Category Archives: Fiction

Morning Has Broken

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I woke up in the middle of the night with a slight throb in my lower right molar. I probed it gently with my finger. I felt a small lump on the gum underneath the tooth. Oh god no I thought not another tooth problem. I looked into the medicine cabinet and found a bottle of aspirin and threw it back two with a gulp of water. I went back to bed and hoped for the best.

Unfortunately, in the morning it isn’t better. Now the whole right side of my face is aching, and even my ear is hurting. I walk toward the bathroom like I’m walking to my execution slowly, and hesitantly. I don’t have my glasses on but even without them, I can see in the mirror that my face on the right side looks like I have the mumps.

I open my mouth. When the cool air hits my tooth I think the top of my head will explode. I probe around again with my finger and the lump on my gum was now a horrible yellowish color. I stare into the abyss. God no, not another abscess, I just didn’t understand why this kept on happening to me.

I brush and floss twice a day. I have a check-up every six months. What the hell is going on? If that freaking dentist tells me I need another root canal I’ll just go out of my mind. I’ll just have the damn thing pulled out. That’s it, pull that thing out, and forget about it.

I dose myself again and put a heating pad on my face. I call my office. “Louise, I have a tooth problem. I’m going to have to get an emergency dentist appointment. Can you please cancel all my appointments for the day? Yes, I know I had a ten o’clock appointment with Mr. Cochran. I’m not going to be able to make it. My whole face is swollen. I’m in pain. Yes, yes, I know I just had a tooth problem recently. Just cancel my appointments already, will you?” God, sometimes I just hated that woman; she argues more with me than my ex-wife.

My freaking dentist is on vacation. The answering service gives me the number of a dentist that’s filling in for him. A young guy, what else can go wrong? With my luck, he won’t speak English, or he’ll have just graduated from dental school or something.

I get an appointment for two hours from now. The painkillers are doing nothing. God, I wish right now my ex was here she always had some oxy or something in her purse. She popped those things all day like tic tacs.

I go early to the dentist, maybe he’s a fast worker, and is waiting for me. No such luck he is overbooked, and I have to wait an hour. At one point I almost started to cry it hurt so damn much. I rush up to the reception window. “Miss, miss, my name is Tony Barra. I have an appointment at 10 am. I’ve been waiting, I’m in pain, when is the doctor going to see me?”

“I know Mr. Barra as I explained to you fifteen minutes ago, the Doctor is running behind, he’ll see you shortly. She closes the window and takes out her cell and starts scanning her messages. I tap on the window to no avail. She’s engrossed in her phone messages. I sit down and wait.

Finally, finally, they call me in, the assistant is in her early twenties, very pretty. I could care less I’m nearly delirious with pain. She sits me down, tells me to turn off my cell phone. She puts that stupid napkin and the clip thing around my neck. “So, sir, what seems to be the problem this morning?”

“The problem, the problem is if you had eyes in your head, my face is swollen up the size of a watermelon. I’m in terrible pain, since last night, I have an abscessed tooth. I open my mouth, the air hits it, and I let out a little scream. I think I might vomit any minute.

“Well sir, we’ll leave that to the doctor to determine, right now I’m going to have to take an x-ray. She jams the film in my mouth and I almost hit her. She steps back. Sir you are going to have to calm down. Or I’ll have to call the doctor in here.”

“Yes, yes please do call the fricking doctor in here, about damn time.”

She stamps out of the room. The doctor comes in. I’m right on both counts he’s really young, maybe right out of kindergarten. Maybe a little older but his English is very difficult to understand. This is my lucky day. I should have bought a lottery ticket on the way over I’m really feeling lucky wow.

“Hello Mr. Barra, how are you doing today? I’m Dr. Wong”

“Well Doctor, if you are indeed a doctor, how do I look like I am doing?”

“Well let’s take a look, shall we?” He starts probing around in my mouth with one of the sharp curved dental instruments of torture. “Does this hurt, how about that?”

I feel my hands starting to form fists. I put my hand up in the universal sign for stop. I can’t really speak because he has both his hands and possibly one of his feet in my mouth. He removes one of his hands, “Hurts, hurts, hurts.” I say around his hand.

The assistant appears at the doorway and says from a distance. “Here is the film doctor.” She disappears as quickly and quietly as she appears.”

Doctor Badlove says, “It appears as if there is an abscess and the infection has spread to the two teeth adjacent to it, that is unfortunate.”

Yes, I think to myself that is unfortunate, isn’t it?

“Well Mr. Barra, you may lose the tooth with the initial infection. We’ll have to do root canals on the other two. How would you like to proceed? Shall we get started today?”

“Doctor I would rather have all my teeth removed than endure another root canal, any other solutions?”Well actually I do have a suggestion, I could use a new type of anesthesia that doesn’t put you to sleep, but makes you feel very relaxed and somewhat groggy. Some people feel a little groggy afterward but it wears off fairly quickly. If you agree we can take care of all three teeth now. Perhaps I’ll be able to save the badly infected tooth, once I see what it looks like. What do you say sound good to you?”

I think work gets done all at once, no pain, go home relaxed. “Yes, I can live with that plan, do it.”

“Alright first I’ll give you a local anesthetic then I’ll use the sedation, which you will inhale through a mask that my assistant will place over your nose. Open your mouth and I will inject the anesthetic. Very good, my assistant will be here in a few moments and then the next thing you know, you will be done, and out of here.

You will have to take antibiotics for ten days. You’ll get aftercare instructions. You have to come in for a follow-up visit in ten days. Of course, if there are any problems please feel free to call.”

The next thing I remember is opening my eyes up and seeing the very young dentist standing before me. At least I think it’s the dentist but he looks different somehow. He has a mask on over his nose and mouth. But there is something different about his face.

Then I realize his eyes are heavily made up and he’s wearing high heels, and a skirt and blouse under his white jacket. The blouse is lime green, and the skirt is kind of frilly looking. He has green dangling earrings.

Oh, I must be dreaming or having some kind of drug-induced hallucination. The next thing I know the assistant is helping me sit up and take the napkin off of my neck.

“Ok Mr. Barra, luckily the doctor was able to save all of your teeth, you will experience some discomfort. The doctor is giving you a pain prescription if it’s too uncomfortable. Take your time. There’s a room to your left that says recovery room. Please go in there and sit until you feel well enough to drive, then you can leave. Good day, Mr. Barra, I hope you feel better soon.

I walk somewhat wobbly to the Recovery Room. There’s no one else in there at the moment. I sit down and think about the doctor, and how I remember him being dressed. No, it can have happened, just some weird side effect of that anesthetic.

I sit for a good half hour, but that weird image keeps popping into my mind. I try dismissing it. I start feeling more myself. My mouth is still numb, and drool is running out of my mouth so I wipe it off and prepare to leave.

Just as I’m standing up to leave, Doctor Wong sticks his head in the doorway. He’s dressed normally. I feel a sense of relief wash over me. “Oh, Mr. Barra you’re still here. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, pretty good, but my mouth is still numb.”

” That’s perfectly normal it will wear off slowly in the next couple of hours. Call my office if there’s any problem, any problem at all.”

Just as he is turning away, I notice he has on one of the green dangling earrings.

 

Dora’s Day Goes From Bad to Worse

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By Susan A. Culver

Dora wakes up slowly. She lifts her head, it feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls. She looks from left to right. All she sees is what looks like the morning sky, it is somewhat overcast. She attempts to rise. And she realizes two things at once. First, she isn’t in her bedroom and hence not in her bed. And secondly, she isn’t alone. “What the hell is going on? Whose idea of a joke is this, goddammit.”

Dora isn’t a morning person. It’s the main reason she never married. She can’t bear the idea of waking up next to someone every morning and having to make small talk. She isn’t a cheerful or it’s a new beginning kind of girl. She’s more of a get the hell out of my face kind of girl.

And here she is, wherever the hell that is? Outside looking at the great beyond. She finally gets her sea legs and stands up gingerly. It almost feels like she is on a ship out at sea. And a storm is brewing. There is a slight swaying beneath her feet. She looks down. Unbelievably, she sees nothing, just more sky. “What the fuck is going on?” Dora curses like a sailor on leave when she’s frightened or angry or happy, or drunk, or just because she damn well feels like it, damn it. She was born and raised in South Philly, and she doesn’t give a good god damn what anyone thinks about her.

But right now, she fears the worse that she has finally gone off her rocker, lost her marbles, was living in crazy town. Take your pick.
She twists her head and then looks down again. Her head spins. Momentarily, she feels as if she might faint or stroke out. She hasn’t decided which she prefers. At her feet are two objects that for all the world look like giant eggs. They look like they weigh a good twenty pounds each. They are pale green with blue speckles. “Sweet muscular Jesus, I must have taken some bad-assed drugs last night. This is the worse hallucination I have ever had. “Wake up, wake up, you dumb shit.”

Dora squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head vigorously, painfully. Trying to wake up from this nightmare or bad trip or whatever the fuck it is. She has had enough. And then suddenly, she hears what can only be described as what sounds like the scream of someone being torn limb from limb. She fears that she is the one screaming.
She pries open her eyes with her fingertips. Because she can’t manage to make them open any other way. Momentarily, she is relieved because she doesn’t see any blood spurting out of her shoulder where her arm used to reside. She touches the top of her head and it appears to be intact. She looks down and both feet are attached to both legs. “What the flying fuck is going on here?”

And that is when she sees what is poking out of the egg-shaped object. The things that nightmares are made of. And without warning a sound so loud, so horrific that she can not even believe it exists. Not in the world she previously lived in or any other world man or woman has imagined. She covers her ears. She starts saying the Hail Mary, words she hasn’t uttered since she attended Catholic Grade School. God, anyone, somebody please help me. Wake me up, help me.

She looks down, surely her eyes must be deceiving her. But at her feet and rising out of the “egg” is what looks like a nightmarish bird. A bird from the Third Circle of Hell, a bird without feathers. A bird exposed to radiation. But, then “the bird” opens its monstrous beak, it displays a mouth full of teeth.

Teeth that perhaps once belonged to a Saber Tooth Tiger. And then just as she feels she might lose her mind. The other egg starts cracking and a beak starts to emerge. The screaming begins anew. It is so loud, she thinks her head might explode. That is the moment she realizes that the ungodly bellowing is coming not from the horrific babies. But something that is flying above her and baring down on what she now realizes is some kind of nest from hell.

The babies are screaming in unison. Surely, Dora’s eardrums will burst soon, and she will no longer have to endure the sound for another moment. The thing that was flying above her is now circling for a landing on the freaking nest. At that moment a thought pops into her mind. She tries to push it away. But she can’t, it remains. The thought is I’m the worm that these ungodly creatures are going to be given for their first meal.

The closer the gargantuan bird comes; the end of Dora’s life is becoming more imminent. Her life flashes before her eyes. Just like you always hear happens to people when their lives are about to end, as they jump off the roof, or the bridge or drown in a polluted lake. She sees her long-dead mother’s face looking down at her baby self. She sees her first day in school with Sister John Michael telling her to sit down and shut up. She sees herself playing with her friends in the backyard. The vision begins to fast forward, and her final thought is “What the fuck is happening?” Gimme another chance, please I can do better. And then the lights go out.

The light is bright, unbearably bright. There is a low humming noise. A sense of floating through the air. Dora feels a sense of release as if she was bound and now, she is free. She hopes she is in heaven or some version of heaven and not hell. Even though in her previous life she long ago gave up the notion of the hereafter. She hears a distant voice that she thinks must be God or Satan. “Open your eyes.”

Cora is afraid to open her eyes to eternity. “You can do it, Dora, open your eyes”. Cora opens her eyes. The bright light is still above her. She hears a high-pitched crying. She thinks, on no, I’m still in the nightmare. She forces her eyes open. “Try to sit up a little, Cora, and you can hold your baby. You had a rough time of it. But you are both fine, Congratulations.
Cora looks around and is speechless for a moment and then says shrilly,” What the flying fuck is this?”

The Gift

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By Susan Culver

Jack opens his eyes, blinking at the morning sun streaming through the vertical blinds. Then he remembers today is his tenth birthday. The package from his Uncle Pat is supposed to arrive in the mail. He can hardly wait another minute. He jumps out of bed and throws his clothes on and runs down the steps to the kitchen. Every year his Uncle sends him something wonderful and unique. Last year he sent him a telescope, not a toy telescope but a professional one. It was a Meade StarNavigator. It opened up a new world to Jack. The first time he looked through the scope, he couldn’t believe what lay before his eyes.

The inky night sky is filled with precious gems waiting to be discovered. Every night after Jack finishes his homework, he goes out to the back deck and studies the sky.  On his last birthday, his mom and dad gave him a book on Navigating by the stars. Jack has read the book five times since then and memorized the star map. Now he can recognize each constellation regardless of the time of year.  He never tires of it. Sometimes he sneaks out of his bed early in the morning and looks at the moon that hasn’t retired for the day yet. It makes him feel so small and yet big at the same time.

“Well, good morning Jack, happy birthday.” Says his father from behind the New York Times.

“Thank you, Dad. Did it come yet? Did it come yet?”

“Did what come yet, Jack?”

” Oh, Steven, don’t tease him. You know very well what he’s talking about.”

“Yes, it came Jack. It’s on the hall table next to the door. Why don’t you go and get it? We’ll open it together.”

Jack finds a large package on the table and carries it with some difficulty to the kitchen. He carries the package as if it’s made of glass. For all, he knows, it is. Perhaps it’s a crystal ball that can tell the future or a geode that has fallen from one of those distant stars in the sky that he knows and loves so well. His Uncle Pat is in the military and travels all over the world. So, you never know what treasure he might find.

Jack’s heart is pounding so hard he feels it might burst. But he keeps a slow and steady pace as he carries his prize to the kitchen. “Here it is, Mom, here it is.”

“I see that Jack, bring it over to the table, and let’s see what your Uncle has sent you this year.”

As his mother carefully opens the package, Jack, holds his breath. She takes off the brown wrapping paper so slowly it’s excruciating. “Breathe, Jack ,breathe.” His father says and laughs.

A box is inside. Jack looks down at it. There’s a picture of a sailboat on the top of the box. The box bears the legend Thunder Tiger Yacht. Jack gasp, “Oh, Mom, it’s a sailboat, oh how wonderful. It’s what I always wanted.”

His parents look at one another and laugh, “Oh Jack, you say that every year when you get Uncle Pat’s present. It does look like a beauty. Let’s open up the box and see how she looks.”

Jack carefully removes the top of the box and looks inside. The most beautiful boat is held there. His father comes over and looks at the boat. “Wow, she looks like a real yacht. My brother always wanted a boat like this. It looks like he’s living out his childhood dreams through you, Jack, lucky boy.”

“Can I take it out?”

“Of course, you can, Jack, it’s your boat. On Saturday, we’ll take her out to the Central Park for her maiden voyage. Until then, you’ll have to be satisfied with putting her together. It looks like you have to install the keels, rudder, and the mast and sails. The rudder is like a steering wheel. There are two sails, the mainsail and the jig sail that create more power in the wind. The mast is a pole that attaches to the sails one on either side. The keel is on the bottom of the boat and creates stability and prevents it from tipping over.

Jack spends the entire afternoon reading the instructions and putting the remaining parts on the boat. Each piece is carefully put into place as the manual instructed. When he finishes, it’s almost five feet tall. It’s magnificent. At dinnertime, Jack talks about the boat and how much he loves it. How beautiful it is with its pristine white sails with a flash of red across the mainsail to the jib. The Hull is emboldened by the name, Thunder Tiger across it in bold red letters.

After dinner, Jack goes out and studies the stars. He wonders what it would be like to sail a boat across the ocean to some exotic foreign land or perhaps discover an unknown or forgotten place. And perhaps discover wonderful treasures long forgotten? He looks into the starry night and imagines navigating the boat across the sea with only the stars to guide him on his journey.

Before he goes to bed, Jack sits down at his desk and writes his Uncle Pat a note. “Dear Uncle Pat, thank you so very much for the beautiful sailboat. I know I’ll have lots of fun with it. Dad says we can take it out on Saturday to Central Park for its maiden voyage. Love Jack.

Jack is so excited he has trouble falling asleep. He tosses and turns. He awakes early in the morning to a strange sensation. It feels like the room is swaying. His bed is rocking from side to side. He opens his eyes to see what time it is. He’s doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. He isn’t in his bedroom. Instead, he sees a room that’s paneled with beautiful dark wood. He’s lying on a hammock that is attached to the walls on either side. It’s a small room with what looks like a sink and cooking area. He sees a door, so he walks over to look through the doorway. The strange sense of the room swaying is even more apparent as the walks across the small room.

On the other side of the door is a very small bathroom with a standing shower.  He can’t make any sense out of it. He steps back and looks around again. He sees what appears to be a porthole.  He presses his face against the window, and to his utter amazement in the still somewhat dim light, he sees water, nothing but water.

But that can’t be right. He went to bed last night in his room. How in the world did he get here? Was he drugged and kidnapped? Did he suffer some kind of head injury, and lost his memory? He goes back into the little bathroom and turns the overhead light on and looks in the mirror. It’s him no older, no younger, and no different. Just what in the world has happened? He decides to go look around.

He finds what appears to be a hatch. He pushes it open and pulls himself up. He’s standing on the deck of a ship. It looks to be about thirty foot long. There is a mast with two sails, a mainsail, and a smaller jig sail. There’s a slash of red across the two sails. “Wait a minute, this is weird. It  looks like the model yacht that Uncle Pat sent me for my birthday. But that can’t be. That’s crazy. Unless I have somehow shrunk down to fit inside the model, no, that’s impossible.”

Jack walks all around the deck and examines each part of it, including the sails, the coiled ropes, and the controls for sailing the boat. He guesses everything he needs is here to sail the boat. But he can’t say for sure because he has never been on a boat before. Then he has a hopeful moment when it occurs to him that someone else might be on board. He calls out, “Hello, hello, is anyone here? Oh, please let someone else be here.”

No one answers, so he supposes he’s the only occupant. He looks out in every direction, but he sees nothing out there in the dim light to indicate where he is.

He decides to wait until the sun comes up, and maybe he can figure out where he is. The boat isn’t moving other than the subtle swaying from side to side. He sits and waits for the light to reveal where he is.

Jack’s stomach is beginning to growl, so he decides to go below and see if there’s anything to eat. He looks in the little refrigerator and finds milk and bread and cheese and some bologna. He makes a sandwich and drinks the milk right out of the carton. Almost immediately, he’s sorry he ate the sandwich. And he really regrets drinking the milk. He starts to feel nauseous and runs into the bathroom. He gets there just in time.

When he feels well enough again to start moving around, he goes back up on the deck. The sun is up, and in the distance,  he can see the Statue of Liberty and the skyline of New York. He’s on the Hudson River. He feels relieved that he isn’t in the middle of the ocean but still doesn’t know how he’ll sail this boat back to Battery Park. Where are his parents, and why would they let him go on a trip by himself in a sailboat? He decides to look in the cabin and look for some kind of instructions on how to sail the boat. He wonders if the reason he isn’t moving is because the anchor is in the water. As he walks towards the cabin, a wind starts to pick up.  And suddenly, the jib swings around and hits Jack hard in the head, and he’s knocked down.

The next thing he remembers is his mother leaning down over him, calling his name over, and over again, Jack wake up you’re having a bad dream. Wake up, Jack. He opens his eyes, and there’s his mother’s worried face looking down at him. “Mom, mom, I was so scared. Where were you and Dad? Why did you let me go on a sailboat all by myself?

“Jack, it was just a dream you weren’t in a sailboat. You were here in your room fast asleep. You just had a dream.”

“But Mom, I hit my head on the jib, and it still hurts. Right here.”

“Let me see Jack. Well, you do have a pretty big bruise there. You must have fallen out of bed during the night or bumped it going to the bathroom. I’ll get you some ice and aspirin. Everything is alright, Jack.”

Jack looks around his room, and there’s the Thunder Tiger sitting on his desk. Jack walks over to it and inspects it from stem to stern. The bottom of the boat is wet, and there’s water on the deck. Jack shakes his head and decides that he’ll keep his journey to himself. But just in case he’ll start learning how to sail a boat. The next time he takes a midnight journey into the night, he’ll be ready to navigate the boat as well as read the stars.

 

 

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

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NJ Boardwalk – down the shore

I woke up. Which is the best way to start any day, compared to coming to, or found lying in a gutter unconscious? I know, I know, always with the jokes. I can never be serious, so nobody takes me seriously. Anyway, as I was saying, I woke up in my own bed alone, except for my cat Sidney. He was the reason I woke up this early. He was standing on my face, licking it. He knows I hate that, but he was hungry. So he took matters into his own two paws, and the rest is history.

As I opened one eye, a blinding light hit it, and like a laser went straight into my optic nerve and bored a hole into my brain. It was sunlight, god how I hated it. When would I make a commitment to my mental health, and go out and buy blackout curtains? So my brain would have fewer holes drilled into it.

Oh, sure you are probably thinking. Why don’t you just lay off the sauce already? Well, I don’t want to, that’s why. I like drinking to excess, waking up in strange places, and being fondled by complete strangers, and oh about a million other excuses. I could name at the drop of a hat.

But here is the real reason, and this is just between the two of us. The reason why I got snookered, tanked, sloshed, hammered, you know all those poetic terms for drunk.

Yesterday morning when I was having my ten am cocktail, I decided to take a little ride to Wildwood for old time’s sake. Wildwood is where I spent the best part of my youth. Hanging out at bars, picking up strangers, and riding the big waves that Wildwood is famous for. Ok, not renowned, but we did try to ride those big South Jersey shore waves back in the 1970s. I have the dried out, wrinkled skin to prove it. Ten years of burn and peel, I don’t have the sense now, and I had even less forty years ago.

But I digress, I was walking down memory lane, walking the boards, buying salt-water taffy, and eating ice cream. And keeping my buzz going, with a little bottle of booze, I saved for special occasions like this in the trunk of my car.

I was walking along, enjoying the fresh salty air, and listening to the seagulls, and the surf. I see in the distance a familiar, if somewhat fuzzy face. I keep telling myself, no, no, it can’t be him, but goddamn if it isn’t David, Captain Dave, my first love.

He is walking hand in hand with a little girl, cute as a button in a two-piece bathing suit with little ladybugs printed on it. She has hair the same reddish-brown that he used to have, most of which has departed. She has the same gap in her front teeth that I always thought was so adorable on him. She is the spitting image of him if he were a girl, and five years old.

I seriously think about running away but didn’t really think I could pull it off. Since I was having trouble standing upright. Well, I thought he wouldn’t recognize me. I‘m forty years older. But god damn him, he did. He is staring at me, and then he pulls on the little girl’s twiggy little arm and walks right up to me.

“Sarah, Sara,h is that you? Why I would recognize you anywhere. You look exactly the same; you look great. Gypsy, this is an old friend of mine, Sarah. We were friends when grandpop was a young guy, not as young as you. But younger then your mom and dad are now. Why don’t you shake hands with her and say hello?”

Gypsy, I‘m thinking, how could he? That is what we were going to call our little girl. God, I hated him so much at that moment. I was surprised he didn’t just drop dead from the force of my thoughts alone. Gypsy says, “Hi.” She spoke so quietly you could hardly hear her over the racket of the god damn, filthy seagulls were making.

I managed to put my big old hand out there and give her little hand a shake,” Nice to meet, you Gypsy, don’t you look beautiful in your little bathing suit?”

“Thank you”, she says with her gapped tooth smile. I could feel my heartbreaking, actually breaking in two. So this is what my little girl would have looked like?

“So Sarah, how have you been, it’s been too long since I saw you, when was that exactly, do you remember?”

Do I remember, of course, I remember? I think about it every day from the first moment I get up in the morning, and it is my last thought at night. What would my little girl have been like, would she have looked like me, or him? Would she be smart and sassy or shy and demure? She would be almost forty years old now. God, I have missed her every day of my life. Since the last time I saw his face as he waited for me outside the clinic that day, I had the abortion. The last time I saw him.

“Yes. Dave, I do remember that very well, it was outside the Women’s Center in Cherry Hill. The day I aborted our baby. I was going to call her Gypsy, don’t you know? Gypsy, just like your little granddaughter here, Gypsy. Do you remember now, Dave?”

His face reddened somewhat, and he took a step back and pulled his little granddaughter with him, “Yes, I remember that now of course, sorry I must be getting a little forgetful. It was really nice seeing you, Sarah. We should keep in touch. Gypsy and I will have to be going now, but it was great, great seeing you again.” And he turned his heels and took off, just like he did forty years ago. I guess an old dog can’t learn new tricks.