Al Johnson

“Thanksgiving Cashiers ” by Al Johnson

Double pay. Thanksgiving in the store. That’s the first thing that comes to mind for Joshua. He clocks in and drags his cumbersome, two-hundred-something pounds of dead weight and enters the office. It’s not 6 a.m. yet; he is nowhere near being awake. Brain threatening to shut down, eyes drooping, tears from too many yawns. Choppy thoughts and a shitty day. He shouldn’t have signed up for this. No, he didn’t sign up for this. Heck, he even had to fight to work today, with all these other coworkers who got nothing and no one to celebrate with...

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“Cassette” by Al Johnson

Submitted to Contest #89

When you roll back the tape, the best moment is often right after the start, just when you think you’re going to fail. Life is a cycle, the ending is just another beginning. What a cliche! The beginning has lasted two years and it is fruitless, one with an interminable ending. He flicks on the light in the room and absorbs the unfamiliarly nostalgic arrangement of the furniture. A mahogany bookshelf; several chairs imported from France aligned along the oblong table; an ancient cassette player and a stack of cassettes; a miniature statue ...

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“Extra-Ordinary” by Al Johnson

Submitted to Contest #88

Power came in the form of a vision for Prince. It wasn’t a dream enveloping one’s mind when remnants of the day’s troubles swirled into a plausible reality. It was a plain vision, tempting Prince with the promise of, well, power. And it could speak. Not a physical, booming voice, but it carried itself nevertheless through nerves and circuits, whispering words directly into Prince’s head. But before the conversation between Power and Prince ensued, the readers must know that Prince was ordinary, a commoner indeed. Power was as abstract to P...

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“The Late Visit” by Al Johnson

Submitted to Contest #69

I am going to visit Jack on Thanksgiving this year, although he probably won’t be too enthusiastic about it. Actually, he won’t like it, if I am being optimistic about meeting him. Even Ma still blames it on me and certainly hasn’t forgiven me yet, for what I’ve done to him. And of course, when she scolded me last week she ignored the part about what Jack has done to us. But never mind that. Ma knows I was responsible for most of what happened. I am thinking about reconciling myself with him, even though I just got out of the mess and the o...

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“Captain S. Seldne” by Al Johnson

Submitted to Contest #67

Captain S. Seldne ordered his crew to stop in the offing and marched onto the deck, as he always did before solemnly addressing the crowd. The air had suddenly grown heavy, and Captain Seldne glowed at each of his “comrades,” as he liked to call them. The unabashed display of triumph before the triumph ever came. Those who had stayed with him were accustomed to this, however. The old seamen watched the captain amusedly, wondering how he would begin the tale this time. It was interesting, the way he rambled on about the Gatorade. The fog had...

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“The Guardian” by Al Johnson

Submitted to Contest #55

“Can you keep a secret?” Old Klay said through the phone feebly. He was dying, I was pretty sure. Right away I knew he had something important and urgent to tell me. The way he whispered it as if someone might overhear him. But of course, he made it clear that he had a secret to entrust to me. I would surely have hung up on him if he weren't my only friend in the past twenty years, Such a congenial companion especially when we went hunting. I would do everything within my capability for him, really. But there was no way I was going to keep ...

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“Diploma” by Al Johnson

Submitted to Contest #54

In the old school days we often joked about women, those pompous politicians, the insufferable teachers and the athletes who had just ripped the teams off for the most outrageous contracts. But never did we rant more than on the futility of school. After all, if education was so important and formative as the pedants claimed, where would the drug dealers, the streetwalkers, the failures, and all the prodigal sons be? We all thought of education as something more pretentious, more aristocratic that the privileged set up to hide the ugly truth...

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“The Woman behind Her” by Al Johnson

Submitted to Contest #50

The ambience of the restaurant struck Jack as rather somber and dreary as he pushed open the door and went in. The light was a bit bright, too. His eyes were stung by the brightness and he blinked twice. There was always too much light when he was not bright himself. An irony indeed. “You’re early,” he remarked as he sat down across from Alexandra. Her hair was wiry, her countenance emotionless and plain, yet she had nevertheless a brilliant smile that bespoke of her unawareness of her pitiable look. “Oh, I didn't know,” she said and drank...

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