Timothy Rennels

“Dead Mans Hand” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #241

Dead Mans Hand  Chad McConnel slapped his cards down on the green felt tabletop. A small cloud of dust coughed in protest.  “Two pair. Aces and eights. Your hand’s like your ranch Creed. Nothing but bullshit!” The sheep raising farmer glared at the well-dressed cattleman across the table. “This is one fence you can’t cut!”  Connor Creed eyed his adversary with a thoughtful squint. Personally, he felt that 1848 would be a better year if Chad McConnel would be swallowed up by the earth, his sheep with him. For now...

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“Crossing Turtle Creek” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #237

Crossing Turtle Creek  I watched the straw dust falling through the gaps in the ancient grey floorboards of the hayloft above. Aroused by our intent, motes of dust, illuminated by the full moon shining through the barn’s open window, jostled for a better position from which to watch. Chickens in their coops tucked their heads beneath their wings in false modesty. I brushed a lock of hair from her face, letting the moon bounce back from her...

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“Tecmo Fest 2024” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #236

Tecmo Fest 2024Field Notes for S.I. article  I have come to this Minneapolis suburb to pursue a rumor, nay, a legend. My first inkling that I had arrived was the number of parked cars surrounding the quiet cul-de-sac. The second was the ten-foot inflatable Green Bay Packer standing outside the house, checking the guest list with every breeze.  I knocked on the thick wood door to no avail. I heard voices inside, so decided to persist. “Go away...

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“The Summer of '72” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #235

The Summer of ‘72   My 12-year-old self tightened the laces on my dusty PF Flyers. I kicked the Ozark rocks stained red from the clay and there rose a cloud of dust that lingered in the air. I thought it could be smoke as hot as it was. I looked down the steeply sloped gravel driveway that brought travelers up, past the weathered bar...

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“Pastime” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #234

PASTIME   I took my son to his first baseball game today. My Yankees, now his Yankees, like dreams manifested thundered into the colosseum to do battle with their opponents. I could see through his six-year-old eyes with a wonder that I hadn’t felt in years. He caught onto the rhythm of the game and roared his delight as a part of the throng, rising...

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“The Alien Mandate” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #230

The Alien Mandate   President Trenton Walters woke to the insistent shoulder shaking of a Secret Service agent. He struggled to focus his eyes but knew immediately the gravity of the red light flashing over his bed.   “Sir, we must go. There’s been a national security breach and the Chiefs of Staff are already gathering in the command bunker.” ...

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“The Christmas Santa Forgot” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #229

The Christmas Santa Forgot Sometimes it was stressful being Santa Claus’ wife. She loved what he did but she wanted a life. So, on Thursday afternoons she went out with the girls, Had an eggnog or two and shook loose her curls. She would tell Santa stories and the girls all would laugh. She waved her gloved hand and said, “You don’t know the half! You may not beli...

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“The Boy In The Woods” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #216

The Boy In The Woods   Kane Cooper sat on a boulder surrounded by a carpet of yellow balsamroot blooms. He stared into the nearby forest guarding the edge of the Oregon meadow. The rise and fall of the insects’ droning cries set its own time. The seconds lingered, hesitant to let go of the moment; fearful that the next will be less. Kane remembered finding t...

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“Chips Ahoy” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #206

CHIPS AHOY “Is not!” hissed six-year-old Hannah to her eight-year-old brother. “There is too! I read it on the internet. We’re camping right on the Ice Age Trail and look here.” Ethan held his tablet up for his sister to see. “Ice Age Trail Bigfoot Sightings” read the title of the YouTube video. Uncertainty clouded Hannah’s face. “There’s even one video that shows how Big...

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“SHOO FLY” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #199

Shoo Fly    Logan Forsyth needed a break. His wife had told him, his Doctor had told him, and even his psychiatrist had told him. The stress of the job was catching up to him, and as CEO of Forsyth Industries he could not afford to show any signs of weakness to the vultures circling his corporate headquarters. The vultures were the consortium of competitors who had rallied their fo...

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“Mr. Woodrow's Senior Prank” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #198

MR. WOODROW’S SENIOR PRANK      Harper Woodrow gazed at the vista provided for the graduates of Pacifica High School. A platform festooned with blue and white bunting was centered between the goalpost, and rows of white chairs filling nearly half of the football field were filled with black robed seniors. Seagulls rode the thermals over the beach in the distance, and on a quiet night you could hear the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean beyond...

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“Quiet In Their Minds” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #197

QUIET IN THEIR MINDS The flickering shadowed light from the kerosene lantern danced across the page that lay on the lone table in the room. The quill pen paused above the parchment, then spotting its prey below, swooped down to the page. The frenzied scratches of the sharpened nib poured out words, demanding release. The script was wild and barely decipherab...

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“Skinner's Ball” by Timothy Rennels

SKINNER’S BALL    The campfire hissed and crackled in indignation as a brown gob of tobacco and saliva landed in it. The spitter who had just moseyed up to the fire’s warmth was a hulking man, bare chested, clad in overalls with one strap down. He had a face full of red fur, yet his head was as smooth as a sparrow’s egg. Most whispered that he had to shave h...

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“Lost” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #192

Lost  Slogging through the weeks with leaden feet, day by day the cement of despair slowly drips into my body. As the realization sinks in it hardens to seize the breath from my lungs, the color from the sky, and the musical sounds of happiness ringing through the halls of our home. My wife, and life, have slowly slipped into the haze of my hopelessness. I am a cement robot, a functioning avatar that satisfies expectations for now. For seven years...

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“The Fire in Your Eyes” by Timothy Rennels

Submitted to Contest #189

The Fire in Your Eyes    It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. The snow fell past the one window of the room, whose only light was the blinking of red and green that counted down your time. You lay, a moments rest, respite from your vigil. You fear the end so you feel your watchfulness will delay it, might thwart the eternal embrace of death. I ...

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