Harry & Other Stories

By Dennis Roth

When one mind-blowing short story just isn't enough, try these eleven. In the vein of O. Henry where the ending is never obvious, Roth makes you wonder "How could they?" or "How could they not?"

 

In the title piece, we view the struggles of a middle-aged man who has lost his job in the mills of Pittsburgh during the collapse of the steel industry; I See You is the telling of a couple's extraordinary anniversary tradition; we watch with white knuckles the hopelessness of a drunken witness to a dreadful accident; we are absorbed in the tragedy of failed attempt of the widowed father and his motherless son's to find a peaceful relationship; We can smile at the loving relationship between a grandfather and his grandson only to encounter an unexpected funeral.

 

This is reading at its best making you stop and think for a moment. And then think some more.

Buy it now. You'll be glad you did.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Five Square Press
• Release date: Mar 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736609217

Dennis Roth

Dennis Roth, The Thoughtful Writer©, retired young from his engineering business to sail the Caribbean. After five years, he buried the anchor and began watercolor painting. Unfortunately, he stumbled into depression, the most difficult challenge of his life. He climbed out of that mental horror by writing short stories and poems, some as depressing as his mood, others as full of hope as a brand new baby. Now his debut novel, The Bastard’s Inheritance, awaits publication. 

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Also by Dennis Roth

Reflections & Other Musings (2021)

The Bastard’s Inheritance (2021)

For Debbie

Harry

Harry woke up late and sat on the edge of the bed. There on the floor in front of him were his clothes from the night before. His jeans reaching up waiting for his legs; his shirt, underwear and socks in a distressed pile beside them. He thought, I’ve worn them one day? Two days? No. One day. He stepped into his pants, threw on his shirt and plodded to the bathroom. He leaned towards the mirror and saw, as he had seen so often recently, the reflection of a beaten man; a face lined with the pain from too many years of life, even though he was only forty-seven.

He smelled the fresh coffee, heard what he thought was Janice’s spoon clanking on her morning bowl of corn flakes and skim milk. Down the steps he trudged to the kitchen; a kitchen with battered cabinets, a countertop forever stained and cracked, faded wallpaper curled and torn at the seams, and a 75 watt bulb hung by a single wire from the sagging ceiling, most of which he had promised to fix but never got around to. He went over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, splashed some days-old cream in it and slumped down across from her. Janice wore curlers in her hair, a tattered robe hanging from her shoulders, and a cigarette clinging to her lower lip. To him she looked as awful as he felt. He shivered at the thought of what they had become.

Watcha gonna do today? she asked.

I’m gonna drink this coffee and then go over to Lenny’s and shoot some pool.

As usual, I guess.

He hated her mockery. It was if it applied to entire life. And the desire he had to do anything today was spoiled just like the way the curdled cream fouled his coffee.

No, today’s Saturday and I don’t usually do nothin’ on Saturdays. Except shoot pool.

Then what? she asked.

Don’t know, he said as he pushed himself up, emptied his half-filled cup into the sink and tramped out the front door.

His mood was mirrored by the sullen sky and the persistent November drizzle. Again, he shivered. He walked down his concrete steps to 14th Street and turned left towards Carson. In this neighborhood, that could barely be called blue-collared, the three story houses with painted wooden fronts, blistered and peeling, were pinched together and jammed up to the street with no front or side yards. Windows and doorframes were cock-eyed beyond repair. Cigarette butts, Subway wrappers and empty Coke cans littered the broken sidewalks.

Hey there, Harry, called Kupka. Where’re you going?

Harry walked up to his old friend, who