Joe Swanson

“Past Due” by Joe Swanson

When Abraham Bean stepped from the curb into the path of the oncoming bus, he said a prayer while closing his eyes, and kissing a metal cross that hung from a chain he’d found next to the dumpster at the corner market. He didn’t quite know what to expect, for he didn’t believe in heaven or hell, or limbo for that matter. He believed in nothing; absolutely nothing. He wasn’t always so blasé about life in general. But lately, with advent of the most recent projections about the world coming to an end, climate change, an impote...

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“Revolution In the Air” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #75

Jimmy Bob, lived on the thirteenth floor of Abercrombie and Flinch Building. Bob James, lived in the basement of the same building. Jimmy lived in the penthouse, having access to a rooftop with apocalyptic views of the city.  Bob lived next to a boiler that was heard to be possessed.  They shared one thing in common: noise.  The route of Santana Gomez, included the 4 AM dumpster pick up, and subsequent emptying of refuse from the dumpsters of the Flinch building, where it was meant to disappear into the unknown, and ...

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“Time Served” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #74

“How many commandments do we have?” “Ten, last I checked.” “How many amendments to our Constitution are there?” “I don’t rightly know; twenty, thirty…why?” There are times when we find ourselves entrenched in a physical or mental activity, when we become so overwhelmed by repetitiveness, that we become essentially comatose. Incapable of mental and or physical function. Jail will do that to you.  “How come we have only Ten commandments, and twenty-seven Amendments to our Constitution.” “Hey man, you is asking the wrong Dude.&...

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“Know Boundaries” by Joe Swanson

There is a place that exists only in our minds, or at least I believe it does. A place where decisions are made. A place free from influence, other than the influence we exert. You may not recognize that place, but it does exist. It is the place where morality and or ethics dwell.  I can not point to that place, or even define it, if I were asked too. It is a place built on a past, a vision of a future, and a present, that allows us to stampede through our daily routines in hopes of what, absolution perhaps? But...

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“A Time to Sew” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #74

I had planned, we had planned in case of trouble, that we would meet here. It is a root cellar on the old farm. It is built into a bank, and but for the door, invisible. It is its protective facilities that we considered, when deciding on a meeting place. The first military vehicles arrived about a week ago. They come and go, so we didn’t pay an abnormal amount of attention to their presence. But after a week, and the continued addition of troops, we began to worry that something out of the ordinary was about to happ...

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“The Two Step” by Joe Swanson

Two Step “When I snap my fingers, you will awaken and remember nothing of what has occurred… So Michael, you are stating that the election as far as you are concerned is all but over. Do you really believe that, or are you just telling me what I don't want to hear?” “Does it matter? You know you have no intention of leaving. You have seen to that. You have corrupted the system to the point that it is no longer a system.  Which indicates there are no avenues that one can pursue to procure a different outcome. W...

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“What's Love Got to Do With It” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #74

What’s Love Got to Do With It? “You made it. I had my doubts. What with everything going on I wasn’t sure you’d be able to get here. Any trouble?” “No. I am fortunate. Working for the airlines gives me a certain amount of flexibility others don’t have. I do not apologize for that. Everyone has advantages others can’t utilize. It is the way the world works.” Jean believes in a world that exists because it has too. We are born by circumstance into a life, inherit the tools provided, and when old enough...

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“Dear God” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #73

Dear God, it’s… that time of year again. I sit here thinking of what to write. I know I’m a little old for writing letters to a presumably fictional character, known around the world for taking much of the spice out of Christmas, at least as far as the One and Only Son is concerned. But never the less, I believe it is good therapy and I recommend it to all. No one actually believes they are going to get what they ask for anyway, but it’s not the asking, or the getting, that’s important. It is a fact that you lessen the trep...

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“Sticks and Stones” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #73

Sticks and Stones “What do you call that?” “What do I call what?” “That thing you have there. What is that?” I get that all the time. People tend to pay attention to only the things that bite at them or threaten too. It’s as if they can’t see what’s in front of them because they choose not to. I get it. Living in a time when one wrong step can get you killed, or worse, whishing you had, makes one a bit psychotic. But that is no excuse for not paying attention. As a matter of fact, it should make people mo...

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“Linus” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #72

Linus I’m not a conscript of nostalgia, but sometimes when you are cleaning out the closet, you find something that causes you to remember something you’ve forgotten about. It happens to me, most often during the holiday season. Why, I am not sure. Perhaps, it maybe that I’m at my most vulnerable, during that time. I was unpacking Christmas ornaments, when I realized that I had wrapped each memorable glistening globe, complete with its silvery bent hook, in newspaper; the funny papers to be exact. I like to use the co...

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“Dunce” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #72

Dunce “We have been through the entire gamut of possibilities, and have narrowed our search down, too, you.” “Which job did I apply for, could you refresh my memory as I don’t recall wishing to change my position here. I am totally happy working where I am, doing what I do. I am comfortable and would have no reason to apply for another position, given that my position is not only satisfying, but my work is satisfactory; it is isn’t it?” “The reason I bring this to your attention, is that I like you. We all like you.&nbsp...

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“Flim Flam” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #72

Flim Flam “You are telling me you don’t even own a gun. You’ve never even shot a gun. You are afraid of guns, and yet when we tested your hands for residue, we found evidence of gun powder. Please explain.” I like to go over the evidence before trial, especially one I’m supposed to testify in. I find playing both roles gives me a perspective that helps once I get up there before the defendants shyster lawyers. Of course he’s guilty. Science does not lie. Anything short of having a picture of someone else h...

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“Intuitivity” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #72

Intuitivity When I received the notice, I set it on the desk with all the others. Applying for jobs has gotten to be an exercise in futility, but one I can’t afford to abandon. Not a joke, not a last-ditch effort to procrastinate my way to a better world. I needed to find work. Not just for the money, which I needed desperately, but I was turning into a bowl of Jell-O fruit salad. I was that grape suspended in the green shimmering coagulated mess of what Auntie had insisted I take home with me after our, “old fashioned,...

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“Weathersby's Honor” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #72

Weathersby's Honor These roads ain’t what they used to be. Remember when it took half a day to get out here. Usually having to fix a couple of flat tires, wench yourself out of the mud, and hope no one took you for a government man. Good things time have changed. Now you can break the law in plain sight and people don’t even look twice. Not like it was back when I was a kid. People knew what sticking together meant. And if you didn’t, well, you didn’t need worry about it for long. “You Jerome Weathersby...

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“What's Love Got to Do With It” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #71

What's Love Got to Do With It “What am I bid. We have two-hundred and sixty thousand. Do I hear six-one?” The bellicose voice of Harry Rains resonated in the arena. His local art work had been auctioned off, as well as the majority of the furnishings, sofas, chairs, café tables.  The appliances, ovens, pots, pans, some miscellaneous utensils, were all that was left. And then the building itself. But then Emile was in no hurry to see it go. Harry Rains Jr. was attempting to wring the last dollar from anyone who...

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