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    Last Call and Other Short Fiction
    Last Call and Other Short Fiction
    Last Call and Other Short Fiction
    Ebook81 pages1 hour

    Last Call and Other Short Fiction

    By Kaye Lynne Booth

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    About this ebook

    A premium story sampler from multi-genre author Kaye Lynne Booth.

     

    This collection has something for everyone, with a mixture of time travel, suspense, humor, origins and speculative fiction.

     

    "Last Call" - (Time travel science fiction) - Things aren't going too good for Derek and he thinks his life is over, until he stops in for a Last Call. Will a bar in the middle of nowhere turn out to be his curse or his salvation?

     

    "Terror on the Mountain Trail" - (Suspense) - It's a perfect spring day until Kellie and Randy are attacked by a crazed man in the wilderness. Will quick reactions save them?

     

    Earth Mother - (Origin Story)

     

    A Turn of the Tables - (Speculative fiction) - Are vampires really invincible? One vampire is about to find out.

     

    A True Hero - (Humor) - Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. This one is heroic indeed.

     

    Man of Her Dreams - (Speculative fiction) - Will what Aaron at first believes to be a curse, turn out to be a blessing? She won't know until she finds  the man of her dreams.

     

    A Woman's World - (Humor) - A satyrical look at current, or past, headlines. Wouldn't it be great if the world were ruled by women? Or would it? 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWordCrafter Press
    Release dateNov 10, 2020
    ISBN9781393140498
    Last Call and Other Short Fiction
    Author

    Kaye Lynne Booth

    For Kaye Lynne Booth, writing is a passion. Kaye is a multi-genre author and freelance writer with published work both online and in print. Kaye holds a dual M.F.A. degree in Creative Writing with emphasis in genre fiction and screenwriting. It is a very strange time indeed when Kaye does not have at least three WIPs going in addition to her writing for hire and other life activities. Kaye also maintains a writing blog, "Writing to be Read," where she publishes things of interest in the literary and screenwriting worlds.

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      Last Call and Other Short Fiction - Kaye Lynne Booth

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      Last Call

      Iknew deep down that I shouldn’t let Vicky get to me. It was just one more battle I was letting her win, even if it was a small one. It was just what she wanted. She was the root of my current predicament. She was the reason I was driving down this endless highway, through the barren wastelands of the desert with no clear destination in mind. Because of her, everything I owned was in the back of my truck.

      Vicky was a bitch. There was no other way to describe her. Her favorite pass-time was to cause scenes in front of the customers where I worked. She thought it was funny. That ended when one customer left the store in disgust, after I had spent forty-five minutes convincing her to buy an expensive refrigerator. Who could blame my boss for firing me?

      Actually, losing my job hadn’t bothered me as much as you might think. I’d been a salesman for four years. I wasn’t exactly climbing the corporate ladder. Suits and ties are not my thing. I’m not built to be a lumberjack, but my musculature is not what one would call lacking. I always looked like I was trying to pop out of the suits I wore to work. My hands are the calloused hands of a working man, the hands of a man who grew up on a farm, further proof that I’m no salesman. No, the loss of my job didn’t stir much grief inside of me.

      Being kicked out of my apartment, on the other hand, had bothered me a great deal. That’s where Vicky started showing up after I lost my job. There was a time when Vicky had been a loving woman. Somewhere along the way she’d turned mean. Now all she ever wanted to do was fight.

      She’d appear at my door, unannounced and uninvited; arguing, throwing things. Once, she jumped on top of me, pummeling me with her fists. The police said there was nothing that they could do. She’d left no marks. The cops didn’t have a whole lot of empathy for me. They treated it as more of a joke. I guess it was kind of funny to picture little Vicky, who weighed all of ninety-five pounds, physically assaulting a big old lummox like me. She knew I wouldn’t hit her back.

      The last time the police showed up at my door, my landlord evicted me; she ran a respectable place, after all. I’d just gone out and sold my nine millimeter in order to pay the next month’s rent, but she didn’t want my money. She wanted me out.

      So here I was, driving down this godforsaken highway, stretching out straight ahead for as far as I could see. I wasn’t even sure where I was. I’d seen nothing but dried up sagebrush and cactus since morning. I had no idea where I was going. There was no one to care where I ended up.

      The only reason I had for not to just ending it all was that I no longer had my gun. A gun was the only method that would be quick and painless. Maybe I’m a wimp, but I am not one to prolong suffering, least of all, my own.

      No. That avenue was closed for now. I’d just wallow in my own misery, until I could figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Some people might look upon this as a chance for a new start, but to me, it felt more like the end.

      The sun’s rays beat down on my un-air-conditioned truck all day in the dry heat. It was so hot, even my sweat was no help cooling me off. The wind blowing in through the windows was hot and dry, doing little to ease my discomfort. Wherever I was, it was a far cry from civilization.

      Ahead in the distance a building appeared on the horizon, breaking the monotony of the dried out sagebrush and endless sand. Maybe it was a mirage that would waver and fade as I approached it, but it didn’t. As I got closer it solidified into a reality, a small wooden building with on windows, and a thick wooden door.

      What is this? I wondered out loud to the empty cab. Only the hot wind answered.

      There were a couple of cars in the parking lot, which spread out beneath a wooden sign. As I came closer, the words proclaiming this place Last Call Tavern became clear.

      Okay, I said to myself, who would put a bar way out here in the middle of nowhere? It didn’t make any sense. Who would come all the way out here for a beer?

      The heat was really getting to me. The temperature inside the cab must have been over one hundred. My sweat plastered the shirt to my back, even with both windows down. I could see waves of heat radiating off the pavement in front of me and my tongue stuck to the back of my throat.

      The closer I got to the mysterious bar in the middle of nowhere, the better the idea of belting down a cold one sounded. I was pulling into the parking lot before I was even conscious of having decided to stop. I parked my paint worn Chevy pick-up next to a blue compact that was sitting below and to the right of the sign. Across the small lot, there was also a newer, double cab Ford pick-up, waiting for its owner to return from slaking his thirst.

      I was planning on throwing back a couple of suds and maybe even grabbing a bite to eat, if they had a grill. I

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