Four and Twenty

By Daniel T Dickson and Nolan Yalda

This is a collection of twenty-four short stories that I wrote over the course of twelve months. In October of 2019 I challenged myself to writing two short stories a month. Initially I never intended to share them. However, a few months in I started to share them on two different websites (Medium & DeviantArt). It should be noted that 20 of

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Dickson
• Release date: Feb 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087946757

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Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Dedication

Creator

Forward

Los Angeles a Love Story

Our Own Doing

An Avocado Tree

Not Forgotten

L Shaped House

Secrets & Flair

Crisscross Applesauce

Song of Stars

Almost Man

In Full Flight

Absurd Love

Elyse

Postiche Court

Pyramid Lake

A Saint and A King

Broken Stones

Horizontal Balloons

A Lot Like Men

Foci

The Center of the Spiral

Thirteen Minutes

No Way Knowhow

Cuffed

Better Than Violence

About the Author

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my son. He’ll probably never read this, so he’ll never get the opportunity to be embarrassed by it. But I love that kid, he inspires me every day to be a better person.

Creator

© Daniel Troy Dickson

Written mostly in San Diego California

Instagram: @dtdninja

Twitter: @dtdninja

https://medium.com/@dtdninja

Forward

This is a collection of twenty-four short stories that I wrote over the course of twelve months. In October of 2019 I challenged myself to writing two short stories a month. Initially I never intended to share them. However, a few months in I started to share them on two different websites (Medium & DeviantArt). It should be noted that 20 of the first drafts are posted online. What is in this book are those 20 fully flushed out along with 4 new ones only available here. They got more attention than I had predicted, I got a lot of great feedback and some not so great. All of it was taken in stride and, I would say it was a great learning experience. No as far as the quality of the writing? I’ll leave that up to you and your better judgement.

Stories in this book as listed chronologically, oldest to newest. Some of them are autobiographical works of fiction. But most of them are just pure fiction. Trying my best to spread my wings and work within genres I normally don’t work in. There is a good chance that many of these will become full-fledged novels I feel like some of my best work is here.

There is a running theme that ties all these stories together despite their differences. To me it’s horribly obvious, but then again, I wrote it that way. Anyway, I hope you enjoy at least one of these.

Los Angeles a Love Story

The first time I knew I was in love, sixteen and it was the middle of summer in the middle of the 90s. Sleeping on the floor of a one-bedroom apartment my dad shared with his girlfriend in Marina Del Rey. At the time I thought they were in a relationship but looking back on it the only reason I was on the floor was that he was sleeping on the couch and she slept alone in her bedroom, but whatever.

The mornings were boring as hell, often left alone with nothing to entertain myself. My dad would leave for work around 4:00 am to meet his crew at the construction site. His girlfriend worked as a teacher for disabled children, so she got up later around 7:00 am. 

My father was a lot of things but being quite wasn’t one of them he’d always wake me up as he got ready which was for the best because I’d just move to the couch and wait for him to leave. Most days I’d force myself to sleep so I didn’t have to talk to her, but not this day.

For reasons not even known to my adolescent mind, I decided to wait for my father to leave and then I went through her purse and I stole 40 dollars and went back to the couch. Even though it was still before 7 it was nearly 85 degrees in there, but I covered myself in the dank blanket my father had used then shut my eyes when heard her alarm go off.

Pretending to sleep even while she was taking a shower, I laid there convinced that I looked awake. Soon I heard her go back to her room and continue to get ready, then she came to the living room and grabbed her keys and purse and she left, locked the door behind her and I was alone. Still, I did not move I was sure she would forget something or notice the money was gone so I waited a good 20 minutes before I ever moved.

Stifled by the stink of the blanket and the couch combined with my own sweat. I got up and pull out not-too-dirty clothes from the hall closet and got ready. I knew that I was stealing the money for a reason, I just didn’t know what that reason was. Venice Beach was all I knew, the crashing of the wave and swaying of the trees called to me.

Having only a vague idea of where it was, I took off. It was north from where I was, but I didn’t know how far, as I left the apartment from the back screen-door, I figured I’d just walk to the beach only 2 blocks away and head north. Knowing only that I wanted a new Dodgers hat and maybe some tacos, I headed out the back door.

From the shore, near the marina, I could see the planes taking off and landing from LAX on my left and when I looked right, I could see where the Venice Beach boardwalk started it was faded but it seemed close enough to walk. There were no paths to walk, the wet sand was cool and easier to walk on.

Taking off my shoes and sticking my socks into them, I rolled up my 501’s and let the water kiss my ankles. There wasn’t a soul in sight in every direction. There were a few condos further east I a saw for the first time how tacky their bright basic colors contrasted with the nature surrounding them. They were ugly but fitting, the smell of the ocean and the sun on my face let me forget about them.

The ocean on my left was beautiful. There was no way to count out how many shades of green and blue there must be in just one wave. The mist coming up from them would blow towards me keeping me cool and enticing me to give up my quest and embrace the waves.

But I soldiered on, the idea of tacos filled my head and my heart. Looking up after what seemed like an hour and Venice was no closer, so I put my head down and pushed forward. My calves started to hurt and the sun now beating hard down on me, it had to be noon at this point, and I was getting hungry.

Delirious with hunger, I started to think of all the food I could buy. At first, I really wanted a corn dog, then I wanted a slice of cheese pizza with an orange soda, then I knew that I really wanted some carne asada tacos.

Looking up the beginning of the boardwalk appeared so I started to head away from the water and make it to the path which I knew would make my travels faster. The second I stepped away from the water’s edge my feet were scolded by the hot sand. So, I ran as fast as I could. My legs aching, sweat pouring down my back dripping off my nose and making the back of my knees stick. I finally got to the walkway and sat down to put on my shoes.

Soon the condos fell back, and small stalls took their place, selling cheap sunglasses and sun-faded tee shirts. The funniest shirts were the ones with puns, like Life is a Beach, but the ones with James Dean, Marilyn Monroe or Kurt Cobain were on full display.

Further down, kids skateboarding, guys playing basketball and arguing about fouls and big swollen dudes lifting weights.

There was a small Mexican place behind a bar painted red with a white door. I walked in and it was hotter in there than it was outside I ordered my carne asada tacos and Dr. Pepper then headed out to a small grassy area under a palm tree.

All sorts of small boardwalk vendors selling their wares. One guy was making space scenes with spray paint, there was a girl selling flowers she made from palm tree leaves. A man was making some of the most beautiful charcoal pictures of famous people on small 8 x 10 cards. From where I was sitting guys a block or two up selling drugs to preppy guys in BMWs and while a couple holding hands rollerbladed by without a care in the world.

At this moment, right here, it was the center of the universe from one end to the other people were everywhere all of them doing their own things in their own little worlds. For the first time, I felt like I had grown up a little bit but at the same time, I felt small and humbled by everyone around me.

After my feast I found where they sold hats it was only like 3 or 4 stalls from where I started. They all seemed the same, but they were all owned by different people. Looking for a hat, I found one that I loved, it was a standard LA Dodgers fielders’ hat. I put it on and tried to see what I looked like in a small mirror hanging from a string and blowing in the wind.

I was starting to pull the money out of my pocket when I realized my father would immediately ask where I got it and how did I get the money. Dejected by my own morals and logic I left it there.

Walking through all the other stalls, something had to be purchased. A switchblade comb, because it was really cool. A pen that had a naked lady on it, because of naked ladies. Found a pack of cigarettes made of gum, immediately chewed three and smoked one.

Sticking everything in my pockets, the walk all the way up the boardwalk till I reached the other end was pleasant enough.

The afternoon got away from me, then realized I needed to head back home. Again, I headed to the water’s edge. It was a lot the further from the boardwalk then when I arrived. Becoming increasingly tired, I turned and headed toward a lifeguard tower and sat down under its shade to rest.

The sun was setting in front of me, so I watched the ocean and the sky jockey for first place in their own beauty contest. Before long I fell asleep without warning or care.

Our Own Doing

Masquerade masks and ribbons bound to wrists. Bookcases and passageways leading to velvet lined rooms. Dolls dangling from strings mouths gaping, judging and looking down at all who entered here. The smell of incenses and opium filled my thoughts, alongside the sounds of people and new voices.

Passed out on a couch, I found myself drifting through not so lucid dreams of women, satin, and sharp corners.

Atticus was shaking me. We have to get the fuck out of here now!

What… why? Where are we? Still groggy, memories caught and lost in a net of whiskey and coke. Atticus pulled me up with one arm, it felt detached and foreign. My skin was damp but hot and sticky, as I got to my feet try as I might I couldn’t open my eyes.

Where are your clothes? I don’t know why Atticus kept asking me these fucking questions. He should have known better. I don’t have answers to almost everything. Without a response, he just kept pulling me along as I stumbled behind him.

After a few more steps I opened my eyes the room was dimly lit, ornate, and vaguely familiar. We were in some sort of parlor. Persian carpets from one end to the other seemed exotic. More massive now than earlier, and couches lined the walls and scattered across the room with a giant baroque styled bar in the center. I couldn’t see anyone else. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling we weren’t alone.

Atticus’ arms were shaking with my weight, fuck! He dropped me and my legs failed me. Managing to roll over on my back I got my first look at my savior.

Where the hell are we? Was all I could manage, the feeling that I knew was troubling me.

He put his hands on his legs and bent over to talk to me. His breath covered me like a blanket of comfort and gin.

I’m not surprised you don’t remember. But for fucks sakes, this was your idea.

Covering myself with my arms I finally felt some humility. Where are my things? My clothes?

He threw his arms up, hell if I know!

Atticus started pacing, look, there’s got be something we can cover you up with. Give me a sec, I’m gonna go and check the bar and see I can’t find anything for you.

He took off before I could muster the energy to complain. The room was getting dark again, but when he got back it got brighter. He’d found some coveralls and boots.

Can you get up, and I’ll help you put these on.

I was able to prop myself up and wiggle into the pants then awkwardly stand to fold the rest over me and zip-up the giant brass zipper coming up the middle. They smelt of grease and yard clippings. Like the coveralls, the boots were too big, but we laced them up anyway.

Thirst was building and my throat was sore, can I at least get some water or something?

Yeah, fine. Let’s get you some water. But I’m gonna need you to walk on your own. Can you do that?

He let go of my arm, bit wobbly at first but the first four steps were successful so away we went towards the bar.

The smell of whiskey and cigars was coming from me, and Atticus was in a black suit and tie. The bar seemed too far to reach. I was starting to lose the interest needed to make it.

The leather barstools were welcoming and cool. Atticus ran ‘round the back found a clean Tom Collins glass then topped it off with ice-cold water.

Meaning only to take a sip, it dripped around my mouth and down my chest. Slamming the glass down he poured another.

Try and take it easy, we still need to get you out of here. Why the hell was he so uptight. Honestly it was just like him to be such a wet blanket.

My head was starting to feel a little bit better. Across the bar, there were old napkins and plastic wrappers strewn about and on the ground. Reaching over to grab what I thought was, a cellophane wrapper, Atticus grabbed my arm. It wasn’t cellophane but it was a wrapper, of a prophylactic nature. Still moist, he motioned with his eyes that it was time to leave, and I nodded leaving my water behind.

The parlor was, for all intents and purposes not as big as I first thought. Each step was followed by the gravest disagreements from my joints. There were huge doors just as fancy as the rest of this place as we staggered along.

In the hall was a white and black checkered floor, paintings of old rich people lined the walls. There was a staircase up and to the left of me, it was leading to the same place we were heading. In the foyer a giant golden table with a giant golden pot holding a giant floral arrangement.

Atticus left me there leaning on the table while he tried the front doors.

Under his breath, fuck then louder. Fuck!

I take it we can’t get out the front. Well, there’s gotta be a back door somewhere. Staggering it took all the energy I had just to stay upright.

He looked at me like I was a waste of time, only to remember my value later. Grabbing the pot off the table he struggled to toss it at the glass delicately inlaid into the beautiful doors. It was enough to punch a hole through.

Grabbing me by the waist he pushed me through the mess.

We were standing in front of a giant garden maze of fichus juniper and roses.

Where in the hell are we. I dared to ask.

He threw a look at me and didn’t care for my concerns then pulled me around the side of the house towards the back.

The main house had what looked like three stories from this angle. My feet were sweaty and swimming in this man’s shoes. I could feel where his feet had settled in the soles. The gravel crunched louder and louder as we moved.

Lights were coming on and dark heads appeared unrecognizable in windows. They seemed to cast judgment and disdain. For a moment I wondered what I must look like to them, obnoxious I’m sure.

It was either early morning or late afternoon but either way, the sun was below the horizon, the air out here was cool, and the smell of the garden was refreshing.

How do I know your name? I know you’re Atticus, but I don’t know how to place you in my mind. I’m sorry but I can’t place you.

He stopped, the look he threw me was utter disappointment mixed with sadness.

Come on I think I see your car up ahead.

The dark shapes ahead of me formed into outlines of what I was going to say was a car. There was a small doorstep, he set me down and I leaned against an even smaller rail. The rail creasing the back of my shoulder felt cold and sharp.

Atticus must have had the keys because the car sprung to life and he pulled it forward. He got out opened the back door and guided me in. My bottom was sore, and I could feel it ache as I bent to get in.

He slammed the door shut and it was dark for a moment till he opened his door and the lights came on again. Across the black leather seat were some of my things, amongst them was a parchment letter sticking out of a vellum envelope.

He sped away and down the driveway. I could hear rocks kicking up into the wheel wells. He was silent, I found an overhead light and read the invitation. I felt sick to my stomach what color was left in my face must have left.

It wasn’t till my eyes met his in the rearview mirror, that it all came flooding back.

This… all of this… was our own doing.

I am sorry.

Pushing my arms to the other side of the car all I wanted to do was hug him. With one arm he stroked mine, as I rubbed his chest.

There was nothing left to say, we were going home now. We would never mention this again, either to each other or anyone else.

The invitation came months ago after and weeks of discussion we agreed that we could do this together. Knowing that we loved each other and that our relationship was strong. But I fucking forgot him, there was nothing I could do.

I let this get out of hand, I asked him to trust me, I failed.

Full of shame, not over what we’d done this weekend but for forgetting, failing falling.

An Avocado Tree

There was a small shed in the backyard where Davey’s grandfather stored guns and other things. Things children weren’t allowed to play with. At one point it was painted white, but Davey never knew it in that color. It was worn grey the paint had peeled and the plywood beneath it was showing its age.

Between the shed and the edge of the property was an avocado tree, and to Davey, it was at least as big as the Empire State Building.

On days when it was too hot to be in the house his grandma would send him outside to play. Davey couldn’t remember if he named it or if he heard it somewhere. Anyhow, his name was Archibald, but he liked to be called Archie for short.

Behind the shed, old logs had been cut and stood on end. Nine summers before Davey was born his uncle climbed across the biggest branch Archie had and tied a long rope to it. Down by the logs, a tire now hung.

Sweetie, it’s really hot in here why don’t you, take your toys and play outside, grandma said.

Davey came out of the den. What’s that grandma? I didn’t hear you.

I have to start making dinner soon and it will heat the house even more. Just take some toys and head outside to play, I’ll call you for lunch in a little while.

She held his face and felt his head to make sure he wasn’t too hot.

Okay, grandma. But umm is it okay if I just go outside, I don’t want to lose any of my toys.

Davey’s toys were given to him by his father a few months back on his 8th birthday. It was also the last time he saw his father.

Of course, just go and have fun we’ll have egg-salad sandwiches and lemonade for lunch.

She led him through the kitchen and out the patio door in the dining room. The glass making up the door seemed older than his grandma, it had tinted yellow over the years. The heat from the sun off the back deck was as hot and the air full of dust.

He knew where he’d be cool and walked through the fig trees and past the peach and apricot trees. He always felt better out by the tress, the way they moved in the wind, delighted him.

There was Archie his leaves peeking up over the shed. Davey found the perfect log to sit on, the shade Archie supplied cooled everything. The dirt was no longer burning his toes and he wiggled them in this cooler dirt.

Soon Rocky swam by, he was a super friendly hammerhead shark and one of Davey’s bestest friends.

Hey there Davey, how’s it going bud?

I’m good, it’s so much better here. Ya know not as hot as out there.

Anything outside the shade of Archie was out there and Rocky knew what he was talking about.

Oh yeah I bet. You know what you can come and swim with me if you want the ocean is always pretty cool.

Rocky you’re so silly. I can’t breathe underwater but thanks for asking for the millionth time. Davey laughed. Oh, hey did you want to play a game?

Rocky and Davey loved to play games. Sometimes they would play eye-spy or 21-questions, but their favorite game was tick-tac-toe. Davey would always let Rocky win. Rocky was a good friend but sometimes he wasn’t too smart.

I would love to play a game, but it looks like Rupert is here it would be rude if we didn’t at least say ‘hi’ first. Rocky made a gesture with this long head and Davey looked over.

Rupert was another of Davey’s bestest friends, he was a sky-blue crow that often nested in Archie’s branches.

Oh, Rupert! I didn’t even see you there, I am so sorry. How are you? Is it too hot for you too?

Rupert flew down from atop of Archie to his perch which was a clothesline pole Davey’s grandpa put up two summers ago.

You know what Davey I would be a lot better if it wasn’t so hot. It’s days like this I wish I was a duck. I could just float on the ocean all day and talk with my pal Rocky.

Davey was playing with his fingers and thumbs, trying to distract himself.

Yeah, I wanna be a duck a lot of times, especially when it’s so hot out. But sometimes I worry about being too small. If I was on the ocean how would Rocky find me? The water is really big sometimes. So that’s when I’m happy just being me, I’m still small but I can’t get lost on the ocean. Sorry, Rocky, I would love to be a duck with you we could make all sorts of fun ocean games, I just don’t want to be too lonely.

Rocky swam closer and some of his water splashed on Davey’s toes. Hey! Davey! If you ever get lost on the ocean, I will find you. I know all the other fishes and fun creatures in the ocean. I could find you in like ten seconds. Do you think you can be alone for ten seconds?

Davey was having a tough time looking up from his hands but soon enough found it within himself. He looked up at Rocky with a smile. Yeah, I can be alone for ten seconds. That’s so easy!

Rupert swooped down and perched on a log right next to Davey and Rocky. He didn’t mind getting a little wet to comfort a friend. Oh, you know what would be so fun. If you were a duck, we could fly together and there would be so much stuff to see. I could show you all of the places and when you found one that looked neat, we could just land and take a look around.

Davey had a