John Steckley

“Better Late Than Early.” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #293

I live alone, but I have this lucky rock. I hold it in my hand before I leave home to go to work, or even to the grocery store or the library. After I have rolled it over and over in my right hand a good number of times, I put it in my pocket, just in case I might need it again along the way to wherever I am going.  It entered and rescued my life when I was walking along a river bank the week that my wife left me. It stood out in the sand.  I do not feel that I am generally a superstitious person, but my lucky rock give...

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“A Magic Painting” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #292

It had been a very long time, decades, since Jeffrey had gone to an art gallery, but he knew that he had to do something different from his usual activities. He had retired a few years ago. Television was boring to him now, and under AI power to overrule what you want to see, movies had fewer actors and much more AI produced cheap imitations of people. He liked to read books, but it didn’t take much time of reading before they put him to sleep, even the most interesting works.It had been years since his wife had died, and...

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“Frank and His Obsession” by John Steckley

As far back as Frank could remember, he wanted to become a professional hockey player in the National Hockey League. And he certainly did not want to play for just any team in the NHL. He wanted to play for the Toronto Maple Leafs, his hometown team. His father was a big fan too, and had named his son after Frank Mahovilich, his number one hockey hero at the time.Frank was one of the better players in the house league in the suburb of Toronto in which he lived. He was consistently one the of the highest goal scorers in th...

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“The Taste of Honey” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #290

The Taste of HoneyI was walking through the local park, my preferred way to escape the emptiness of living with my unadventurous and generally boring parents, and of not having a girl friend, and finishing my first year of university. As I sat on the flat round remains of an oak stump, I heard a voice calling to me. It had to be calling me, as there was no one else nearby. I could not even see the one that was calling to me, even though I stood up and I turned around twice in a complete circle. No one had ever called out ...

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“Awakening the Writer” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #289

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here or why I came here. This isn’t a new experience for me, of course. It keeps on repeating whenever I have just finished writing a book. Once the book is completed, much of my awareness of the story disappears from my mind, like it was something in a dream. I wonder whether this happens to other authors. Perhaps that is why when you hear writers talking about their most recent book, they sometimes seem confused when they talk about the experience of writing of th...

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“High Hopes in the Rain” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #288

Sitting in a chair in the living room Dave wonders, “I know that I have to do something drastic or nothing will change in our relationship. But what can that be? I was foolish and selfish. I am aware of that now. How do I undo it?”He walks to the window and looks out, as if the act with give him an answer. As he scans the surroundings, he sees that it is raining. It is what his grandfather would have called a doozy of a storm. Then he gets an idea. He decides to follow it through though it might just be foo...

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“Tea Thrice for Two” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #287

Tea Thrice for Two So now I am a cave-dweller. My grandfather would laugh at my fate. He was the one who introduced me to the term when he was driving me to a hockey game on a Saturday. When we approached a particularly cave-like apartment building, he pointed at it and declared, “There is where the cave-dwellers live.” I was only six years old at the time, so he had to explain what he meant by that comment. It created some rather imaginative images in my mind of people dressed in furs walking around barefoot in a ho...

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“What If Nobody Remembers Me?” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #286

David had just returned to his hometown a month ago. The move came about because of a job promotion he had received in the big company that he had worked for in another town a few hours drive from his hometown. Just as compelling for the job move for him was that he would be returning to the familiarity of home, not just of town, but of the street on which he spent his childhood. He had hoped that at least a few of his old neighbours were still there, but after boldly knocking on doors of the homes of old neighbours, he found ...

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“I Remember When” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #285

Three old men, George, Henry and Frank, are sitting up high in the hockey arena, in what had historically been called the ‘cheap seats,’ watching a NHL game. The first period has just ended. They have decided to get themselves some coffee and biscuits from the machines on the food floor. It is a long way down, but they did not mind as they wanted to talk as well as drink coffee and eat biscuits, no matter how stale they might be. There are chairs on the food floor that they could arrange so that they are facing each other...

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“Okay Kids” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #284

Okay Kids! “Okay kids, I hope that you have all your stuff together for the trip. It is time to get into the car and drive to Lake Francis for a wonderful time in the cottage that we always rent at this time of year.” As soon as he finished saying those words both inside his mind, and outside it with a loud voice, Lloyd sighed. “Who am I kidding? I am going to the lake and to the cottage all by myself for the very first time. My son and daughter are grown up now and both moved far, far away a few months ago to get th...

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“Inspiration in the Park” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #283

The wooded area in the local park was my favourite place to go to when I was but a lad, living a short walk away. I spent many hours on my own there, but I did not for a second feel that I was alone. I felt welcomed there every time. The trees were my best friends, particularly the cluster of cedars. In fact it was a place that gave me confidence in myself. When I was ten years old, I felt the attraction of becoming a writer. No one knew that I had that feeling, certainly not any family members or friends. And ...

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“The Coldest Day Brings a Happy Ending” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #281

Ralph leaves his home to replenish his very diminished supply of coffee. Even though he is wearing his very warmest clothes, he still begins to shivers all over as he leaves his house. There are several reasons for that, only one of which is the very cold temperature he encountered when he stepped out of his house. There is a loneliness that makes the mind run cold alongside the body. “Why does it have to be the coldest day of the year on my birthday. It is like the weather gods know what day it is and they curse me ...

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“The Last on Earth” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #279

Just Before Well it seems that the doom and gloomers were right all along. We were told that large chunks of the remains from the explosion of Mars were headed directly towards us and would eventually strike earth. The exodus began with the billionaires paying for flights to the moon, which had been made habitable a years before.  A few such flights crashed, something I did not mind at all. Then a profitable moon shot business began to transfer the general populace in slow moving but quite functional vehicles. This b...

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“To Tell or Not to Tell” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #278

Sheriff George was not happy about what he was about to do, but he had made a promise. Ralph, the man who had hired him originally, and who was his predecessor as police chief was in the hospital, soon to die, probably only to live for a week or so at best. Ralph had called George on the phone and made him promise to see him there.  And George would not break a promise to the man whom he respected so much.When he got to the hospital, he stalled a while in front of the elevator, before he pushed the fatal button. When he r...

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“From Being Horrible in French to an Expert in Wendat: The long and Winding Road of Becoming a Linguist” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #276

I never did well in French in elementary or high school. I was no doubt a source of amusement to my fellow students when I had to say something in French in front of teacher and students. One year I was forced to take a summer course in the language. The main thing I remember from that class was that there were people even worse in the language than I was, something my classmates and my family would not have thought possible.  Failing French was one reason (along with physics and a few other courses) why I failed grade 11 my f...

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