Dean Atlas

“Continuation” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #136

This story has material that deals with domestic abuse and declining mental health.He pricked his finger as he pushed the needle through two pieces of denim. This is how he could tell he was going too fast. Such a delicate procedure required acute attention and speeding through it proved that he was distracted by other thoughts. It had to be perfect.He sewed on the second button eye and sat the doll sat on his mattress. It wore denim pants, a red t-shirt, and yarn made into curly brown hair. The hands and feet came out to round nubs made of ...

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“Two Bits Worth” by Dean Atlas

Running from the law again, Clinton found himself heading west to California on his horse Two-Bits. She stumbled as they slowed their momentum from a run, to a trot, then finally a walk. The reason Two-Bits was such a good horse was because of her endurance. A few hours of rest a night is all they needed. Clinton knew they had at least a day’s lead on the posse they were trying to shake. Besides, the man he gunned downed wasn’t worth a damn. They probably weren’t riding as hard as he was. They wouldn’t be chasing him at all if it weren’t for...

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“Moth” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #134

I work around a lot of people, so generally an individual doesn’t catch my eye. She did. The first time I saw her I was in the middle of struggling to change the trash. It seemed like everyone at the mall that day decided to throw their full drinks away. After a couple of minutes of persistence and on the verge of losing my temper, I finally hefted it out and I looked up. What I saw I will never forget. She sat at a cell phone cover kiosk thumbing through a tablet sitting on her lap. Her hair danced as she twirled bronze strands around her ...

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“Now a House” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #101

I felt my stomach cramp as I fell to my side and heaved so hard, I thought I was turning inside out. The liquor I had drank spewed on knees as I curled up in the fetal position. The pressure in my head made it ring bad enough I ran my fingers over my ears to be sure they were not bleeding. If I were not almost certain I was already dead, I would have thought I was dying. I felt I could no longer experience the stories I was being told. There was so much hate and fear within each person’s heart. I knew I had to be in Hell, until the pain sto...

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“Soup” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #100

Carter ducked branches and stepped over fallen limbs as he weaved his way through the thick woods of the Mark Twain National Forest. He picked up a stick in the beginning of his stroll, letting it lead the way to gather spider webs. He was also cautious not to get his shoes scuffed or suit torn. After forty-five minutes, Carter had reached his destination. He found a relatively clean stump to sit down on and waited for the sun to fall behind the trees. He frowned as he looked down and saw that his shoes had been scuffed. The sky stole his at...

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“Close the Distance, Finish the Fight” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #99

The phrase, “Close the distance, finish the fight,” repeated itself through Drew’s mind to the point it almost became a mantra. “Finish the fight.” This is all Drew really wanted. It never rained a drop the day of the battle of Hawk Island, but as Drew inched his body across the battle ground, enough blood had soaked into the ground that mud started to cake onto his clothes. The smoke and mist were so thick it was almost impossible to see. There was no more command. There was no one to communicate to him and give him his orders. The only r...

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“Killing and Creating” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #98

Reporters gathered around the steps of the courthouse like vultures attracted to a corpse ready to pick every bit of rotted flesh off the bones. This was almost literally the case of Carter Sweed. Carter’s empire was built on three thousand lives in the last three years.              Carter was a tall, thinner man. In the past thirteen years, no one ever saw him without a suit and tie. His hair was slicked straight back perfectly symmetrical, outlining a facial structure t...

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“Empathic Endeavor” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #97

I challenge every person who reads this story to sum up his or her life in just a few words. There are a variety of life lessons that probably took decades to learn and any person who TRULY examines themselves and what they have knowledge of knows that we are not done learning until we are cold in the grave.If you have ever heard a well-told story before you know that it is not simply heard, it is experienced, it is felt, and it is lived. These are a series of stories I have experienced that have taught me so much putting me well beyond my y...

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“Stranger with a Familiar Face” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #96

We cannot let our pasts define who we are. I know that you, as you are reading this are thinking of at least one mistake that you wish you could go back and change. The truth is you cannot. You cannot make up for it, you cannot make amends. All you can do is look to the future and be the person today that you want to be then. If we let the past haunt us, it will live with us and suffocate any possible future. Preston was guilty of this. If he would have let his demons lie in the past his future would have been promising. For him, it all bega...

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“It is Never Just a Story” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #95

It is difficult not to feel like you are not long for this world when you already feel so disconnected from it. So, with this haunting a person’s mind, what would they have to lose if they did whatever they wanted on impulse? I am not here to tell you whether there is or is not an afterlife. All I can say for a fact is that I have not seen the dead suffer any repercussions for their past transgressions. Instead, whether they lie beneath the dirt or turn to ash, they return to the earth.Arlen is someone I used to go to school with that I cons...

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“Preserved in Vinegar” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #94

I walked into a room so white it was almost blinding. There were no walls, no ceiling, I could barely tell if I was walking on the ground or on air as I stepped through the doorway. So, I guess a better way to describe it would be to say that I walked into a white canvass of nothingness. As I stepped though the threshold, I looked back, the door disappeared. I began to panic until I turned back around and saw a brown, wooden stool. On top of that stool was a jar of whole dill pickles. It had been years since I had eaten one. I used to eat t...

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“Quotes that Kill” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #93

As Cindy meticulously put on her makeup she thought about her day. It was May 5th, her eighteenth birthday. In a couple of months, she would be leaving her home and going to college. She would be meeting new people and expanding her social and educational horizons to lengths unfathomable. That unfolded an imaginary future chain of events that both exited her and made her nervous. Soon after she would be getting a job-no- a career. May be soon after get married, have a child… her hand dropped momentarily from her face. She though about catch...

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“Death to the Perpetual 0000” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #92

I lived in room 203 in an underkept weekly motel. My family and I weren’t close, but we lived close. My parents and brother lived below in room 105 and 107. I was laying in my bed asleep when it happened. I woke up to screams and peered outside to see utter blackness. I felt weak and powerless, so I crept back into my bed. The only timeframe I’m certain about for my story, is the first couple of days. Because of my battery-operated alarm clock. The rest seems to run together but I’ll give my best estimate. I was left alone those first two d...

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“Like the Hammer” by Dean Atlas

Submitted to Contest #91

It does not matter who you are, if you are a person, you yearn for purpose. How do we sustain that sense of purpose? We must figure out who we are. I will use a hammer as an example. If it is not identified as such, and utilized, it may exist, but in name only. Sometimes, it is difficult to identify who we are. We often refer to how we look, where we work, and how much monetary wealth we have acquired. We keep these superficial aspects of ourselves in mind to make it easier to ignore the deeper ones. Understandably, ragged clothes, and eat...

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