Category: short story


Early evening had fallen and the few lights that burned behind closed shades had begun to glow warm and yellow.  Barely audible voices whispered on the howling December winds. This was Detroit. The ghetto.

Her beauty stripped away by years of corruption and abuse the great city now bucked under the weight of her own excesses, and like the pancaked made up face of an aging Hollywood Scarlett she was nothing more than a shadow of her former self.

The house was small a barely standing wood framed seated between a burnt out apartment building and an empty lot that had become the unofficial trash dump of the neighborhood.  The unfortunate few who remained glided about like ghost trapped in purgatory.

The back door banged open and Lizzy, a girl of fifteen stepped out of the darkness and onto the wooden back porch. She worn a tattered parka and a torn pink night dress which was covered in blood. She slowly made her way down the rickety back stairs and walked to the center of the lot behind the house.

Lizzy stared at the house her eyes wide and vacant. She absently dropped the dirty gym shoes she had been carrying to the ground and slipped her bare feet into them without looking down. In her other hand she held an ice pick. The black handle shiny and slick from blood.

The tale of her harsh life could be read in her limpid eyes.  Beauty for some girls was a fortunate gift, a blessing from god, a proverbial magic wand that held a mysterious power over men. Some girls wielded their wands as expertly as a ninja with a samurai sword slicing and dicing their way through life. This had not been the case for Lizzy, her beauty was no blessing.

She was small for her age with black curls that gently framed her narrow elfin face she was the perfect combination of innocence and libidinous, a Lolita.  Low hanging fruit there for the taking by the sharks that constantly swam back and forth in front of the tiny house, they could smell the blood in the water. Lizzy stood shivering like a wet puppy in the middle of the wind swept parcel listening …  a dog barking in the distance … sporadic traffic nearby, then nothing.

She cocked her head to the side and closed her eyes and tried to listen harder.  Imagines of Rico, a massive biker type on top of her breathing heavy slobbering and grunting until his white lighting exploded from within him.

Lizzy slowly opened her eyes and took a few timorous steps toward the house and stopped the unmistakable creaking of floor boards froze her like a deer caught in headlights.  A loud crash came from the house and the massive figure of Rico darken the doorway.

His eyes were almost glowing with fury. He staggered forward using the door frame as leverage. A half a dozen carmine stains dotted the front of his white tee shirt.

Lizzy began to back away shaking her head as if trying to wake herself from a nightmare. He slowly pointed at her like Frankenstein from an old fifties B movie.

“You bitch!” He lurched forward. “You fucking little Bitch!” Rico teetered forward and lost his balance and rolled down the stairs.

He landed at the bottom with a thud. Lizzy stepped back. No longer afraid she watched him like a cat might a doomed mouse.

“Get back over here. Where you going?”

“Nowhere.” She said calmly. He coughed and spite a globe of blood onto the ground.

“Help me Lizzy.” He gasped. “I’m not mad. I promise.”

“You promise? You’re not mad at me for what I did to you?” She asked sweetly as she moved toward him and knelt just out of his arms reach.

“I swear.” He suddenly lunged at her. “I’ll kill you. You tried to kill me!” Lizzy rolls to the side and plunges the ice pick into his heart. Rico gasps and crumples to the ground.

“I did kill you …” Lizzy stands. “And you deserved it.” She spite on his body and walked away.

The End

All Rights Reserved©2015

youth-football 2

Playing football on a team was all I thought about as a kid. From the moment I woke up until I closed my eyes to sleep at night. I was nine years old when I was introduced to the game and I have loved it ever since. I grew up in a lower middle class neighborhood. A melting pot of ethnicities, white, black, Yugoslavian, Albanians, you name it and they lived there. It wasn’t uncommon to catch the sweet smell of Potica (Yugoslavian Bread) coming from one of the small houses on Ferry Street as we passed on our way home from elementary school. There weren’t many officials’ parks in our neighborhood, but for us that was okay we would simply find an open lot and toss the ball around until dusk fell on the small universe that was our neighborhood.

One by one we would hear our mother’s voices ring out in the distance calling us home for dinner; bath, and then bed. I was small, and at the time not particularly fast, but that wasn’t going to stop me. I had the heart of a lion and my dream was to don the helmet of the Hamtramck Chancellors and that’s what I was going to do. Tryouts were held on Saturday at 9:00 am at Keyworth stadium. Keyworth was a towering concrete stadium with a tunnel and home team and away team showers, it was a big deal.

Most of our opponents played on grass lots, but the Chancellors played in a stadium. As we pulled into the parking lot I remember being struck by the massive number kids trying out. The energy was high, footballs were zipping back and forth, and young men from all over were buzzing about trying to make a good impression on the coaches. This was a cattle call, all the neighborhood super stars had gathered to fight for the forty-five slots on the rooster. My stomach tightened with nerves, and my mouth went dry and pasty and I remember wanting to turn around and run. My father, sensing my nervousness gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder and said,

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want too. It’s up to you.”

“But dad,” I said as I looked at a host of boys tossing the ball around near our truck. “What about the forty dollars?”

“Don’t worry about the money. I just want you to do what makes you happy.”

I thought about it for a minute then got out of the truck. The chattering, and the smell of the freshly cut grass was overwhelming. I then walk across the parking lot and joined the long line of boys signing up. The tryouts took a few hours, but at the end of the day I received my helmet and jersey. I was overjoyed, I was a member of the Hamtramck Chancellors.

The End

All Rights Reserved©2015


From her prospective it was alright to do things that would other wise be considered wrong. Right and wrong was a point of view, depending on who you were nothing more.

Who decided what was right or wrong anyway she thought. Rich people did things that hurt and devastated people all the time but rarely ever had to answer for it, why should she?

To them it was just part of doing business, and that’s all this was… business. She looked at Mitchy laying on the bed with a black handled ice pick sticking out of his chest.

His eyes glossy and vacant like a dead fish staring blindly at her, his mouth frozen half-open caught in mid scream at the very moment death-cold and silent snatched the life from his body.

If there was an after life old Mitchy was probably still trying to figure out how he’d got there. He never saw it coming, and after she plunged the ice pick into his chest he just laid there screaming, staring at her, what an odd thing she thought.

Kara had laid next to him for a half an hour, not hearing him as he whimpered and groaned, and then as if some one had pulled the plug, the room fall silent. She hadn’t plan to do Mitchy, she kinda like him but just like most men she had known he turned out to be more trouble then he was worth.

“So, off to the after life for you Mitchy, I promise you won’t be lonely.” Kara said as she cleaned out his wallet. She almost felt guilty for having to do him, but Mitch had brought it all on himself. He had thought he could take what he wanted from her and she would have little to say about it… wrong.

Kara paused and looked at him for a second she was tempted to close his eyes, but instead she placed her hand gently under his chin and closed his mouth, now it looked as if he were staring at her pouting it almost made her laugh.

She tucked the bills about eight dollars in her front pocket and drop the wallet down on Mitchy’s chest. She started for the door then stopped as if she had forgotten something.
” Shit”, she snapped her fingers and walked back over to the bed and Mitchy and yanks the ice pick out of his chest.
” I might need you later,” She said to the ice pick as she wiped Mitchy’s blood off on the bed spread.
” Well, that’s, that,” She dropped the ice pick into her bag and started for the door.
” Nice knowing you Mitchy.” She said on her way out the door.



All Rights Reserved©2013