It may not be a good sign that after every short story I write, I feel the need to explain. This is the kind of thing I would do if I had a podcast. At the moment, I don’t. So, here is the explanation or behind the scenes of my story, Samantha’s Days.
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Samantha’s Days
V.
“Welcome back listeners, you are listening to the James Jack show and as always, I am your faithful host James Jack,” the DJ smoothly announced. “We are talking today with first time author Samantha Stewart whose first book is well on its way to becoming a national best seller. How does that make you feel Sammi? Can I call you Sammi?”
“If I can call you Jimmy,” Samantha answered.
“Okay, Samantha it is,” he laughed. “What do you think of your book moving up on the list? Just this week it has climbed five spots. That has got to feel pretty good.”
Continue readingThe Menace of Open Cupboards
Samantha’s Days
IV.
“Hey, how are you doing?” Kate asked looking at her cousin up and down.
“What? You mean since I made a fool of myself last night?” Samantha answered opening the door wider to let Kate come in. “I’m okay. I haven’t regressed back to the state you first found me in.” She looked down at her bathrobe. “It’s nighttime. I’m allowed to wear my pajamas at night.”
Kate shrugged. “It is 7:00.” She looked at Samantha and added quickly, “but a pajama evening is good for the soul.”
Continue readingAging
Samantha’s Days
III.
Samantha opened her front door and looked up at Kate. “Why do you tall people insist on wearing heels? Heels should only be for us short people.”
“Ah,” Kate smiled and patted her cousin’s head. Her nose scrunched up.
“Relax, I just burned dinner.” Samantha said noticing Kate’s face expression. “The smell is not back.”
“Good to know,” Kate said walking into the house and doing a quick glance. Everything still seemed to be in order like when she left a week ago.
Continue readingThe Box
Samantha’s Days
II.
Samantha could hear a faint knocking. She wasn’t sure if it was part of her dream or an actual knocking. Again, the knocking. She forced her left eye to open and then her right.
Knock, knock.
It must be real. She groaned. Who would have the audacity to come and visit? Don’t they know she is wallowing?
Knock, knock.
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ck's days 