Short Story

KETCHUM, IDAHO

© Ayr/Gray

“Papa, you said we were going fly fishing today. I’ve been waiting hours! What’s taking you so long?”

Lorian stood at the entrance to her grandfather’s study, an adorable 8 year old tomboy in hip waders, boots, a plaid shirt and golden-brown hair in pigtails, tied with a bow the exact shade of red as in her shirt. Arms folded significantly across her chest, she stared at her grandfather’s typewriter as if wiling it to spontaneously combust.

Ernest turned to face his granddaughter. He spoke to her as though she was one of his cigar-smoking buddies, not like a child, and she loved him for that.

“I’ve got to keep one step ahead of that damn Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He says I don’t know the $10 words. I know them, alright. But there are older and simpler and better words and those are the ones I use.”

He paused but Lorian knew not to answer. She also knew not to tell Papa that her mother was reading Faulkner’s newest book.

Besides, he’s an alcoholic. Good thing he’s Republican!”

“Papa, can we go fishing now? The fish ain’t gonna wait all day!” and Ernest laughed at that remark. Then he spotted his gun leaning against the wall.

Forget fly fishing, Lorian! We’re going duck hunting!”

“But, Papa. Mommy says I’m too young to shoot a gun.”

“Well, she’ll only know if you tell. Grab my hat, kiddo. Duck’s ain’t gonna wait all day!”

NAR © 2023
250 Words

26 thoughts on “KETCHUM, IDAHO”

  1. Not sure where my comment went, sis. Maybe Mr Jobs didn’t like that I said and edited it. I’ll try again. I adore that you’ve dressed her so precisely, special care in matching colours, and by golly “our’ little girl is fluid. Bless her heart, because it’ll be broken by someone with no regard for all the people who love him. Now, we’ll see if this one flips into the WP bin also…

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I don’t know much about the two writers, but your post indicates a rivalry. Maybe they should have challenged each other to a duel. Faulkner could have chosen an ink pen to stab Ernest with, and Ernest could have tried to bludgeon Faulkner with his typewriter.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I like it, Nancy, bringing the big man to life in such a human story.
    Every child should have a Papa like that.
    Great descritions – for example, Lorian ‘arms folded significantly across her chest’ just sums up her determination.
    And a wee dark future note with the gun leaning against the wall?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, just a glance at a dark future, Jenne.
      It’s easy being predictable but where’s the challenge?
      I chose to go with the man’s humanity, not his mortality which we all know.
      Thank you for your very kind comments, Jenne.
      I like this one, too.

      Like

Leave a reply to The Sicilian Storyteller Cancel reply