On January 1, 2014, New Years Day, I submitted a short story for publication. Below is a synopsis and a few lines of the story. Now on to one of my 2014 goals… cleaning up and critiquing the next story!
Unbroken Circle – A Christmas Story submitted for possible acceptance for Christmas 2014. Written in 2013 the story came from a dream about a woman living alone on top of a mountain in Colorado, aged, early dementia her thoughts turn to the return of her son and preparing him a welcome home supper. The other individual melded into the story as a good person who had lost everything, his time with her after an accident on the narrow mountain road gave him hope that he had lost and her story gave him back the will to clean up his life.
Unbroken Circle – A Christmas Stor
Mark Mooney lifted himself from a lumpy mattress; rubbed his side with one hand while reaching for the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on his nightstand with the other. As the last of the amber liquid slid down his troth, he knew that there was not enough left to dull his troubled mind. It was Christmas Eve, all he could think of was his wife and daughter, how he had messed up; and he should be home with his family instead of living in the cold dingy room above Looney’s General Store.
The alarm clock leap to life once again from snooze jerking him back to reality, jumping out of bed wrapped a worn blanket he stood over the open floor vent to catch what little heat that rose from the store below. Rumbling through a clothesbasket he shook out the cleanest looking uniform washed his face, dressed and walked out the door.
Crawling into his old pickup Mark looked down at the doll wrapped from used Christmas paper pulled out of the office party trash; the one he did not remember leaving. His plans were to drop it off after work; on his way to Dixon’s bowling alley; where a few other single parents he knew, mostly men gathered on Christmas Eve to get drunk and forget their blunders in life.
Pulling into the Post Office parking lot, he popped a stick of gum in his mouth; he needed to avoid getting close to anyone; he knew that his breath reeked of whiskey. He could not remember the last time he was very sober, and he worried about keeping it from his employer…………
“Your thoughts fellow writers?” AJM