May 2024 Update

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The weather is getting warmer, and that's not all that's heating up! Yes, I know it's already a bit further into June than I'd like and I should have already posted this, so here's what happened in May...

Shore Leave will be here soon. I have to get the giveaway books together—although I'm not exactly certain how things will work out with the new venue. They say they are having an art show, but the details of where in the hotel have yet to be announced. I'll stop by, but I won't be selling this year. Maybe next time. There is also a last minute guest addition: J G Hertzler. I'm not familiar with him, but I'm sure many others are. Here's a bit from the Shore Leave site:

In theatre, Mr. Hertzler appeared opposite Academy Award winning actress, Holly Hunter in a new Irish play, By the Bog of Cats at San Jose Rep. Earlier, on Broadway, he appeared opposite Irene Pappas in The Bacchae, directed by Michael Cacoyannis. He has appeared with the Oscar winning actor, Roddy MacDowall in the 1996 National Tour of Dial M for Murder.

Perhaps his best-known work for television is his General Martok on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Other television credits include, Seinfeld, Roswell, Six Feet Under, Touched by an Angel, Charmed, Dr. Quinn, Diagnosis Murder, Quantum Leap, The Highlander, Brisco County Jr., Lois and Clark, General Hospital and One Life to Live, and over 50 episodes on the New Zorro series, filmed in Spain. J. G. was featured with Jennifer Beals and Christopher Walken in the film, Prophecy 2. In the film Pirates of Silicon Valley he appeared as Ridley Scott. He has also appeared with Al Pacino in the Barry Levinson/Norman Jewison classic film, ...And Justice for All.

Currently J. G. is voicing the Drookmani Captain and General Martok on Star Trek: Lower Decks. Last Fall, his radical memoir, Confessions of A Klingon Linebacker, was released in several formats. Signed hard copies will be available at a ridiculous cost! He also co-authored the Star Trek duology The Left Hand of Destiny (2003) with Jeffrey Lang. A fourth book is rumored to be planned for spring of 2025. Stay tuned.

I've also posted my latest writing activities on my Patreon site. You can read about them there. I've also posted my short horror story Neersville on Patreon, It is for paid subscribers only.

In other news, Terri Deno has 9 episodes out now for her new Kindle Vella story called Making a Thief.

Miranda Kate's new book Blood River (Tricky's Tales Book 3) should be out on Kindle by the time this is posted. Might be giving out a three-book Tricky trilogy at Shore Leave just in case you were interested!

Mary Rajotte has her story The Call of the Carrion Crows in the reprint anthology Shadowed Realms. It is available on preorder now for Kindle.

And I'm working on another short horror story I hope to submit later this year. Think trains.

That's all for now!

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© 2024 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

New Release! Slipping Through

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I have stories out in a new anthology!

It's now available and I can pass on the news! It's called Slipping Through (click on the title to take you to Amazon) and it's all about passing through to other dimensions, the afterlife, or, well, who knows?

I have three entries in this anthology. One is a short story (Memory Lane) and the others are flash fiction (On the Flip Side & Wrapped in a Mystery). The other stories are from Miranda Kate (who put this all together), Michael Wombat, and Victoria Pearson. Here's the table of contents:

As you can see, there are a lot of stories here, so there's a good chance you'll find a few that strike your fancy. I don't have all my "Amazon Author page" stuff sorted out yet, but that will happen shortly...

If you want to see how this came about, you can read my previous Patreon post here.

Also, if you would like to see other stories and poems I've done, please check out this list!

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© 2023 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

Your Fingers Will Be Slipping Through The Pages

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And the pages they will be Slipping Through will be those of an anthology from Miranda Kate!

Yes, it's been a while, but I have a couple of—oh, wait, make that three*—stories coming out in print thanks to Miranda Kate who invited me (and a couple of other authors) to write something for her reworked anthology titled Slipping Through.

Miranda wanted to publish the main story from her Slipping Through collection as a separate book. That meant the remaining book would probably be too short. She asked if she could use a flash fiction I'd written some years ago as a "flip side" to a story she had written. I, of course, agreed. The story is called Flip Side. As you can see, I put a lot of effort into that title...

Anyway, Miranda also asked if I had anything else that might work. I thought I had a story started, but I couldn't find it. Maybe it had just been in my head and I'd never written it down. When I told her that, she asked if I could write something new. I found a few paragraphs of a tale I'd begun years ago...

"I might have a story that could work," I said as my palms began to sweat. "I can probably have something for you in a week." I paused. "Well, maybe ten days."

"Ten days is fine," she replied. "As long as I know something is coming."

Nine days and 5,000 words later, I handed in Memory Lane. It has romance, motorcycles, and a bit of unsettling horror. I was quite relieved when she said it was perfect for her anthology.

Perfect is a relative term, however. It wasn't much better than a first draft, so we emailed back and forth a bit about corrections and wording.

After nailing down the main story, Miranda asked if I had anything else that might work since the other authors had submitted a greater number of stories than I had. She wanted to be fair about it. I sent here a couple of flash fiction tales. I don't really do a lot of stories about inter-dimensional/time travel, so I didn't have much. This will teach me to have more finished stories on hand. She chose one of the flash stories, Wrapped in a Mystery, for inclusion in the anthology. That makes three!

So, my stories are now coming out and should be available in both print and Kindle versions June 1st! There are also stories from the prolific Michael Wombat and Victoria Pearson in addition to Miranda's works. With all the stories she's added, it should be quite a large book!

Here is the cover!

I'll provide a link once it's available.

* I had to update my original post when Miranda picked a third story!

Note: Miranda's original cover for Slipping Through was different. So, if you want to get the new edition, make sure it has this cover!

This post was first published on Patreon. You can see it by clicking this LINK.

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© 2023 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

Straight Up

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This is a story based on the image prompt from Miranda Kate's Weekly Flash Fiction Challenge. You can see the prompt by clicking on the link. This is her intro from the challenge page:

This week's picture comes from Andy Poplar, who makes these incredible bottles, at Vinegar & Brown Paper - do have a look, there are loads of others, also household bottles. Brilliant idea. I can't find this pic on his site, but I suspect it used to be there as it dates back to 2017 (when it was first shared), and the page people link to is not found on his company site. I wonder if he sold this as a print as he does some of them. I love the colour contrast and the reflection in this one. 

I know Miranda states a limit of 750 words in her rules, but I've blown past that like a locomotive going downhill in an ice storm. Well, you get the idea. Somehow, I went up to 1,019 words, not including the title. So much for self control...

 

So, on to the story. I'm not sure how to describe it. Horror? Noir? Morality play? Anyway, it's called Straight Up.

 

Straight Up

It wasn't a part of town I knew, but it's where I ended up after walking around in a daze half the night. All the thoughts swirling around inside my brain had me in a funk I couldn't shake. The streets were wet and I was cold. I figured a stiff drink wouldn't hurt at this point.

Maybe that's why I noticed the dim neon sign inside a grimy window on a one-way street. It flickered "Jude's Place" in a sickly orange glow. It didn't say it was a bar. I guess I assumed it was because that's what I wanted it to be. For whatever the reason, I went inside.

The decor wasn't much. The floor, the tables, even the walls were a dark, dirty brown. There was a man behind the bar and a woman at the far end chewing gum and wiping glasses. I didn't notice anyone else in the joint. I pulled up a stool and put my hat on the empty seat next to me. I was rubbing my face with my hands when I heard a voice.

"You're new here. What can I do for you?"

"Well, it's gotta be stronger than beer," I said, looking at the man in the apron. "I think I need the hard stuff straight up."

"It's good you don't want beer. We don't sell that here."

I was a bit puzzled by his answer. "You're running a bar and you don't have beer? How do stay in business."

"Sadly, business has never been better."

I didn’t say anything for a minute, unsure how to respond. "Then, what do you have?"

"Only the finest of liqueurs to wash away one's troubles and help clear the mind—and soul."

"I could use some of that—even if I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Allow me to show you," he said waving his hand towards the bottles on shelf behind. "So, what's your poison?"

I have to admit that his description put me ill at ease. But not as much as the labels on the bottles. My eyes scanned the names: Envy, Jealousy, Pettiness, Guilt, Ignorance, and Hate. Even in the dimly lit bar, I could see they were different. Envy and Jealousy were green, Pettiness was blue, Guilt black, Ignorance clear, and Hate red.

"Interesting hues," I remarked.

"I'll have to take your word for it," the bartender replied. "I'm colorblind."

"Sorry."

"No need," he said smiling. "My business works best that way." The man shrugged. "Anything strike your fancy? From the way you look, I think we should skip the mild stuff. How about a little Guilt? I imagine everyone would like to get rid of that."

I looked the barkeep in the eye. I don't know what possessed me to say, "Why not?"

He took the bottle from the shelf and filled a shot glass. It looked like he'd poured two fingers of the night sky into that thing. He pushed it towards me.

"You sure this stuff is safe?"

He took another glass and filled it. He downed it in a single gulp.

I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip. The flavor was odd; the liquid burned my mouth a little.

"All or nothing," he said.

It took me a couple of tries to get it down. I couldn't place the taste. It had a bitterness to it, but that quickly disappeared. I even have to say I felt a bit better. But the fog still lingered over me like a grey veil.

"How'd that do ya?"

"Not bad," I said. "Do you have anything stronger?"

He looked at me for a moment before speaking. "You don't seem like the hating kind." He turned towards the woman cleaning glasses. "Rita? Bring me that special bottle."

"Are you sure?" she replied, somehow never missing a beat with her gum.

"I think so." 

She took a deep breath, then said, "Comin' right up."

The bottle she handed him was filled with a cloudy, hazy liquid not unlike the fog in my brain. There was no real color to it.

"This is Regret. It's the hardest thing I stock. I have to warn you—it'll burn deeper and longer than anything you've ever experienced. You really wanna go for this?"

By now, it was almost a challenge. I pushed my glass towards him.

I took the glass and threw it back. I swear it, felt like it went out the other side of my head. I slammed the glass down and grabbed the bar with both hands trying not to scream. I thought I was burning up from the inside. I wasn't sure what to do.

After what seemed an eternity, it was over. I took one of the bar napkins and wiped the sweat from my face. All I could muster was, "Jesus Christ!"

"A lot of folks react that way. But you did okay. How do you feel now?"

"I'm not going to wake up dead tomorrow, am I?" 

The man smiled. "That's above my pay grade."

I sat for a few minutes, just breathing. I remember feeling better. The fog was gone and my thoughts focused. 

"Whatever that was, it's what I needed. But I don't even want to know what's in there."

"No," he said shaking his head. "No, you don't"

"Anyway, what do I owe you?"

"'Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You can leave a tip if it makes you feel better. That's what we're all about here."

I took out a twenty and dropped it in the jar. 

"Maybe I'll stop in again sometime."

"It's best if you don't have to," the man replied.

I had the feeling he was offering advice. So, I put on my hat and stepped outside. I had a clearer view of the world—and my life. Clear enough that I noticed the street wasn't a one-way and the sidewalks were dry. I wanted to turn around and see if that neon sign was still flickering in the window, but a voice somewhere inside told me it might be wise to just keep moving forward.

The photo used in this post is by Vianney CAHEN on Unsplash.

 

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© 2023 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

Dark Fantasy On Sale! Dead Lake

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Okay, the sale is over, but you can still check out Dead Lake with the links below!

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If you're looking for a little dark fantasy to read, do I have a deal for you!

Miranda Kate, author of many horror and science fiction stories, is offering her latest book, Dead Lake, for only $.99 for the next week! It already has 3 five-star reviews!

Dead Lake is a dark paranormal fantasy novel set a few hundred years from now in a post-apocalyptic world. After a massive shift of the tectonic plates decimated the world and its population, life on the remaining landmass has returned to simple living, with money, rulers and religion no longer tolerated. If you've followed Miranda's blog you may already be familiar with the protagonist of this novel, Tricky. 

For a little bit more of what to expect, here's Tricky's situation:

Sometimes it pays to be tricky

 

Damn and blast! That rancid piece of excrement, Carter, has had her ransacked out of Clancy!

Tricky returns to her cottage to find it turned upside down. An action that means she’s got three days to leave the district or face punishment. Randolf Carter, head of the district, is spreading lies and suspicion about her kind, making life difficult. But it wasn’t just an ordinary ransacking – they were searching for something.

Using her gifts, Tricky traces the energy left by the men and spies another creature’s energy among it: a jackdaw. Swift and wily, it’s pinched her precious gemstone, a piece of black obsidian. But at whose bidding? Communicating with birds is a rare ability and she knows all who possess it.

Tricky wants her stone back, but coming up against people like Carter won’t be easy, especially when he’s got one of her kind in his employ. But she’ll handle it, oh yes she will. She'll just have to be careful and a little bit tricky. Good thing she is then, isn’t it?

Adept at working with energy and time as well as communicating with trees, Tricky is lured into something bigger than ownership of a gemstone, and finds out that sometimes it pays to be a little bit tricky.

The book will only be on sale for a week, so don't delay! 

Miranda Kate

Here are a few of her books available on Amazon!

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© 2022 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

Mid-Week Flash Challenge on Medium - Customer Service

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NOTE: This week, I've posted an entry for Miranda Kate's Weekly Flash Fiction Challenge on Medium (with free access so you don't have to be a member to view it). It is titled Customer Service. So few people are looking at my blog these days I have a better chance of someone reading it on Medium or Patreon. I chose Medium this time. So, after the intro below, you'll find a link to the story on Medium.

Intro:

The story that follows is for a flash fiction writing challenge posted each week by author Miranda Kate. This is week number 235! You can click on this link to see the prompt image and rules.

This is from Miranda's post:

"This week's picture prompt is by artist Dan Luvisi over on Deviant Art. He made this for his science fiction book, Last Man Standing: Killbook of a Bounty Hunter - this is the character Hex. I initially only found a picture of the head of this saved, and it is all over the internet as wallpaper with all the colours enhanced, but when I found the entire original, I much preferred it as it offers so much more. Plus, crediting is SO necessary, so that the artist gets recognised and in this case, a fellow writer gets referenced. Sadly it looks like the book is out of print otherwise I would have bought a copy." 

The challenge asks for a story less than 750 words. My story has 479 words (not including the title), just in case you were counting. This week's tale has a bit of light humor...

Link to Customer Service on Medium (free access)

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© 2022 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

Mid-Week Flash Challenge On Medium - Dark Winds

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NOTE: This week, I've posted an entry for Miranda Kate's Weekly Flash Fiction Challenge on Medium (with free access so you don't have to be a member to view it). It is titled Dark Winds. So few people are looking at my blog these days I have a better chance of someone reading it on Medium or Patreon. I chose Medium this time. So, after the intro below, you'll find a link to the story on Medium.

Intro:

The story that follows is for a flash fiction writing challenge posted each week by author Miranda Kate. This is week number 234! You can click on this link to see the prompt image and rules.

The prompt image brought to mind the 1928 silent film titled The Wind starring Lillian Gish (her last silent film role). This is a flash fiction tale along those lines, but with a dark ending more like the original story than the movie.

The challenge asks for a story less than 750 words. My story has 596 words (not including the title), just in case you were counting.

Link to DARK WINDS on Medium

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© 2022 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 232 - The Fishing Trip

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This story is for Miranda Kate's weekly flash challenge. She posts an image as an inspirational prompt for writing a story. This is from Miranda's post:

This week's photo is another by Florence Caplain, a French photographer. She says about it: 'I would be a princess and I would sail on the emerald on a prodigious throne.'

Here's a link to the prompt image. Sometimes the story makes more sense if you see the prompt image. If I'm lucky, it might make sense whether you see it or not. Please note that anyone can join in with a story up to 750 words. Mine has 662 words for those who are counting. A little Southern noir this week.

The Fishing Trip

Bobby pulled his bass boat up to the dock. He turned to slip a line over a piling when a large, black boot came down on top of it. Bobby looked up to see Sheriff McCauley staring down at him.

"Been doin' a little fishin', Bobby?"

"What's it look like?"

The sheriff looked into the boat. "I don't see no fish."

"Weren't bitin'."

"Well, when it's hot like this, sometimes they don't. Bite, that is." The sheriff fanned himself with his hat as damselflies circled the dock, then leaned over and smiled at Bobby. "You know, if I was a young man your age with a pretty girlfriend, I'd be sittin' in the shade with her sippin' an iced tea. Or maybe a lemonade. That's what I'd be doing'. And it's a hot day. Hot enough to make a fella sweat."

Bobby tossed the line around the piling to avoid the sheriff's boot, the tied a knot. He never looked up. 

"And yet here you are, Bobby Higgins, on the hottest day of the year, fishin'. I don't even see any bait."

"Threw it in the water. Wasn't catchin' nothin' anyways."

"I see."

"Look, Sheriff, I got things to do."

Bobby tried to step onto the pier, but the sheriff put up his hand to stop him.

"Now, Bobby, I'm just trying to understand things here," Sheriff McCauley pleaded, holding out his hands. "Instead of spending time with your girl, you're out here working up a sweat. Of course, that might be because nobody's seen Cassie since last night. I don't suppose you've seen her, have you?"

"Nope."

"Come to think of it, the last person she was seen with was Steve Taylor. They were dancin' down at the Gator's Nest until almost midnight, so maybe you're not the best person to ask anyway."

"Maybe you should ask Stevie, then, shouldn't you?" Bobby paced as much as he could in the tiny boat. "He's your little golden boy, isn't he? What is he? A cousin, twice removed? I'm just here so you have someone's ass to kick every now and then."

"Trust me, Bobby. If all I wanted was an ass to kick, there's plenty of 'em around these parts that deserve it. I'm just havin' a polite conversation with a fishin' buddy—especially since I haven't been able to locate Steve Taylor, either."

"Buddy? I ain't never been your buddy."

"Sorry you feel that way, Bobby." The sheriff scrutinized the boat again. "You'd think you would have at least brought a cooler full of beer along. Plenty of room up front there," the sheriff said, pointing towards the bow.

"Didn't have the money."

"Curious," the sheriff said as he pondered the open space. As he did, a damselfly landed on the bow. "You know, there's an old wives' tale that says a damselfly won't land anyplace except where a damsel herself would sit." He smiled at Bobby. "Think that's true?"

"Wouldn't know, Sheriff."

"Yes sir, lots of empty space in that little boat. Not even an anchor. I was sure you'd at least have an anchor."

Bobby shrugged. "Maybe I lost it."

"I'm not much of a boatin' man, but I hear anchors are pretty useful things. They can help hold your place when you're in a current." The sheriff looked directly at Bobby. "Or they can hold things down."

"Sounds like you're on a little fishin' trip yourself, Sheriff. So, if you don't mind, I got places to be."

"Well, I just have one more question before you go." The sheriff bent down and pulled a small piece of crinoline stuck on a screw on the side of the boat. "If two people get into a boat at the dock, don't you think it's best if two people get off a boat at the dock?" There was a pause. Bobby swallowed hard. "You know, Bobby, it really would be in your own interest to remember where you 'lost' that anchor."

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© 2022 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

Northern Enlightenments

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This story is for Miranda Kate's weekly flash challenge. She posts an image as an inspirational prompt for writing a story. This is from Miranda's post: This image is from a Bookings.com website, advertising a holiday home called Bø Huset in Bø, Sortland in the Vesterålen Region of Norway - Fjords country. The holiday house is hosted by Michelle Edelman, who I am assuming (until she responds to my email) is the person who took this stunning shot. 

Here's a link to the prompt image. Please note that anyone can join in with a story up to 750 words. Mine has 602 words for those who are counting.

Northern Enlightenments

K. R. Smith

It was cold, perhaps the coldest night of the year. The sky was clear. The air was still. That was good—at least for Jake. With no wind, he could hear footsteps a long way off. 

Jake had followed the tracks before and knew where to be for a good shot. He nestled in as best he could behind a fallen tree to hide his presence. His rifle rested in the crook of a branch. Everything was in place. 

It was difficult to keep his breathing under control. The frigid air, the excitement, even his thoughts worked against him. One well-placed shot would bring fame and fortune. Most of all, it would bring respect. The doubters, the ones who had laughed, would be silenced. Jake knew his job and he did it well. It was only a matter of time—if he could a steady hand.

It seemed an eternity until his eyes spotted movement among the trees. He turned on his night-vision goggles. The heat signature was clear. This was not a bear or a moose; it walked on two legs.

Soon the target was close enough to see using the dim light of the stars and the auroras that slithered above. Jake strained to keep the quarry in sight among the brush. Then, it stopped. Had he been spotted?

He watched through the scope of his rifle, trying to breath slowly. The sight line was not clear; he couldn't risk a shot. 

The target began to move again, making its way to a small knoll. It couldn't be more perfect. Instead of standing, however, the target sat down, mostly obscured by brush. Jake cussed quietly under his breath and waited. 

After a while, all movement stopped. In the dim light, he couldn't tell what was going on. Was what he saw really the target or had his prey somehow eluded him again? Jake turned the night-vision goggles on again. The image was just a blob; there was nothing identifiable at which to aim. The target was there, but huddled too close to the ground.

Jake waited for a while longer, but the situation remained unchanged. He knew he had to make a move.

As slowly as possible, he got his legs under him, eventually reaching a kneeling position. He was in luck; the prey was facing slightly away from him. Jake prayed his target's peripheral vision wasn't very good. He raised his rifle, centering the crosshairs on the body. 

With his finger hovering over the trigger, he was puzzled that his target seemed to sit motionless, the head tilted back. It made no sense. Why?

Jake looked upward, just as his quarry was doing. Above him, luminous colors danced, weaving to-and-fro in a mesmerizing display. It was more magnificent than any aurora he'd ever experienced. When a huge burst of color brightened the landscape, Jake heard a murmur of approval from the brushy knoll. He watched the shimmering lights for a while, then studied his intended victim. He flipped the safety on and propped his rifle against a stump. 

He leaned back against a tuft of grass and lit a cigarette. The light startled the creature, which stood and faced him. Jake pointed to the sky. It made a grunt, shook its huge fingers towards the heavens in response, then sat back down to enjoy the glowing exhibition.

There was going to be a lot of crow to eat, for sure. The fame and fortune he'd dreamed of disappeared into the darkness. But whatever this thing was—sasquatch, yeti, bigfoot—it didn't matter; he couldn't destroy something that understood beauty.

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© 2021 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

Leveraged Buyout

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This story is for Miranda Kate's weekly flash challenge. This is from Miranda's post:

This week's picture prompt was taken by Austrian photographer Ernst Haas. This is New York in 1952. 

Here's a link to the prompt image.

I went sort of semi-noir with this prompt. Miranda allows or 750 words; I used 472 of them. I decided to put this one on Blogger since I haven't posted much here lately. And I used an image from Unsplash for my post.

The ending may be ambiguous for some, but I'll let the reader fill that in as they like.

Leveraged Buyout

by K. R. Smith

 

Photo by Craig Whitehead on Unsplash            

 

As far as Malcom could see, there was only one other a man on the street. He sat in a chair on the sidewalk, his hat pulled down and his collar turned up against the chill of a January wind.

"How's it going?" Malcom asked.

The man on the chair looked up enough to show his eyes, but said nothing.

"I'm a friend of Charles. Are you James?"

"Maybe," the man said while glancing up and down the street. "And what does a friend of Charles want?"

"He said you might have some merchandise I'd be interested in."

"He did, did he?"

"Yeah, I'm redecorating. Thought I'd pick up some white stuff."

"Perhaps I can be of service."

"How much?"

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen bucks? I don't need it gold-plated. I was thinking half that, or a little more, at most."

"Maybe last year. This is nineteen and fifty-two, man. New year, new price. I got a lot of business expenses to cover."

"I'll bet."

The man shrugged. "That's the price."

"Well, I ain't got that kinda dough. I don't suppose you could spot me a few bucks?"

The man in the chair just gave him a stare that said no.

"Look, I need this bad," Malcom said through clenched teeth.

"You're free to shop around if you think you can get a better price."

"Yeah, sure. The cops have everyone else hiding in the sewers."

"Maybe you got a friend that could help out."

"Right—all my friends in their lofty social circles…"

The man in the chair turned away, unconcerned.

"Yeah, thanks," Malcom replied to his silence.

He walked away, his head bowed in disturbed thought. Others he passed along the street all seemed to have the same desperate look, their eyes following him, but saying nothing. Malcom ducked into a corner doorway to escape the wind's bite, shaking from the drug missing from his veins. A man passing by stopped in front of him.

"Malcom? Is that you?"

"Shorty?"

"Yeah, man. What are you doing 'round here?"

"I was hoping to do a little shopping, but it seems prices on this side of town are a bit steep. And, let me tell you, I need some stuff bad."

"Tell me about it. I know all your nasty habits. What are they asking?"

"Fifteen."

"Whoa! That's a jump. I guess all the cops performing their due diligence has scared away most of the competition."

"What am I going to do? I can't get that kind of dough. Not right away, at least. Any suggestions?"

"Negotiate."

"My supplier wasn't interested in negotiating."

"Everything's negotiable, man. What sorta leverage ya have?"

"Leverage? Nothing—unless being almost broke counts."

"Okay, then. Just how much cash do you have?"

"Twelve-fifty, total."

Shorty smiled. "That's plenty, Mal."

"How so?"

"I can sell you a revolver for ten."

Thanks for stopping by to read!

 

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© 2021 K. R. Smith All rights reserved

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 159

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This story is for Miranda Kate's weekly flash challenge. This is from Miranda's post: This week's picture prompt is Jeannie Anne Numos aka i-am-JENius over on their page on DeviantArt, an artist based in the Philippines. They have some incredible pieces. I might have to use a few more. This one's titled 'Vanished Route to Demirville'. 

Here's a link to the prompt image. This is a very short story, even for a flash fiction. Please note that anyone can join in with a story up to 750 words. Mine has 747 words for those who are counting (not including the title, scene break marker, and byline). I've also placed the story on my Patreon site (free access!). There is also downloadable PDF version of the story there.

All That Glitters

K. R. Smith

The fog was thick. Brad almost missed the old man digging around the base of a large oak as he walked along the tracks. The man said nothing as he approached, but watched him as he picked his footing over the slippery, moss-cover ties between the rusting tracks.

"Hello," Brad said, waving his hand. Still, the old man remained silent. Brad introduced himself again, then asked, "Do you live around here?"

The old man took a moment before replying. "Not far. But I can tell you don't."

"Really? How?"

"Because you're headin' towards that deserted mine."

"You know about it?"

The old man laughed. "Everyone around here knows."

"I've bought the mineral rights, but I can't find any record of when the mine opened. 

Somebody had to dig it out. You wouldn't have any local knowledge on that, would you?"

   

"Nope. But I've heard folks say that dark hole was here as long as anyone can remember."

"You've been there?"

"Near enough not to want to go back."

"People say there's gold inside."

"People say a lot of things."

"I take it you don't put much stock in those stories."

"Don't know either way."

"So, what treasure are you searching for?"

"Ginseng."

"I can buy more ginseng with a few nuggets of gold than you can dig in a month."

"Gold don't do ya no good when your dead."

"Neither does ginseng."

"True enough. But I don't plan on dyin'."

"So, you're not interested in gold?"

"Not from that place. Folks around here are wise enough to know better," the old man said as he looked over the stranger in front of him. "Unlike some others."

"Look, I know mines are dangerous. I've spent my life working these old claims. Made a decent living at it. What's so special about this one?"

"There's something down there. Something that don't like sharing."

"Something? That's all you can tell me?"

"Never met it. Don't want to, neither."

"Does everyone around here believe this?"

"The smart ones do. Some say it's a beast of sorts. Others say it's spirits, like the Kachinas."

"Well, I don't believe in monsters or magic. And the Hopis are a thousand miles west."

The old man just shrugged. "It's what some folks say. Then again, it might be people's imagination, I suppose. Hard to figure, though, why so many folks would be imaginin' something like that."

"So, you're afraid to even go in?"

"Going in ain't the problem. Comin' out is. Especially if you're taken anything out with you."

Brad smiled. "Or the boogeyman will get you?"

"Or something. That's why it's closed. No one was willing to work there. These tracks ain't been used in years."

"I guess I'll have to take my chances then, won't I?"

"Or you could find another old mine somewhere's else. Up to you."

"If it's all the same, I'll take a look for myself."

"I can't stop ya, but ya might wanna think twice."

As Brad continued down the tracks, he yelled back, "I'll think twice about the gold."

The old man wiped his brow, shook his head, then returned to his task. After half an hour, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. His eyes squinted. There was movement, but he couldn't identify what it was.

"Johnny?" he called. "Johnny Redfeather, is that you?"

"Yeah, Jake. It's me." A man in a blue flannel shirt appeared from behind a stand of large trees on one side of the tracks. "I see you've gotten a head start."

"Not much o' one. I heard someone was comin' to nose around that damned hole. Thought I'd best get moving. He left a short while back. Anyway, glad you're here. I'm about wore out."

"I heard the news, too. After the gold?"

"What else?"

"Then we'd better gather all we can. Ginseng's the only thing that seems to placate whatever's in there."

"Placate?"

Johnny laughed. "Sorry. It means to calm down."

"Oh, okay. I can't understand half of what you say since you came back from that big-city college. Don't any of them smart folks know how to get rid of this thing?"

Johnny shook his head. "They don't teach about stuff like that there. Or even believe in it."

"Dang. Well, I hope there's enough ginseng left."

The sound of thunder echoed around them, but they could feel through their boots that the source was deep within the Earth.

Johnny glanced down the tracks. "Me too, Jake. Me, too."

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© 2020 K. R. Smith All rights reserved