Mike Rush

“A Day of Decisions” by Mike Rush

Warning: this story includes a depiction of gun violence and murder. A Day of Decisions A voice through the intercom interrupted Mr. Thomas during his preparation period. “Mr. Thomas?” an office secretary had asked. “Yes,” he replied, the pitch of his voice rising to make the word more a question than a statement. “Can you come to the office? Mr. Jennings needs to speak with you.” “I’ll be right there,” he said to her. With a deep sigh he bid a temporary farewell to the stack of ungraded papers on his desk. “I’ll deal with ...

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“When It All Comes Together” by Mike Rush

When It All Comes Together I was never a textbook person, not when I was a student, and not when I became a teacher. I loved the arts, especially the band, where I played the drums, the most kinesthetic instrument invented. I liked “doing things” as opposed to sitting still and thinking, especially about someone else’s ideas written in books. I’m glad to say that as I’ve aged these traits in me have changed. I really enjoy reading now, and love to sit still to write. However, this was not so when I entered the teaching profession. As a c...

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“The Words of Hope” by Mike Rush

The Words of Hope It was day four of Adventure Week and I had to take twenty 8th graders down the Meuse River to their next campsite. It was their first kayak day, my third. Our 8th grade teaching team felt that this week was one of the most important activities of the school year; this day probably more important than the other four. The kayak days of the last two years had been fun and uneventful. I had the feeling this one would be too. Our students received about forty-five minutes of instruction. They watched, silently, as the guides ...

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“When Love Listens” by Mike Rush

When Love Listens My fourth year as choir teacher at Ramay Junior High, in Fayetteville, Arkansas, was, in a musical sense, one of the best of my career; a year of educational and musical accomplishments. Along with several concerts and festivals in both fall and spring, our choral music department recorded an album. It was a year of meaningful activities, but those I cherish most are my experiences with individual students, such as Tim. Tim’s Hispanic descent was evident in his brown skin, black hair, and deep, but sparkling black eyes....

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“Touchy Subjects” by Mike Rush

Touchy Subjects When I began my senior year of high school, a couple months before I turned seventeen, one change in our faculty was impossible to ignore; our district had hired a new football coach. Purportedly to have played pro ball, the man was an obvious victim of a mutinous pituitary; he was in a word, a mountain. Along with his coaching responsibilities, he taught sociology, and that’s where I met him. I had already grown to a height over six feet, something about which my dad felt a mix of pride and fear, although the only way...

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“Please, Take a Bow” by Mike Rush

Submitted to Contest #193

Please, Take a Bow I notice that the Statehouse Convention Center in Little Rock, Arkansas, is hosting the world Tai Kwan Do championships and about a billion penguins have shown up to spar in front of others, primarily to be seen kicking someone they have just met in the face. I take in the view, some forty bouts ongoing and about thirty-seven spectators surrounding each one of them, mashed together like metal shards on a magnet.  On the outer fringe of the spectators, I see people, those in gis and not, greeting each other wi...

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“Thimble and Star” by Mike Rush

About fifty minutes into the rural, winding trek he’d travelled countless times, Tom took the left off highway 4, onto the 447, and began the ascent to the summit. He was right on schedule, less than seven minutes out, and it was only six-thirty on this early October morning.Petit Jean mountain had always been a special place because he’d met his Sandi here. She, a demure, blonde, recently graduated with a social work degree, girl scout leader with a twisted ankle. He a strapping six-foot geology master’s student. Tom spotted Sandi on a well...

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“Forever Good Night” by Mike Rush

Submitted to Contest #182

“He forgot to turn the damn alarm off again.” She said this aloud through gritted teeth as she threw off the covers, but there was no one there to hear her.As she stomped down the stairs, she tried to remember just how many times this had happened in the last month. Her husband always left for work early. He was the first one out of the bed in the morning, and she was the last one in it at night. It’d been that way since they married.She entered the four-digit code and the alarm stopped. A voice from the base, which she referred to as “Bitch...

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