James Stephans
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Stories (5)
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Le Petite Columbe
When I was a girl, my family bought a bed and breakfast by the sea. It was my mother’s idea. And my father, never one to pass up an opportunity to break out his tool chest, was only too keen to entertain his wife’s wishes. It took a year or two of searching to find the right place. I remember being dragged along from inspection to inspection, inn for sale to inn for sale, hopping up and down the coast in our beat up station wagon—the old blue one that refused to start before the third try. I’m not sure why they brought me to those meetings. The investors. The bankers. The loan officers. I didn’t understand a word of it. But surely my parents had to know that. After all, I was only a child.
By James Stephans3 years ago in Fiction
Chapter 1 | Toothy
“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.” Captain Deucalion groaned. She wadded up the bit of electrical tape she’d been fiddling with and chucked it at her copilot. Thwap. The sticky ball bounced off the man’s head and drifted weightlessly across the cockpit.
By James Stephans3 years ago in Fiction
Familiar. Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge.
It started as the slightest of murmurs - a fraying thread on the last edges of my exhale. I didn't think much of it at the time. Allergies, I supposed. But when that charming little rasp raised its voice and threatened to rattle my lungs free of their rib cage with each hacking cough, I began to suspect I might be due for a more professional opinion.
By James Stephans4 years ago in Fiction
