George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

“Caught in the Thick of It” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

The alarms sounded as two armed men jumped into the backseat of the silver Honda Accord.  Gunfire followed the alarms.  The driver named Dane Oberfell put the gas pedal to the floor as the car jolted away from the curb.    “Hey cuz, what are you doing here?” Gordon Walsh said out of breath as he shoved the bag between us. “Dane, we’ve got to make it over the bridge before the cops do.”  How did I get caught in the thick of it?  It’s a long story that I am somewhat reluctant to tell, but as we race down th...

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“Though We Flew Through the Valley of Death ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #202

"So you bought A sports car?" Clyde Stanton admonished Bud Flexor as he pulled up in Audrey Stanton's driveway where Clyde was staying after his discharge.  Audrey was Clyde's twenty four year old kid sister who lost her husband on some volcanic island called Iwo Jima A few months ago. "Sure, it's an MG TC." Bud revved the four cylinder engine to add an exclamation to his statement. "Whadit it cost ya?" Clyde rolled his eyes as he frequently did over the past two years when they had served as Army Air Corps on board a B-17 Flying Fort...

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“Elergy of Chainsaw” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #201

“Hi, Celia Ruttelege here from Out About Town Podcast and today we are going to visit with Miles Abbersaul, the lead singer from the legendary hard rock band Chainsaw.  During the 1980 and 1990s this band was on top of the hard rock charts, leading the way for other heavy metal bands such as Metallica and Linkin Park.  Drug addiction and constant feuding among the members of the band ended their days of glory as the All-American heavy metal band.  Last week Colin Reicht passed away from liver cancer.  Condolences for the ...

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“Management Memo” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #200

It is not surprising that the best gossip is often conveyed in management memos like the one I wish to tell you all about.  Headly Images is a rather over-staffed enterprise where former college art majors gather to ply their talents in graphic art projects. I, of course, use the word “talent” ever cautiously since most of the artists do not have a clear sense of what artistic actually encompasses. My name is Henry Pasternick and I work in the corner office.  In viewing the pecking order of Headly Images, you will find me clinging...

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“What Dreams May Come ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #199

“I’m sorry, she’s not here.” A wiry man ambled toward me wearing stained overalls and a flannel shirt, “I’m Mr. Ashbury to super here and this young lady disappeared a couple of days ago when the rent was due.”  “Do you know where she went?” I asked, feeling suddenly lost and empty. “Nope, can’t say I do.” He put his thumbs on the straps of his overalls and rocked back on his heels. “Are you looking for lost money or lost love?” “Neither.” I said, shaking my head, “I found this with her name on it.” “Sorry you wasted your time.” He ...

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“Talking Out of School ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #198

Mr. Nolan Darman created an impression on the class the minute he walked into the classroom that morning.  We were notified that our English teacher, Mrs. Walton had given birth to a healthy seven pound daughter in the wee hours of the morning and would be out for a three month maternity leave.   “Sink the sub.” Was the word circulating in our second tenth grade classroom that morning. But when he came limping in the door, his eyes straight ahead as he walked to the teacher’s desk in the front of the room, I got the feeling ...

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“The Ravine ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #197

Got my thumb out when a beat up old Ford pick up truck pulls off the side of the road.  “Thanks.” I toss my duffle bag in the back. “Where ya headed to, son?” A grizzled old man asks as I climb into the cab. “Anywhere.  Away from here.” I answer. “You runnin’ from that rehab place?” I can barely see the smile covered by a snowy gray mustache. “Yaw ain’t the first fella I picked up from that place.” “Milton Barkley Ten Step Program?” I bow my head ashamed that I had made up my mind to give up on my chance to walk the straight a...

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“Doppelganger ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #196

There are things that really freak me out.  Listening to someone tell an urban legend when I live in lower Manhattan is guaranteed to give me the willies.  I live alone and so it is easy to rattle my cage, especially since I am a timid sort to begin with.  My name is Alex Weedly and I am a junior executive at an imaging company known as Scott’s Solutions.  I make enough to comfortably afford a loft apartment near the Chelsea Hotel.   I am telling you this so you will understand my trepidation about something th...

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“I saw the man who pulled the trigger ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #195

“Are you comfortable, Mrs. Wingard?” Fred Lockley asked the aged widow as she sat in his Oregon Journal office. “Yes I am, Mr. Lockley.” She was quite spry for a woman of her eighty-eight years.  She wore a starched white bonnet that was nearly forty years out of fashion in 1925.   “Good, good.” He clasped his hands togethers as she made herself comfortable in the cushioned chair. “The reason I want to interview you is that you have a connection with the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln on April 14, 1865 at Ford’s ...

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“Grabbing the Short End of the Stick ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #194

I wish people would leave me alone.  There are times when solitude can be comforting to me. When I can let the demons in my head run free for a while.  Why do I feel as if I am confined when I sit in this room to listen to your prattle of endless inadequacies and shortcomings.  You make me sick.  You make me feel as though I am left grabbing the short end of the stick. What is it you want from me? Jerome.  Jerome, why are you this way? How should I know? I don’t know.  If I had an answer, I would tell you, but ...

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“Arigata Meiwaku ” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #193

Author's Note: This story contains some images of prejudice and violence against men of an alternate sexual persuasion. I was born in these hills near where Old Man River runs, but I always claimed that God did not complete me when I was in my mama’s belly.  As I get ready to walk these halls for the last time, I remember thinking back on all of the painful memories of my youth. My daddy telling me that I’d never become a true man.  He was right.  I never did.  But I somehow feel that I was not at fault, because the...

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“Louisville Slugger” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #192

I got the call when I was at the office.  My wife Lachoncy told me about my grandfather Germaine Butler passing away at his nursing home while watching his shows.  At ninety four, he lived a long life with six children, thirty some grandchildren and a dozen great-grandchildren including Corey, my seven year old son.   His daughter Allison was the only survivor of grandpa’s brood.  She called me later that evening. “Keyton, you gotta be the executor of his estate.” She told me. “Why me?” I asked, cradling my phone ...

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“All My Memories Begin with Flowers” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #191

From the start, as far back as I can remember, all my memories begin with flowers. For those who know me, this may not come as a surprise since my father owns a flower shop in Lower Manhattan.  What is surprising is that I am moving out of the city to start my own life after the murder of my husband Arden Mapolee. Always an outsider to the family business, which by the way was not really flowers, Arden was always willing to do whatever they asked of him.  Little did he know, it would eventually lead to his demise.  I learned ...

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“Sister Margaret Beckwith” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #190

“Speak now, Sister Margaret so that Jesus Christ can forgive your sins.” Father Hans Mercharaine said softly from behind his curtained screen.  Kneeling before him was an eighty seven year old nun who had come to him with a request that he hear her final confession.  He accepted the request without hesitation since she had served the Saint Johannes Basilika since taking her vows in 1927 sixty three years ago.   The urgency of her request startled him as he sat in his office preparing a sermon for the following Sunday at ...

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“Just a Little Stroll in the Woods” by George Georgerfrost@gmail.com

Submitted to Contest #189

It started out as just a little stroll in the woods.  But when it was over, my whole life had been dramatically altered.  I would never see the world the way I had before.  Sunsets would take on new meanings.  The early morning hours would crackle with electricity I had never known before Virgil had guided through the Inferno as he had Dante Alighieri over eight hundred years ago. This metaphysical journey was hard for my finite mind to comprehend, but I am getting ahead of myself. I must start at the beginning.  I m...

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