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 #3 The Open Door
The Open Door
Blake stopped.
He stared at the door.
He could tell at once that all was not well.
“What have we here?” he asked the open portal.
There was, of course, no reply.
Blake entered the house.
All was silent save for the dripping from the bathroom.
It was there that he found her body.
In the tub.
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2006 Trevor W. Hampel
Read more of my short fiction here.
Edited November 2013