Ray Clark

Joined June 2021

0 stories

Bio

I am a retired Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine. I started writing recently to help use my creative energy. I write across a broad genre of topics, though I do try to include some medical trivia in each story.

Stories (4/0)

Ghost in the Barn
(This is a work of fiction. Any semblance to actual people alive or dead, or events, is purely unintentional.) Ten miles west of Berryville, on the old rural road now pretty much abandoned is the old Peterson farm. A beautiful ten acres hid away in the rolling grass hills. The land has been owned by the Petersons since before the Revolutionary War. Folks say that even George Washington himself slept in the old farmhouse once, but that isn't uncommon. The farm still existed but the Petersons had moved on. The most recent "old man Peterson" passed away six months ago. Neither of the boys took too much to farming or running horses.
By Ray Clark3 years ago in Fiction
The Gift of the Locket
The acid rain sizzled and spat as it hit the pock-marked asphalt of the streets of old LA. Only rats walk these dark avenues. Not the four-legged variety, they had more sense and got out or were eaten. Only the two-legged species persisted. Too stupid to run when they could, they were trapped in this ghetto of crumbling concrete and steel. So they plodded through the acid rain, covered in layers of plastic and mylar so that they did not end up looking like the streets, melted and tortured. When they were not roaming, they were scouring the abandoned buildings for food and dry shelter.
By Ray Clark3 years ago in Futurism
The Heart Shaped Locket
The acid rain sizzled and spat as it hit the pock-marked asphalt of the streets of old LA. Only rats walk these dark avenues. Not the four-legged variety, they had more sense and got out or were eaten. Only the two-legged species persisted. Too stupid to run when they could, they were trapped in this ghetto of crumbling concrete and steel. So they plodded through the acid rain, covered in layers of plastic and mylar so that they did not end up looking like the streets, melted and tortured. When they were not roaming, they were scouring the abandoned buildings for food and dry shelter.
By Ray Clark3 years ago in Futurism
Goodnight Mr. Peebles
Mr. Peebles was an old man even by the standard of the day, at least he seemed to be to the three O'Mally children who lived in the apartment one flight below him in an old brownstone apartment building in the Bronx. He did not go out often, even in summer and rarely spoke, and never if not spoken to. The greatest notice of his existence happened every night, promptly at nine o'clock when Klezmer music could be heard coming from his apartment. The music would play and the scuffling of Mr. Peebles' shoes against the hardwood floor could be heard. It ended promptly at half-past nine when the apartment would go silent.
By Ray Clark3 years ago in Families

Ray Clark

Bio

Stories .css-19zxm0z-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(4/0)

Ghost in the Barn

The Gift of the Locket

The Heart Shaped Locket

Goodnight Mr. Peebles

Stories (4/0)