John Van Winkle

“Vote” by John Van Winkle

Submitted to Contest #268

“Don’t blame me! I didn’t know!”, the loud voice pleaded. Sarah awoke with a start, her eyes wide open and the windowsill alarm clock, just inches from her face, showing 1:33 AM. The voice she heard was sharp and tense, and seemed surely to be coming from someone in her roomShe quickly took in the entirety of her tiny studio apartment, night-lighted from a streetlamp near her apartment building. She saw no one. She got up and went to the door, seeing that it was still bolted as she had checked it before going to bed....

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“Sunday Morning” by John Van Winkle

Submitted to Contest #253

“Sunday Morning” My eyes are pried open by the sun peeking past leaves outside my north-facing window, its curtain softly swaying to the tune of a warm June breeze, whose sweet scents seem to float on the perky chirps and some other muffled sounds of morning. It feels good to sleep-in past dawn, as I let out a gigantic yawn, stretching my arms up and out over my head and straightening my legs all the way to the end of an oh-so-cozy bed… that is shamelessly inviting me to cuddle under the sheet for just a little while longer.  “Mm, ...

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“It Was a Breeze” by John Van Winkle

Submitted to Contest #240

It Was a BreezeJade stood looking out her 37th floor east-facing office window. Her gaze moved past frozen snow flurries that were whipping against the windowpane to the beat of some silent frenzied tune, and then shifted her focus downward toward the white crags of ice lunging in furious play on the surface of the lake below.She loved her office… small, cozy, with her very own huge window that served-up, on her demand, the splendor of Lake Michigan. She was particularly mesmerized by days like this, the wind blowing the whitecaps ...

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“The Oak Takes a Stand” by John Van Winkle

The Oak Takes a Stand The oak is not the tallest tree… but it is tall. It is not the strongest tree… but it is strong. It may not be the most beautiful tree… but it is stunningly beautiful. It’s probably not the most majestic tree… but it is magical. Sylvia Ramirez might have chosen the redwood, the sequoia, the elm, the maple, the willow, the white birch, the boxelder, the sycamore, or any of countless others… all of whose branches I could wrap around me with eternal joy. But she chose the oak as her tree. She is a ...

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“Fight or Flight” by John Van Winkle

Submitted to Contest #229

Fight or Flight “Ms. Hartman,” Sadie Nelson said, “I’m 48 years old… twice your age. Nobody has ever ripped me off and gotten away with it, and they won’t start now. Someone is siphoning off inventory right under our corporate noses, and I’m sick of paying big bucks to lawyers and CPAs in suits, who seem incapable of solving this problem. So, I’ve decided to bypass them and hire someone myself… someone like myself… educated in law and finance, tough, smart, fearless, and armed… but younger,” she continued, opening her left l...

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“Lost and Found” by John Van Winkle

Submitted to Contest #227

Lost and Found It was Friday, December 1.  Winter opened her left eye … 8:12am. She would normally be at work by now, but today was the first of 10 vacation days. She stretched, yawned, and pushed up onto one elbow to look out the window. Ugh! Falling back heavily onto her pillow, she pulled the covers up to her chin, rolled over to her right side, moved her knees and arms to the fetal position, and closed her eyes. She woke again at 8:57am, noticing that she hadn’t budged an inch, and enjoyed the muscle and joint r...

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“Gone Fishing” by John Van Winkle

Submitted to Contest #209

Road Trippin’… Write a story about someone getting lost, but discovering something they didn’t expect along the way. Gone Fishing They said their farewells and hopped into the burgundy ’75 Camaro on a beautiful sunny day in the summer of 1976, young lovers and best friends who had married a couple of years earlier and were visiting family in Peoria. They had just finished Sunday brunch and expected to be back at their apartment in Chicago within a few hours. But they were in no hurry. Both were salaried workers who spent long hours at ...

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“Sylvia's Journal” by John Van Winkle

Submitted to Contest #207

Sylvia’s Journal (a short story by John Van Winkle) ‘May 26, 1998– June 3, 2012… things I’ve been told, things I recall, and a few other things: My birth mother- a single teenager of whom I know nothing else. She gave me up shortly after I was born. My birth father- no information (and no interest, really). My first foster home- Mrs. and Mr. Rios. I don’t remember much from that period, but I understand that they were good people who practiced and taught me solid values and a conversational mix of English and Spanish, raising me for...

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