The short stories can be about anything. There is no agenda or particular outlook except what the characters want to convey with their personal situation. We visit the character’s lives at whatever period the story falls into their existence. Their is a past to the beginning of every story that is not written and there is a future where the characters go to that we also do not experience. That means that you, the reader, will provide that ‘beginning’ and that ‘future’ however you like it to be, with my short story being in the middle. I hope you enjoy my stories.
Geraldo wanted her to listen to him. He wanted her attention. He stood there with his pants held by a rope where a belt is normally worn, the pants hanging on his lower waist, the hem wrinkled around his ankles showing only the tips of his dusty shoes. His white shirt was fatigued and grey colored, unbuttoned to his mid chest. His pearl grey … Continue reading No One Listens to Geraldo
Note to the Reader — the story below is a completed short story. I am now writing it into a full novel. Unfortunately, the index does not appear the way it should, which should be two columns. Life in a Dictionary’s Asylum A Novel by Jo Ann Rodriquez Prologue Jules Reimer kept a secret until he died in 1982. He was a writer, … Continue reading Life in a Dictionary’s Asylum©
I never saw my mother and father kiss. I never saw them hold hands. In the neighbor¬hood they were known as Dona Cruz and Don Juan. In my Puerto Rican neighborhood in the Bronx, my father was popular for the Saturday night domino games. My parents owned an apartment building and it was on the front stoop where everyone gathered and as the men played, … Continue reading EI Mambo©
Lara was driving the four–wheel utility car up the canyon toward Angeles Crest Mountains. She was daydreaming as well as driving; the car eased its way up the winding road at a comfortable speed. Lara was in the habit of thinking about a lot of things when she drove. Her friends criticized her for her lack of attention while driving. They said it was a … Continue reading Lara©
I watched Niqúen and Rosa move in, in 1965; the y made it the brightest three story brick building on the block. They painted the bricks fire engine red and the grout was painted white. It was the most colorful attached house on the tree-lined street; some people thought it was too loud, announcing its existence over everyone else’s natural colored brick homes. The sky … Continue reading Bricks Mounted on an Alien Spirit©
Dear Mrs. Iason: When I met my wife, she was the challenge and inspiration to leave my old life behind and start my life all over again, I was reborn the day I married her. That is why I am writing you this letter. I owe you an explanation. Your son, Miles, was once a very good friend of my daughter. They ate lunch together … Continue reading Search and Found ©
The woman walked into the store alone. The department store had just opened for their weekend Christmas sale. The woman walked up the escalators to the third floor and headed toward the ladies room. A cashier watched her as the woman walked toward her, the cashier asked her if she needed any assistance, the woman nodded her head “no” and continued walking. The cashier looked … Continue reading The Woman©
“What are you thinking of?” It is a question Marie knew better than to ask when she sees Hector staring out of the window and into the playground below their third story window. The children’s swings and wooden maze structure remain empty on this bitterly cold day of snow with the intermittent fall of hale. Hector ponders the missing laughter that echoes into their … Continue reading Regrets in a Wasteland’s Marriage©
Michael and Jeannine snuggle under the bed sheets. Jeannine, safely lying under Michael’s arm, presses her face against his chest, sighing wistfully. “What’s that sigh for?” “Oh, I’m just thinking about how wonderful it feels. How wonderful it is to wake up with my face under your chin. How wonderful…” “Okay, I get it. This bed is comfortable,” Michael said. Jeannine mimicking Michael, “This bed … Continue reading Michael and Jeannine in Bed©
It was Sunday. My boyfriend and I decided to go for a late dinner at a Mexican restaurant in Culver City. The evening weather called for a light jacket, but it wasn’t really cold. The restaurant seemed to have been there for ages, dark and old with the signs of Chicano history and culture lining the walls. The lighting was dark even in early afternoon. … Continue reading Dinner©
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