Alan John
I'm a Virginia based writer/musician looking to find my place in this wild wild world.
Dig
The soft sound of the shovel scraping in the damp earth was the only thing heard for miles. The noises of the night held their tongue in the late Autumn chill as the man worked, utterly alone in the dark of the woods. His heavy breathing and the relentless sound of the shovel in dirt were as loud as a million motorways for all he could tell, and all the while his heart thumped in his chest. There was no one around to hear, he reminded himself, wiping the ever-present sweat from his forehead. If it was nervous sweat or work sweat he didn’t know anymore. He didn’t care. The work had to be done tonight. The shovel continued on, and the man’s tired hands continued with it. The work had to be done.
The Hitchhiker
The soothing voice of Leonard Cohen floated from the stereo speakers, and from time to time the glow of oncoming headlights illuminated the driver’s solitary pilgrimage. Ted rubbed his eyes and mused to himself; ‘Hallelujah’ may not be the best song to keep him awake. The view in the rear view mirror was the same dark patch it had been for the past 100 miles, aside from the occasional receding tail lights on the far side of the road. Ted sighed, shook his head quickly, and glanced at the clock in his dashboard. It was only 11:00. He could carry on a little longer. The long and lonely road home for Christmas was a little long-and-lonelier than he remembered it being. His thoughts wandered back over the past few months in the city, and over friends back home and what he hoped might happen. Ted sighed. 400 miles to go. He switched the dial on the radio and found some sort of talk show.
The Funeral
“The sky was grey, and wept with a soft rain, I remember that much. People hurried through with black umbrellas, barely speaking a word to each other lest they disturb the quiet calm worn by the whole entire city. All across the countless streets and houses a great swell of emotion waited to break at the drop of a hat, and the people waited on baited breath to see what might finally break the stillness. It was almost as if the whole damn city itself knew what today was and responded accordingly. Children had hanged their heads and cats meowed a dirge at all hours and late into the night before. Now it was the morning and the storm of emotion threatened to break now more than ever. There was no telling the depth and extent of all that this city felt at the loss of such a man. To say they’d lost a great lady didn’t do justice. To say she had done great justice for the city wasn’t even accurate. To say the woman cared deeply for her fellow men-- of all shapes and sizes-- wasn’t enough either. For a long time people had painfully anticipated her passing, gathering in clusters on the street corners by her stately house and whispering, wondering if today could be the day. The revolving staff of nurses and doctors passing in and out gave no answers, avoiding questions from journalists and bystanders, putting a hand up and refusing to comment. Such was the way the city had carried on for weeks, then months, then years, waiting for the old woman to die.
Car Crash
Tracy’s heartbeat stopped. She sat deathly still in the near silence, listening as the engine choked. She breathed out and began to notice how her hands were shaking, still clutching the steering wheel. She had always thought of white-knuckle-grip as just a thing old people say, but hers were actually white. She noticed there was also some red, like blood, starting to trickle down her wrist and onto her arm. She didn’t know how that had gotten there. Tracy began to turn her head, trying to look around, but her neck hurt when she moved it. She ran her hand along her neck and rubbed where the pain was but it didn’t make it feel better. Her hand found the seatbelt and traced it down to where it was buckled in. She tried to press the button but her hand started shaking and she missed. Her shaking hand fumbled with the buckle and finally pressed the latch in with a ‘click’ and the pressure on her shoulder and her chest went slack. The seatbelt slowly started winding itself up but stopped halfway. Tracy turned her whole body to look out the driver’s side window. There was smoke rising in the light of her headlights and the engine was still choking out sounds. She realized the smell she’d been aware of was from the engine and she thought about switching it off. She didn’t really like the idea of sitting in the dark, but the engine worried her. With a trembling white hand gripping her cell phone she pulled on the handle of the door and pushed it open.
Fog
“You’re pulling my leg,” Jaime laughed with a snort. “And you’re doing a really bad job of it.” Jaime had stopped believing in ghosts almost two years ago; he was a man now. He pulled his jacket closer as he shivered in the chill. The sun was on its way down.
Golden Ears
In June of this year we had to put the family dog down. Her name was Roxy, and she was a mix of golden retriever, saluki, and probably a few other breeds. She was the sweetest thing. My mom used to tell the story of when we first brought her home to see if we could adopt her, and how Roxy lay perfectly still as my then 2 year old sister crawled and climbed all over her. Roxy lay on the kitchen floor unbothered while this toddling force of nature used her like a jungle-gym. My mom knew that this was the dog for us, she had to come home for good. So we adopted her and made her a part of the family. Pretty quickly she decided her dominance over our border collie Pepper, and any time a strange dog visited Roxy had to be the boss. But through all the years she never tried to be dominant over us. I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say she respected us completely, but she knew who was in charge. People, Roxy, Pepper, all the other dogs.
Dana's day out
"Dana! Dana, stop!" Brian yelled to her. "Why, B, what's gonna happen?" Dana teased, stepping further out onto the ice. "Is a big ol' fish gonna gobble me up?" Brian stood with his arms crossed at the edge of the pond, uncomfortable with his big sister's daring. Dana knew he didn't like it. Brian never wanted to have any fun. It was all she could do to get him to climb a tree, and even then he needed help getting back down. Brian lived his life cautiously, constantly on the lookout for anything that could go wrong. That was fine for him, she supposed, but when there wasn't another kid for thirty miles except weird Ed Hooper the next farm over Dana got bored. She tried playing with Ed a few times but he liked doing things like burning ant farms or throwing rocks at squirrels. He was just too weird, and Brian told her he had a bad feeling around Ed. Brian was a scaredy cat, but Dana trusted him. He was always right about danger, sometimes she just liked the danger. The iced surface of the frozen pond creaked beneath her feet, and the snow crunched. She glanced back at Brian, biting his finger nails. What was Brian concerned about now?
Maribel Cane and the Light of Central Park
“Taxi! Taxi!” Maribel Cane ran, her briefcase under her arm and her heels clacking on the sidewalk. Someone else stepped into the cab and the light switched off as they drove away. Maribel stopped and huffed, frowning. She began to walk, her heels clicking on the pavement. She glanced at her watch, trying not to drop the briefcase from under her arm. It was already late, and it was looking more and more like she was going to have to walk all the way back home. The handle on her briefcase had snapped off a few days ago and she hadn’t the time to get a new one or get it fixed, and today she’d had a parent-teacher conference after school and then spent a few hours alternating between crying and grading English papers filled with atrocious grammar and spelling. Maribel tried not to think about it, wishing she’d worn different shoes. She tried to walk just right so her feet wouldn’t hurt but it didn’t really work.
