don’t want to see you trying to hide it, or even remove it, in a few years.”

“Brad, you want this, right? Speak up.” She cozied up to his arm.

“I am worried about my parents’ reaction. I didn’t think of that before now.”

“Even if they’re surprised, they’ll get over it quickly. They like me. A tattoo will be so cool.”

Brad stared at the marking on his bicep.

Sensing Brad’s hesitation, the artist suggested, “Why don’t you guys take a week to think this over. I’ll still be here. And to show you my sincerity, when you come back I’ll offer you a 10 percent discount.”

“We don’t need time to think about this,” Jordan said, her voice squeaking. She raised her eyebrows. “Brad, tell him what you want. Let’s pick out a style.”

“I think maybe we should wait, like he says. We can look over some designs before we come back.”

Jordan grew red in the face. “Brad, you’re letting this guy talk you out of the tattoo. We agreed to do this.” She glared at the artist.

“I’m not saying no, Jordan. Let’s just come back. Maybe I should try out the idea on my parents.”

Jordan gave the artist the finger. “You ruined this, you fuck!” She turned and stormed out the door. Brad froze in place.

The artist reached to wipe Jordan’s name off Brad’s arm. He whispered, “Trust me. You’ll thank me in a couple of years. If not sooner.”

***

shortfiction24 hiding in the light

Millie Haver loves her new life in the lights of the big city. Darkness lurks over her shoulder.

This story is inspired by Edward Hopper’s 1927 painting Automat. Enjoy!

Hiding in the Light

Bob Gillen

Friday night in the city. Coming up on midnight. On the street a taxi’s blaring horn shatters the stillness. Millie Haver sits alone at her usual corner table in the all-night Automat. Rows of ceiling lights in the cafeteria hold back the outside darkness. From the corner of her eye Millie can see pedestrians passing on the surrounding sidewalk. A few pause to stare in for a moment. Several couples walk past arm in arm. Most pass on by, even as they steal a glance at the lone woman in the cafeteria. 

Millie maintains a deadpan expression on her face. She knows what most of the passersby think. A young woman, dumped by her boyfriend. Or an office worker laid off from her job. A woman at odds with the world. Or rather, a world at odds with this one woman.

Millie smiles to herself. 

Only four months ago she sat crosslegged on the beach near her childhood home as the sun rose over the ocean. The day the sun infused her with courage. The day she decided to leave for the city. Life in her home town was over. She had performed in all the area shows. Tap danced till her feet bled. Taken home a shelf full of trophies and ribbons. And now, time to move on.

Millie is a dancer on the big stage. A Broadway dolly. Performing eight shows a week. Getting paid enough to eke out a life in the city. Tonight she had spent three nickels on an egg salad sandwich. Another nickel on a cup of coffee she would nurse for hours.

Millie loves life in the light. She glories in seeing her face in the light of a makeup mirror. Tapping under the hot stage lights. Looking out night after night into the blackness where her audience sits. She is a creature of light, that special theater light that separates performer from audience.

Tonight had been a good house. Standing ovation at the finale. One of the usual, posh, potbellied men had come backstage with roses. For any one of the dancers who smiled at him. Millie had turned away. He only wanted one thing. And she was not about to give it. Not to him. 

Millie shares a tiny apartment with Maxine, another dancer from the show. Every night after their performance, Maxine headed straight for the apartment and bed. Not Millie. The apartment is dimly lit even on the brightest of days. Going home now would mean stumbling in the dark to avoid waking her roommate. Tripping over shoes and clothes. Rubbing her aching feet. Staring at the ceiling, waiting for dawn. For light.

Earlier today Millie and Maxine had taken a long walk to explore the Hudson River. Strolled out on an abandoned pier. Smelled rotten fish, garbage, sewage. Watched the currents carry the dirty water south to the ocean. It was chilly out on the river, with winter closing in. Glove weather. Maxine came up from Florida. She doesn’t know winter. Not yet.

Millie sees the Hudson as movement. Flow. A journey. Of course the river is filthy. But it’s part of the city. The city where stage lights can make even filth disappear. At least for a moment. 

Sitting in the brightly lit cafeteria is a silent role Millie plays for herself, an attempt to continue her performance. This is her second stage. She can feel the audience behind her. Passing on the sidewalk. Illuminated briefly as they pass the large cafeteria windows.

Every night Millie is the lone woman in the window. The mysterious woman. Sitting at a table facing an empty chair. She does not throw her coat or purse on the empty chair. Leave it bare for people to wonder. Casting a shadow of curiosity to the outside world. Tonight she longs to take off her shoes, rub her sore feet. But that would not suit the image she cultivates. 

Millie hears a shout from the front door. A man, hat and coat askew, staggers as he tries to enter the cafeteria. The cafeteria manager blocks his path.

The man turns and vomits on the sidewalk. He slips to the ground, clinging to a bottle in a brown bag.

The manager waves to an assistant. They lift the drunk and push him away. He screams at the manager as he sways down the sidewalk, grabbing for the support of a light pole.

Millie shudders. Trembles. Looks around for someplace to hide. Coffee sloshes from her cup. She squeezes her eyes shut. 

Images flash in her mind. Her drunken father, raging in the dark, swinging a kitchen knife at her mother. Millie hiding behind a living room chair, hands over her ears. Her mother waiting for her husband’s rage to peter out. Taking the knife away from him. Steering him to bed. Millie falling asleep behind the chair.

She blinks. Looks up at the ceiling lights. Glances around the room. Quiet again. She hears nickels dropping in a slot. A small door clicking open to reveal a midnight snack. A few diners eating pie and sipping coffee.

She takes in a deep breath. Opens her eyes wide.

Light. 

And with the light, peace. 

***

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