Steven Parker
Stories (4/0)
And so, I dream...
And so, I dream of my love. I look at her heart swinging from the shell tube of my shotgun. Not her actual heart, her heart shaped locket. The one she kept a photo of us in. Now it is sealed in black electrical tape to hold in the drops of her blood I collected after she was gone. I tap it and it swings free but concealed in its cover. No shine, no sound. No problem.
By Steven Parker3 years ago in Fiction
Stubby
I don’t know when he showed up, but there he was. A big grey tom with mats and clumps in his coat. I had seen him hanging around the neighbor’s cats and on her porch. I just assumed he was hers. She owned four cats of her own that seemed to sleep outside and she left food for them, the local possums and who knows what in the neighborhood. There were some very large squirrels in the area probably for that reason. Once, when I was out working in the yard the neighbor came over and talked to me, mostly snarky and sneering. You know, the stuff that makes for good, high fences.
By Steven Parker3 years ago in Petlife
Amazing
I have known many women over the course of my life who have thought that they were strong. Most were merely hard or forces of will. My great-grandmother was a Daughter of the American Revolution and was as stubborn as the famous Missouri Mule from her home state that she was so proud of. She did teach us to play cards when she lived with us for a year and for the good times I am grateful. My grandmother was a stiff backed descendant of Scottish immigrants to Canada and then into Montana and was as dedicated to her opinions a she was to some of her family. I learned how bread is made from freshly ground wheat and what a simple pleasure that can be from her. But, sadly her eldest daughter, my mother, never heard her father say that he loved her till she was fifty years old. When I heard this I promised her that she would always know that I love her and that my children love her too. Some of her other daughters were women who could frighten a dog with their voice and send the animal slinking away. Truly a talent that is rare to behold and worth as much as it seems. Yes, yes, the appearance of strength but not real strength. Sometimes endurance, other times rigidity and anger.
By Steven Parker3 years ago in Families
The Finding
He was out on his usual rounds, The Guard. And yet now he was hesitant. He came around the building and could hear the protest in the distance. A great wailing and crashing of the mob in and animal rage. He could understand their point, and agreed that the police didn’t automatically have the right to resort to violence. The crowd seemed to be destroying shops in the downtown area about a quarter mile off. He didn’t like this but he did shrug, because he could understand their rage.
By Steven Parker3 years ago in Criminal