Danielle Stoller
Stories (3)
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Christmas in Maine
One of my closest friends moved to Florida last year to ease his arthritis. I’ve always thought there’s nothing like New England living, but you do feel the cold more with age. He sent me a postcard with a palm tree on it last week. “Merry early Christmas, you old fart,” it read. “And happy birthday.” I was one of those kids always hoping to get two separate gifts. I don’t think it happened once.
By Danielle Stoller4 years ago in Fiction
Once Upon a Book Hunt
It happened without preamble. The sound was unlike anything anyone could prepare for. Equally difficult to describe as it was memorable, I still struggle to put it into words. It registered as inherently sick, a sound that shouldn’t be heard, a signal of immediate crisis. It coincided with a head striking tiled flooring as a body crashed headlong like a felled tree in a serene meadow. The body seized on the ground. Of course, I didn’t know what seizures were then.
By Danielle Stoller4 years ago in Fiction
The Crucible
“From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli, we fight our country’s battles in the air, on land, and sea.” Well into the first phase of BUD/S Navy SEAL orientation physical conditioning, if Rhett had ever wondered why soldiers sang while they ran, by now he understood. It was an effective distraction from pain. Made you forget the weariness in your muscles and reminded you who were, which was, first and foremost - a soldier whose job it was to consider the platoon above himself. “First to fight for right and freedom and to keep our honor clean, we are proud to claim the title of United States Marine,” the group trudged on in the dust. Locked in step with a group eight recruits deep, Rhett scanned the horizon. There were individual runners scattered ahead and behind but otherwise, just a long, open landscape in view. This was the crucible event he’d been warned about.
By Danielle Stoller4 years ago in Fiction
