Daniel J Klein
Bio
Award-winning Iowa Writers Workshop Alumni. My first novel, Lost In Los Alamos, is querying to lit agents & available for Beta Reads.
PLEASE, if you enjoyed my story, click the ♥︎ HEART ICON to let me know. 🙏🏻☺️
Stories (7)
Filter by community
The Mexico of My Father's Body
The Mexico of My Father's Body When I was young, I remember my father once believed that my mother did not believe his name was Stewart. He had become obsessed with the notion that she had constructed another life for him that she believed he hid from her.
By Daniel J Klein4 years ago in Fiction
Spaces In My Thinking
Spaces In My Thinking Spring green against black trunks of trees, the smell of wet bark and last fall’s leaves is the spring of my mind here in Northern Mississippi. There is not so much a winter here, as there is a lack of summer; one needs to prepare for it just the same. I still feel pale from the season prior.
By Daniel J Klein4 years ago in Fiction
The Ascension of Raul Martinez
The Ascension of Raul Martinez Small dark hands wring blood from a white worn handkerchief now stained red. Tears drop into the mix as he almost blindly looks to the outer door, expecting it to burst its hinges, the wood splintering from the force of Justice come to claim him. Through his tears, the tulip wall lamps create the illusion of streaming shafts of light as if angels fill his vision. He believes this is so.
By Daniel J Klein4 years ago in Fiction
September
iPhoneImage ©Daniel J Klein – Author I smell September in the air as I run down the sloping hill, the new, white kite string in my small hand. The kite only twirls and twirls, it’s yellow rag tail grazing the ground each time it passes. Drying grass and its anchor of dirt puff up around my ankles and settle in my pants cuffs.
By Daniel J Klein4 years ago in Fiction
Sonata in Three Notch, Alabama
She watched him - his face, up close - and said, through the space in the fence boards, "We need spoons." There was a young boy walking, at the end of the fifty-foot fence just come around the corner, and when the boy trailed the stick along the boards, the sound and vibration of it beat in time to Roy's heart — short staccato beats.
By Daniel J Klein4 years ago in Fiction
