Keba Ghardt

“Run! Run! Run!” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #277

Mildred shuffled through the front room when she heard the bell, and then a heavy thud. Turning back the bolt, dropping the chain, and twisting the lock, she opened the big red door and saw the delivery man already halfway down the walk. “Excuse me!” she called. “Coo-ee! I think there’s been a mistake!”The delivery man stopped. He hesitated, and for a moment it seemed like he wasn’t going to turn around, but he did, taking a few halting steps back up the path. “A mistake?”“Yes,” said Mildred, beckoning him closer. “I don’t think the order is...

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“Deep Pockets” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #276

It’s Thanksgiving Day. Well, it will be, in a few hours. It’s pitch-black at 3:00am, and I’m very careful to step quietly through my top-floor apartment, slip silently down the stairs, and shush the heavy security door as it threatens to bang shut.Bundled up against the late autumn chill, my short little legs have plenty of practice speed-walking the two miles between me and my kitchen. Hundreds of volunteers will pack nearly a thousand full-scale Thanksgiving dinners into bags, load them onto our fleet of vehicles, and deliver them to famil...

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“A Pig's Ear” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #275

There’s that sound again.Samson quickened his pace. He didn’t look to the left or right, but kept his focus on the sidewalk before him, deliberately placing one foot in front of the other. He clicked up the volume on his headphones, ignoring the uneasy twist in his gut.Just get to the next streetlight, he told himself, fists clenched in the pockets of his jacket. He started counting his steps: fifteen paces across the illuminated equator, then four long strides in the dark. He tried keeping two counts in his head, the rolling tally of steps ...

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“Port-a-teraphobia” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #274

Man, I gotta go.It’s a part of the pandemic I feel like I have no right to gripe about: all the public toilets disappeared. I get why; who wants to clean them? Before we had a grip on how this thing spreads, when we were all polishing our bananas with Lysol wipes, when little doughnut dealers and coffee cartels without six feet to spare had to fire all their hired hands, when the supply chain got more backed up than a constipated Pomeranian on a Taco Bell dumpster diet, that’s when the world started testing my bladder. All the folks stuck at...

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“Run Away” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #274

Sheriff Broadmoor removed his hat. “We got to the cabin.”Andrea glanced over the sheriff’s shoulder at his cruiser’s empty back seat. “And?”“Do you mind if I step inside?”Checking her watch, Andrea huffed. “Fine.” She stepped away from the door and turned off the ring light around her webcam. “You want coffee? Something stronger?”“No, thank you.”“Mind if I do?”“Ma’am—”“Ma’am,” Andrea mimicked, bending over to survey the open fridge. “Listen to Mister Official.”The sheriff coughed and tapped the side of his body cam. “Ma’am, I have some serio...

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“Those Things'll Kill Ya” by Keba Ghardt

“Would you look at that!”Vic did not want to look at that. He and Stacey had been going out for a couple nights now, and it wasn’t always easy for Vic to get his old man loaded and commandeer the Ford. Whoever invented sweater sets had a cruel disregard for young men unfamiliar with the mechanics of a standard Maidenform, but long labor had gotten Vic maybe a twist away from having something to brag about. “What’s up, doll?”“Look!”With a heavy sigh, Vic massaged the cramp out of his hand and squinted through the windshield. For the sake of p...

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“Ahead of the Past” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #271

“Sir?” said a voice in the darkness. “Are you quite well, sir?”Mark raised his head, and waited for it to stop spinning. He appeared to have fallen asleep against a wrought iron fence, and his skull was throbbing in protest. “Excellent well, thank you, sir, and God bless.”A lantern was set down offensively close to Mark’s bleary eyes, and a pair of strong arms gripped Mark under the armpits and hoisted him to his feet. “Whew!” said the stranger. “I don’t know if the fragrance is yours, a feature of your ensemble, something you ate, or someth...

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“Chef's Special, Locally Sourced” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #270

The cool, smooth glass in Alan’s coat pocket playfully teased his fingers from the parking lot to the rear entrance of the long hall. He glanced around, braced the brick wall next to the loading dock, and let the hot honey burn of amber nectar caress his guzzling throat. A little trickle tried to sneak by the corners of his lips, but Alan’s greedy tongue trapped it, slurped it up, and swallowed it whole.Chasing the sweet relief with a sin-smothering mint, Alan let himself in the service door, glancing at the green light of the neutralized se...

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“A Dollar Short” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #269

"A bet's a bet, sucker!" Hawk triumphed. "Pay up!""Screw you, Loogie." Tubbs shoved a reluctant hand into his XL 501s and withdrew a crumpled one-dollar bill. As Hawk had predicted, Tubbs was the only one in the frat who wasn't wearing a themed costume for Halloween; everyone else was dressed as a female pop star. There were plenty of Madonnas, Britney Spears-es, and Taylors Swift, but Hawk was dressed up as Aracely Cecily, in a pair of thigh-high silver boots. He smugly tucked the dollar into one of them."Aw, come on, Dwayne, you're a beaut...

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“Cherry Bomb” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #264

On that day, the sunshine slicing through the open-walled tent, polished cutlery in gleaming formation, glassware throwing fractal prisms on the Colgate tablecloths, the best man advanced into position at the height of the reception set. The wedding planner, with the coordination of a master strategist and all the tact of a hostage negotiator, cued the DJ to drop the ambient music, and deliver to the entrenched head table a live mic. The best man, battle-hardened after a fraternity’s worth of matrimonial campaigns, raised the acceptably pre-...

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“Hot-Blooded” by Keba Ghardt

"I'm telling you, this is the perfect time," Holiday said. "The alarms are a joke." "We can switch the triggers from the freezers to the lobby," Wyatt agreed. "But the vault's on a different system." "It's a lazy bank," Billy sneered. "They leave the vault open from noon to four, for the afternoon traffic. If we move fast, we can get to them before they get to it." Annie chewed her lip. "I still think there's too many unknowns." A heavy sigh escaped from Butch as he tried to juice the anxiety from his forehead. "Annie! It's been record-break...

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“A Long Walk to Red Ridge” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #259

"Wait!" cried Big Bill Oarman. "I can make you rich, fast, but not if I'm dead!"Slim Kasance, called "Jerky" by anyone on his bad side, kept the revolver pointed at Big Bill, and added to it a suspicious squint. "Buster, you're slipperier than an eel in axel grease. Ol' Slim hates a card shark, and you ain't nothing but a poker-faced thief!""Exactly!" insisted Big Bill. "Look, you shoot me now, you ain't never seeing that cash again. It's paying for the room, a bladder full of beers, and, well, Becky, here." He nodded to the terrified lump o...

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“Strange Developments” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #258

The man came out of nowhere. Bridget swerved to avoid him, horns blaring as she swept into the next lane, and the car behind her slammed her Mazda into the median. Bridget's head bounced against the steering wheel, and the air bag punched her in the face, hot wires of pain shooting up her neck as the seat belt did its vicious work. Bridget groaned, dazed, as horns sounded a hellish chorus all around her, and there was urgent knocking on her cracked windshield. Looking up, Bridget saw the man's worried face before her vision swam away.* * *Wa...

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“Your Animal Side” by Keba Ghardt

🏆 Winner of Contest #257

Eddie was sweating. He'd been told, before putting on the suit, to drink a ton of water, so much your stomach hurts, and he bet there was an extra ten pounds of perspiration in the cheap costume fur. It certainly smelled like it, but rule one of wearing the suit: never take off the head. "That's an automatic write up," said Rob. "If you do it, and Faye finds out you subbed in without approval, you are off weekend hours, my friend. Good luck sucking up Tuesday tips." "I get it, I get it," Eddie had insisted. "I'll stay away from French revolu...

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“Out of Duck” by Keba Ghardt

Submitted to Contest #256

"Here we are, Wilson," said Spalding. "104 and 103. I'll hold your Pepsi." Wilson handed over the drink and sucked in his gut as he sidled down the seats. He'd put off buying a new belt, unwilling to make that concession to his age, but he'd already punched two new holes in the leather, and his belly simply poured out over the top. "I really appreciate this, Mr. Spalding, and please tell Mr. Frisk I do, too. S'posed to be one hell of a game." "It is." No such gut-sucking for Spalding, even though he looked a couple years older. He was one of...

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