Short Fiction #32 James
James
James hesitated.
Should he enter? What if?
All his life he had been ruled by ‘what ifs’. It was time to stop. Time to bite the bullet. Time to take charge of his life.
‘Carpe deum,’ he muttered. What a useless mantra it had been throughout his meaningless existence. ‘Still, I might get a job here.’
Fighting the thudding of his heart and the shallowness of his breathing, he slowly pushed on the door. It stood firm.
He pushed again.
Solid.
Immoveable.
As he leaned on the door, the notice came slowly into focus.
‘IN RECEIVERSHIP.’
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2007 Trevor W. Hampel.
Read more of my short fiction here.
This article updated September 2015.
Short Fiction #31 Wetting a line
Wetting a line
James stood musing. The soft slap of the water near his feet relaxed him by its hypnotic repetition.
His gaze scanned the water.
Nothing.
A pelican glided silently from behind the trees and shushed to a stop midstream. James let his mind drift. No use in concentrating on the fishing.
Nothing biting.
He propped the rod up in the soft sand. Moving his chair to the water’s edge he dabbled his feet in the water.
‘Funny how they call it fishing,’ he snorted aloud. ‘I’m merely wetting a line. Haven’t caught a thing all morning.’
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2007 Trevor W. Hampel.
To read more of my fiction click here.
Updated September 2015.
Short Fiction #30 Sleepy
Sleepy
John gave a yawn large enough to swallow a prize-winning watermelon.
‘I think I should go to bed before I fall off to sleep,’ he muttered to himself as he staggered down the hall.As he entered his bedroom Flipper, his two-month-old kitten, suddenly pounced him upon him.
“Yeeoow! That hurt! Why can’t you practice your claw sharpening on something other than my ankles?â€
He shook the kitten free. The cat flipped over on to his back, rolled, crouched and prepared to pounce once again.
“No more!’†growled John. “Time for bed!â€
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2007 Trevor W. Hampel
Short Fiction #29 Boredom
Boredom
She trudged the last few steps towards the door. The downpour had made the bus trip home tiresome. The house looked cold and alone. The chilled air of the darkening sky swept into the room ahead of her.
“What a relief,†she sighed. “That old grinder of a bus won’t make it one day.â€
She dropped her bags on the couch and went to pour a glass of sherry. She flopped onto the seat, reached for the controls and flicked on the TV.“Boring,†she muttered. “What I need is some excitement. No chance of that!â€
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2007 Trevor W. Hampel
Short Fiction #28 The Deal
The Deal
George hesitated. He wanted to go on, but he felt compelled to wait.
‘Who’s there?’ came the muffled voice from within.
‘It’s me – George,’ he called through the keyhole. He felt ridiculous speaking to a hole in the door.
‘Come on in,’ replied the muted voice, ‘It’s open.’
George took a deep breath. He turned the knob. The door swung open.
‘I’ve been expecting you.’
George stared at the only occupant of the tiny room.
‘You took your time.’
‘The car wouldn’t start,’ mumbled George.
‘Never mind. Let’s get down to it. It’s your deal first.’
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2007 Trevor W. Hampel
- To read more of my short stories click here.