Len Sherman
Bio
I'm a published author/artist but tend to think of myself as a doodler\dabbler. I've sailed the NW Passage & wrote & illustrated a book, ARCTIC ODYSSEY. Currently, I live on 50 semi wilderness acres & see lots of wild critters in the yard.
Stories (40/0)
A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE
The winter wind is blowing like snot across Saskatchewan as my two friends and I huddle in a half-ton truck, the heat cranked high to warm our frigid bodies. As we bump along a frozen deeply rutted road leading to a highway, which leads to another butt-fuck town, I wonder where we will spend the night. My friend Rex Smith is driving, and I’m squished between him and his brother Cyril on the front seat, which I suppose is the back seat too, since there is only one seat in the truck. Rex has a contract to hook up underground telephone lines all over the province and to think I left balmy Vancouver Island for a couple of weeks to be with my friends without pay; not my idea of a winter vacation; busty-blondes sipping pinacolatos stretched out beside a pool in a Mexican resort was more to my liking but I doubted my wife would have approved.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Fiction
MAMA WAS A SPITFIRE
Mother, in most ways, was normal. When my mom was young, right up until she became elderly, she was still a very attractive woman. Although her natural wavy blonde hair had turned white, her twinkling blue eyes remained young, playful, mischievous and precocious right to the end.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Families
THE JOURNAL
Many years had gone by since the world went completely sideways and did two or three summersaults in the process. All the signs of impending doom had been blatantly right in everyone’s faces, no exceptions, but like everything else, unless the big-ugly comes knocking at your door, no one does anything about the problem. And that’s what eventually happened, the big-ugly came knocking at everyone’s door at exactly the same moment, and when they opened their doors, all hell broke loose. Civilization should have paid more attention to irreversible climate changes due to mass deforestation, uncontrolled industrial growth and nonrestrictive mining and fracking procedures. Since the air was polluted, the soil and water poisoned and the massive accumulated ice at the North and South Poles was rapidly melting at an unprecedented pace, the oceans swallowing up entire cities; water, food and land becoming scarcer and a premium commodity, nuclear warfare erupted on a global scale.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Fiction
FOREVER YOURS
The Belgian farmer looked out across the remnants of his destroyed land through the shattered kitchen window. Like his father, grandfather, his great grandfather and so on before him, they had farmed this patch of land near the village of Passchendaele for centuries. In the beginning, the land had been more fertile and the farm much larger but back then, pesticides and other chemicals that poisoned the soil hadn’t existed. The farm had survived WWI and WWII, but he wasn’t too sure about the results of WWIII. So many nuclear bombs had been deployed the world over and as if that hadn’t been bad enough, global pandemics had also raged across the entire planet. Because of the deadly nuclear radiation and devastating diseases, he wasn’t sure what had caused his whole family to wither away and die, only knew he had one last son to bury. He didn’t know if any foreign armies had invaded other countries, but he hadn’t seen any here. His worst enemies had become his own countrymen as they scavenged food; the past winter, extremely harsh and lengthy, had most likely killed most of them off. It had been months since he had seen another living human being, other than his dying son.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Fiction
CANCER
For those of you who have a starry outlook or hooked on stargazing, Cancer is one of the medium-sized constellations, which is bordered by Gemini on the west and Leo on the east. Although many of Cancer’s stars are rather dim, that doesn’t mean Cancerians are dim-witted, quite the contrary; they tend to be highly intelligent.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Futurism
OH, THOSE GEMINI'S!
Astrology and astronomy go together like Pollux and Castor: The Great Twins. Greek mythology claims that Zeus, the god of sky and thunder and also a dirty old man, seduced Tyndareus’ wife, Leda, who gave birth to their son Pollux. Castor was also born to Leda but because he was the son of the king of Sparta, he was unfortunately a lowly mortal. When Castor eventually died, because Pollux was so brokenhearted, he begged Zeus to give his brother immortality, which he did. He united them together forever and on a clear night, you can see them glowing in the heavens amidst the Gemini constellation in the northern celestial hemisphere.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Futurism
ROLLING THUNDER
I’m working late if a person can call it work because I love what I do. Not everyone has that luxury, they have to do whatever it takes to keep the wolf from the door. It’s thundering and raining outside but I’ve got the music cranked so loud all I can hear is Steppenwolf’s 'Born to be Wild' blasting through my sign shop. I don’t letter many signs. I’m known more for pinstriping and airbrushing graphics on vehicles, motorcycles being my favorite. I don’t know what it is but when I’m laying a thin stripe of enamel paint on a motorcycle gas tank, that long narrow brush almost feels like my finger tracing the contours of a woman’s big breast, gets me downright excited. And that’s what I’m doing right now, finishing up pinstriping a flame job on a Harley Davidson gas tank. Besides the blaring music, I’m also enjoying a bottle of cold beer. Not sure how many I’ve had since I started working on the gas tank today but judging by the empties lying around, I’d say this is probably about a fifteen or sixteen beer job. I’ve been told I have a drinking problem but as odd as it seems, as drunk as I get, my hand is still as steady as a rock and what’s really amazing and I have no idea why, I don’t get hangovers. Feel a little fuzzy the next day, that’s all, until I pop the cap on a bottle of brew and knock it back.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Filthy
SISTER MICHAEL
An old man sat on a bench feeding a flock of pigeons that had gathered at his feet. As he looked at the hungry birds scurrying around on the grass, their heads bobbing up and down as they pecked at the dried breadcrumbs, he noticed a boy looking at him. At first, he thought nothing of it but then, after a little closer observation, realized that the inquisitive boy reminded him of himself when he was around the age of ten. Times were tough then. The Second World War was still in progress and living in the small town of Penarth, Wales, nestled on the northwestern shores of Bristol Channel, the explosions of the Germans bombing Cardiff, only a short distance away, could often be heard.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Futurism
OH THOSE 70’S
Take me back to the 70’s, the era of beads, flowers, free-love, hippy-dippy hippies and let us not forget free love. “Make love not war” was the rally cry against the war in Viet Nam where a lot of young men died needlessly for “the man”. Although the awareness of antiestablishment was raised and fashion made a statement or no statement back then, it didn’t really matter because everything was cool man. Dudes had long hair, fu Manchu mustaches and some beards were as long as Methuselah’s. Many of the chicks resembled California blondes, long straight locks hanging down their backs that swished across their heart-shaped derrieres with every step, even though many of them would have looked sensational in a tattered flour sack.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Styled
BLACK SOUL
The sea was wet. The sea was silent. The sea was as flat as a plate of piss and almost as yellow from the scorching sun staring down at the tiny dinghy I was lying in, dying in, thirsting for a glass of water. The only time any movement occurred on the sea was when I changed positions. As the dinghy rocked, the hungry waves' watery lips slurped, sucked and licked their way along the keel as if awaiting a feast and I was the main course. Salt water sloshed, slid and slithered inside the bottom of the boat like a slinking snake caught in the open with no where to hide. My eyes burned, my skin burned, and my mind burned.
By Len Sherman3 years ago in Horror