New Times 55 Fiction 2015

JULY 2 - JULY 9, 2015

• VOL. 29, NO. 49 • WWW.NEWTIMESSLO.COM • SAN LUIS OBISPO COUNT Y’S NEWS AND ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY

S IS JULY 6 [14] DEADLINE TO ENTER SONG

V. 2015

[12]

Keep it brief

rise endings For this year’s 55 Fiction winners, death, love, and surp have all the makings of a good short story

BY NEW TIMES STAFF

T

his year we kept it simple, just like sub mitters kept it brief, and New Times sta ff members from different departments wrangled through the stacks of words that made up the last year’s worth of 55 Fic tion entries. They corralled the chosen ones into a short pile meant for print in our 28th annual 55 Fiction issue. The judges were Proofreader Andrea Rooks, Owner Cin dy Rucker, and Executive Assistant Gis elle Griffin from New Times, and Sun Arts Editor Joe Payne, with our sister paper to the south. And if you disagree with the stories we picked , don’t blame us—blame the staff memb ers who’ve parted ways with us since last year.

A Ghost Story In the morning’s sensible sunlight Henry reluctantly but obediently searched the rose garden where last night Natalie swore she’d seen ethereal forms dancing menacingly. Of course Henry didn’t believe in ghosts and found no evidence of them.

Natalie waited timidly on the veranda, pale and trembling.

“Nothing,” Henry reported smugly to the long-dead Natalie.

DOROTHY SAGNIS Phoenix, Ariz.

Bars

g, the It’s a dying mornin n’t be ca n su kind where the tch wa I . bothered to show tching re st l the captive. Stil of t gh ni to chase away a on, he dons tortured reflecti numbers and s his uniform, hi ed for name visible: no ne place. at th personality in ask him I l, il Through the gr . in ff Mu Mc for a Sausage E AL EX AN DE R PE IL Af rica Cape To wn, So uth

From Here to Et ernity While drivin

g my religiou sly fanatical moth er to her doct or, I got an earf ul of hell an d damnation.

“Why don’t you accept Jesus? ” she asked.

“Just need a si gn,” I scoffed.

We immediatel y passed a billboard for Bacardi that simply said, “W E HAVE PROOF.” I pull over an d accepted Christ. After all, it was a sign.

RU ST Y EVA N S Lo s Os os

12 • New Times • July 2 - July 9, 2015 • www.newtimesslo.com

Welcome Home

She opened th e bag. “Magne ts from each city I visited, just like you asked,” he sa id.

Little things he did like th is made her happ y. As he walk ed to the coffee machine she saw a receipt from the liqu or store for six magnets. Time stamp: forty- si x minutes ago.

“We’re out of cream,” she sa id.

A LI N E SU M N ER San Luis Obis po

Can You Hear Me Now? Wet and sandy, he grabbed his phone off his beach towel.

A message from his pregnant wife: “Urgent! Call!” But no bars! He jogged to the pier, to the sidewalk, across the street: Nothing! There’s an AT&T store! He ran in.

“Help! No connection!”

The salesperson looked at his feet. “Sorry. No shoes, no service.”

RUSTY EVANS Los Osos

Rotating Red Lights

Fight She threw the first punch.

The boy’s nose began to bleed, and other kids began to cheer.

Her surge of energy was surreal and frightening. He had it coming, didn’t he? The sense of accomplishment was fulfilling.

She opened her eyes. Nothing changed. Nothing ever would.

AUDRA MORGAN Wallingford, Pa.

e Crows on a Wirda y

e every They were out ther e neighbors. gossiping about th g nicknames for They had insultin even children almost everybody, The only and the disabled. their scorn people unscathed by they found were bicyclist whom hilarious. zes trying to “Look at those klut gleefully. fly! ” they cackled ALYS SA RO SE San Luis Obis po

Uncle Paul Marries Mom Mother married Paul, formerly Uncle Paul, when I was 11. They rode off to Vegas in his hot red convertible. Before that, men moved in and out of the house like the wind, blowing in laughing and loud, then suddenly disappearing, leaving an empty breeze. Waiting at Grandma’s, we wondered if they’d come back.

PATRICIA LEA Guadalupe

Pacing Back and Forth, Unsure, Not Knowingan

there with It waited, sitting pped at her. The impatience that ri rough the offwriting burned th lope. Postmark: white crinkled enve dn’t know what August 1945. She di ng wasn’t the to expect. The writi ar and nausea same, or was it? Fe She ripped it gripped her heart. cry. open and began to my love.” me ho ng mi “I’m co JE NN IF ER MATO S Santa Mari a

The Plan

res standing Red lights, two figu with hands on in the doorway, one ing a paper. hips, the other hold We must “Mr. and Mrs. Villa? been an inform you there’s your son, Noel.” g in lv vo accident in hat happened?”

Mom frightened, “W report “Here’s the police .” ll ca to o number, wh stened. The Dad dialed; Mom li phone picked up.

“Coroner.”

H.W. MO SS San Francisc o

Love of the Ga me The re

feree’s whistl e pierced through argu ing players an d a screaming cr owd, bringing everyone’s atte ntion to a rais ed red card at ce nterfield.

Martin stared forward, know ing the paramount importance of th e next few second s.

As he raised hi s pint to his lips, he prayed he had bet on the right team.

A AR ON IZ E K Lo s Angeles

Miscarried

her bulging She absently rubs nmetal belly, staring at gu piratory ex e Th s. thundercloud ect sunset of light makes a perf d swirl, a blue and pink clou boy or girl. fifty-fifty guess, tomorrow.

The reveal party is e strength to She doesn’t have th out this third tell her family ab t with a storm option, not yet, no approaching.

JO E AM AR AL Arro yo Grande

She Wishes it Was Different

Three sets of locked doors, a nurses’ station, and roommates.

Random screams punc ture the night. Her only visit ors are five cigarettes doled ou t each day. This is her forever home . Meds dispensed, doctors visit, but no thing changes.

A life sentence: sch izophrenia. “I’m really a very good person,” she says to everyone and to no one.

KATH Y ST ON E Paso Ro bles

Finally: the mansio n, the pool, the acreage overlo oking Lake Champlain. The mone y had been secured slowly, to avoid suspicion.

At last, a beautifu l woman took an interest. She co mbed over the property, then him, then frowned.

“Oh no,” he said. “P lease tell me you’re not one of those golddigging types.”

“Worse,” she replie d. “IRS.” JE NN IF ER RO LL IN GS Salem, Or e.

Rite-Aid Romance “Good evening,” he had nodded. He was handsome, rugged. Maybe he was a bit old for me, but being noticed felt good. The cashier handed me my receipt. I walked out, my palms sweating. He was still there. Our eyes met. I smiled. He opened his mouth.

“Excuse me ma’am, can you spare any change?”

ELLE BADASCI Templeton

The New Arrival The wa

y he looked at her made my heart sink.

The way he held he r made my jealousy flare.

How could this girl steal his attention from me so easily?

Why does everyone flock to her?

She’s loud and usua lly stinks.

“Don’t you want to see your new sister?” my father asked.

I hate her.

DAYA NA GR EE NE New Ho pe, Minn.

There’s Gonna Be A Lot of Crying On Monday, Colleen called. “Mom has a brain tumor.” Her mom is my only sister, Jan. Three years older than me. We finally became best friends, in our sixties. And now this.

On Tuesday, Colleen called again.

“It’s cancer. Gliobastoma. Very aggressive.”

On Wednesday, I went to Sephora.

Bought waterproof eyeliner.

KATHLEEN MCQUADE Santa Margarita

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