Zack Herman

“Deputy Dickle” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #274

I was seven when we moved to Sandersville. That was back in 1977. My family, Dad, Mom, my little brother Josh, and me, moved to a double wide in what they called Printer’s Alley. It was next to the newspaper, The Saundersville Gazette on Main Street. The alley was a gravel drive, nowadays, I’d call it a cul de sac, that ran back a little ways and ended in a turnaround in front of a stand of pine trees. Our double wide sat on one side of the alley. A two story brick home was on the other side of the alley. An elderly couple named the Battens ...

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“The Wit and Wisdom of State Senator Smoky Arbuckle” by Zack Herman

You are walking down Main Street in Richardsville, Kentucky on a crisp day in early October. On the street ahead of you, stands a strange little man. He is stoop shouldered and he looks frail and ancient in his plaid pants, suspenders and T shirt that has WRITE IN WILSON printed on it. He also wears a straw hat with the same slogan printed on the hat band. He smiles and approaches you. As he gets closer, you notice that he is carrying a sheaf of papers. As he gets within arm’s reach, he offers you one of the sheets of paper. You hesitate, bu...

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“Chrissy Lynn and the Chicken Pops” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #250

 When Ron and Rhoda Hatfield moved into Commonwealth Subdivision with their little daughter, Chrissy Lynn, they were by far the youngest people there. Most of their neighbors were elderly. Krissy Lynn was the only child in the neighborhood. They were glad when the Riggins family moved next door. There were Luke and Hannah Riggins and their three sons: Matthew, Mark, and John. Ron and Rhoda agreed that it was good for Chrissy Lynn to have other kids around.The three Riggins boys were all older than little Chrissy Lynn, but Chrissy loved ...

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“Kolchak And The Boy” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #243

 “Hey, Kolchak!” The Boy calls. He makes that clicking sound they always make. I come running. I’ve talked with others of my kind. They say that we are all the same. When one of them makes the clicking sound or whistles, our tails wag and we come running. Five years ago, they released me from my cage at the shelter. The Boy made the clicking noise and yelled, “Come here, puppy!” I didn’t mean to wag my tail, it wagged on its own. I Didn’t intend to follow his command, but I found myself scurrying across the floor and jumping into The Bo...

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“The Backstabber and the Night Knocker” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #241

I made the Lexington paper. Page 3. I guess that I should feel proud about that. “BACKSTABBER” HAS HOLLY HILL POLICE BAFFLED Holly Hill- The sleepy Ohio River town of Holly Hill, Kentucky has never experienced anything like this. “Look, usually, the only crime is somebody stealing a car or underage drinking. Never anything like this,” admits Holly Hill Police Chief Bob Scanlon. “This” is a full blown serial killer, somebody locals have dubbed “Backstabber”. The only connection these murders seem to have is that all three victims died from...

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“The Overdue Delivery” by Zack Herman

It was a hot August evening. It was about two weeks before school would start back. I was sitting in the grass in my front yard, waiting for Jill. Jill and I had been going together since the start of freshman year. Where I lived, kids didn’t say they were boyfriend and girlfriend-they said they were “going together”. Jill and I lived on a dirt road several miles outside of town. It was called Possum Creek Road. Every night during summer, around 6 p.m., Jill would take a walk down to the creek. She would stop by my place and I would walk wit...

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“Escaping Gortnerville” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #239

This story contains a description of racist actions. This was the big day. I had showered, put on the only suit I owned, the only white dress shirt that I owned, my best tie, and my black dress shoes. The job interview was at 1:00 and I was in my Ford Focus at 10:30. I had given myself two and a half hours for the trip from Gortnerville to Easter. It was an hour long trip tops from what I remembered. I hadn’t been there since my college days and that was ten years ago. I wasn’t taking any chances. I set my GPS for 210 Chancellor’s Lane, Ea...

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“The Eavesdroppers” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #238

I’ve never told this story to anybody before now. Once I get going, you’ll understand why. It’s the proudest I’ve ever been of Mama and she isn’t even aware that I know what happened. I hope everybody reading this remembers party lines. This was way back in 1979. I was 15 years old and my family lived in Spivey Subdivision, over on Flat Fork in Caudill County. They still had a party line there. They were a thing of the past in most places, but you’ve always been able to set your watch back 10 years when you come to Eastern Kentucky. That p...

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“A Man Can't Run Forever” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #235

 The pickup truck that I’m riding in the back of pulls into the gavel parking lot of Colwell Brothers Funeral Home. The truck comes to a stop. I hop out of the truck and knock on the driver’s side window. The elderly man who gave me a ride from West Liberty rolls down the window. “Hey, mister, thanks a lot!” I tell him. “No problem,” he says with a toothless smile. His wife, seated beside him smiles and nods at me. “We are sure sorry about your granny, young feller, “ she says. “We’ll pray for y’all.” “We need all that we can get,” I re...

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“Bogie's Bar” by Zack Herman

I grew up in a little town called Bittersville, Kentucky. Bittersville sits on the banks of the Ohio River. Bittersville was little more than a wide spot in the road. It had a gas station, a few churches, an elementary school, and a mom and pop grocery store. Many of the houses in town were empty. People were constantly leaving Bittersville. Mostly, they headed up to Tecumseh, Ohio. There was a factory up there that manufactured break pads and jobs were plentiful. Some men moved to Eastern Kentucky or West Virginia looking for coal mine w...

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“First Ride of the Midnight Rider” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #231

I’m not exactly sure how Marty Reavis and I ever became friends. We had exactly one thing in common: We both attended Briar Bend baptist Church. Daddy was a deacon there and Marty’s grandparents were members. Marty’s grandparents, Whit and Maudie, were raising Marty. His parents had been killed in an auto accident up in Detroit. Marty and I were as different as two guys could be. We were both sixteen yeas old and that pretty much sums up our similarities. Marty was from Michigan and he talked like it. He had the swagger of a city kid. He w...

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“First Day of the Decade” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #231

This story is set in 1980. The characters are products of their times and may use words that will be considered insensitive and/or offensive to readers of 2023.  Today, I got three plastic totes full of the things that I’d left behind at my ex-wife’s house. Her divorce attorney, who I’m guessing will be her next husband, had his paralegal bring them to my apartment. One tote was full of books. There were no John Grishams, one of the two things we agreed on. The other was mostly CDs and cassette tapes, with a few VHS tapes and DVDs. T...

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“Dinner At Paisano's” by Zack Herman

This story includes a character planning to engage in gun violence.  Eric walks into Paisono’s Pizzeria and takes a seat in a booth. As he waits for his order to be taken, he reaches under his Army surplus jacket and runs his hand across the shoulder holster that holds his Ruger semiautomatic handgun. Touching the thing seems to give him reassurance about what he’s her to do on this crisp autumn Friday evening. “Do you need a menu, sir?” the cute, little redheaded waitress asks him. “No, I know what I want,” Eric replies. “Two pep...

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“For Millie and Drew” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #218

 I’m walking down the street, lost in my thoughts. The work week is over and I want to do is go home and drown my sorrows. Now that I’m single again, that’s about the best I can hope for.I don’t notice the busker until the toe of my shoe bumps into his guitar case.The case is open and there is some money in it. Mostly coins. I see quarters, dimes, and a few pennies. Not much in the way of currency. I see a few fives, a ten and several ones.Behind the case stands one of the least prosperous looking hillbillies that I’ve ever laid eyes on...

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“Me and Jeff” by Zack Herman

Submitted to Contest #208

This story includes discussions of violence against children. Me and Jeff are having a real good day. Of course, all of our days are pretty good. We live out in the country and we have a big back yard that goes into the woods. My daddy says this is a perfect place to raise a son because there’s a bunch of room for me to explore. We have been exploring back there for almost and hour and the pocket of my shorts is full of stuff for my treasure box. I need to go inside now and put the new treasures away!Me and Jeff finally get to the back ...

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