Here you'll find short stories that are not currently in publication or under submission. The stories change from time to time.
Note that these stores are copyrighted with all rights reserved to the author. Please respect the author's intellectual property rights.
Boat to Build
Boat to Build
By
Gary V. Powell
Copyright Gary v. Powell 2006 All Rights Reserved
(This story was a finalist in the Briar Cliff Review 2006 Fiction Contest. It originally appeared in the 2007 Spring Edition of the Briar Cliff Review. It is a sequel to the story posted below, "Delivering the Goods.")
Harley was laid off last week. I’ve come to see him today, because for years we drove truck together and I’m worried about him. Two years ago his wife left to join a Wicca commune in New Mexico. Now he's lost his job. Who knows how that combination might affect a man.
He lives up near the lake, off of Highway 115. God's Blue Bird Lane. It sounds strange, but all the roads have names like that. Resurrection Way. Peace in the Valley Road. Blood of the Lamb Court. The Southern Baptists and Evangelicals are not to be denied up here. It's been a while since I've visited and I miss my turn. I drive ahead a quarter mile and make a “Y” in some good old boy’s yard. The dogs, three big-mouthed hounds, bay like I’m prey on the run.
Gary
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Nine Ball
Nine Ball
by
Gary V. Powell
Copyright Gary V. Powell 2004 All Rights Reserved
"Let your hair down, baby, let's have a natural ball/'Cause when you ain't happy, life ain't no fun at all." - T-Bone Walker, "T-Bone Shuffle"
The $350 in Mitch’s pocket burned like molten steel. It could have been more, except he’d been run off the table by a guy who got lucky on a bank shot. It didn't matter--$350 wasn't bad for a night's work.
The man at the bar swirled the ice in his single malt Scotch. He wore a goatee, smoked thin, black cigars, and leered at Mitch like a predator with scent. Mitch sipped his beer, letting it play out.
"Mano a mano," the man with the goatee taunted. “That is, if you are a man."
Delivering the Goods
Delivering the Goods
by
Gary V. Powell
(Copyright 2005 Gary V. Powell All Rights Reserved)
(This story orignally appeared on Amarillo Bay. I very pleased to have this story on my website. It's one of my favorite stories.)
“So what do you think?” Sandra gave me that look.
She was a tall, fair-skinned brunette worked the counter at Jim’s Diner. Harley and me stopped for breakfast every time we had a delivery up this way. Sandra and me had been flirting for awhile. I might have started it.
“About what?” I could be a real fox when I wanted to be.
“I think you know.”
She looked good in that short skirt. Her knees were driving me crazy. As hard as I tried not to, I thought about her knees all the time.
I paid cash and stuck a toothpick in my mouth. “I’m just talking,” I told her.
She put her elbows on the counter. “Yeah, well, I’m not. There’s a room at the Motel 6 got on our name on it.”
I nearly swallowed that toothpick. “You’re a good looking woman, Sandra." I didn't know what else to say.
“You think about it,” she called as I went out the door.
Fire Old Dan
Fire Old Dan
By
Gary V. Powell
(Copyright Gary V. Powell 2005)
They wanted to fire Old Dan, considered him dead wood, just another high salary the company could no longer afford. Ashworth looked down his long nose at Fawley. “He’s your boy. Handle it however you want."
Fawley considered the drab landscape of Des Moines, Iowa. It filled the large window behind his boss’s desk. Beyond the gray buildings, brown cornfields crowded one against the other all the way to North Platte, Nebraska.