Martin Ross

“Separation” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #221

Kristen’s REM cycle crashed again into the guard rail. The one constant, morning to morning, was the heron.It was symbolic of nothing -- simply the last inhuman face she’d seen before the Miata and Tod simultaneously punched holes in Lake Springfield..Something clattered above Kristen’s head, followed by a disembodied curse. That, too, was part of the morning ritual, along with defoliation, granola, stout deep roast drowned in Hazelnut Coffeemate, the digital Journal-Register, the customized multivitamin, the Zoloft, the daily trailer for a ...

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“Passage” by Martin Ross

CAUTION: Oh, much cursing.In the beginning, Merrill took little notice of his companion. The Gateway was a popular portal in a storm, and this late October afternoon, the worlds outside the reinforced concrete refuge were fit neither for man nor beast nor, as Merrill oft reflected, those somewhere in-between.It wasn’t a particularly pithy observation, but the combo of vestigial wit and self-deprecation was worth the occasional goodwill of some woke liberal arts/social sciences undergrad in need of a nobility fix or minimart clerk in need of ...

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“Simon’s Gospel” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #219

To Cassie FinchCAUTION; Language, possible religious triggers, discussion of women’s reproductive rights.The table felt funny.That generally went without saying. Simon knew by rote the number of steps from his apartment house to Warshinski’s on Division, how many lights he must chance on the morning pilgrimage (two), and how many coat hooks he must count from the entry step-down to rear booth (Warshinski’s was OG Chicago). He could smell 30 feet before Mrs. Warshinski slid his standing order onto the formica with a mute pat on the shoulder. ...

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“Aggregation” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #217

CAUTION: Language and grisly images and reality TVNothing had happened at the mansion seemingly in forever. Which kinda, sorta was the whole point.“I don’t give a fuck about manatees,” Mason growled. He then glanced anxiously down at the headset hanging about his neck with his $350 readers and the wood-gripped director’s lens finder that supposedly had belonged to John Ford. He’d hoped for a gig on Yellowstone or at least Yellowstone 1972, and after some flunkie for Taylor Sheridan told him who John Ford was, figured it might help give him s...

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“The Telltale Cup: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

I actually could feel the quiet tension build in the room. It was what the place was made for, all best intentions aside.Novels were being written, now faster if not better. The heart-pounding crush of late-semester reality etched the faces of scattered young people who’d imagined the clarity of stimulated isolation might somehow bring a brighter future into focus. Transactions that had begun with aspirational camaraderie were turning adversarial. At the table behind us, sisterhood was eroding rapidly into jagged shards of “sibling” rivalry ...

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“Bad Moon Risen: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

The home was erected in 1935, a totem of privilege amid sweeping poverty and uncertainty born of a horrific world war, a global plague that had filled American cemeteries, and the abrupt and abject failure of hallowed financial institutions.Abominable taste wasn’t merely its origin story – the design was an amalgam of then-popular architectural fads, portentious “classic” touches, and the homeowner’s narcissistic whims. Nearly a century later, the house at 340 West Winwood was no longer anything anyone might call a showplace, save each fall,...

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“Good Night Sun: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #214

“Oh my God, just look at that sunset!”Mike stirred, swallowed a sigh with a residual essence of his morning chorizo, and lowered his Kindle.Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye. While he’d read the thing a dozen times over the past 40 years, Mike’d downloaded it that morning after listening to some $300 haircut with a New York honk mangle a cordial “muy bien” into a preening “muy bueno” to the inscrutable delight of the lobby breakfast host. Mike understood maybe one word of the host’s sardonic response to a server before he spotted the tubby ...

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“Hearts A-Pfishing: A Romance as by J.D. Robbed” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #213

Dedicated to and based on a concept by Danschneider Arroyo, for every scammed author and lover everywhere...Chapter 54East Vrmlmelmnsk, SybursloveniaAt last, Alexis’ heart’s desire was within one GPS turn of fulfillment, and her desirous heart thumped rapidly as she crossed the landfill beyond the village bazaar.The trans-Atlantic journey, the loss of her luggage at the charmingly quaint bicycle-powered Aeropotschk carousel, the succession of taxis and taxi robberies, the bribes to countless provincial cops, the chicken she was coerced to bu...

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“The Big Picture: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

NOTE: Only Jill Bolte Taylor is real. We graduated together from Terre Haute South Vigo High — a memory now wiped from this brilliant, inspirational woman’s mind.Professor Deshpande and I were seated in buttoned club chairs before a massive flagstone hearth that might have accommodated a black rhinoceros on a spit. Robust flames devoured the cellulose and oxygen within its gaping maw, relishing the meal. The spines of the gilded volumes flanking the fireplace were aligned as if with a micrometer.The professor was unexpected but welcome compa...

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“Visitant” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #210

News of the alien invasion had dominated the news around here for several days, but Oscar and Nicole saw no option but at least to try.Nicole already had lost two cousins to the inhumans’ violence in their town two states away, and there was little reason to believe there would be much mercy or humanity when they reached their destination. They controlled the water and food supplies, battling and battering the resistance. They apparently had been bred to hate the humans who ventured into their appropriated territory, and had no hesitation in...

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“Off Route: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #209

The second thing I noticed about the man on the bench was his copy of National Geographics Journeys of a Lifetime. It had fallen into the dirt beside the wrought-iron/soy composite seat – the one I’d probably seen him occupying a half dozen times. I assumed he’d obtained it only recently, probably a gift or an Amazon whim – the second half of the volume was flat, clean, unsullied as yet. The first half had been turned and worried and crimped, and I saw the edge of a bookmark peeking from the pages.The first thing I noted about the man was th...

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“The Proof in the Topfenstrudel” by Martin Ross

Note: the following story is a sequel to “Mexican Day.” Dedicated to Marty B.Frau Boetterwein smiled as she pulled a tray of piping topfenstudel from the huge oven that had saved five generations of Boetterweins from the wolves, the jackals, the dreckige schweine who’d for that brief but fateful time had desecrated her beloved Vienna with their mere presence.The baker’s smile blossomed as she turned toward the window that faced onto Herrengasse and the flow of commerce, pleasure, and diplomacy that had transformed her ageless city. The Ameri...

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“Like Home” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #207

2006I barely recognized him. I mean, there was no mistaking Craig’s long square jaw, the shock-blue eyes behind now-superfluous designer frames. His name was on a whiteboard under a bolted flatscreen, and the others loosely arranged about the tight, spare space would testify to the fact of it all.It was Craig, in rough sketch in a nightmare journal, deep lines and gaunt hints and his essence charcoaled in by a tortured artist wholly unfamiliar with the model. He managed a smile as I approached bedside. It was a flickering glint at the b...

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“Prompt Care: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

“CUT!”I recalled Sir Laurence Olivier’s presumed advice to young thespians, and instinctively clenched my sphincter as the director barked.I glanced about for red faces, overt mortification, or the possibility that our star Wesley Brett hisself might have neglected the barn door during the recent pee break. And concluded that as usual over the past 64 years, I was the problem.“Man with Pug, a word, please?” the aging director called. “No, just you. The pug was fine.”I’d seen the director in a creaky ‘80s Britcom once when I’d been too lazy o...

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“Mexican Day: A Tinkering Story” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #206

CAUTION: This story deals with harsh contemporary themes including racism. 2014Palm ShadowsUnit 118Wednesday8:12 a.m.It was Mexican Day.Shirley awoke to a cacophony of blowers and mowers and trimmers and sprayers, punctuated by harsh foreign phrases and derisive cackling. Not a peep when she ventured outside, which she strove mightily to avoid doing before 11, when the HOA sent them packing.Her sole contact had been the winter prior, when the Mexicans had thrice sheared her oleanders nearly to the nubs, and despite her patient but stern expl...

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