Ed N. White
Stories (11/0)
Trip Advisors
I know now that it was a cruel thing to do. But as eleven-year-old boys, my twin brother Robbie and I thought it was a hoot. We didn’t mean any harm; it’s just that Grandma Dillon was such a pain. She’d been living with us for almost two years so Mom could go back to work. At first, it was okay, but then she started making rules. Clean your plates. Say your prayers. Do this, do that. She kept up a steady stream that Mom and Dad simply ignored. I guess they were too busy with their own lives. Besides, they figured that twin boys should be able to handle an eighty-four-year-old woman with rapidly diminishing mental competence.
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Confessions
Dr. Z and the HOA
Dr. Zackary Middleton, Ph.D., former professor of Astral Genetics, moved to Grapefruit Gardens Condominiums, Boca Citrus, FL. He quickly decided there were too many old people there. According to his residency application, his academic career had focused on geriatric sequencing. The board promptly approved his application and offered him a seat on the board. Dr. Z’s opinions mattered.
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Fiction
Cari and the Red Dot Adventure
I was smart enough to skip the ninth grade and be enrolled in high school as a sophomore. My mom said I was probably too smart for my own good, although she said that with a chuckle. Maybe she’s right. Also, my dad sits on the town school board, and he was unsure of the wisdom of this move. Nevertheless, I was determined to prove myself.
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Fiction
Cruisin'
This was my first time. The other three guys had prior experience. Teddy was a retired engineer from the Merchant Marines, so you could say he was the leader, although that’s not what he wanted to be. He wanted to be left alone. Mike had taken several cruise trips, spending most of his time in the casinos while his wife baked on deck. Jack had once sailed to Bermuda with his wife and returned an unhappy man. It was the beginning of the end for them.
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Wander
Love in the Mail Car
Laura Mae Grumbling was born in the winter of 1873, in a sod cabin, on the plains of what later became the state of Oklahoma. She came into this world as a squalling red-faced brat showing the temperament that would lead her into a life of crime in the Old West. She began running with the gangs as an eighteen-year-old girl. Her relations with various gang members produced the quartet of children seen in the only photogravure print known to exist. The oldest child, Lizzie standing on her right, Evon Thomas on her left, Bobby-Jack and Prissy on her lap, each the progeny of different fathers.
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Fiction
Rescue
I come to the beach late in the day, so I don’t detract from the happiness of others. The ones who throw frisbees, or skate on boogie boards. The ones with children digging holes or making castles with upturned plastic pails of wet sand. The squealing kids who outrun the oncoming wave, or the brave ones with their surfboards who challenge it. I come here clothed in a shirt and cargo shorts, I don’t intend to go in the water.
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Fiction
Auto Erotica
It’s not what you think. This is a story about cars. Cars in my teenage years when a little cash or a little barter bought us transportation at a price that could easily be spent today on a Starbucks coffee break. Cars that rattled and smoked. Sometimes hard to start and often hard to stop. Yet, these cars were the fabric of our youth, our raison d’ etre, where we learned about tools, girls, joy, money, heartbreak, girls, and sometimes tragedy and the loss of friends.
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Wheel
Patience
She started smoking the day he left, nearly thirty years ago. She didn’t think about why it was just something to do when he walked away. She sat at the window, hoping, peering, and smoking. One cigarette lit from the other, smoke dragged deep into her lungs, and everyone said that was a bad thing to do, but she still smoked, and most of them had passed away. She kept her hand outside to let the smoke drift up into the clouds and thought of it as a signal, a beacon that he could follow home. The ash burned close to her fingers and many times had scarred her fingers, so there was little pain left. The pain was all in her heart.
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Humans
Out THere
Ray Dragon’s writing career had fallen on hard times. Ray was running dry after the relative success of his first book, Loving Them Madly. This is a fictional account of serial killer Simeon Beckwith’s horrific murders of young women near the Oberlin College campus. He also wrote a few travel articles for This Our World, in which the only traveling he did was over a mouse pad. Unfortunately, the magazine failed before any royalties were paid.
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Fiction
The Potter's Notch Predicament
It was cold during the winter in Potter’s Notch. Damn cold. It was cold enough to freeze some body parts off a brass monkey. Potter’s Notch was one of the coldest places in the nation. Snuggled in a remote area among the Green Mountains of Vermont, it also had the per capita highest rate of hearing loss. The citizens of “Potty” (as they affectionately called their historic village) were not concerned until a group of Audio Anthropologists from Yale University came to town. They spent three weeks interviewing, testing, measuring, harrumphing, and recording data. Seeking a causal relationship between the cold climate and the high rate of Auris Diminicus Syndrome (ADS).
By Ed N. White2 years ago in Fiction