Dynamite comes in small packages

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“Sometimes three, sometimes five, sometimes four.”

“Alex, how many winners will there be in the RN&R short-fiction contest?”

This year there are four, and here’s why: Each of our editors pick their favorite 10 stories out of the mountain of entries and assign each one a point value. First, we look for agreement among the stories the editors select. This year, Jenny Pickerell’s story landed on every editor’s list; hers was the only one. Then we added the points up from the other stories that two editors liked best, and that’s how we got second, third, and fourth places.

Every year, it’s peculiar how a theme arises out of seemingly random entries. How did this year become the year where someone died in more than half the submissions? Maybe it was the economy, maybe it was the government shutdown, but one thing’s for sure, there were a lot of people striving for sad. Fortunately, we’re an upbeat bunch around here, so we survived the judging.

Congratulations to all you winners, and thanks to everyone who took part. It really feels like an honor that you’d send us these little bits of your souls.

First Place

Emma’s decided to memorize the collective names for animals. A bask of crocodiles, a glaring of cats, a rhumba of rattlesnakes, a memory of elephants. She imagines herself on Jeopardy:

“What is a leap of leopards?” she answers, pleased, as the unsure smarter ones wait for the category to be swept. She will not be champion; this is her one useless talent.

She begins to create her own collective nouns: a crack of ceramics, a blistering of shoes, a speak of secrets—acknowledging and allowing for absurd amounts of alliteration. It’s an exuberance of Emmas.

—Jenny Pickerell

Jenny Pickerell is a scheduler at the VA hospital. She’s been in Reno since 2005 and has 13 year old dog named Riley that she loves to walk. She also likes thrift store jigsaw puzzles. “I’ve always wanted to do it, and I always missed the deadline. This year I caught the announcement, and I decided I needed to make a plan to enter.”

Second Place

Hope

The Reverend Cottonelle Mather, pastor of the Church of Hope Restored, was despondent as she drank her Saturday morning coffee. After twenty-five years of preaching, her sermons, of late, lacked inspiration and oomph. She exhausted the scriptures for new ideas, and answers to her prayers were not forthcoming. She still believed in Psalm 42:5, “Why are thou cast down … hope thou in God.” She turned the TV on to Turner Classics, and she watched three movies: The Flim-Flam Man, Burt Lancaster’s The Rainmaker, and The Music Man. Sometimes you find hope in all the right places.

—Larry Larsen

Larry Larsen is a professor of economics emeritus at the University of Nevada, Reno. He’s into water exercises at the Alf Sorensen Community Center. “I’ve been playing around with the concept of hope for a while. I just kept fooling around with it, just hoping to find a twist on it.”

Third Place

The Dead End Job

It was a $5,000 a day job: swallow 10 coke-filled condoms; get on the plane to Miami; quaff the laxative; payment upon delivery.

You were dead if one broke, and dead if you didn’t deliver, so no reason to dwell about either, the end was the same.

Today, the local narc dog and her handler were heading his way. “Koochie koo, doggy!” They hated that, and the handler steered the dog away.

He headed for the green exit - nothing to declare. “Just visiting Uncle!” He’d be back again, visiting “Uncle Sam,” in a week.

—David Winter

David Winter is a software programmer who lives in Stateline and loves everything that flies. Also a pilot, he’s spent a lot of time in airports being sniffed by DEA dogs, which is where the story idea came to him.

Fourth Place

The Apple Tree

The apple tree in the old cemetery could be seen from Niall’s house. His grandmother was terrified of that tree and made her family promise to never bury her there. “That tree ate my husband,” she told Niall. “There was nothing in his grave but tree roots!”

But Niall’s parents said Nana’s tumor had made her talk crazy, so she was buried in the family plot, beside the tree. As the gravediggers covered the grave, Niall thought he saw roots touching her coffin.

That fall, the branches hung with sweet apples.

—Julie Gorriz

Julie Gorriz is an alumnus of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. She’s trying to be a writer, and she has three cats. “I was reading up on growing your own apple orchard and there is this old story about an apple tree that ate bodies. They opened the coffins, and there were just roots, no bodies.”

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Springtime

Waves of warmth roll across the earth like honey. A soft breeze whispers across my skin.

Almost too good to be true. I peek out from behind closed eyes, daring to hope it was gone, the nothingness that was white and dark and frozen all at once, which haunted my people.

It’s true! The golden knight has come to save us. My frozen toes thaw. Tiny orbs of liquid rainbows drip down my body. I reach out to taste it: crisp, sweet, pure

I stretch toward the mellow, buttery sunlight, soaking in caressing rays.

Springtime. I stretch toward the mellow, buttery sunlight, soaking in its warmth.

—Jordan Kiserow    

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Blue Legos

Got a sec? You know Nora. Well, I’ve never been one to gossip, but here’s one about Nora I gotta tell.

Nora has been sleeping with this guy named Willard. She tells me he’s well-placed in the Lego corporation.

Recently, she got wind of the fact that the division Willard manages at Lego is developing a new product line - for adults. I kid you not! He said they are not like the kids’ bricks. The adult Legos are more curvy. Nora’s now wondering if those little round studs will leave marks on her back.

—Jim McCormick

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Three struggle furniture up the stairs into a new beige puzzle. She’s bright against his grousing. He complains about the distance from the truck, he complains about the weight. She carries the larger pieces together with his son, working as their familiar team. Inside, she presents it to them: “So, what do you think!”

“It’s really not that great,” he says.

Back at the house, she packs the plants, the lamps, the cat. She looks, but he did not follow her out, so she says goodbye to his son, and drives to her new home.

—Jenny Pickerell

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Slowly a sense of clarity surrounded me along with the rest of the members in my crew. Daylight for the first time in a long time shone through the fog that had enveloped us. The light-headed feeling made the experience so surreal. It was as if we were on top of the world, which in a sense we were. The dangers and hardships we had overcome now seemed minuscule in comparison to the feeling we were experiencing now. Everest became not something I hoped to conquer, but something I was proud to have conquered.

—Tristan Tolentino

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Mornings on a Sunday

Sunday routine: get up, shower, eat and get ready. Angie hates Sunday. The thought of her having to wake up early and get ready for church is a drag every single Sunday morning. She likes football and loose clothes, not dresses and earrings.

“Angie,” says her mom “put on your dress and come here so I can do your hair!”

“But mom, I don’t want to wear that ugly dress or get ready!”

“I don’t care, we are going to church and you need to look pretty.”

Angie goes and gets ready. Every Sunday: same.

—Daniela Soto

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Insects Appeal

Inexplicably, some chemical in Laura Seller’s body repelled insects: mosquitos, flies, gnats, even chiggers. As a child, she received not a single bite. As an adult, Laura was studied by researchers from bug repellant manufacturers worldwide - all attempting to isolate the ingredient that protected her from creatures of dermal destruction.

One evening, Laura found herself inside a convenience store being robbed at gunpoint. Police surrounded the building. TV stations set up for remote broadcasts. The situation grew tense, the store was rushed and Laura was accidentally killed by a member of the SWAT team.

—Jim McCormick

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Elli is nervous. If she messes up; everything she’s worked for is over. She takes her first step onto the stage. She takes her place. The lights come on and all eyes are on her. She inhales sharply. “This is it,” she says. The classical music blares and the pa de deux begins. Her partner is strong. “I couldn’t do it without him,” she thinks. Then she is on stage alone. She lands her grande jatte beautifully. On the next one her ankle rolls. She goes down and just like that her career is over.

—Cassandra Winegar

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Jim walked up to the pay phone in the dark parking lot, dropped the coins in the slot, and took a deep breath. The heat from his lungs expelled in a cloud of white vapor, only to be replaced by the chilly night air. He tried to find the words, but they had all been shot and killed in the jungles of Vietnam one year earlier. He picked up the phone and dialed the number he had memorized.

Ring

Ring

Ring

“Hello?”

“Sarah? It’s Jimmy! It’s so nice to hear your voice!”

Click. Dial tone.

—Raymond Pruitt

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Grandmother's Advice

“Place your hands in soil, it takes worries away…” The elder suggested. Young Mary was slightly humored, but at this point she’d eat tree bark for a shift. She had sobbed enough; the anguish of sleepless nights had left her fettered. If all it took was squeezing dirt to re-charge her batteries, she’d play along.

After planting flowers, weeding and breathing fresh air, Mary started feeling better. Ache of mind, gone. Burning stomach, subsided. Although the divorce papers still slapped the table, being sued for full custody by a “stranger” didn’t seem as overwhelming.

—Soorya Townley

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“REALLY?”

The clothes are hot, but wet, and she’s out of quarters. Someone must have opened the dryer. Was it her? Possibly. Probably.

I guess we have to go to the laundro—

“No.” She tries to consider it, but there will probably be some creepy guy in the parking lot. Why can’t she have a Doberman service dog?

Upstairs, she hangs socks over doors, underwear on doorknobs. Thankfully this wasn’t the load with the jeans. This would be the opportune time for someone to drop by. No one will, and she finds this mildly disappointing.

—Jenny Pickerell

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Reprieve

The crackly sound waves of the morning report fill the kitchen with a depressive ambiance. Corruption, catastrophe, and calamity force their way through the ear drums of a middle aged woman standing by the window, cleaning sticky golden brown maple syrup off the breakfast cutlery. Her son is outside, happily running among the brilliant falling leaves. His smile spreads clear across his face; his laughter pierces the crisp fall air. She watches him, letting his warm aura of innocence find its way to her heart. And for a moment, all is right in the world.

—Chris Casaceli

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The Picture

The picture could be viewed from the pool, the private gate or the obvious spot.

A string quartet of beige musicians, instruments and music stands glued upon a white mat. The cellist knew the artist couldn’t be a musician. The bow holds alone were embarrassing.

“Nice,” she commented. “What music they playing?”

“Beethoven, naturally! See that passion?”

He slipped her a sly smile just as his wife emerged from the study.

“I’ve always hated that,” the wife said.

As proof, a few days later it was replaced by a large silk screening of a parrot.

—Catherine Matovich

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Dink

It wasn’t a particularly exceptional street fair- in fact it bordered on a yard sale. I glanced dispassionately at a booth before doing a double take, entering the menagerie of crocheted figures. I couldn’t believe how much love had been poured into these adorable little creations.

“How much for this little guy?”

“Him?” The woman came over to check. “Oh, ten dollars.”

“You’re buying it?” She sounded surprised as I pulled out my wallet and handed her a ten.

“Yes, he…” I hesitated, smiling. “He looks exactly like a toy dinosaur I had growing up.”

—Daria Steiber

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Lying on her death bed Millie thought of roses & parades. 67 years later she could still smell them. Returning from WWII Jackie had brought her roses and a proposal, “Yes”. He missed the big parades but participated in them every year afterwards, “Handsome Jack”, she thought, tall and handsome. Gone in 05, a stroke, giving up and pulling the plug. Three kids, a lawyer, a doctor and Jackie Jr. the kindest of them all, here now holding her hand, the others probably playing golf.

As they were both praying independently her hand cooled, gone.

—Fred Elmore

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Hero

Eyes sparkled as they looked up, the young girl smiled as bright as humanly possible.

“Good morning!” The girl said with great joy.

“Good morning to you as well, Elizabeth,” the older and much wiser man replied.

The girl was did not say a single word again, nor did she need to.

The man took this as a gift, just to see her doing well once more. A girl whose world was dark, cruel, and lifeless. Now it was bright, lively, and colorful. This was of simple hellos he spoke every morning.

—Tanya Lee

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The Usual

She sat in her usual park, on her usual bench, next her usual breakfast, sipping her usual tea.

She knew that her life was boring and wanted it to change but she had no idea where to start so she kept doing her usual thing.

Day after day went by.

She started to become more and more tired and depressed with her lonely, routine life. A world of dull grays.

Then one day something unusual happened. A man sat down on her bench with his breakfast. “Hello, I’m Jeremy and just moved here.”

Color bloomed.

—Alex Nissim

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Honor Bound

He sat up on the edge of their bed, his back turned to his wife.

“Where did I go wrong?” he thought to himself. He knew exactly where.

He thought about their child in the other room, sleeping peacefully, dreaming of who knows what. He was a beautiful, amazing little boy, and he loved him more than life itself.

He looked over his shoulder, at his beautiful wife. He would never love her. She had gotten pregnant on their first date, and betrayed him. He could never love her.

Honor bound, like a crazy fool.

—Jake Carson

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The Ugly Truth

Jessie had always hated those girls. They were all perfect replicas of barbies. They were beautiful but vicious. They put down everyone just to build up their own pathetic self-esteems. And they didn’t hesitate to pounce when they spotted Jessie.

The girls jumped on her like a pack of hyenas.

“Why don’t you go back to where you came from?!”

“You should just go kill yourself. No one likes you.”

In her heart, Jessie knew these things weren’t true. But for some reason her brain thought otherwise. So she took their advice and the pills.

—Kiera Nielsen

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Caveman needs an upgrade

I wake up to water dripping on my head and yell, “Dad, there’s another crack in the cave.” But he just replies, “I’ll just seal it up with some grass.” You can tell that this is a reoccurring event because it looks like a garden on the roof. Our cave is so out of date that the next dinosaur that tries to get in is going to get in. So I keep telling my dad to buy a new cave. But he says it’s good for the next ten years, if we live that long.

—Yi Feng Qin

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