Archive for short story

The Chairs (Flash 105)

Posted in Flash Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 20, 2010 by dustus

A clear IV connects painkiller, grandma’s last rites, and Sunday morning. Fidgeting in pink admittance gown, you could tell she hates her wheelchair—getting used to it John supposed. She was always so free in love and expletives…

His first word was “shit” looking on from a high chair—Grandma mashed peas yelling.

“Maya, come here.” Her demand facing death; grandson’s sad life had been revealed to a stranger.

Approaching light brown-haired nurse smiles as if they shared history.

“This is my grandson; the detective I told you about.”

“Grandma,” he chuckles pointing at her suspiciously.

Maya sits in a metal cafeteria chair between estranged lives.



A Spring Break (Part 1) short story by Adam Dustus

Posted in Blog, people, writing with tags , , , , , , , on June 1, 2009 by dustus

Here’s the beginning to the short story I promised. I changed the title and will post the entire story (parts 1-6) as its own blog page tomorrow.
Determined Robert Morgan, Esq.—former attorney for the indigent and elderly of struggling Lansing— traveled the world only to find himself at the start of his new life. He drew in a long extended breath and sighed stepping off the train platform. Chicago was his new home. His first impression of the city was overwhelming like a rush of blood coursing from a thousand arteries away from his heart. He didn’t know it was an anxiety attack until later, had to escape, where? One can’t hide on the street in daylight anchored in the middle of currents of commuters passing both ways.

His panic subsided as quick as it came over him, Robert felt he had nowhere else to go, decidedly resigned to his self-imposed exile. The chaotic rattle of the elevated train shook him to the core and played on his nerves. Unfortunately, Robert Morgan was too proud to admit that he missed his family. He stood in an unfamiliar congested street, baggage at his feet, trying to hail a cab unsuccessfully. Mr. Morgan was proud to be self-reliant. Sadly, he no longer felt like he could trust anyone in this world….

Why Chicago? Ever since he was a kid, Robert daydreamed of living near Wrigley Field. And why not now? Why not at this moment in time? The truth being he wasn’t getting any younger. In fact, it was a year ago to the day that Robert signed the divorce papers he drafted himself, not allowing either party a penny over an equal division of assets, even despite the pressuring counsel of his respected colleagues.

London, Paris, and Amsterdam had become an intoxicating blur of a dream as it was in real time still. Ignoring frugality, Robert wasted a small fortune playing-out his adolescent fantasies of complete freedom. Well, no big surprise to him that the grand Euro-trek proved useless in a lingering red light of self-loathing shame. You can’t escape most painful memories on purpose. He knew that going into it, though it was a moot point to begin with. No matter where Robert traveled (or in which women he lost himself temporarily amid frivolous one-night stands) he could not seem to erase two images from his memory….
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