Very Short Stories

About the Author
Special Announcements
Order Pieces of White
Pieces of White continued
Of Another Time
Of Loves Lost
Theatre of the Mind
New Poems
New Poems
New Poems
Beauty of Death
Short Stories
Life With Father: A Personal Story
In Tribute
The Beginning
Guest Poet of the Month
Favorite Links

I think of her every day about this time.


It was raining then, just like today.

She let me share her umbrella.  We

stood quietly in the rain and the gray.

I noticed her green eyes right off.

They begged a silent plea

as they blinked in the water’s mist

so brilliantly for me.

We didn’t speak. There was no need,

a motion from her to escape the rain.

I gladly accepted in gratitude as

we waited for the train.


Being so close I could smell

the fragrance of lavender.

I still recall her sweet scent

all these years after.


She lit two cigarettes and

handed one to me.

I tasted her lipstick.

My heart pounded heavily.


I never saw her again.

We boarded the train, her

on one car, me on  another-

Lonely we passed in the rain.


I think of her every day about this time.

                                                Sweet Rage

The traffic was heavier than usual this morning. Even so, I was moving along without problems until suddenly I had to slam on my brakes, screeching to a halt, black tire marks etched into the pavement. I had barely missed a woman driving a small red car as she darted in front of me without warning. My coffee was sent flying and ended up on my lap, seeping through my freshly pressed pants.

I managed to pull along side her and glared menacingly, not speaking the words my looks were implying. She surprised me by rolling down her window, flipping me her middle finger. I was speechless as she began a verbal assault, using words I had never even imagined, let alone knew the meaning of. As she began cussing at me, her face became red and swollen. A man with a Navy Uniform, in the car just behind her, rapidly began writing as she spewed out hate and venom, her vernacular an expose' in the art of cussing one out. The Sailor, I assumed, would add the new words to his own vocabulary.

Her makeup began to smear as she continued to cuss at me and tears ran black as her mascara meshed with the red of her distorted face.

Traffic began moving once more and she rolled her window up and snuck in between two other cars to avoid me, should we stop again. I wiped the coffee from my crotch, put the McDonalds napkin in the ashtray and drove on, more slowly than before.
Too bad I did'nt think to get her phone number, I thought to myself. She was really quite cute!

                                    You Just Never Know......


I stopped beside her at the light .Her eyes met mine just as

I was smiling at a comment heard on a radio talk show.

She smiled back.  My heart raced for an instant.  Both of

us turned to see the light go green. I let her go first.  I needed to

evaluate the experience more closely, check out her car, memorize her plate number, take note of objects in the rear deck, whitewalls or black,

spinners or factory wheel covers-  thank God there were

no bumper stickers.


You just don’t know who you are making eye contact with these days.


She could be anything. Yeah, she was beautiful alright,

Nice teeth, sweet smile, but who was she really?

Obviously someone’s daughter. A sister, a wife, a celebrity,

a man-eater? Of those I was unsure. Was her picture adorning the

wall of some obscure post office, or her face on a milk carton

along with her abducted child at the local Kroger store?


You just don’t know who you are making eye contact with these days.


I found myself sitting adjacent  her once more at the next traffic light.

I began to look down at my lap as if I had dropped something.

I managed to catch quick glimpses of her that she did not see.

She was looking at her lap as well, fumbling with something unseen,

stealing second looks just as I. I stopped fumbling and looked

into her face.  She did likewise. We smiled at one another again,

our faces flushed with embarrassment. We realized that our thoughts

were one, our anticipations the same.


Suddenly a man crossed in front of us on the crosswalk.  We both

looked down as he glared into our cars, nearly making eye contact.

He passed quickly, the light changed and we drove on, side by side.

Looking into our rear view mirror’s we seemed to sigh a relief at the same time as the man reached the curb, looking back at us, checking out our cars, memorizing plate numbers, noting objects in rear windows.


You just never know who you are making eye contact with these days!


Two Men




 Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room..
 One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each
 afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

 His bed was next to the room's only window.
 The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

 The men talked for hours on end.
 They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their
 jobs, their love of God and all His beauty, where they
 had been on vacation..

 Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window
 could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his
 roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

 The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour
 periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by
 all the activity and color of the world outside.
 The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.

 Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed
 their model boats.. Young lovers walked arm  in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

 As the man by the window described all this in exquisite
 details, the man on the other side of the room would close
 his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.

 One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a
 parade passing by.

 Although the other man could not hear the band - he could
 see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window
 portrayed it with descriptive words.

 Days, weeks and months passed.

 One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their
 baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the
window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

 She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take
 the body away.

 As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he
 could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to
 make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable,
 she left him alone.

 Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to
 take his first look at the real world outside.
 He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides
 the bed.

 It faced a blank wall.

 The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his
 deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things
 outside this window.

 The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not
 even see the wall.

She said, 'Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.'



Author Unknown

Funeral Poem: I Did Not Die

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

- Anonymous