Walt Landers

“THE UNTOLD STORY OF IVON” by Walt Landers

THE UNTOLD STORY OF IVON: The man with the dolphin mindIt was around 1952 when I first heard about Ivon. My slightly older sister Jeanne was telling Mom about him. Jeanne’s best friend at school Wava Morrisetti had seen him walking down the main hallway of Merced High. It was between classes and she needed to get a book from her locker. He was big. His hair was long. His beard was long. His steps were odd. His knee would go up, then the lower leg would curve out even with the thigh leg and he would lean forward ...

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“the computer virus that infected humans” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #95

  Gordon had just finished his report about the financial loss of grocery carts to chain grocery stores. He was getting his photos downloaded from his i-phone when he saw something dreadful.  The report that he had worked for the last eight days on was doing something strange right before his very eyes. It looked like an animated little lawnmower was rapidly going from one line to the next, even with the clackity clack of a lawnmower. It was mowing the letters into thousands of tiny dashes. For a short...

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“Eviction from Eden” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #90

“I’m sorry M’Dear, but I can’t wear these fig leaves anymore.” Adam said to his girl. “I am getting a rash in that area. What made you think we needed to wear fig leaves?” Adam’s girlfriend Evie kind of dropped her gaze, and mindlessly counted her toes. “I don’t know...come, on. I never liked the way that orangutan stared at my private area. He had a suggestive way of licking his lips... I didn’t like it, especially after we ate that smart fruit.” Adam’s head bowed at this news. He felt a little g...

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“Getting to Know the Ropes” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #88

Long ago, I had a strange friendship with a rope. It has never been easy for me to tell people about this friendship. Many will walk away, giving me a stern stare in quick glances. It was a sunny April day, and I had driven over to the Seven Eleven to get a six pack of SunKist orange. I hadn’t noticed the little rope in the driveway and unintentionally stepped on it. I heard, “Do You mind?” I looked left, right, back left. I was the only person in the parking lot. “Down here. Hey. You. I’m do...

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“Loretta” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #65

To a child, the dark buildings of London loomed tall and gloomy and foreboding. A tiny girl, whose mother had died of consumption just weeks before moved among the people like a frightened little kitten, darting here and then hiding. Sometimes a piece of bread with just a bit of mud could be found. She carefully wiped the bread off on her rag of a shirt, and though it smelled slightly of being close to a mouth brimmed of rum, she took four quick bites and chewed with happiness. To find an abandoned carrot was like finding a gold ring. At nig...

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“Clevenger's revenge” by Walt Landers

So far as I have been told, or what documents I have read, show that no laboratory has been able to manufacture life in any form. Oh, yes, they can monkey with a virus that already 'active' and with tweezers with tiny prongs, change their complex DNA structure, but that is not creating life. It's as life creating as what a plastic surgeon does.   Many years ago, probably in the early 80s, Curt Clevenger had a mobile home in Timber Cove. He was a skilled lab technician in Ten-U-us laboratories. Curt had problems,...

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“the Gabby Ghost of Timber Cove” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #62

Don't ever ask Dan the handyman about the ghost of Timber Cove. Once, someone from the management office overheard Dan talking real quiet about what he sees now and then. He was called in and told never, never ever, talk about Earl, ever again. I think they knew that if folks heard about Earl, they would get real enthused about moving out of the park.     It turns out that yes, I was the one that Dan was telling. Since then, Dan told me he would deny telling me a danged thang if I ever said anything ab...

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“a cub scout star is born” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #50

Mrs. Conley was a clever lady. She even seemed to enjoy the noisy little boys who showed up after school for their den meeting.  She always looked happy. She wore those plastic rimmed glasses, and and her light colored hair was curly with a maroon scarf tied to keep it neat looking. Mikey liked going to school in his uniform. He had a special hanger for it in his closet, and draped the yellow bandana over the neck. It was a nice dark blue, long sleeved shirt with 'cub scouts' embroidered in yellow thread. on one pocket...

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“Sheila and George” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #47

Today, I have made a time on my virtual calendar to tell Sheila West. She deserves to be told, and I deserve to to be free of this strange stress. Since my beginnings, my easy, early years, I did not concern myself with the complexities associated with thinking how a human feels, I would like to say, how 'another' person feels. I just was not programmed to have that as a concern. It was the last thing in my mind, how another feels. It was partly because of Sheila that my business-like goals are now very disorganized....

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“a psychic revenge ” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #32

Hello, my name is Roland. Roland Nomanowski. I am a person who is psychic... I must speak to you, the person reading this document, before continuing. You must know that any further reading will gently lock you into my influence. A psychic bond will form from which I am unable to release you. I advise you to look away for a moment so that you can make an independent decision. If you decide to stop reading, I am not offended, but if you stay, you are welcome to join me.     Our plane has...

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“Ambrose' nose glows...by Walt” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #20

  Well, it's that night again, Santa was thinking. He was studying his grooming in the bathroom mirror, little scissors in hand. Then he leaned close to the mirror to trim his eyebrows a little. He didn't like it when his eyebrows got too long. He wiped his hands on the towel and stepped out. "I guess I'm as ready as I'm going to get, Agnes. Can you help me with my coat?" Agnes Claus took the red coat off the hanger and stood holding it. Santa leaned left to push his arm through, then had his...

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“The curse of the little town” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #13

  There was no moon this night, just a cool gentle wind. Horteignquas responded to the cool, raised her wart filled chin to enjoy this natural refreshment. It was a mere moment, and then her duty came to chase her revery away. She scanned the hill of marble and plaster grave markings and began to float over a row. At each carved monument, her wrinkled features grimaced, pulling her crooked features close to her nose. A faint light, barely discernible looked to be dropping from her face, down her chest, to hips,...

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“the story of woodstock the bird” by Walt Landers

There were some days that Charlie’s dog did not want to exit his dog house. In his simple,canine mind, this was a day of mind degeneration. Snoopy knew that this degeneration was intruth, self generated. In a dark corner of his Sopwith Camel doghouse lay a yellowing pile ofpapers and envelopes. They were reject notices. Too many of these had done a sherman likemarch over his creative energies, and a little friendly black spider have made a home of histypewriter.“Why can these editors not see that a loquacious dog’s point of view has value?” ...

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“Being a Little Bear” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #5

It seems like I’ve been out for a long time. I must have been really tired. What did I do last night? I have no memory of it, at all. I am trying to think, as my consciousness struggles to be awake. Now I can feel movement around me, like when Bruno would hop up on my bed. Bruno has been dead for a while. I try to open my peepers . I feel around me and my hand doesn’t feel right. What did I do? It doesn’t hurt, just does not feel right. I try to push myself up and look around, but I seem...

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“Charlie Spencer's death” by Walt Landers

Submitted to Contest #4

   Hello, mortals. This is Charlie Spencer. Guess what? I’m a dead guy. Don’t give me that eyebrow squint business, I can see you, okay.  Just keep movin’ your eyeballs left to right, at your own pace, makin’ those typewriter shapes into thought. Right, it ain’t easy. It works your brain. I get it. But here goes.   Okay, picture this. I had waited all day for it to get dark. I had spent the last fiver I had on some corn nuts and a coke, and some other crap....

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