Category Archives: Essays and Stories

Sulking – Timothy David Menotti

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“Look Mac, here’s a house key” Becky said in the light of a new morning.

“I found a woman’s purse in the bushes, Becky. Identification says Margret Turner, five foot five, green eyes, glasses. Does that look like brown hair to you?” Mac inquired.

“Uh huh, do you think she’s another one?” Becky asked with a concerned look.

“Beck, look here in the alley. There is a lot of blood, some broken eye glasses, clothing. On second thought, maybe you don’t want to…” said Mac, too late to block Becky’s path.

“Mac, I’ve seen enough in my time.”

“That would be 13 so far, Beck” he stated with resignation.

“You’d think his cold storage would be overflowing by now, Mac” as she tried to inject sardonic humor.

“Amazing how the packages show up like clockwork at the community kitchen. No one ever sees anyone deliver them” Mac stated, changing the subject a bit.

“Who was it that tipped us to what was in them?” asked Becky.

“Old man Burns; says he knows the difference between what the labels say and what’s inside. Wartime behind the lines, he says” Mac reported.

“Grizzly old codger; you think it could be him, Mac?”

“Naw, he’s tipped us off over ten times; many before you got to town. I roughed him up the first three; got nothing from him. He’s too shell-shocked to do anyone any harm” Mac said with remorse for what he had done.

“They say it’s the quiet ones…” Becky added sarcastically.

“Becky, you’re not from around here. We’re dealing with a wolf. Maybe he hangs out in bars, scouts the pack, separates a weak one from the herd, and strikes” Mac matter-of-factly informed her.

“Same in the big city, Mac, I’m not afraid” she blustered.

“Probably that’s where he’s from. I bet he’ll be moving on soon” Mac guessed.

“Did we get approval from the Feds to bait this loser?” Becky asked.

“Not yet, Becks. What’s got you going?”

“Marnie, my sister Marnie; that’s what” she said with pain evident in her voice.

“You’re not going to bring her back, you know” Mac counseled.

“I know that, just this guy may have been her killer” Becky said.

“You said that was ten years ago. Do you think it could be the same one?”

“Could be, Mac.”

“What will you do, ask him?”

“I may just, I may just” Becky stated with resolve.

Flame Front – Priya Venkateswara

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I must admit, this story is a failure. It is flawed. The events described in the dialogue really wouldn’t happen this way.

“This is some ‘how do you do’.”

“What are you talking about, Bill?”

“Remember those folks who thought there was life on other planets, Steve?”

“Yeah, so? Nothing ever came of it. Not much funding lost there.”

“Well, seems we should have looked harder. Maybe sent out better recorded messages on our satellites. Maybe our television signals should have been more religious than sacrilegious, or something.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“I hypothesize that some scientist’s experiment in a star system 12 light years away went seriously wrong.”

“How’s that?”

“Stars are exploding in a particular pattern that indicates the space-time origin of the initial event.”

“Initial event?”

“Yeah, whatever they did, I’m guessing, caused an incursion into our universe of another vacuum, Steve.”

“A baby universe?”

“If you want to call it that, but it isn’t cute. It’s in our universe, our galaxy no less. And I think its growth is accelerating.”

“This is wonderful. Think of the grants we could get to study it. This is the best thing that could have happened to us.”

“I’m dumbfounded. You and I are as good as dead, not to mention the entire world, and you think this is a funding opportunity.”

“Well, we don’t have to mention that in the grant application. We bury it in a footnote to the first year progress report… By the way, how long do we have?”

“I don’t know exactly…”

“See, that should be the first line of inquiry. I’ll get started with an outline and we can discuss it in the morning. We should hit DoE, NSF and some of the private foundations.”

“Why don’t you do just that…”

Respect – Neal Knit Farrah

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As you might anticipate from my name, I’m not necessarily a looker, one who stands out from the crowd or some suave international hipster. My middle name is a cruel joke my parents played on me, naming me after a hobby they both took up while waiting for me to be born. Since no one on either side of the family was named Neal I can only guess what they meant there. I’ve been dealing with the concept of respect, both theoretically and in practice, for a very long time.

Now our culture would have you believe that there is some special someone, your soul mate or that one who completes you. Actually, this is just a ruse to cut down on crime, war and unsanctioned anti-social behavior; a successful ruse, thankfully, but not the original intent.

We don’t hear these words anymore but I’ll quote them anyway: “Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.”” A helper fit for him. Hmm, I wonder what that could mean. 

Perhaps it means what it says; it wasn’t good for him to be alone so He gave him one who was fit to help. Fit? That means suitable; more like ‘two peas in a pod’ than like ‘hand in a glove’ but you get the picture. Help? C’mon, you ever try to carry something heavy by yourself? Help!

When were either (they were both called Man, one male and the other female) going to be alone? All too soon. Driven from the ‘Tree of Life’ so they wouldn’t live forever in their fallen state, they were driven away from God’s presence, death’s real meaning.

So how does this all relate to respect? I bet you could tell me stories. But, this is my turn so here it goes. I found someone on a blind date. Unfortunately, I was a placeholder for the one she really wanted. Finding out and escaping with my soul wounded but intact, I was found by Christ.

One evening, among my peers, I was told this was my last chance to find a mate; I would have to make a decision one way or the other. I did not know the woman. We had never been more than acquaintances. I said no. What tragedy was needlessly perpetrated on her? Wouldn’t it have been kinder to say, “Do you really know him? Have you ever spoken heart to heart? What have you two decided together?” rather than try to broker some heroic “deal too far”?

No respect, no dignity.

Having been invited to dinner, I was plied with promised favors. Trying to be chaste, I declined. Her roommate brought up some rival. Fictional, I didn’t know? I wasn’t biting. Not long after, I was invited for coffee for one last chance at opportunity. I had to ask myself, “whose?”

No respect, no dignity.

One day I was introduced to a person with the explicit purpose of assessing whether I was mate material. This was her purpose, not mine. I only became aware of the ulterior motive after the fact. No doubt arranged by some well-meaning individual who wanted to fill a gap, meet a need or put me out of my ‘misery’. Or maybe they wanted me to be as happy as they were. And this happened in trusted circles. Just another way respect is in shortage.

 Perhaps you trade on your good looks (they fade), your status (it changes) or you just trade favors. Give these ways up. A long time ago, a taker, in a moment of candor, said “you have to figure out what you want out of life and get it”. I think you have to figure out what you want in life and give it. However, there are no guarantees for a return on your investment, at least not in this life. I want a help mate who fits. That will take respect and I plan to give it.

Fall Leaves – Natsui Ureshenko

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A beautiful fall day; the leaves were turning to fire, rust, wine and gold. A magic time of early morning jogs, sunset walks and the rich smell of chimney smoke from fireplaces around town. The birds that stay here were settling in for the winter as were the squirrels and rabbits, foxes and skunks. The streams ran icy cold and the forests still concealed; fishermen and hunters were getting their last haul before winter enveloped everything in frost.

This season was really their time. They’ve been at it for thousands of years. The turn of colors signaled the cycle of life. No one really noticed the missing rabbits or squirrels. Once in a while there was an investigation when a jogger went missing. Otherwise, it was as it always had been.

Every morning, Rachel would go out on her run. She wanted to lose those few pounds before her high school prom. None of her friends thought she needed to lose any weight. Her mother always made sure her plate was full at dinner time. They would argue about the wisdom of this nightly ritual. However, Rachel always had the last word on it even though it sounded more like a retch.

This morning, Rachel noticed more leaves had fallen from the black mulberry tree outside her bedroom window. It always lost leaves earlier than the rest. It never seemed worse for it though. She picked one up to study it on her morning jog. She decided to take the route down by the reservoir.

As she ran, she twirled the leaf between her fingers. The veins in the leaf seemed to subtly pulse with life. Rachel didn’t remember any leaves doing that before. It appeared to turn a slight rust color where she was holding it. The path by the reservoir where she regularly ran was rarely raked in the fall. Leaves from hundreds of surrounding trees collected here. She found herself plowing through piles of them to make headway down the path…