A. L. Kaplan

Category: Short Story

  • An Important Job

    Soot billowed up with every step Jim took. He tightened the rag covering his face and trudged on. Nothing could keep the noxious partials from seeping into every crevasse of his clothes. Before he was even halfway to his destination his skin felt gritty and uncomfortable.

    Satellite dishes studded the barren landscape. Most of the huge white structures sported mounds of debris. They were meant to detect incoming enemy missiles so the projectiles could be destroyed before obliterating humanity. Disaster came anyway, but not from an attack.

    He closed his eyes, remembering the day the world ended. Explosions roared across the planet, jettisoning debris from the bowels of the earth into the sky like an unkempt pimple. Earth’s skin contorted with waves. Yellowstone vanished in seconds, along with most of Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho.

    It was only by some strange twist of fate that the satellite dishes survived. Even Jim’s survival was a quirk. A colleague called in sick last minute, putting Jim at the monitoring station when the super volcano erupted. Designed to withstand a nuclear holocaust, the underground bunker was well protected and stocked. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for the rest of the country.

    Jim climbed up into one of the dishes and pulled a shovel from his pack. There was no one left to fire missiles, but it was still his job to maintain these machines. With each shovelful he removed debris, letting bits of his sanity drift in the breeze with the dust.

  • Dragonfly Arts Magazine: Reflections on Life, Love, Trauma and Hope

    Dragonfly Arts Magazine: Reflections on Life, Love, Trauma and Hope was recently published by Hope Works. Hope Works is dedicated to eliminating sexual and domestic violence in Howard County, Maryland. This insightful collection of poetry and art touches not only on the many aspects of abuse, but on renewal and healing as well. Dragonfly Arts Magazine was made possible by the Howard County Arts Council through a grant from Howard County Government.

     

  • THE DONKEY CURSE

    Incessant braying rouses me from slumber. Hot smelly breath wafts over my face. Waving at the offending odor earns another head splitting shriek. I pry open my eyes and stare at a pair of mournful brown globes on a long gray furry face. Nonsensical images flash through my mind as my head smacks the roof of the pickup. Another plaintive bray sends goose bumps up my spine…a very naked spine. Memories of last night escape me.

    An old gypsy shoves the donkey away. Her bony fingers clench the edge of the car. The look in her eyes makes me shiver. Even the jingle of the silver bangles, that hang from her ears and arms, makes my skin crawl. I break from her gaze and watch a bronze medallion sway across her chest.

    “You soulless wretch. You’ll pay for what you did.”

    “I didn’t do anything.” At least that’s what I try to say. The words come out garbled.

    The crone laughs and steps back. I jump from the car and run. Within three steps I trip over my own legs…all four of them. Head spinning, I lay on the sandy ground. I’m a donkey, a god damn donkey.

    “You treated my granddaughter poorly last night. I gave you a body to fit your actions. You’ll need to earn your way back to human form.”

    A coarse rope pulls me to my feet and down the road to a raven haired woman. Bruises model one side of her face and nail gouges mar both arms. Memories return. I did that. I back away and pray for escape, for another glass of whiskey. All I find is the crack of a whip.

  • That Which Awaits

    The first animal seen after your first battle is your totem spirit. At least that’s what I’ve been told all my life. Now my friends all boast of the animals they saw and the good omens they portend. My experience was different. I should be joyful. My totem is the bearer of magic, wisdom, and messages from beyond. Yet happiness eludes me.

    Juices run down my hand from the fresh roasted meat I hold, but it feels dry in my mouth. It’s not the cool night air that sends shivers down my back, it’s the vision I saw as the fighting ended, right after I saw my totem. I edge closer to the fire, hoping its warmth will drive away my chills.

    I don’t fear death. Never have. Never will. Perhaps that’s why this totem chose me. With my free hand I clutch the pouch that hangs from my neck and close my eyes. Images from the battle replay in my mind, each detail, clearer by the second. The end never changes.

    A loud caw caw and the flutter of wings. A lone black feather swirls to my feet. I watch the raven as it circles three times then flies east. Wind tugs at my hair.  Sand and dirt blind me, yet my sight is true. I look down. The raven feather still rests at my feet.

    It’s a new beginning for me, a vision of the future….but none of my friends or family are in it.

  • I Remember Mama

    Kara gripped Ethan’s hand and grimaced. The contraction felt like a knife twisting in her lower back. Pain radiated down her legs. Had Mama felt this much pain when she was born? More than anything, Kara wished she could ask, but Mama died in the upheavals many years ago. All Kara had left were distant memories of loving warmth as Mama’s arms wrapped around her. A simple hug and kiss was all it took to cure a scraped knee or drive away bad dreams.

    Another contraction snapped her to the present. That old life was gone. Ethan wiped the sweat from her brow and whispered words of encouragement. Her adoptive wolf mama didn’t labor like this when she gave birth. Was something wrong? Outside the cave she heard the pack pace. The three young wolves had come with her when she and Ethan joined. What a strange family she had now with three wolf siblings and a human mate. Both Mama Wolf and Mama would have liked Ethan. They had both passed on, yet Kara could feel them watching over her labors.

    Pressure built with the next contraction. Invisible hands rested on her shoulders. A warm tongue seemed to caress her cheek. It was time. Kara bit her lip as she bore down. Silence filled the cave.  Fear made her heart clench. Then a cry reached her ears, strong and hearty. Ethan grinned as he placed the newest member of their pack on her chest. Now she was the Mama.

  • The Adventures of the Cute Assistant

    Damnit, Mom, aim that thing somewhere else, like where I’m pointing. How many shots have you already missed because you’re too obsessed with photographing me? Yeah, I know I’m cute and fluffy, but you have a job to do. Dog shots just don’t bring in the big bucks.

    Click, click, click.

    Darn camera makes so much noise. No wonder Sasquatch ran away. And don’t get me started on Nessie. She stared at you for five whole minutes before she swam away. At least turn the sound off. It’s digital for goodness sakes.

    Click, click, click.

    Look over there, just above the tree line. What is that monstrous thing?

    Click, click, click.

    Quick, quick! Before it’s too late.

    Click, click, click.

    This time you’re not going to just lose the shot. You could lose your head. Turn around before that thing eats you. It’s closing in.

    Click, click, click.

    Good god, it’s diving right at you!

    Click, click, click.

    It’s on the ground now. You have to move. Run away.

    Click, click, click.

    Can’t you hear it? Can’t you smell its reek?

    Click, click, click.

    Close. So dangerously close.

    Click, click, click.

    I can’t stand it anymore. I have to do something. Be gone you demon!

    “Marge! Your damned dog is attacking my hand glider again. Please say you got the shot this time.”

  • Geronimo

    Five, four, three, two, one…

    Wind rips at my face as I dive off the balloon. Adrenaline surges through my veins. Free fall, the ultimate thrill. Then the rope jerks up. I whoop as my body springs up toward the teetering balloon, then down again. Each bounce of the bungee decreases in stride until I sway upside down a thousand feet above the ground. Blood rushes to my head. Life as an accountant is boring. This is anything but. I continue to hoot as they pull me back into the swinging basket.

    “You idiot!” The balloon pilot’s face is almost purple and his eyes bulge. “Are you insane? You almost tipped the basket.”

    Three other sets of eyes glare at me. The looks alone make me burst out laughing again. None of them knew of the stunt until my leap to freedom. A young couple huddle together, ashen faced. Their hands clench the tethers holding them in the basket. The third is my date of the week.

    “Hey, Marlene, wasn’t that a blast?”

    Marlene walks the three steps across the basket and slugs me so hard I almost fall out of the basket. Maybe it would have been better if I had. She follows it up with a sharp kick that sends daggers of pain from my groin to my fingertips. That destroys the euphoria.

    “Kill yourself on your own time, Janus.”

    A second later she me hogties me. The fun wears off when they land and leave me tied up in the basket. Last time I date a rodeo champ.

  • MIDNIGHT WOLF

    “Leave him be, Billy.”

    “Dumb wolf cur always stares at us.”

    “It’s just his way.”

    Billy hurls another rock, but I knock it down with my book. Not a sound comes from the fenced in junkyard, but I know from the look on Billy’s face that Midnight is showing off his pearly whites.

    “Fine,” he yells, then disappears around the corner.

    Midnight’s golden eyes meet me when I turn. “Sorry, Midnight. See you tomorrow.”

    Silence greets me, as it has every day for the past five years. I smile anyway, then hurry to catch up with Billy.

    A hand slaps over my mouth and I’m dragged into a dark alley. I crash into a wall. My head spins. Three masked figures loom over me. Hands dig into my pockets, yank off my sneakers. A fist slams into my gut. My heart pounds as a knife flicks into view, arm ready to strike. Billy’s body lies nearby. I clamped my eyes shut, and wait for death.

    Screams fill my ears, but they aren’t mine. When I finally open my eyes, my attackers lie in a pool of dark liquid. A pair of glowing gold eyes stare at me from across the alley. Then they vanish.

    ***

    The police never found Midnight and the junk man claimed he never had a dog. I don’t walk that way anymore, but sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I see Midnight in the shadows, watching out for me.

  • MATCHMAKERS

    “This one’s a sceptic,” said Yenta.

    Clarence looked at the man curled up on the hay in Pete Forrester’s barn. “He’s here isn’t he?”

    “But he doesn’t believe.”

    “Yenta, look at him. All alone in a dilapidated barn. The man’s desperate for love. He needs our help.”

    Yenta pulled a pair of glasses from her carpet bag and scrutinized the sleeping man. He wore faded jeans and a Frank Sinatra t-shirt. Gray hairs dotted his head and a pair of red cowboy boots sat on the floor next to him. “I don’t know, Clarence. This one might be beyond us.”

    “Think of it as a challenge. Just last week you complained this job was too easy.”

    “All right. No need to kvetch. Who are we going to pair him with?”

    “Merry is about the same age.”

    “She’s a cup half-full girl. He’s half-empty. They’ll never agree on anything.”

    “Olive?”

    “With his vinegary attitude?”

    “Helen?”

    “Too explosive. He’d get buried alive.”

    “Fine. Ginger.”

    “Be serious, Clarence.”

    “I am. Lord knows he needs some spice.”

    “I don’t know.”

    “Where’s your sense of adventure, Yenta?”

    “I left it at the shtetl.”

    “And then you found me.”

    “So you always remind me.”

    “Yenta.”

    “Okay. You work on him and I’ll go yell in Ginger’s ear.

    “I think you mean whisper.”

    “No, Ginger is a heavy sleeper. I’ll need to yell to get through to her subconscious.”

    “Well good luck, then.”

    Yenta rolled her eyes. “Ginger and Al, a match made in heaven.”

  • GUIDING LIGHT

    Grogan yanked the huge oil drum up another step. He was almost to the top of the lighthouse now. Pain lanced his arm, but he ignored it. He had to light a beacon and save the ships headed for the rocks.

    Outside the hurricane hammered the old lighthouse. For thirty years he’d been her keeper before they were both declared obsolete. Who needed a lighthouse when everyone had electronic guidance? Now the fancy new phone his granddaughter gave him spewed nonsense. It looked like the ships were fouled up as well.

    Good thing they hadn’t forced Grogan to leave when they cut funding and stripped her clean. But now the only way to make the lighthouse shine was to burn her. Tears streamed down his face as he pulled at the drum.

    “Sorry, Love. You know it’s the only way.”

    Another wave of pain shot through his chest and his foot slipped on the smooth stone steps. He watched with dismay as the barrel clanged to the bottom. Grogan doubled over in pain.

    “How can I warn the ships? I need help, Love.”

    Suddenly the pain stopped and warm arms pulled him up. Grogan took the last few steps in one stride. He knew what to do now. Fire radiated deep inside him. It burst outward in a blinding light. Almost as one, the storm-tossed ships turned away from the rocks.

    “Thanks for your help, Love. You’ve always been there for me. We’ll be together forever now.”