John Steckley

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

Stories (144)

144 Stories

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“Missing a Long Time” by John Steckley

Missing for a Long Time The phone rang. Tom, a young officer picked it up and tried to say, “Hello, Police Station Number Five” with as much authority as he could muster. It was his first week of work, and he wanted to sound as professional as he could.The reply was short and straight forward, which was a good thing, as the connection was weak. The male voice on the phone simply said, “Sarah is missing.”“How long has she been missing?”“I am not sure. We haven’t seen her for...

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“Forbidden to the Tongue but not Forgotten in the Mind” by John Steckley

I was eight years old when she forbade me to do it. My grandmother Martha was then a widow in her early fifties. I am not sure about her exact age then. When she saw me standing behind a tree in the backyard, she made her way quickly over to me, and said in no uncertain terms. “I absolutely forbid you to ever mention what you have seen today. As long as I live, I don’t want anyone in the family to say they hear...

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“A Strange Phone Call” by John Steckley

A Strange Phone Call  Anthony was calling his wife Priscilla to tell her that he was going to be late coming home from work as something had come up at work that he needed to investigate. He disliked having to do that, but this something was very important to him.  As soon as he turned his device on, he received a strange series of loud unfamiliar sounds, followed by some word that sounded...

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“A Call Interrupted” by John Steckley

Two people are talking to each other on their cell phones. They have been doing this for a while now, perhaps half an hour, which is unusually long for them on the phone. They are boyfriend and girlfriend, Jimmy and Sue. Jimmy has been telling Sue how depressed he has been since he went to his high school graduation reunion, the fifteenth such of his class. It was for some of the classic reasons that m...

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“Tom's Techno Talk” by John Steckley

Tom’s Techno Talk  Tom could communicate well with other people through the computer or even on the phone (never with Facetime). But when it came to making public presentations, he was hopeless, and he knew it only too well. Tom was aware that sometimes at conferences with multiple presenters at the same time, people who went to his talk did not do so just for the information that he presented as ...

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“Some Dreams Come True” by John Steckley

I would never have thought when I was a young woman taking psychology courses at university that I would end up like this – the proprietor and only staff of Madam Brianna Rue’s Dream Schemes. Here I sit, dressed for the part, like you would see in a movie, with a crystal ball placed on a small circular table, my chair across from that of my client-believer. Psychology degree, no related work, long term ...

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“When is it going to rain?” by John Steckley

When will the Rain Come? There was amble rain in April and May, but then it stopped completely. As the days of June passed people in the small agricultural town of Bolton began to worry. By the end of the month, they were very worried. Gardens began to dry up and the corn and hayfields showed no promise of growth. And the reservoir, upon which the people of the town depended for water, began to h...

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“I just can't believe it!” by John Steckley

Two well-dressed doctors are sitting in a posh bar, one would not dare to call it a public house, a pub. They have ordered their drinks, which arrived shortly thereafter, and they have just now both of them taken a soothing sip of their beverage. One of them then uncharacteristically thumps the expensively wooded table with his right hand closed tight in a fist. Then he says, not loudly, but in a forceful clear...

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“Time Flies, But Sometimes It Crashes.” by John Steckley

There was no conceivable way that either of Angie or I could say with any truth, “We have plenty of time” because we certainly did not on this occasion. But neither of us likes to rush through getting ready. It makes our minds forget some of the things that we should either do or bring with us. We did surely want to get to the airport on time so that we could meet up with and say ‘goodbye’ to ...

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“hand in hand in the diner” by John Steckley

           As a matter of a habit shared with many in town, he pulls off the road, and into the always occupied parking lot at a place known locally as ‘the diner’. It looks a lot like the famous painting “Nighthawks’ from the 1940s, with nearly wall to wall, floor to ceiling windows, but it is almost always crowded, not the nearly empty lonely diner of the painting. And it is early afternoon light. He had a qui...

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“Doing the Night Shift” by John Steckley

Every weekend, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I do the night shift – from midnight to eight o’clock in the morning. It would perhaps be more accurate to say I do the graveyard shift. This is not of the scary Stephen King type with lots of rats and a big voracious creature. I am working in an actual graveyard. There’s not much real work to it, patrolling the grounds, cutting the lawn with a motorless pus...

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“The Family House that was not a Home” by John Steckley

           “Does your vision slow down when you get older?”  George wondered with spoken words on that fateful day. Objects in his old house were appearing to move when he looked at them in passing. They would stop that seeming motion when he put his full focus on that apparent movement. It was happening more and more often these days. George asked himself whether his aging brain was processing images more slowl...

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“My Name is Billy Irons.” by John Steckley

A man is sitting at the bar of a locally popular night spot. He has barely touched his first beer. He is thinking, ‘Well, it’s Friday night at my favourite pub, and I am sitting alone at the bar. I would like to meet some woman, and start something, even if it is only for a little conversation. But how do I impress someone quickly. I am, admittedly, quite ordinary in looks, job and generally in conversation.  M...

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“I see it almost every day.” by John Steckley

I see it almost every day. That is not surprising in that it is at the intersection where I cross the road to get to my bank, my pharmacy, and my favourite pub. It is a sad sight. Once it graced the corner with its lifelike beauty. Now it is a rusty wreck, like it had been constructed hap-hazard fashion from the twisted remains of a Ford pinto from the early 1970s. It stands in a small grassy area (too...

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“Through my grandmother's eyes.” by John Steckley

I am sitting in the front row of the church, my grandmother Wanda’s coffin straight in front of me. She is the first person close to me that has died. I am 14, named Dorothy after a great aunt, and had hoped that she would be around for many years to come. I was raised a school, all I have to do is conjure up one of her stories, like the one of her grandmother seeing through someone else’s eyes, and my mind is taken away to another place, one that fascinates me much more than the classroom does....

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Author bio

I am a retired college professor who researches and writes about Indigenous languages and cultures. My specialty is the Wendat/Wyandot language.