StoryTellerZine

  Grandmother Moon Elijah David Grandmother dozed beneath the watchful eye of the no-longer-quite-full moon. Her right hand held Perry’s left, stretching his arm across the narrow aisle between the SUV’s middle seats like a lifeline in the sea of memory. Or forgetting, Perry thought. Perry had no illusions about Grandmother’s ability to remember him or their relationship. She was past remembering, her mind swallowed up in a darkness as certain as that which surrounded the moon. If I could draw the moon down in my hand, Perry thought, I’d drop it in your head and it would shine into all the deep corners of your mind where our faces lie cobwebbed and moth-eaten. And you’d remember us again. But even as Perry stretched a hand to the sky, the futility of the act froze him. Moons did not leave the sky without fingers of gods hurling them down. Perry’s gaze shifted to the empty road before them, lit by the harsh yellow headlights of his father’s SUV. His father had refused ...

  Thimble David Newton Baker Everyone is given a small amount of love on the day they are born. No one knows where it comes from or who dispenses it. Sometimes a person here or there gets a little extra. But no matter the amount, it is never enough...just look around. When I realized I had so little, I first thought of hoarding it. But then I didn't want to worry about it running out or getting stolen, So I spent it all in one place on a Thursday and that's when these lies began to scramble for darker corners. The next day I sat in the ER waiting for news of my friend with a broken jaw. I needed some of the love I had squandered and I looked there in my heart where it used to be. Though still only a thimble full, by some miracle it was still there. So I scooped up all of it and spent it on my friend. Tomorrow when I wake up, I'll peek in again. Perhaps I'll find the empty heart I expect, or maybe another...

  The Funeral of Josiah Jones Michael Gray It was the year 1902 and Chattanooga’s Main Street was bounded by wooden sidewalks, from Central to Broad. For all of those five blocks, people lined the street two deep. Men and women, young boys and girls alike, stood still, waiting and watching, I don’t know how many, but it sure seemed the whole population of Chattanooga had turned out, the silence broken only by an occasional whisper or the scuffing of child’s foot. But even that stopped when Josiah’s gray horse, rider-less, the boots turned upside down in the stirrups and led by his youngest son marched down the street. The horse’s head jerked nervously testing the bridle and bit, snorting on each twist when it reached the end of his freedom. The anxious horse was followed by a hearse drawn by two black horses and behind that the family of Josiah, some hundred strong came walking, every single one dressed in black. As the family passed the crowd peeled away and foll...

  Roll of the Dice By Jerry Harwood First off, just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I don’t see nothing. In fact, might mean I see more. Like on this deck for instance. Man wants the old one torn out. A new one the same dimensions put back. He doesn’t want to restore it none. Probably same with his wives. One in his living room is wearing a big diamond ring, too much lipstick for lounging around the house, and a skirt so short it is hard to tell where the middle is. As for the man, well, anyone would notice pretty quick he was likely out of high school when his wife was born. Odds are, there once was another wife, one his age. Like this deck, he decided it was time to replace it. As for me, I’m in recovery. I want to rebuild, not replace. My crew were up and running. Good crew is like that. Once you get them situated, they don’t really need you. Good thing too. Allows me to go set up their next paycheck. There’s always the missing board or the extra pack of fast...