C.J. Carlin

“The Radio” by C.J. Carlin

Sebastian saw the old-fashioned radio at a garage sale he was passing by while walking Tyrannosaurus Rex, his mixed-breed dog. He stopped, mainly for the book sitting next to the radio, which was one by his favorite author that he did not own yet. But the radio intrigued him, so he bought it, too. It was one from the 1940’s, elaborately carved with dials on the front. The seller promised him it still worked. Once he got the radio home, he set it on the kitchen counter while he figured out where its permanent home would be. Sebastian had OCPD...

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“Heat” by C.J. Carlin

Submitted to Contest #262

It was a Thursday in late July, the hottest day of the hottest summer anyone in this town could remember. The sunlight poured down like melted honey, making everything and everyone hot and sticky. It was easily ninety-five degrees in the shade, about a hundred and ten if you were dumb enough to venture out. Leaves hung limp in the still air. Lawns had turned yellow weeks ago. Even the finches and chickadees that basically ran the neighborhood were too tired and hot to chirp. The only things that seemed to have life in them were crows and cat...

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“Yellow Journalism” by C.J. Carlin

Submitted to Contest #260

“I want you to look into this exploding pig story. Oh, and I need an update on the Amazing Goat Boy. Write up a sighting, will you? Once you get back from talking to the farmer.”My boss, editor of the tabloid newspaper Headlines, Hector Shaffield, dropped an envelope addressed to the paper onto my desk. I picked it upand  pulled the handwritten letter out. Some farmer out in Iowa claimed that his prize hog had simply exploded one day. The letter writer had gone into graphic detail. What had probably happened was the pig had died days pr...

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“Not Around Here” by C.J. Carlin

Submitted to Contest #259

Nobody even asked what happened to Tommy. The official story was that he had gone to military school, but nobody saw him, even during the holidays, when surely he would have a break? But none of them, even the local sheriff, would dare ask James Montgomery Wainwright III what the real story of his unseen son might be. Part of it was that they sincerely did not want to know, but mostly it was because he was the landlord for half the residents in Williamsburg and terrified the other half. Then Bobbie Wilson came to town. She was the new journa...

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“Dreaming of You” by C.J. Carlin

Submitted to Contest #258

“This is ghoulish,” my sister said, from somewhere in the dimness of the attic.I had been flipping through an old photo album, my mind a million miles away. “What is?” I asked.“Grandma isn’t even dead yet and we’re already going through her things, dividing it up and acting like it’s ours already.”“Let’s be realistic,” I offered. “We know she may only have a couple weeks, if that. Would you prefer we did this after the funeral, when everyone is depressed?”“It just seems wrong to-“ Jules stopped suddenly, and I looked up. She was holding a pa...

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“A Midsummer Night's Rave” by C.J. Carlin

Submitted to Contest #257

In the gathering dusk, Puck the pixie peered out from around the hydrangea bush. The humans were gone, retreated into the house after their Solstice ritual, but there was a pipkin of honey and cream left on the altar, surrounded by fruit of all kinds. (Honey will actually make a pixie drunk, because of the way in which their bodies process raw sugar.) These were offerings to the Fae Folk for the power they lent to the midsummer rite. Puck whistled, and the gathered Fae emerged from the trees and shrubs and flowers where they had been hiding,...

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“A Deal With the Devil” by C.J. Carlin

Submitted to Contest #253

“What brings you here?”“My last therapist retired.”“Can you tell me a little more about yourself?”“Well, just to get it out of the way: I am Satan. Or rather, I am the entity that, filtered through your understanding and your cultural mythos, you would call Satan.”“That’s not a common delusion, but it’s not un-heard of.”“Oh, it’s no delusion. I’ll prove it before I leave this office. But for now, just humor me, okay?“Part of the job.”“I want to set the record straight about a few things, though. To start out with, I am not evil. I have never...

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“Message in a Bottle” by C.J. Carlin

Submitted to Contest #252

My prospective client, Regina St. John, was in her late forties, maybe early fifties. Her salt-and-pepper hair was drawn back into a severe bun, but there were laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. She smiled at me, but her smile was tinged with a certain sadness. “I want you to try to find my brother Mike. We had a horrible fight a couple years ago, over money, and I haven’t spoken to him since. Now both of us have inherited quite a bit from our Aunt Maude, and I want him to get his share. If we can’t find him, I get all of it, but I don’t...

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