George Davis

“Murder Most Fowl” by George Davis

Submitted to Contest #165

Murder Most Fowl—George Davis   Henry Hawk pointed his wing at Carol Cluck who, in turn, pointed to Henrietta Henderson. “She, Carol Cluck, murdered young Charlie Chick that was still in his mother’s shell,” Henry Hawk shouted. “I saw her do it. I am a witness.”    “Wait just a minute,” Humpty Dumpty said. “I am the judge here, Mr. Hawk, and you will wait until you have been called, to speak.”    “I’m sorry, Your Honor. Even so, I saw her do it.”    “One more word from you, and I’ll ho...

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“A Night To Remember” by George Davis

A Night To Remember—George Davis  Silence, then someone was panting on the other end of the line. “Who is this?” Mabel Thornton hollered. “Why are you doing this to me?” The calls have been coming for the fourth day. Mabel doesn’t know why, or who is making these obscene phone calls. Who does she know that would stoop so low? Henry Hackett, her cube partner at Fidelity Life Insurance? He has tried for two months to date her. She refuses him. Oh, not that Henry isn’t a good-looking man. He is a real he-man type. Single and in his early...

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“Charlie Banks Comeuppance ” by George Davis

Charlie Banks Comeuppance—George Davis   “I can see it now,” Charlie Banks said, looking at the bright sun rising over Hobart Mountain in the small town of Bickford, Maine. My star will rise. Oh, I know it’s only an amateur play, but it will be the beginning of a new career. I just feel it in my bones. Charlie dropped into the Wayfarer Diner for breakfast. His friend, Slim Adams was eating scrambled eggs and toast. He invited Charlie to sit with him.   “Charlie, we start rehearsals tonight,” Slim Adams passed Charlie a ...

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“If Delbert” by George Davis

If Delbert—George Davis D 5/17/22   Delbert Montague would have been 100 years-old last Thursday, had he lived. Delbert died at the age of 4 during the Influencer of 1918. Simply put, Delbert would have been a genius. At four he had read Gone With The Wind, could count to 1000, and was the first human, at his age, to master the art of Kick Boxing. When he was one year old. He kicked out the sides of his crib and escaped. He got as far as the front lawn before his mother scooped him up in her arms and returned him to his room, w...

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“The Vanguard Of Truth” by George Davis

The Vanguard Of Truth—George Davis “Well, John it is a mystery, but when your molecules separate and reassemble in another generation one may have no recollection of having been transported. Example: Henry Sampson. You know Henry, don’t you?” I knew Sampson very well. He ran the local hardware store in the Falls. “Well, Henry is from the, believe it or not, 15th century.” That would explain Henry praying in the Old King James; thee, thou, and the eth on some of his words.  I left the professor’s home more confused than I’ve ever been....

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“The Deep Woods” by George Davis

The Deep Woods—George Davis   I’m no woodsman. I could never make small sticks come alive by rubbing two sticks together. I could not start one with Flint either. And don’t mention erecting a tent on site. It would take me all day to set up that canvas blanket with four tent pegs. However, two weeks ago I agreed to go camping in and around Sagamore Lake in the Eastern town of Cumberland Falls, Maine. How people in their right minds could ever consent to leave the comforts of home to embark on a sojourn into the Maine woods. &nbsp...

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“Harold The House Plant” by George Davis

Submitted to Contest #143

Harold The House Plant—George Davis   For over six weeks, I sat at the counter at the local hardware store. Few took notice of me, but some; mostly little ones severed my leaves, leaving me a shivering, naked floral specimen.  Sorry, someone’s coming. “Isn’t this cute plant cute, Mother?” The stranger said to an elderly lady. Ladies are attached more to plants, care more for them, tend them with the TLC of a caring mother.    “How much does it cost, Nate?” The lady asked. Nate lifted the price tag and said, “t...

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“Marion The Librarian” by George Davis

Marion The Librarian—George Davis   People in Bickford, Maine are mesmerized by the town’s librarian, Marion Marvel a spinster lady of indeterminate age. Her medium-brown tresses, wrinkle-free facial features, and that certain glow in her beautiful azure blue eyes. Marion has held the position of head librarian for as long as I can remember, and I am eighty-four years of age.  In the summer when the tourists arrive, they treat our library as a must-see venue in our fair town.    No one to my knowledge has ever...

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“Toxic Blowout” by George Davis

Toxic Blowout—George Davis   The Walkway Restaurant in Cumberland Falls, Maine is a rundown, one-time railroad car. The eatery was, at one time, a first-class diner, owned and operated by the Perkins Family.    Twelve years ago, this famous truck stop was sold to Ivan and Nancy Pratt. Neither Ivan nor Nancy were cooks. Ivan rolled up his sleeves and made an attempt at being an in-house chef. His trials failed. Nancy, feeling the pinch stepped into relieve her husband of these kitchen duties. She failed also. The di...

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“Memories Are Made Of This” by George Davis

Memories Are Made Of This—George Davis   December, is often the coldest Northeast winter month in Maine. Nonetheless, December 4, 1948 was mild, almost balmy in the little settlement of Bickford, Maine.    The Norris brothers spent the morning looking for a Christmas tree in the woods behind their house.    “There ain’t any good trees here, Myron,” James Norris said to his big brother. “There’s bound to be better trees down by the river.”    “Momma don’t want us going near the river, J...

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“Donald Netherton's Vision” by George Davis

  Donald Netherton’s Vision—George Davis   Donald Netherton drove up to Lookout Mountain in the hills overlooking Cumberland Falls, Maine. He’d been up here many times before. He enjoyed the view; the vast fields that surround that small town, the towering chimney at the paper mill, the S curves out around the village. All these things made Donald a happy man from the best little town in the world.   Donald looked through the telescope mounted on the solid rock surface. This old device has been up here since...

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“All's Well That Ends Well” by George Davis

All’s Well That Ends Well—George Davis   Are you there, God? It’s me. How can this day be so loaded with dying or dead appliances? After all, God. I did go to your church this morning. And this is what I came home to?   This has been the roughest week of my life. It started Sunday afternoon after I got home from church. If I had to put this in just one word. It would be, catastrophic. First, my car died on me. I guess it needs a new battery. It is twenty years old with 250,000 miles on it. That isn’t all. I came home t...

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“Godfrey Jellison's Precognition” by George Davis

  Godfrey Jellison’s Precognition—George Davis   “I woke up one morning with the gift. It isn’t something I wanted or prayed for. It, to me, is a curse,” Godfrey Jellison admitted to Doctor Wellington, Maine’s authority on extrasensory perception cases.    “Tell me, Mr. Jellison. What happens when these visions occur. “    “I get all woozy inside, and if it is related to a disaster or a person’s misfortune. I am shocked. It takes me time to recover from the vision.”    “Wit...

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“Cold Hand Luke” by George Davis

 Cold Hand Luke—George Davis    Lucas Merryfield hasn’t always been a dullard, in fact, he was class president at Cumberland Falls high school, go Rams. Luke came from a long line of special people, a family with a talent for the dark arts, magic to be specific. However, Luke was never too interested in following in his family’s occult footsteps. His interest was in farming. He went on to the university to study agriculture, his goal to be a farmer like his father and grandfather before him. All he wanted to do was rais...

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“Remembering Fredrick Appleton” by George Davis

Remembering Fredrick Appleton—George Davis   It all started in October of last year. I was a guest at my friend’s Halloween party over in Cumberland Falls. His home was decorated to the nines. A large black coffin placed on his front lawn was opened by way of an electrical device on his front porch, to show a sleeping vampire. Two white sheets flapped in the early evening’s breeze. Several small hideous creatures danced on the flagstone walk leading to his front door.   I rang the doorbell. After several seconds, the ...

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