Author Archive for Amy Thorpe

In the Dark

Written by
Amy Thorpe
on January 15, 2008 in Issue 1.20. 0 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 3 out of 5)
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It is always so HARD to sleep on Christmas Eve! I kept waking up every 5 minutes it seemed. But I must have slept some, because then I heard my sister yelling “Get up! Get up!” as she tore into my room and punched me in the arm for good measure. My heart pounded as we raced down the stairs to the most beautiful tree and presents all around. And that one in the corner was just big enough for..

And then I woke up. For real. But there was no tree, only the battered card table in the kitchen of my trailer. Next door, the rumble of that dang diesel pickup ratted my windows. I sat up on the sofa and looked at the clock. 6am. Christmas Eve. What an ungodly hour, especially since my shift at the Lucky Chicken hadn’t ended till 2 am last night. I flopped back down on the sofa, closing my eyes and hoping for a few more minutes of sleep, but it wasn’t to be. My dog decided he couldn’t wait any longer, and between his whines and my trailer throbbing, I gave up.

“All right, I am coming, just hang on.” I stumbled to the kitchenette, looking for the leash. The small brown package on the table stared back at me accusingly. It really wasn’t my package, I mean, the mailman had left it on my steps 2 days before, but it was addressed to some girl three trailers down People came and went from here pretty regular, so I hadn’t actually met her. Miriam Valdez, the name said. She probably wasn’t even still living there anymore, I told myself, trying to ignore that little voice pricking the back of my head. I had been meaning to take it down there, still, it was probably the only package I would get this Christmas. Mom was between husbands this year, and my sister was busy with baby number 3, so there wouldn’t be anything from them. I didn’t have many other friends, and the ones I did had headed back home for the Christmas break. I was stuck here between terms, working at the Lucky Chicken because I had to pay my fine and court costs for that stupid DWI that really wasn’t my fault anyway. In any case, my probation lasted until the spring, and then I could finally leave this pit.

I found the leash and I headed out the door for a walk, actually more like a drag. He dragging me down the road towards the highway so that he could piss on the exact same signpost that every other neighborhood dog had marked overnight. We passed the trailer were that girl would be. A battered dodge was parked next to the trailer, so someone was there. But probably not her anyway.

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Fish Story

Written by
Amy Thorpe
on October 12, 2007 in Issue 1.15. 3 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (5 votes, average: 3.8 out of 5)
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From the corner of his eye, Tommy caught a flash of red hair as the woman squeezed through the crowd at the stand, vente coffee in hand. While the crowd of tourists watched, enthralled, as Tommy and the other mongers tossed the fish across the bins, she never turned, never paused, intent on reaching her destination. Tommy had finally figured that one out. She worked occasionally at one of the trinket shops in the arcade. Not every day, he thought, or maybe just some days she didn’t cut through the market. His eyes followed her retreating figure as the crowd reluctantly parted and swallowed her up again.

THWACK ! A sharp jolt of a fish tail smacked his face as he bobbled the throw from Seamus. He managed to just hang on to the slippery body. His friends could laugh all they wanted; at least he would not have to pay for the pitcher of beer for everyone tonight after work. He turned back to the crowd, but she was gone. Probably just was well. He had been watching her pass the market for almost a year now, and never had been able to actually to speak to her. Someone like that probably had someone already. Not much a fishmonger/sometimes fisherman could compete with. Shaking his head, he placed the fish in its place in the ice and walked over to Seamus, who was still laughing.

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The Fireman

Written by
Amy Thorpe
on September 15, 2007 in Issue 1.11. 4 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (3 votes, average: 3.67 out of 5)
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John pushed the broom back and forth across the floor of the firehouse, taking great care to expend as little actual energy as possible while appearing to be working. He could hear Casey’s voice drone on and on as she gave her standard spiel to the last tour group of the afternoon.

“And so fifty years ago, the city fathers acquired the very latest in fire fighting technology..”

Blah blah blah. He had heard the same speech 2 times a day, 3 on the weekends, for the entire summer. Actually it had only been the past 6 weeks as he had worked off the terms of his community service. John was sure those bastards thought the sentence was great irony, making the juvenile firebug work it off in the firehouse.

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Ole Green Eyes

Written by
Amy Thorpe
on August 25, 2007 in Issue 1.08. 2 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (3 votes, average: 4 out of 5)
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Jill ducked into the little market and pretended to examine the juicy nectarines on display. Keeping her ball cap pulled down over her face, she peered over the top of her sunglasses into the flower shop next door. She could see them, Jake, her boyfriend of the past 6 months, and Sara, her supposed best friend, standing together at the counter. She could hear Sara laughing, that cute little fake laugh that guys always seemed to find irresistible. Jill leaned closer over the nectarines, trying to hear what Jake was saying, but her purse slid off her shoulder and into the bin of fruit, spilling nectarines onto the floor. Quickly, she ducked down, trying frantically to stop the cascade before it attracted the attention of the stock boy. She finished just in time to see Jake hand Sara a big bouquet as they turned the corner and disappeared down the street.

“Well, I guess that is that” thought Jill. She had thought that it would be better to know than suspect, but now that her suspicions had been confirmed, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe things would have been simpler if Jake hadn’t left his e-mail open and she accidentally happened to see the e-mail from Sara.

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Choices

Written by
Amy Thorpe
on July 27, 2007 in Issue 1.04. 4 Comments
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (8 votes, average: 3.38 out of 5)
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Maj. Ripley stared out her window down into the courtyard below. The renovations to the old hotel were almost complete, and the pavilion had been restored to a reasonable approximation of its former glory, just in time for the Presidential visit. She couldn’t help but remember how it had been before. In the evening, the pool reflected the hundreds of twinkling light that were strung in the trees. A small combo played under the tent as she and her fellow War College graduates had celebrated their graduation from a three-month intensive training program. Their new assignments had been posted, and everyone would be shipping out, but this was their last night to celebrate together. Dan drank too much, of course, and at some point Curtis ended up in the pool. Sharon yelled at them all for breaking regulation, and they all ignored her, as usual. Five years? So much had happened since then, yet she remembered that party like it was yesterday.

The door opened, and her orderly entered with a pot of steaming coffee and a stack of memos. Placing both on the desk, he saluted sharply

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