Mark Gagnon
Bio
I have spent most of my life traveling around the US and the globe. Now it's time to draw on these experiences and create what I hope are interesting fictional stories. Only you, the reader, can tell me if I've achieved my goal.
Stories (107/0)
Duty First
As dawn broke in the eastern sky, the Army of the Soulless crested the hills surrounding the village of Tranquility. When they appeared, even the area’s most dominant predator, dire wolves, moved deeper into the surrounding forest. The Army of the Soulless had only one goal—to defeat and destroy every living creature in its path. The Jikininki soldiers were driven ever forward by their rulers known as Beast Masters.
By Mark Gagnon6 days ago in Fiction
The Winner-Not!
At 11 a.m. my phone rang. I immediately picked up as I was waiting for a call from an exterminator. At 8:00 a.m. I had called Joe the Terminator, his idea of a clever play on words, to take care of a mouse problem. His answering service said he would get right back to me. That was three hours ago. I waited impatiently while the rodent had the run of the house.
By Mark Gagnon9 days ago in Wander
Hidden Stream
Riding her horse is what Anne enjoyed more than school, playing sports, or even chatting with her friends online. It gave her a feeling of freedom that nothing else could match. Anne and her chestnut mare, Explorer, spent endless hours crisscrossing the fields and hills surrounding her family’s farm. They spent so much time together that, to anyone watching, it looked like they could read each other’s minds. Anne only had to place a minimum amount of pressure on the reins and Explorer would react immediately. The horse seemed to enjoy Anne’s company as much as Anne did hers.
By Mark Gagnon30 days ago in Fiction
Misdirection
How would you like to live in a world where everyone who chooses to can read your mind and you theirs? Now, just to make it more interesting, what if you have lost the ability to read everyone else’s mind? Every thought, every emotion, every subconscious urge you have is laid bare for the world to ogle at while you have no idea what’s really behind their smile or friendly nod. Is your imagination vivid enough to grasp what such an existence would be like? I don’t have to imagine because it’s my reality.
By Mark Gagnonabout a month ago in Fiction
Hummingbird
The Hummingbird symbolizes happiness and joy. It appears out of nowhere and briefly, spreads happiness and joy into the lives of those it passes. It carries messages from those who have passed on to their living relatives, according to ancient Native American lore.
By Mark Gagnonabout a month ago in Fiction
Generational Disconnect
The official-looking sign posted on the door read, “Safe Driving for Seniors.” In many states, the term seniors could apply to high school seniors, but not in Florida. The attendees in this room were all past retirement age and had one thing in common besides age — they had all received a ticket for unsafe driving. The instructor was in his early twenties and displayed the confidence of youth. He was given this assignment because no one more senior than him wanted to do it.
By Mark Gagnonabout a month ago in Humans
Earthbound
In late Spring of 1997, I was assigned a 3-day local tour of the Washington metro area. This job was perfect because first, I was very familiar with the locale, and second; I could go home each night instead of staying in a hotel. The only downside was the location of the pickup hotel, Georgetown. If any of you have ever visited this part of Washington, you’ll understand why no driver enjoys navigating a 45-foot bus through its narrow streets and gnarled traffic. Sometimes one has to take the bad with the good.
By Mark Gagnonabout a month ago in Interview
A Good Deed
It was well after midnight; it was snowing, and my flight was the last to arrive. By the time my luggage came to me, delivered on a clunking conveyor belt, there were only five passengers left in this wannabe airport. To add insult to injury, I had to schlep my bag with the freshly damaged wheel through the snow from the terminal to the rental car center on the opposite side of the parking lot because the shuttle service had stopped for the night. At real airports, shuttles ran until the last flight arrived, but not here in Hicksville.
By Mark Gagnonabout a month ago in Fiction
Angie’s Cave
Peter was born in the mountains of rural Virginia, where he spent his childhood days exploring the tree-covered hills and grassy valleys surrounding his home. As he reached his pre-teen years, he became fascinated with the multitude of caves tucked away all around the area. Peter’s parents supported his newfound interest, placing only one restriction on his explorations. He must never, under any circumstance, enter Angie’s Cave.
By Mark Gagnonabout a month ago in Horror
