Rose City Sisters – Page 2 – Rose City Sisters

Now I’ve Heard Everything by Bonnie Schroeder

“What kind of dog is that?”

“German shepherd.”

“Naah—they don’t come in black.”

“Well, that’s what she is. Recessive gene.”

“Huh? No, she’s a mutt, Lady. You got gypped.”

“Oh, all right—I’ll tell you the truth. She’s an Arcanian Bat Hound.”

“Wow! Really? I’ve never seen one before. Uh—where’d you get her?”

“I had to import her, got special permits and all. Arcania doesn’t export them normally.”

“I bet. Uh—where’s Arcania?”

“Eastern Europe. Tiny country. You’ve never heard of it, right?

“Right.”

“That’s because it’s a shadow state—keeps its existence a secret.”

The Key to Success by Pat Becker

She found a skate key.

It wasn’t hers. She was too young to skate. But she managed to get her sister’s key.

She grappled with it in her tiny hands, trying to do what you did with a skate key. She jammed it into the bottom of a skate with her clumsy hands. In a whoosh! it was gone. More skillful hands came and took it. Her first memory!

She didn’t witness the invention of fire, but, by god, she got her grubby hands on her sister’s skate key. Later, she would get her grubby hands on many other things.

Pat Becker is a former journalist, freelance writer and publicist. She currently spends her time writing scripts and producing films.

To Carl and Scott, Winter 1954-1955

I had known him for three months. If I wanted to see him on weekends, I’d have to learn to ski. My sister had size 12 ski boots she would loan to me. His high school classmate wanted to sell her old skis for $5. I emptied my piggy bank, went to the ski shop on Holly Street and bought a pair of ski pants. I had my cotton jacket that looked okay with the pants. I had my red plaid wool scarf and a pair of mittens. I was ready to go to the mountains with my boyfriend.

Texas Toast by Paula Johnson

Adam took his name seriously. He knew he was the first among men. His hairline was eroding faster than the Galveston coastline in his home state of Texas, but he was a sharp dresser and a smooth talker. Ladies loved his drawl.

At a Two-for-Tuesday happy hour, he sent a Cosmopolitan to a stunner in the corner. She stopped by to thank him.

“Can I tell you a secret?,” he asked. She nodded.

“You remind me of a young Scarlett Johansson.”

“Want to hear my secret?” she whispered. He cocked his head.

“You remind me of my old grandpa.”

© Copyright 2018 Paula Johnson. All rights reserved. Photo by Alexandre Godreau on Unsplash.
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Paula Johnson is the founder and editrix of The Rose City Sisters website. Join her email list and get invited to her book launch party! (First she needs to finish writing the book.)

FAQs by Paula Johnson

Is this PolySci 204? Are you Professor Adams? Can I sit anywhere? Is the textbook online? What’s the WiFi password? Where can I plug in my mini Himalayan salt lamp? Do you grade on a curve? Do you want to pet my Emotional Support Animal? Are you allergic? Can I eat in class? Can I vape? Is texting my term paper okay? Can I save seats for my sorority sisters? When are your office hours? Can my mom audit this class? Why is the syllabus three pages long? Can I leave early? When is the last day to drop?

Paula Johnson is the founder and editrix of The Rose City Sisters website. Join her email list and get invited to her book launch party! (First she needs to finish writing the book.)

Ascent by Linda Gorman

Jason finned frantically toward the surface, his teeth clenching his mouthpiece, as terror wrestled with guilt.

How could he do that? To the love of his life. Desert her…

Kick, kick!

…as she struggled in the maw of that great beast.

Jason’s gaze was fixed on the surface. But in his mind, he could see only Caroline’s face. Contorted with horror—and worse, betrayal—as the man she loved abandoned her.

Faster, faster!

Jason knew that image would haunt him for the rest of his life—which the air embolism traveling to his brain would make mercifully brief.

Linda Gorman is an editor, writer, and blogger who lived in the City of Angels for 21 years before escaping to Vancouver Island in 2016.

Do’s and Don’ts by Linda Gorman

“Cheryl, do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband, and do you promise to love, honor, and cherish him as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” said Cheryl.

“Paul, do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, and do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” said Paul.

And they did, for five mostly happy years. Until Paul got restless and canoodled with the summer intern. And Cheryl found out and shot off Paul’s canoodle.

And now they don’t.

© Copyright 2018 Linda Gorman. All rights reserved.
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Linda Gorman is an editor, writer, and blogger who lived in the City of Angels for 21 years before escaping to Vancouver Island in 2016.

The Strange Life He Recalls by William Wren

A man with strange memories lived a few years ago. He may still be alive; I couldn’t say. We haven’t spoken in years and I’ve heard he doesn’t live in Belize anymore. I don’t have a current address.

He was a man who always dressed well. Always wore smart clothes. Fashionable, but not in the day’s fashion. A step to the side of whatever the current trend was.

A fastidious man, his hair was always groomed; face studiously clean-shaven when he didn’t have a beard or mustache. When he had either, it was always crisply trimmed.

Fingers manicured. Toes pedicured. Definitely fastidious.

His eyes held had a look of quiet concern. It seemed something permanent. He wore sunglasses all the time, day and night; cloud or sun. Continue reading The Strange Life He Recalls by William Wren

The Sharon Economy by Paula Johnson

It wasn’t that she borrowed the odd punch bowl. To Sharon, the neighborhood was a mall where merchandise was free and returns were rare.

She was at my back door at dawn for toothpaste (“A squeeze?”), around noon for my daughter’s skateboard (“My ollie needs work!”) and at 3 pm for a stamp (“For your thank-you note!”).

My friend Jenny and I commiserated over a single glass of Gewürztraminer. Sharon had bummed the other 11 wine glasses.

“It could be worse,” Jenny said. “Remember Wendy’s husband, Larry?” I nodded before my turn to sip. “He belongs to Sharon now.”

© Copyright 2018 Paula Johnson. All rights reserved.
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Paula Johnson is the founder and editrix of The Rose City Sisters website. She is working on a micro fiction anthology.

Just One Snake on a Plane by Stephen R. Wolcott

“Is that a snake?” asked a stunned steward.

“Technically it’s a cobra—a comfort cobra,” said the intense gentleman. “Have you not seen the latest data?” In exasperation, he shoved an official-looking scientific document into the steward’s face.

“He’ll stay in his pouch on my lap.” The steward peered around nervously, reread in his mind the revised guidelines based on recent controversial incidents, then quickly ushered the man to the back of the plane in an empty row.

This might work, thought the steward. Until he heard some ruckus up front. Then he noticed the woman with the mongoose.

© Copyright 2018 Stephen R. Wolcott. All rights reserved.
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Stephen R. Wolcott was an award-winning writer/producer with over 100 television, behind-the-scenes “making of’ and documentary projects to his credit before shifting gears to become a teacher. He has been contributing stories to the Rose City Sisters since 2009.

Unplanned Break by Fariel Shafee

When the fog rolled in, she shrieked. The road in front was narrow and surreptitious. The jungle was thick on both sides. The air was heavy and gray. She waited in the car for an hour, listened to banal tunes that should have inspired but just rolled on. When the first rock smashed onto the chassis, she cursed herself and the innocent black bird that had sought refuge on the thin bough to the right. Then she ran up to the mountainside, crawled into a narrow crevice.

It was in that darkness that the lost box of golden dust sparkled.

© Copyright 2018 Fariel Shafee. All rights reserved.
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Fariel Shafee has degrees in science, but enjoys writing and art. She has published prose and poetry in decomP, Ygdrasil, The Foundling Review, etc.

The Cloud by Paula Johnson

When Alex saw his mother’s face in a cloud formation three days after her funeral, he assumed his eyes were playing tricks. “No way,” he whispered. But then the breeze transformed her lips into the half-smile that always meant she had a wonderful secret she just could not keep to herself.

What is it? he wondered. He followed her celestial gaze to a cloud that looked exactly like a leaping dog. It was Dexter, his childhood companion.

Message received, Mom. Alex took a long hard look at his life. Time to grow up, make changes, secure his future. Because…heaven.

Mom, Woman, Multitasker Sanity Moment by Amanda K. Rudd

Dropping my kids off this new school year meant getting used to a new routine, commitments and time management. I had tears, joy, and one hour before work. A quiet realization: Bring on the bra shopping….. alone. I tried on everything. Sometimes twice. My trash can full of old bras were slowly killing me. My two smarties started a new journey, so did I. Mine was comfort and curves. I indulged in numerous perfect over-the-shoulder boulder holders. Pure decadence. I picked up my babies a happier mama, happier wife, happier woman!

© Copyright 2018 Amanda K. Rudd. All rights reserved.
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Amanda K. Rudd is closing in on 40. She serves coffee to the go-getters. Her mother’s death breaks her daily. Her children and hubby give her joy. Taking photos of humans is awakening and she’s learning to love reading. An introvert, she finds that her anxiety can be a death trap. Amanda had to drink a glass of wine to generate enough courage to submit this story.

Breakfast Blend by Arabella Field

Neighbors protested the opening of this place with its non vertical wood gentrification fence. Doctor’s orders.: he needed coffee before he became unstable. He stumbled there in sweat pants, which he knew to be his pajamas. The place had been a toy store for 30 years, now it had minimalist fascist light fixtures and white on white décor. He ordered $7 coffee with a Groupon. He sat outside to drink it and steady himself, observing the shabby, rich hipsters. He admired and envied them, that they could have this most days, and then realized that they were all homeless people.

The Journey Together by Fariel Shafee

“Fifty yards,” he utters. The street is narrow and smooth, like a watery ribbon. “We are almost there.”

She stares ahead, and then to the right, the signpost not yet visible. Then she listens to the sound of crickets and blackbirds imposed upon the backdrop of the silently departed thunderstorm. She thinks of a warm bed, and of a hot bath. He reflects inward for a closure to a long tumultuous journey tied with her with outer-world’s inclemency.

The pebble had rolled in quietly. The fall then lasted for a minute. Silently, they held their hands together to the end.