A Thousand Paper Cranes

By Barrymore Tebbs

Meet Ivan Rastofsky. Ivan wants what most boys his age want – to go to college, get a good job, marry and have kids. But in October, 1962, as the uncertainty of the Cuban Missile Crisis holds America in its grip, anti-Russian sentiment runs high at Ivan’s school. Faced with his mother’s shame of her son’s Russian heritage and the open hostility of his classmates, Ivan has almost given up hope on the American Dream.

And then he meets Veronica, a flower who has blossomed despite the fate she was dealt at birth. For a brief, shining moment, Veronica offers Ivan a glimpse of hope for the future.

But destiny has other plans...for both of them.

A Thousand Paper Cranes contains strong language which some readers may deem offensive. It is 21,000 words in length.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barrymore Tebbs
• Release date: Nov 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311944726

Barrymore Tebbs

Barrymore Tebbs' writing combines the brooding atmosphere of Gothic fiction with the unexpected twists and turns of the Psychological Thriller to create "historical, doom-laden creepfests about people struggling (and often failing) to make sense of the situations they find themselves in." A polished stylist with an uncanny ability to transport the reader to a specific time and place, in recent works he has moved from the form of Gothic horror popularized by such mid Twentieth Century writers as Daphne du Maurier and Thomas Tryon into the genre of Pulp style crime - resulting in Nocturne in the Key of Death and a Dark and Lonely Highway, both modeled on the writings of Cornell Woolrich. If you enjoy his stories, please consider leaving a review to help other readers discover the dark joy of Barrymore Tebbs' unique style of storytelling.

Book preview

A Thousand Paper Cranes

By Barrymore Tebbs

Smashwords Edition

© 2013 Barrymore Tebbs. All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Editors: Todd Barselow and Kim Mackay

Cover graphic: Barrymore Tebbs

For Tara

Wednesday, October 24, 1962

She wasn’t the prettiest girl Ivan had ever seen, but she smiled at him—not once, but twice—looking away and then back again in that coy way that girls do. No girl had ever smiled that way at Ivan before, at least not in recent memory. But he saw it happen at school all the time. If a girl liked a boy, she let him know it. Did they think that look, that coquettish turning of the face away and then back again, was subtle? It was the oldest trick in the book. Ivan always hated it when he saw it happen, because it never happened to him. Only now it had. Now what was he supposed to do?

Ivan was in Bates’ Drug Store, thumbing through the paperbacks when he saw her. It was three-forty Wednesday afternoon. She was so close he could smell her, a clean smell of soap and shampoo and just a hint of perfume. Her lavender sweater was tight and she had nice tits, but he didn’t look at them for more than a second because she was bound to look at him a third time and he didn’t want her to catch him staring.

He pretended to read the back cover of Stranger in a Strange Land. He didn’t have to read it; George had talked non-stop about it since he’d read it, insisting over and over that Ivan had to read the book. By now, Ivan knew the plot by heart. It sounded like a story that would appeal to him, although he didn’t care for science fiction. But George had talked so much about the book there would be no surprise in reading it. George was good for that, talking about something to the point where Ivan lost all interest in the subject.

The girl moved around to the other side of the bookrack. Ivan looked up, glancing through the racks and the books. Sure enough, she was looking at him, too. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight to his left side, but his foot was stuck to the floor and refused to take a step toward her.

The girl made it easy for him.

What are you going to buy? she said. There she was, right there in front of him; all lavender tits and sweet smelling with shiny hair and soft brown eyes that looked into his without flinching.

He couldn’t find his voice. He showed her the cover of the Heinlein book.

Oh, she said, despairingly, I can’t get into fantasy.

It’s science fiction, but I’m not sure I’m going to buy it. A friend of mine says I should, but it looks long and boring.

I like long books. I don’t like boring ones.

Who does? he said. She put the book she was holding back in the rack. For a fleeting moment Ivan wanted to see the title, but when he saw her hands something sharp twisted inside his stomach and a foul taste tickled the back of his throat.

Something was wrong with her hands. The fingers were fused together. They looked like claws.

So, what kind of books do you like? Her voice seemed to come from far away, like the way a voice sounds when you talk to someone long distance on the phone.

Huh? The fleeting glimpse of her hands burned into his brain. Ivan hadn’t heard a word she said.

"I like Steinbeck myself, and Faulkner and Hemingway. But my favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird. What’s yours?"

Thank God it was right there on the rack in front of him with its maroon cover, because he wouldn’t have remembered the title otherwise. "Catcher in the Rye," he said.

She laughed, it was a merry sound and he was glad of it. "That doesn’t surprise me. I bet your favorite movie is Rebel Without a Cause."

How did you know that?

I’m psychic.

Really?

She snorted. Even that sounded sweet to his ears. I’m kidding. But you look the type. You’re a loner and you have a chip on your shoulder.

He liked this girl. A lot. She seemed easy to talk to, although she was doing most of the talking. But try as he might, he just couldn’t prevent his gaze from drifting back to her hands. They were like something out of a monster movie.

Can I ask you a question? he said.

Her eyes narrowed. It’s called ectrodactyly.

What?

You keep looking at my hands. It’s just a birth defect. There’s nothing wrong with me.

No. What I was going to say was, you’re not from around here, are you?

You’re pretty smart, for a boy. No, I’m not from around here. You’d remember a girl with claws for hands.

Yeah, I guess I would. He tried to laugh it off, but the sound was a nervous titter. So are you visiting? You know someone who lives here?

I’m with the carnival.

He laughed.

She didn’t.

Ivan said, You’re kidding.

I’m not. I work in the sideshow. Ever heard of Lobster Girl? That’s me. She held up her hands and made grotesque snapping motions with them. Does that bother you?

He was bothered all right, but not by the sight of her hands. Five minutes ago he was relieved just to be out of school for the day and looking for something good to read and now here was this cute girl in front of him telling him she was a freak in a sideshow. He wanted to believe she was kidding, but he knew the carnival was in town. That much was true. He had seen the tents and trucks on the way to school this morning, and he had never seen her before, and she had claws for hands. She