Joe Smallwood

“This Will Be My Life” by Joe Smallwood

Submitted to Contest #197

Eight years old and I never knew I had ADHD. Neither did my parents. It hadn’t been invented yet. Skipping. I skipped everywhere, my poor parents yanked by my hand, my life bobbling to a beat I only knew. I never saw other children, faces all blurry. Then I grew up, like a dandelion, gangly and free. Not too much on the ball, still remember that grade 5 pitch, the only time my bat was my friend. Sailing, sailing so high over second base, past mean Kevin and jughead Derek. Around I went, not skipping, too out of breath to make home plate. “G...

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“The Prism” by Joe Smallwood

Submitted to Contest #197

References to an imaginary execution.It’s the darndest thing to fall in love. One minute you are yourself and the next you’re somebody else. You can’t stop thinking about this person. It’s constant. No wonder people aren’t ready to commit. Aside from those feelings, who likes being overwhelmed?It’s the feelings we want, granted. The relationship is secondary. Hopefully, we get somewhere with that too eventually. But this is the closest I ever came to understanding what everyone knows. Life is out of our control more than we know.But if you l...

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“St. Michael” by Joe Smallwood

You would think we would know better. But what difference would just one warning make? “I told you! You will never listen!” “What is it this time?” I sighed. You know what it is!” Of course, I knew. It was in and out, hardly a thought was needed, and it was done. If nuclear weapons could be made easily, time travel would have an equal. But we aren’t talking about only possibilities here. This is the real deal. “Are you going to listen?” “No.” “All I had to do was think about it. Then it was a fact, finished. End of story.” “So you changed ou...

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“Sentinel Island” by Joe Smallwood

Submitted to Contest #196

A single act of violence. Imaginary destruction.“Do you want the job or not?”Such a question always had only one answer. Funny how that goes, you think you have choices in life, but how often is that really the case? He’s got me where he wants me.“Of course,” I coughed, clearing my throat. Such dim lighting in this room, I’m thinking. Perfect for diodes and lights, monitors, and readouts. No one else is paying attention, all hunched over their consoles. Hardly right that. I knew what they were thinking.He’s in the hallway, my chief tormentor...

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“Back at Work” by Joe Smallwood

Submitted to Contest #196

My parachute   My parachute?opened.Sailing!                        Plummeting! Gathering spot.        Splat?Dinner.                        Done here?Met a dish!               &nbsp...

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“The Borg Queen” by Joe Smallwood

Submitted to Contest #196

In another life, I would live another life. Like a James Bond mirror cascade, one mirror overlaps another out into infinity. Or that Star Trek conundrum, two men fighting each other forever to prevent universes from colliding and canceling each other out. Or… “Hey, dimwit! You’re on the call!” What? I say silently as my Starbucks nearly collides with all the other coffees I pick up every morning when I arrive at the office. Too fast for me that one. I put the tray down and suck on my coffee-stained hand while balancing a clunky yellow phone ...

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“Ionica” by Joe Smallwood

Submitted to Contest #195

“It looks just like a picture I saw once. Did you do it?” said Debra, my sister-in-law. Debra was admiring the “Lady with an Ermine," a painting hanging above our piano on our living room wall.“Oh, no!” Ionica exclaimed. “That painting is famous. It was painted by Leonardo da Vinci.” Ionica, my wife, a Romanian portrait artist, was a little flustered at the suggestion that she could do such a painting.“Then what is it?” quizzed Debra, somewhat rudely. “It’s not a photograph…”“It’s master copy,” Ionica interrupted. She put her wine glass down...

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“My Stealth Assassin” by Joe Smallwood

This story contains descriptions of severe mental health difficulties and brief imaginary violence. Where did everything go? My youth, my strength. Fighting battles and winning senseless wars, dreams of conquest that litter my life, so torn and hopeless.My father so distant, my mother reading the paper. “Mom, I watched the whole news!” The black and white TV shines, as I plead, all of four years old.Pay attention to me, love me, soon I will grow up, and a monster will take me where no one can rescue me, a place you know nothing about. B...

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“The Great Pretender” by Joe Smallwood

Submitted to Contest #193

Contains a single reference to a sexual abuse allegation. (not central to the plot)Joshua came into my class at Our Lady of Fatima in late October. He had a late start with us because at his old school, St. Michaels, kids always called him names like “brownie” and “squirt.” I had already warned my kids that I would not tolerate name calling. But the damage was already done. On his first day in grade four, Joshua would pick fights with anyone who so much as looked at him. He might have been a loving son, a wonderful brother, a fearless w...

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“Missed Flight” by Joe Smallwood

Submitted to Contest #192

We live as if life should be perfect, like we missed our flight and earth is an unwelcome stopover. Or we like airports too much. You know, that feeling, the topsy-turvy, fast food vacation vibe?  Amazon delivered the wrong boyfriend along with the expensive kitchen tools that I could have bought at the dollar store. Money is tight. Sending it all back will be a pain, each thing in its own box. It could have been fun, my life. But who knows? Behind every silver cloud there must be a lining, or something. I’ll try talking to him again. “...

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