The Boy in the Giant

The wonderful and talented Brittani Avery invited me to read some of my work and share it with Facebook’s Fantasy and Sci-Fi Readers Lounge group.

My first offering, The Little Knitty Dragon (A Tale of the Woods), got a few nods (thank you!) and I continue here with The Boy in the Giant.

The Boy in the Giant is published in Harvey Duckman Presents Volume 6 along with stories from talented writers such as Peter James Martin, Mark Hayes, Liz Tuckwell, C.K. Roebuck, and others.

Hope you enjoy.

Learn more about the Harvey Duckman series and get a copy of Volume 6.
We won’t mind.

Search Chapter 7 – Friday, 11 Jan 1974

Search is loosely based on a real incident. The incident remains, the story is greatly different.

Enjoy. And remember, it’s still a work in progress. These chapters are rough drafts. I’ve completed twenty-seven chapters so far and it seems I’ll complete the novel this time. We’ll see.

Read Search Chapter 6


Search Chapter 7 – Friday, 11 Jan 1974

Gio drove north on I-95, Jeri beside him and Stephanie filling out the Comet’s front seat by the passenger door. Jeri caught him staring at the Sheraton Inn off Maine Mall Road in South Portland.

“Never been this far into Maine before?”

“My grandfather brought me up here sometimes. To visit friends.”

“Most people coming to Maine on business never get further than Portland. They get as far as the Sheraton and have people meet them there.”

“Looks like a satellite, doesn’t it? Big cylinder, all black with silvery edges and lines, and antennae sticking out of it? Never saw a round building before. Except in pictures.”

Stephanie chuckled. “Yeah. Maine’s an education for everybody.”

Jeri pointed at the approaching four lane divide. “Take 295. It’s quicker.” She checked the speedometer. “About an hour.”

“You drive this road a lot?”

Stephanie pointed at the mall on the right. “Maine Mall’s the only real mall in the entire state. You want to go shopping, you shop there, and we know all the ways to get there.”

“Don’t tell me you two played hooky your senior year.”

Stephanie brushed one hand over the passenger side dashboard. “It was either that or Pin-the-Tail on the bucktoothed moron.” She checked her hand for dust. “I told my parents you’re coming up this weekend.”

The odometer clicked a mile.

“Do you think you can help? Jeri said you could help.”

“I said he might be able to help.”

Stephanie sat forward, her eyes on Gio. “Well can you? Jeri said you’re some kind of psychic.”

Jeri spun towards Gio. “I never said that. I swear I never said that.”

He patted her thigh. “I believe you, Sweetcheeks.”

Stephanie slumped back in her seat. “I-95’ll get you there, too. More buck-toothed morons that way.”

Gio eased up on the accelerator. He sat up and moved his head back and forth slowly, a cow lowing in a field. A moment later he smiled and sat back.

Stephanie watched him over Jeri’s shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Jeri scanned the highway. “There’s a police car up ahead somewhere.”

A half-mile further a state police cruiser hid behind some trees off the side of the highway. A Statey stood out from the trees, his hat pulled forward and down so the brim sheltered his eyes, which were further protected by dark-tinted wraparounds. He held with a radar gun in one hand and a mike in the other.

When the Statey was no longer visible in the rearview, Gio tromped the accelerator. “We can still make it in about an hour.”

Jeri looked at Stephanie out of the corner of her eye and smiled.
Continue reading “Search Chapter 7 – Friday, 11 Jan 1974”

Many Children

We are blessed with many children.

Children who do not ask for money, the car, the latest mobile, their own car, vacations in places unknown, …

Peanuts. That’s what our children want.

Peanuts and cookies.

The outside children.

Our inside child wants food and treats.

We yield.

To all.

We have them for such a little while, why not?


Search Chapter 6 – Tuesday, 8 January 1974

Search is loosely based on a real incident. The incident remains, the story is greatly different.

Enjoy. And remember, it’s still a work in progress. These chapters are rough drafts. I’ve completed twenty-seven chapters so far and it seems I’ll complete the novel this time. We’ll see.

Read Search Chapter 5


Search Chapter 6 – Tuesday, 8 January 1974

Dykstra drove to Norris Point on Cobbosseecontee Lake and stopped a few curves in. A Maine State Police car was visible on the side of the road blocking access to a recently walked path through the woods. The Point was shaped like a grasping hand and the path went out towards the thumb. A Maine State Police officer walked back up the thumb and over to his car.

“You’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you, sergeant?”

Dykstra read the officer’s tag. “Morelli? We got a call about an abandoned car somewhere out here. What are you doing here?”

Morelli snorted little steam jets into the cold, Maine winter air. “Well, ain’t that at tickler. We got the same call. Must be important for a desk sergeant to make the trek. You didn’t send uniforms?”

“Do I know you?”

“You didn’t answer my question and last time I checked, MSP outranks local authorities.”

“Sorry, didn’t expect to see anybody out here. Caught me by surprise. What did you find?”

A middle-aged man wearing wool pants, heavy, calf-high boots, and a parka sloshed up the path, three cameras tightly strapped to his parka and one with a telephoto so large it bashed against him like a loose limb in a storm. “Got all I need, Tony.”

Dykstra looked past Morelli. “You’re Harding, right? With the ‘Journal, right? What pictures did you get?”

Morelli shook his head at Harding.

Harding shrugged and got in Morelli’s state police cruiser.

Dykstra nodded towards him. “What’s he doing here?”

“His job. You?”

“I don’t want a pissing contest, Morelli.”

“Good. Neither do I and I got this covered. Appreciate your help and all. Ask your chief to call my OIC if he wants to see the report.”

Dykstra turned his squad around and drove off. Once he could no longer see Morelli, Harding, or the state cruiser in his rearview he grabbed his mike. “Yeah, I need you to make a call for me, and I need it to be a private conversation. Can you do that?”
Continue reading “Search Chapter 6 – Tuesday, 8 January 1974”

The Flock

Turkey, according to many traditions, is a sign of abundance. Of wealth (of spirit, of person, of being. Not necessarily of pocket).

Imagine our wealth upon seeing this glorious flock parade into our yard.

And of course, one must reward wealth with wealth, which is to say, share one’s abundance (and this time, yes, it can be of pocket).

Turkeys know there is safety here. Good, that, as on the far side of our woods – indeed, tearing into it – is some construction. New multi-family housing units.

“New multi-family housing units.”

Isn’t that a wonderfully sterile way to phrase it?

Let them roost in trees as the turkeys do, I say.

At least then all would have an even chance.

So much of mankind’s recent history with The Wild has been one of domination. We are Nature’s experiment with big brains.

You’d think we’d know better.