George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

“Apple Pickers ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #63

“Pay five dollars a bushel.” Orin Conner said to the two sad sacks standing at his door. It was early October and the weather in Nedrow had on the chilly side for the past two weeks dipping down close to 32 degrees on two occasions turning the green apples into a happy red and ready for picking.  He had nearly forty acres with half of it apple trees that were some of the best apples in upstate New York, or the northeast for that matter, hell the entire country including Washington State and their mushy MacIntosh stock.  Both men no...

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“Cornelius Philo the Immortal” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #62

From Dr. Gwain Marsh’s Notes Dated:  February 19, 1712 For our purposes of creating a state of suspended automation, our first task was to choose a subject willing to agree to the conditions of our experiment.  In sending out handbills in all the local pubs and social gathering places, we had a young man in average physical stature in just about every way who was not very well educated as he was born on a farm in Cornwall where education consists of fertilizing crops and the proper upkeep of livestock.  His name is Corniellu...

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“It's a Springsteen Thing” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #61

June in Central New York it's already hot and humid and sitting out there in folding chairs on the football field in cap and gown was torture beyond words.  It was 1976 and in another month the country would lose its mind in the Bi-centennial.  Already the school administration had Elton John's Philadelphia Freedom blasting through two overused Peevee speakers as all of our parents filled the bleachers, fanning themselves with the ceremony programs.  It was almost ten o'clock in the morning. "Hey Doug, so where are you spendi...

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“Programmed Revolt” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #60

There were no zombies like he expected.  There was no cataclysmic event that obliterated life on the surface of the earth which had been altered significantly since the great flood a few years ago that wiped out Florida and most of the Gulf Coast that now gave Tennessee a wonderful ocean shoreline, reducing the area of the United States by nearly fifty percent due to solar flares that the ozone could no longer protect the earth from.   Instead the apocalypse came from Cylon Corp. that controlled the economy of the new United ...

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“Rosewood Home Owners' Association ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #59

According to the social definition, Peg and I were DINKs or dual income, no kids.  It was a quaint descriptor that does not always do us justice, but when we decided that the city was no longer a safe place for us to reside even after twenty years of living in an upscale apartment in the Village, moving to Fairfield, Connecticut was a huge step for us.  As a contractor. I could set up my office in a spare room in our new house since most of the offerings in the neighborhood we wanted to live in, were one story ranches with three be...

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“Sweet as Sugar” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #58

He remembered when he was a little boy, his mama would squeeze him and tell him, “You’re as sweet as sugar.”  But then she died.  One of her boyfriends beat her to death one night while they were smoking meth, Don’t let the state take you.   But at fourteen, Jasper K. Hawkins stood in front of a sour faced judge who did not have time for certain kids from certain neighborhoods who had no fathers and no one willing to take on this troubled teenager. “I remand you to the care of the state.” The judge smacked his gavel a...

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“Sergeant Rocky Gibbons Silver Star” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

My dad, Richard Gibbons worked for the United States Postal Service for over thirty years and he had his retirement party at the local Veterans Of Foreign Wars (VFW) where he was an active member since his discharge in 1956.  The military part of his life was a complete secret to the rest of us, my brother Russell and me and mom.  My name is Sherman and I had  the misfortune of growing up with that clunky name, a second banana to a talking dog named Mr. Peabody and his Way-Back Machine. My mom Ethel waited on my father hand an...

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“Underground Social Club” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #56

It was March 1941 and the bombers had returned for the sixth night in a row.  While Brentwood was hardly what one would consider a military target, they came nonetheless to drop their incendiary bombs that would set the town ablaze once again in a rather primitive display of the destructiveness of this war so far.  After walking her Lake Terrier Weldon around Shenfield Commons, Mrs. Dalby wrapped her precious dog in a blanket and headed for the local shelter.  Last week, a bomb landed near her flat, but it did not detonate oth...

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“Bennett Family Tree” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #55

Sturdy as an oak as I often heard it described to me at family gatherings.  We would make it a habit to gather during holiday at the lake and tell stories of those from which we had sprung from, salt of the earth, backbone of the country, the traditions of our heritage, indivisible and rock solid as anything on God’s green earth.  Several of our relations sung in the Anglican choir and if not singing, would gladly minister during Sunday services.  As I have often heard told, our quaint community would not be possible if not fo...

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“The Heaviest Door” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #54

Someone once told me that if the doors of opportunity do not open to you, break them down with determination.  What was I thinking?  Did it occur to me to look into the mirror.  At an age when most men are dreaming of retirement, I was going back to college at Arizona State University in a program to get my Arizona Teaching License.  It all sounded so good after two years of substitute teaching, I needed to find my place. In the two years, I had done every grade and just about every subject including dance where one of t...

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“My First Haboob” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #53

Few people would go from Alaska to Gilbert, Arizona as the summer was starting to vamp up in the Valley of the Sun.  The Valley of the Sun is where average temperatures can get up to 110 degrees by 3 pm, but then, I’m one of the few people who did exactly that.  My father-in-law and I left our home in Chugiak, Alaska in the first week in May.  I had lived there for ten years, but he had lived there over twenty years and after retiring decided that he did not like being cold anymore.  He wanted to go somewhere that was war...

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“The Lazarus Effect” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #52

You have no idea how unnerving it is to see a man walking carefree down the street after you attended his funeral three years ago.  At first your mind thinks how much that fellow looks like George Lizenby did when he was alive, but then as this person gets closer, you know there is no mistaking who he is and every nerve in your body is on full alert. You take a quick picture and show it to your wife. "Hal, that is one of your old photos." She laughs and waves you away. "Look at the date, Liz." I point to the small writing that reveals...

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“Ashes and Dust of the Past” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #51

Barre, Vermont is one of those forgettable places along Highway 89, Vietnam Veteran’s Highway that goes through the heart of Berlin, before fanning out east on State Road 302.  This is the heart of Vermont as far as the travel brochures and the Chambers of Commerce are concerned as the rugged landscape of hills of granite and gnarled pines fill the panorama as far as the eye can see.  Vermont is almost like an afterthought, tucked away in a cozy corner of New England, west of New Hampshire, north of Massechuettes and east of New Yo...

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“Jitters” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #50

There is a nightmare I have even though it has been nearly twenty years since I graced the stage, but it's always the same.  I am waiting for the curtain to rise and the director announces, "Due to circumstances beyond our control, we are changing tonight's opening night from Hamlet to King Lear." The cast does not seem to be bothered by this last minute change except me, because I do not know my first line in the play and with the curtain seconds from rising, I pull out a script and start to cram. As the lights come up and I see the gh...

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“Mail Order at Silver Dollar Crossing” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #49

Two brothers were waiting at the Silver Dollar Crossing Train Depot for a three o’clock mail order arrival from Denver.  Brothers Isaiah and Hamilton Jessup had come all the way out to the desolate boom-town of Silver Dollar Crossing in August 1866 after being discharged from the Army of the Potomac after serving for eighteen months in some of the biggest engagements of the War Between the States.  They were also twin brothers now aged twenty two and filled with hope and promise of striking it rich at a new silver mine just north o...

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