Cautionary Tales from the Letter D

By David Ranalli

D is for...

Welcome to an anthology of cautionary yet controversial tales that plunge the reader into the strangest contentions of life. 10 short stories. 10 different lives. 10 shocking endings. All deriving from 1 letter: D.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers USA
• Release date: Mar 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370144457

David Ranalli

David Ranalli was born in Montreal, Quebec and attended McGill University. He presently teaches English to high school students in Montreal and it is through his teaching of literature that propelled him to dive in to the memories of his past to create these rather dark yet eclectic narratives.

Book preview

About the author

David Ranalli was born in Montreal, Quebec and attended McGill University. He presently teaches English to high school students in Montreal and it is through his teaching of literature that propelled him to dive in to the memories of his past to create these rather dark yet eclectic narratives.

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Dedication

Dedicated to my wife Vanessa and to my parents Frank and Josee

David Ranalli

Cautionary Tales from the Letter D

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Copyright © David Ranalli (2018)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s cataloguing in publishing data

Ranalli David

Cautionary Tales from the Letter D

ISBN 978-1-94735-306-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-94735-307-7 (Hardback)

ISBN 978-1-94735-308-4 (Kindle E-Book)

The main category of the book — FICTION / Fantasy / General

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2018)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd™

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

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D is for David

The letter D begins and ends my name. Like every story or memory, there is a beginning and an end. Like my name, the letter D contains a piece of me, and so the following stories you are about to immerse yourself into will introduce the different facets of my life.

Each story is developed from a mere memory, an event, a moment, an image, a smell – down to the very molecule it was shaped from.

Each of these stories contain characters deriving from the deepest, yet darkest desires of man and woman, while others originate from distant memories that have revisited a present timeline.

These short stories will introduce controversial yet intriguing dimensions of the letter,

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Contents

D is for Digits

D is for Download

D is for Dare

D is for Deception

D is for Dilemma

D is for Drama

D is for Dad

D is for Dirty

D is for Decision

D is for Death

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D is for…

For the strife that comes with love, family, and marriage and most importantly yourself…

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D is for Digits

2 years. It has been 2 years I have devoted my life to this man. 2 years. I have denounced myself as a housewife bound to the constraints of cooking chicken with mashed potatoes every Tuesday because he finishes work at 7 pm. Today is our 2nd year anniversary and I don’t think he even cares. I take out my crimson red lipstick out of my purse and fill in my lips. I finish zipping my new red velvet dress and grab my purse. I descend the stairs and wait for him in the car.

Sitting in the cold Audi, hearing the wind hitting the trees, making it seem like everyone is applauding my failure, I wait for Him. Looking at our lavish condominium, I feel ever so distant. Our lease is about to expire and talk about our next move is near to non-existent. I wonder if he will notice something as simple as this sultry new dress I bought just for this evening. An ember begins to spark inside my heart just thinking of what our life has been these past two months. I shudder at the thought.

As he enters the car and smiles at me, I wonder if the smile is sincere or if it is the cold December frosting his grin. He has not smiled for a long time. 2 months. 2 months since he’s been cold and distant. 2 months since he has been spending late nights at the office. We are celebrating our 2nd year anniversary and all I can think about is why we aren’t on the same page. I couldn’t help but think about my parents’ relationship and how I hoped to have a marriage similar to theirs.

My aspirations to be a successful businesswoman and wife derived from my mother who in all honesty, was both the sweetest and sourest woman. Sporting a jet-black bob and dressed in contemporary clothes with her high heels, she commanded attention just by the sheer clicking of her high-end shoes. Working at the bank all those years had taken a toll on her, but one constant thing remained: my father was there supporting her every dream. Dream. I’ve had many dreams. Adam spent so much time nourishing his own dreams that he failed to even acknowledge mine. Our dream was to move out of our condo unit and get something a little more modest where we can build, fortify and continue to cement our marriage. I yearned for a modest living that did not include waiting for him to finish his late phone calls or silently reading in bed while he continued to work late hours at his office. Our dream was to get a home, start a family and love one another unconditionally.

As I look at my husband now, the dream seemed far away. Adam has not said anything since he started driving to the restaurant. I look at him and apathetically ask:

Where are we going?

Somewhere special.

Really?

Yes, Rose. Really.

He pulls the car in the parking lot of a restaurant called ‘La Chiesa Grandiosa’, a trendy Italian restaurant at the heart of downtown Montreal. He parks the car and pulls open my passenger door and offers his hand. I give him mine as we walk into the restaurant. The restaurant reminded me of an old architectural Italian church with statues of holy saints and angels looking down at you as if to shame you of a past crime you committed. The cathedral ceilings were both grandiose and welcoming with their golden chandeliers lightly swinging from left to right. I had to give him credit for choosing a rather delightful restaurant. It was the least he could do.

We arrive at the coat check as he offers to place mine and his together. We are seated by a beautiful blond hostess. Adam always liked blonds. I remember the first time we started dating when I had dyed my auburn hair a certain shade of blonde. He never kept his eyes off of me. I believe the color was called Honeysuckle Blonde. The waitress arrives and presents the menu to us all the while smiling at Him. He smiles back. I order the limon picata with a side dish of vegetables. He orders a chicken Caesar salad. Adam recently was