Len Jeffrey
Bio
I am 74 years old and got the bug to write late in life. It has been about two years since I last wrote a short fictional story and now because of Vocal I got the 'urge' back again. To tell the truth, I like it!
Stories (166/0)
Train Of Thought
TRAIN OF THOUGHT It took Andrew quite some time to finally come out of his stupor. The constant ‘clickety-clack’ sound, along with the vibration of the moving train, had finally brought him to his senses. He placed his hand on his forehead in a vain attempt to block out the glare of the sun coming through a window on his left and saw that he was sitting on an old, weather-worn leather seat inside an old passenger train.
By Len Jeffrey4 months ago in Fiction
The Doubting Thomas
THE DOUBTING THOMAS The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one hot and humid night, a candle burned in the window. Tom arrived at the cabin by taxi just as the sun had set. It was dark and the only light came from the full moon. The only other light would be the candle his friend had lit. He looked up at the sky and saw dark, ominous clouds heading his way. The winds were picking up. About forty feet across from the cottage he saw what appeared to be an old eighteen hundreds graveyard. As he opened the rotting cabin door he heard the scurry of mice but that didn’t phase him. He pushed the door closed and walked into the dilapidated cabin. He sat down at the table fully expecting that the wobbly chair might give way at any time. It gave out a ‘creaking’ sound as he sat down and the table must have had half an inch of dust on it combined with plenty of mouse droppings. In the candlelight he scanned his surroundings. The movement of the flickering candle seemed to animate an old rocking chair to his right. Next to the chair was a century-old stone fireplace. Its crumbling hearth contained about six inches of ashes with about half an inch scattered across the floor in front. He could see no window. He took out his cell phone to check for any messages from Stuart. There was none so far. Tom thought about the agreement he had made with his best friend. Stuart was a staunch believer in ghosts and all things unknown and mysterious. His best friend was a member of quite a number of conspiracy and UFO websites. The two of them had many things in common but Thomas did not believe in such things. Not the least was ghosts. He would take anyone up on bets that ghosts do not exist. This time though, he and Stuart had had a heated argument about the subject. Stuart told his best friend that he could prove that ghosts are real. Tom laughed at him and said that he was willing to try anything that Stuart suggested. Tom added,“What you see is what you get. This is all there is.”
By Len Jeffrey5 months ago in Horror
Home
HOME Chantelle couldn't have been more excited. She had completed her schooling in England and she had passed! Far more exciting was the realization that she would soon be returning home to America and be reunited with her family. Home to her siblings and especially home to her mother and father. There could not have been anything more wonderful happening in her life at this moment.
By Len Jeffrey8 months ago in Fiction
The Lost Moonbeam
THE LOST MOONBEAM Long, long ago on one special night, there streamed across the western skies of Montana, millions and millions of moonbeams. Oh, what a night that was! It was one of the most perfectly clear skies that Montana had ever experienced. There were flames and swirls of gold, red and yellow colours everywhere. But there was also one tiny problem.
By Len Jeffrey11 months ago in Fiction
Between The Floors
Lennie was a small-time crook plain and simple. If there were a quick and easy way to obtain money, jewellery or loot of any kind, you can bet Lennie would find a way to get it. His own mother didn't trust him. She had a lock installed on her bedroom door to keep him out when he was a kid. Lennie installed a lock on his bedroom to keep her out! In his youth he was the school bully. With his slicked back hair and piercing stare he forced the other kids to hand over their lunches and desserts. Not surprisingly, he dropped out of school early and when he was of age he left home thinking that he could make it on his own.
By Len Jeffreyabout a year ago in Fiction
Between The Floors
Lennie was a small-time crook plain and simple. If there were a quick and easy way to obtain money, jewelry or loot of any kind, you can bet Lennie would find a way to get it. His own mother didn't trust him. She had a lock installed on her bedroom door to keep him out when he was a kid. Lennie installed a lock on his bedroom to keep her out! In his youth he was the school bully. With his slicked back hair and piercing stare he forced the other kids to hand over their lunches and desserts. Not surprisingly, he dropped out of school early and when he was of age he left home thinking that he could make it on his own.
By Len Jeffreyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secret Fishing Hole
Ben’s favourite fishing hole is a cove situated along the shores of the Bay of Fundy. Known only by him, it’s hidden from the general public by natural rock formations and plenty of thick vegetation. Each time he makes the long trek to this fishing area it’s usually uneventful. There was one time though when it was different.
By Len Jeffreyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lost Moonbeam
Long, long ago on one special night, there streamed across the western skies of Montana, millions and millions of moonbeams. Oh, what a night that was! It was one of the most perfectly clear skies that Montana had ever experienced. There were flames and swirls of gold, red and yellow colours everywhere. But there was also one tiny problem. One of the moonbeams was missing! A baby moonbeam had gone off course in his travels. This had never happened before. For you see, every moonbeam is magically counted. If, for example, one million moonbeams were to set off from the moon and head for planet earth, but out of the one million, one was missing, that would never do!
By Len Jeffreyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Shoebox
The knock at the front door came early that cold and rainy Saturday morning. It was January 8, 1944, a few days before Deborah's sixteenth birthday. She stood and watched from the living room as her mother greeted a tall man dressed in a business suit. He carried what looked like a large envelope in one hand and a well-worn shoe box in the other. He spoke quietly to her mother and suddenly reached out to steady her as she began trembling. Deborah ran over and they helped her over mother to a couch.
By Len Jeffreyabout a year ago in Fiction
In Her Heart
Jesse was the kind of young man who was shy and liked to keep to himself. He was always polite and respectful of others. Never wanting to get into trouble, he avoided conflicts of any kind. Maybe this is why some of the bullies at his school teased him whenever they had the chance. Jessie tried to ignore them, but it still hurt.
By Len Jeffreyabout a year ago in Fiction
