G. Douglas Kerr
Bio
I am a hermit and sometimes come out of my shell.
Stories (35)
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My Friend Rooney. Top Story - September 2024.
My friend Rooney is an Irishman. He drinks in a surprising methodical regimen. You can time him as the barkeep noted long ago. I see Garrett look at the clock, fetch another glass, fill it, then nod his head up, lockin’ eyes with Rooney. Rooney points his finger in appreciation. And then he tells a tale. He does like to tell tales, no Joyce, no Swift, but he keeps your faith with each new one. Once, when he was going through his divorce, the end of his first marriage, and the two of us were polluted at Garrett's. He told me this one of a well to do couple very much in love, but doomed. The wife had continuous fits of jealousy and also more than her share of vanity. She hired a chambermaid, a fair of face chambermaid. Her husband, who always appreciated beauty, would say behind his wife’s back that she hired the maid for her outward qualities. She wanted, per the husband, a pretty chambermaid as all things around her must be beautiful and, so she could yell at her husband for lookin’. The husband was a catch too, which also kept up her vanity and her jealousy. Anyways, after she hired the maid, the wife made sure her husband and maid were never left alone together. If he would go to the kitchen using some excuse, she would follow or call the maid to her. For six years she continued her vigilance until one day at the public bath house she realised that she had forgotten her silver wash basin and sent the maid to fetch it. The wife neglected that her husband was due back from work any minute and the maid ran home, recognizing the wife’s mistake. The two met at the front door. Without a word they went inside and embraced in a passion so quick they did not latch the door. The wife jumped at the bath house, knocking over her neighbour’s basin, when she became mindful of her folly and also sprinted home.
By G. Douglas Kerrabout a year ago in Psyche
The Colors of Odds and Ends
With her brother finally out the door, Charlie sat at the kitchen table and stared out the window at what looked like a perfect day. She thought about going back to bed but was already awake and set in the motions of starting it, teeth brushed and all. She sighed and looked at the piece of paper left for her on the table. Of course this was from her father. Was this passive aggressiveness? That was a concept that she had been accused of at school by people that honestly didn’t do as much as she did. Charlie understood that to move people in a certain direction, you needed to nudge them. That’s what she did at the school paper. As the student editor she needed to assign and ask for updates on stories then put her spin on the outcome, tell the sophomores what quotes to get and who to ask for them. That’s how you manage the paper. Leaving assignments on desks or in the slot organizing system hanging on the press wall, however, was ‘passive aggressive’ per Tyler, the junior that painted his nails black and sucked all the joy out of the room by consistently disagreeing with her assignments.
By G. Douglas Kerr2 years ago in Chapters
The Colors of Odds and Ends
Of course Carl was out the door first. The summer shower passed in the night but left the dew heavy on the grass. The morning sun sparkled with the possibilities of the day to the point of blinding Carl as he walked to the train station. The conversation he shared last night with Charlie and Rudy was short and the more he remembered it, the fact kept playing in his head that he was so tired at the end of the day, he couldn’t put his head around what the two of them needed. Instead he talked of his wants for them.
By G. Douglas Kerr2 years ago in Chapters
The Colors of Odds and Ends
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. The dimples deepened as the sky turned slowly with the stars, their light falling soft as padded feet. Their dancing, just a breeze on top the trees waiting for the siblings to tire, end each summer night, and go to bed. Both were up past their bedtimes. Though for this summer, no curfew had been placed on them and nothing pressed to get them up in the morning.
By G. Douglas Kerr2 years ago in Chapters
The Marble Fall
When the royal city fell it took a side of the mountain with it. Snow, rock and once set stone tumbled themselves in front of the avalanche and re-dusting snow. The sun caught snowflakes scattering in the air, shining briefly as confettied glitter at the Prince’s birth or the Queen’s army returning from a victory in parade. Though for us this was no celebration. The city was our place to trade our harvest and buy supplies we needed to see us through the winter. We rode from our farm late this year, as the blight brought from the invading Brybgentos took portions of the crops in disease. The Queen would not accept a lesser tally than required and Uncle Awron was never short. Flurries already patched the ground as we left, but the snowline always stood higher up the mountainside. Now the place fell as a slab of marble twisting as a broken bird, like the ones Uncle Awron shot on the edge of our wood. With that we knew the Queen was dead.
By G. Douglas Kerr2 years ago in Fiction
The Tithe. Top Story - January 2024.
The Tithe The church has asked for your ten percent. There are the year end accounts to reconcile and requests on what to give in upcoming events, chances to volunteer to help the cause. The pessimist in me recounts the times in which I said I would give, even if only to myself, and came up short or lacking, missing a deadline or wanting another edit to the timeline so I could make room for the unrequited time. My ledger of lost opportunity looms above me like a ghost visiting my bedroom on Christmas Eve.
By G. Douglas Kerr2 years ago in Motivation
