by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Resevoir Road Literary Review) The Chief had enjoyed two successful, medal-bedecked tours in the jungles of Vietnam. He enjoyed being in the thick of things, but a Purple Heart was as good a sign as any that it was time to settle down. He and his seed found a home in blue-collar Boonton, New Jersey. His pregnant wife was the daughter of … Read More The Chief and the Folding Chair
by dutchsimmons
(Published courtesy of DailyDrunkMagazine) It had absolutely nothing to do with doing something obligatory with my son. It was my weekend for custody, and I truly loved hanging out with him. I missed him every moment of the day he wasn’t around. I recognized I wasn’t going to win any father of the year awards; although in fairness I had managed to come up … Read More Bowling With Lebowski
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Waterways Magazine) Jenny wondered if anyone still bothered to read the Craigslist “Missed Connections” section. It seemed antiquated to her, but it was worth a shot. There had to be better technological options to determine how to connect with someone who she met briefly at the William Chris Vineyard last Saturday. Unfortunately, Jenny may have been the only Austinite that was technologically … Read More Missed Connections
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of Secret Attic; winner of Secret Attic Short Fiction Contest) Nobody goes into a pawnshop of their own volition. Massage parlors, check cashing stores, and pawnshops are bastard stepchildren of urban sprawl. Each was a necessary evil, providing unique services against the grain of suburban enlightenment. Seeking them out was akin to lighting a small piece of your soul on fire and inhaling … Read More Kings and Pawns
by dutchsimmons
Sharks. A simple answer that spoke volumes. When asked why he didn’t go to the beach, Brody answered, “Sharks.” He watched “Jaws” at an impressionable age. That did it. He could barely swim. He looked like a spider in a blender; arms and legs frantically flailing. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t go into the water. Ever. Because of sharks. Hence the irony of living … Read More No Day at the Beach
by dutchsimmons
(Featured in Purplewallstories.com; nominated for Pushcart Prize) (WARNING: Contains adult content and themes) Same visceral reaction, regardless of the city. Pavlovian response to the jarring neon “Open” sign flashing against blacked-out windows. “Heavenly Delight Spa.” “Eastern Happiness Massage.” New York had whole districts competing to jerk you off. The thrill was in the hunt in lesser cities and suburbs. Rub and tugs nestled among … Read More Release
by dutchsimmons
(Pushcart Prize Nominated, PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize Nominated, Finalist in the Texas Observer’s Annual Short Fiction Contest https://www.texasobserver.org/solitary-short-story-finalist/) The fireflies dance magnificently in the shadow of the Big House. Electric disco lights reflect joyfully in the razor wire; pulsating music I can feel but not hear. It’s been eleven days. I can tell them apart. They’re unique; I’ve named them. Oddly, I … Read More Solitary
+ Novel
by dutchsimmons
“Return By“ Chapter 1. RETURN BY As a child of the ’70s, Dewey Sampson spent every rainy Saturday afternoon glued to his parent’s television. Channel 11 was guaranteed to run some war movie or another. Countless hours were lost, enthralled by “The Guns of Navarone,” “Midway,” or “The Battle of the Bulge.” Intricate reenactments were made of his favorite battles with hundreds of plastic … Read More Return By – Novel
by dutchsimmons
(Courtesy of the South 85 Journal; 2020 Julia Peterkin Flash Fiction Award Finalist) Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s not like they are throwing jobs at ex-cons. Excuse me. A justice impaired individual. I didn’t give a shit what they called me. I just knew I needed a job to keep my probation officer off my back. Anything that showed I was contributing to society … Read More “Papa’s” Typewriter
