Story of the Week

No cover for this one. Oddly, although I wrote this story sometime back in early 2020, I haven’t published it yet. Well, not until today, here, in this limited venue. Enjoy. Well, if that’s the right word. And stay tuned. When I found this one I found a few more that are previously unpublished too. H Louisiana is chock full of secrets. That’s what I’d always heard. Especially southern Louisiana, the land of the Cajuns, that very special place called Acadia. There are alligator-infested swamps down there, and cyprus trees growing right up out of the water. There are bayous …

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for Jack Williamson, with reverence A few minutes after 10 a.m. four short days after Martin Andersen turned 76, he confidently approached the Age Exchange. He reached for the door handle, then frowned. He stopped and stepped back. He’d expected something impressive. Maybe a heavy hand-carved mahogany door, or maybe something sterile and clinical, like brushed stainless steel, but certainly not this. This was a weathered wooden door with a large window set in it. At some time in the past, the door had been painted green, but the paint was chipped and peeling. He looked away for a moment …

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Pete walked along the ancient perimeter road, heading home at the end of a long day. Ahead on the left, a rocky hillside sloped steeply away from the road. Aside from the shale and lava rock surface, it was strewn with occasional boulders. About two-thirds of the way up, a sandstone ledge traversed the face, angled slightly up toward the far end. A scrub juniper tree balanced in one broad crack in the ledge. Yuccas and drought-stunted mesquite and creosote bushes grew from other cracks. They and various varieties of cacti also grew among the rocks on the slope of …

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I’m sorry, what’s that? What am I doin’ for Christmas? Here, wait a minute. Let me put this shovel away. Okay. There, now we can talk a bit I guess. I mean, I got time. Heh. My house? Wait. You’re wonderin’ why my house looks like it does the other fifty weeks out of the year? Why? Oh, yeah, ‘cause you guys went to all the effort an’ expense to outdo each other with light shows an’ inflatable Snoopy dogs an’ all that, right? Yeah, I don’t do that anymore. What? Oh come on, of course you’re tryin’a outdo each …

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Sorry I didn’t post something last week. Then again, nobody mentioned it, so I guess my lapse didn’t matter. Below is a story from the Wes Crowley Saga. If you enjoy it, I encourage you to check out the books at https://stonethreadpublishing.com/ and more specifically the westerns at https://stonethreadpublishing.com/the-wes-crowley-series/. Including both the Wes Crowley Saga and the Wes Crowley Gap series, I’m currently writing the 19th novel and my 71st novel overall. Enjoy. Rangers Dramon and Siler were waiting out front. They had both taken the oath a few days earlier. Wes and Mac and the other Rangers had all …

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You will notice this story is by Eric Stringer. Eric is one of my more fun personas. To read his interesting bio, please visit https://harveystanbrough.com/my-personas/. 1 Phase One. Strategic. A man with a finger and the rank to use it sat on a cushioned chair at a console. He looked about. The others, at their own lesser consoles, were not paying attention. Their reports were filed. Their disbelief that the time had finally come was set aside. Barely. Anticipation filled their every pore, the space between their anxious eyes, the dead air at the entrance to their ears. All eyes …

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Note: This is the short story I wrote as Nicolas Z Porter, one of my personas. The main character of this one tugged at my sleeve to ask whether I’d like to know the rest of the story. I did, and my very first novel, Leaving Amarillo, was born. Later came 16 more novels, all born of this one little short story. Enjoy! THE AIR IN ADOBE WALLS, ARIZONA TERRITORY, was stifling, and the constant pounding of the stamp mill across the San Pedro River seemed to intensify the heat, drumming it through the walls. Inside the saloon it was …

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Note: Since I was a little late posting this week’s story, I thought I’d post a nvoella. Enjoy! Ray Acuna was in luck. As he stood in line at the window of the post office, he glanced toward the counter past the two people in line ahead of him. A third, a balding man in a dark-grey pinstriped overcoat that probably matched his suit, straightened at the counter. He seemed to have almost concluded his business. “Thanks, Ms. Miller,” the man said. To the left, a few FBI wanted posters hung from thumbtacks on a cork bulletin board. They were …

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Marco and me chased down Joey Bones. It was only a half a block, but it was almost dark. There wasn’t gonna be no moon an’ the sun had been down for awhile. We might still be chasin’ him, but he tripped when he was halfway through the alley. He went down, slid on his hands a little I think. Must’a tore ‘em up pretty bad, but I didn’t get to see that. He tried to get up and get away, but by then Marco was on him. The whole thing reminded me of a scene from when I was …

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