Short Story

JULY MORNING

Trigger Warning: The unspeakable events in Israel this week
have left me numb. This is a very bleak tale.
I hope you will bear that in mind
as you read my story today. Thank you.

ยฉ I Goodheir

The church used to be there, across the river.

Rumors were that Pastor Roderick had a squaw named Chenoa who kept house for him. People talked; they agreed the relationship seemed …. peculiar. One October night a few curious boys paddled across the river. Hearing shouting, they crept to the vicarโ€™s cabin and peeked in a window.

Roderick was drunk and yelling at Chenoa. The boys were startled when the vicar threw his glass across the room and reached for a birch cane by the hearth. He grabbed Chenoa and ripped the front of her tunic from neck to hem, leaving her standing naked and trembling. He wrestled out of his waistcoat and began whipping Chenoaโ€™s breasts as she sobbed. Purple welts appeared on her chest and bloody droplets trickled down her belly. Roderick licked the blood, then twisted Chenoa around and entered her from behind. When he was done, he pushed her to the floor.

The boys fled and told their parents what they had witnessed. The next morning the sheriff and a posse rowed out and discovered the church and cabin burned to the ground. Roderick was dead, an arrow sticking angrily out of his neck; he had been scalped. There was no sign of Chenoa.

On a sultry July morning the village women went berry picking by the river. They screamed out in horror at the sight before them: a despondent Chenoa had hanged herself from an oak tree. The papoose on her back cradled a sleeping infant.

NAR ยฉ 2023
250 Words

If you are unable to view the video, which I understand is a frequent problem, it can be found on YouTube. Sorry for the inconvenience. The song is “July Morning” by Uriah Heep. This is a pic of the version I chose for today’s story:

Uncategorized

AMERICANA

ยฉ Ayr/Gray

Went to the farmerโ€™s market yesterday. Lots of pitting ahead of me but this isnโ€™t my first rodeo.

Toss all the pitted cherries into a saucepan with some sugar and lemon juice. Let that cook over a medium heat just until the juices are released. Scoop the cherries into a bowl with a slotted spoon. Mix some of the cherry sauce with cornstarch until dissolved, then return it to the pot to cook until thick. Pour over the cherries and set aside while preparing your pie crust.

I love working with dough; itโ€™s very therapeutic. After years of practice, making the perfect pie crust is a piece of cake! And donโ€™t forget to save any dough remnants.

Line a pie plate with your crust and add the cherry filling. Hereโ€™s where you can get fancy. Remember the crust trimmings you set aside? Ball them up, then roll out the dough into a circle but not too thin. Cut strips out of your dough to lay a lattice top crust across the cherry filling. If youโ€™re new to this, just place the whole, uncut circle of dough over the pie filling and poke a hole in the top for the steam to escape while your pie bakes.

Donโ€™t forget to crimp the edges of your crust. Finish it off by brushing a thin layer of beaten egg over the top. We all like a bit of sweetness; sprinkle some sugar on it! ๐Ÿ’‹

Escargot another time. Cherry pie for Labor Day!

NAR ยฉ 2023
250 words

ยฉ NAR
Uncategorized

TRAFFIC JAM

ยฉ Ayr/Gray

Every day I make my way north on the Cross Island Parkway heading for the Throggs Necks Bridge and home to Westchester County. And every day I see this same fellow slowly pedaling his tired old bicycle. We are riding parallel to one another. He is on my right; further right and out of view is the Little Neck Bay. When the bay is in view, it is stunning.

His shock of silver hair is startling and, together with his tissue-white skin, it is obvious this fellow doesnโ€™t get much sun. I had him pegged for an elitist-type, a retired executive who drinks very dry martinis and lathers himself in SPF 80.

This one particularly splendid day I found myself stuck in traffic; all arteries clogged with nothing getting through. I turned off the engine and relaxed.

At that very moment along came my pale horseman and as I glanced over, he waved and rang the bicycleโ€™s bell. CHING!! I waved and he half-rode, half-walked his bike to my car. I rolled down the window and a very unlikely friendship blossomed.

This fellow was not at all what I imagined. He was a transplant from โ€“ of all places โ€“ Scotland by way of France! Said his name was Brian Duff-something (strong but utterly enchanting accent).

Did you know thereโ€™s one place in all of Scotland where palm trees grow? Itโ€™s true! My friend Brian Duff-something told me.

Now every day we wave โ€œBonjourโ€ and I pray for another traffic jam.

NAR ยฉ 2023
250 Words

Uncategorized

CHASING DREAMS

ยฉAyr/Gray

Everything was going fine until it wasnโ€™t. Then Joe and Willie met โ€“ two guys down on their luck.

Willie grew up in the street, standing outside saloons dancing a jig just to earn a coin for something to eat. Some days heโ€™d get tossed a fresh cigarette; heโ€™d break it in half, smoke one piece first and save the other behind his ear for later. One odd job led to another but nothing steady and heโ€™d move on, some bread and cheese in a sack over his shoulder.

Now Joe was a lucky SOB. Born in a brothel, all the ladies took him to their bosoms. By the time he was eight, he knew what was what. Life was good until the girls got sick and the house was shut down. Joe fell through the cracks. He found a bit of money, some jewelry and food left behind, placed it in a bag and took off.

Willie and Joe met while hopping freight trains and chasing their dreams. Willie was on the track to nowhere but Joe had his sights on California gold. By now Willie was sick โ€ฆ โ€œconsumptionโ€, he said; Joe kept an eye on him. When you got only one friend in the world, that person means something.

They planned to hop the freight train heading west. Willie never made it, coughing to death one night in the train yard. Joe placed Willieโ€™s hat over his face and ran for the biggest, fastest iron horse California bound.

NAR ยฉ 2023
250 words