by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Moss Puppy Magazine) I see the same old man dressed as a sea captain on the side of the road every time Idrive down to the docks. He’s 70 or 80 or 90 but definitely ancient and always spinning spinning spinning asign advertising a local marina that offered guided charters of the wetlands.Impervious to the weather; a permanent fixture in a jaunty … Read More Golden Years
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of ExPat Literary Journal) Browsing through the stacks of used books at a Goodwill thrift store is a guilty pleasure. Like being in a local dog shelter, I’d love to turn everyone loose and bring them home with me if possible. Every time I moved and was forced to downsize, parting with any books was Sophie’s Choice redux; each was a beloved child that held … Read More Chasing the Suburban Dragon
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Vocal Media) Bennigan’s arrived in Jake’s hometown with tremendous fanfare during his senior year in high school. For a lower-middle-class family like his, it was a place of wonder. His family rarely went out for dinner; if they did, it was to Roy Roger’s for burgers. (His father was a huge fan of the “Fixin’s Bar” and its endless supply of tomatoes … Read More Death by Chocolate
by dutchsimmons
(Winner of the Purple Wall Stories Flash Fiction Contest) I don’t believe carnations are real flowers. I say this as I stare at the melamine-wrapped bouquet slumbering on top of the pile of garbage in the trashcan outside the bar. The reflecting moonlight bathes the flowers in a gaudy opalescent hue further adding to the artificiality of the bouquet. Why artificial? Because carnations aren’t … Read More A Brief Note on Carnations
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Vocal media) The origin of the Spring Rite of Dropping was unknown. Young Cassandra Ashley listened intently as grandparents spoke with hushed reverence about the tradition which stemmed back to their grandparent’s time, and grandparents before them. What little history that had been recorded, detailed the shire’s fortunes in times of the Rite. No one dared question the third-eyed wisdom of the … Read More Maple
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Vocal Media) Every family needs the tie that binds. That event or hobby which brings generations together. For my family, it had always been fishing. We fished for fluke in the bays off the coast of Sandy Hook, New Jersey on a tiny boat with an engine more suited for a moped. The three of us—myself, my father, and grandfather wedged into … Read More Passing the Torch
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Black Cat Literary Magazine) The patron behind me stood slack-jawed. It was her fault, but I shouldn’t have been triggered so easily.Her words reverberated in my head.“Well now I know what solitary confinement feels like. I’ve had ENOUGH of this lockdown,” shesniffed.“Have you ever taken a shit in front of somebody,” I menaced.I wanted her to bathe in the mystery of my … Read More Clementine
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Mythic Picnic Magazine/ 3rd Place Micro Fiction Contest Winner) The week before I was remanded to prison, I put my dog Harlan, down. It was as if he knew I was going to be gone longer than the time he had left, and in the noblest act of sacrifice, he forced his organs to fail and left me with no choice. My … Read More Harlan
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Skyway Journal) Buying a pack of Marlboros for my dad, fifty cents. The dead eyed, pimple-ridden clerk behind the counter doesn’t question me. Nobody cares if I’m 13. Rushing back to the running car, freedom awaited two hours down the blackened asphalt of the Jersey Turnpike. Plink, Plink, Plink, Dimes tossed into toll booth collection buckets A staccato accompaniment to Hall and … Read More The Boss
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Waterways Magazine) Peter looked anxiously at his watch. The school bus was running late, again. Depending on traffic, the parking lot at the Springwood Parks Playground would be full. It was a crapshoot every week, especially in the early spring. Everyone with a hint of cabin fever was eager to get outside and shed a few layers of clothes. He knew Max … Read More The Merry Go Round of SpringWood Park
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Flash Fiction Magazine) Jake lay with his head in my lap as we sat in the back seat. His mom had been driving for nearly four hours. Nobody had slept; we existed in the cobwebby Neverland between slumber and consciousness. “The Man Who Sold the World” played as we took the long drive up to the gatehouse. I preferred Bowie’s original version … Read More Goodbye Bowie
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Skyways Journal) Shirts of fuchsia and daisy yellow meant to emasculate us Instead becoming our new gang colors worn with pride Old allegiances were forgotten while New beefs were created We wore borrowed equipment Gloves worn with the sweat of ten inmates prior Bats, rationed under the ever wrathful eyes Of guards taking leave of their bullying To be entertained Shagging fly … Read More Boys of Summer
