After Dinner Conversation Magazine: After Dinner Conversation Magazine, #29

By Larry Kite, Jesse Rowell, Ava Eckert and 4 more

"After Dinner Conversation" Magazine - November 2022

• Water Under The Bridge: Rusty is beat up by the neighborhood bullies trying to steal his bike, and looks to get revenge.
• The Stone Piles:  A young boy seeks the approval of his father through hunting, but finds he doesn't have the stomach for it.
• Cycles: An Associate English Professor goes through a series of unsuccessful relationships, and finds out she's pregnant. 
• Waiting For The End: Two boys debate "the Sister's" proclamation about the upcoming end of the world.
• Notes From The Struggle: Two men discuss baboons over drinks and consider the words of Socrates.
• Holy Night: Three Auschwitz prisoners find a contraband bible and have to decide if they are willing to risk their lives to keep it.
• Performance:  A sheepish brother is forced through an experimental program to take on the overbearing traits of his crime boss twin.

 

After Dinner Conversation believes humanity is improved by ethics and morals grounded in philosophical truth. Philosophical truth is discovered through intentional reflection and respectful debate. In order to facilitate that process, we have created a growing series of short stories across genres, a monthly magazine, and two podcasts. These accessible examples of abstract ethical and philosophical ideas are intended to draw out deeper discussions with friends, family, and students.

 

★★★ If you enjoy this story, subscribe via our website to "After Dinner Conversation Magazine" and get this, and other, similar ethical and philosophical short stories delivered straight to your inbox every month. (Just search "After Dinner Conversation Magazine")★★★

• Language: English
• Publisher: After Dinner Conversation
• Release date: Nov 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215567067

Book preview

After Dinner Conversation Magazine – November 2022

This magazine publishes fictional stories that explore ethical and philosophical questions in an informal manner. The purpose of these stories is to generate thoughtful discussion in an open and easily accessible manner.

Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The magazine is published monthly in electronic format.

All rights reserved. After Dinner Conversation Magazine is published by After Dinner Conversation in the United States of America. No part of this magazine may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the publisher. Abstracts and brief quotations may be used without permission for citations, critical articles, or reviews. Contact the publisher for more information at [e-mail]

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ISSN# 2693-8359      Vol. 3, No. 11  

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Copyright © 2022 After Dinner Conversation

Editor-In-Chief: Kolby Granville

Acquisitions Editors: R.K.H. Ndong & Stephen Repsys

Design, layout, and discussion questions by After Dinner Conversation.

https://www.afterdinnerconversation.com

After Dinner Conversation believes humanity is improved by ethics and morals grounded in philosophical truth. Philosophical truth is discovered through intentional reflection and respectful debate. In order to facilitate that process, we have created a growing series of short stories across genres, a monthly magazine, and two podcasts. These accessible examples of abstract ethical and philosophical ideas are intended to draw out deeper discussions with friends, family, and students.

Table Of Contents

From The Editor

Water Under The Bridge

The Stone Piles

Cycles

Waiting For The End

Notes From The Struggle

Holy Night

Performance

Author Information

Additional Information

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From The Editor

I’M STRUCK BY HOW MANY ethical/philosophical stories feature children, cartoons, or emerging AI/robots. This makes sense. Each is in a unique position to question axiomatic assumptions adults take for granted. And each innocently walks new grounds of thought for the first time.

I sometimes wonder how I can both benefit from the cognitive efficiency that comes with age, while retaining the assumption-questioning wonder of a child. Perhaps reading helps. Perhaps, like the ancient vampires of gothic writing, the only solution is to continually seek out and befriend new vampires who have not yet gone cold...

In that vein, after several years as a digital-only magazine, we will also be a print magazine, starting officially with our January 2023 issue. The print+digital subscription will be $12.95 with free shipping to many countries.

Some things in life are a one-way door. No one can tell you what’s on the other side, and once you walk through it, you can never walk back. For this magazine, that’s adding a print version. I hope you will consider converting your digital subscription to print+digital on our website today.

Kolby Granville – Editor

Water Under The Bridge

Larry Kite

THE SOUND OF WATER coursing over rocks filled my ears. The creek banks reached out with lush green vegetation as if to grab and hold me, and the warm June air was sweet with the smell of honeysuckle. The creek was small. Four good jumps and I could get across it, but the current was stronger here as the stream rounded a curve heading for the bridge. I looked down at my shoes. Shit, I forgot to put my old ones on. I watched the snake I had been following swim past me. I’ll be careful, I said to myself and jumped to a rock sticking out of the water in the middle of the creek. Catching my balance, I looked for my next step and the snake. The snake diverted around my rock and swam for the opposite bank. Oh no you don’t! I told the snake. He just kept swimming, so I jumped for another rock. My foot landed on the edge; the rock tilted sideways, sending me in, splashing. The water was cool as I sank up to my knee in it.

Shit! And double shit! Knowing I would get an ass whipping for this, I made a grab for the snake and missed. The snake hit the rapids, the water cascading over rocks, propelling the snake towards the low-water concrete bridge. If the snake made it to the culverts, I wouldn’t get it out.

I still had one dry foot and knew I wouldn’t catch the snake unless I got that one wet too. Shrugging, I took off after the snake splashing and laughing, and I grabbed the snake just before it got to the bridge. The snake turned to strike me, but I tossed it up on the bridge before it could. I hopped up onto the bridge, which was just a short jump, and stepped on it before it could slither off the other side. It turned and bit my shoe. A four-foot black snake, its scales slick from the water, glistened in the sun—Granddad would like this one. I bent down and picked it up.

What you doing down there, kid? A voice spoke behind me. I spun around to look for the man. I’m over here, kid. I turned to the right. I found him sitting on the creek bank in the grass under a big shade tree.

Catching a snake for my Grandad. It almost got away. Sorry I got on your bridge, sir. The snake coiled around my arm, while its tail wrapped around my waist. I could feel the power of the snake squeezing, and I tightened my grip on its neck just behind its head. That’s a nice snake, kid. Get that thing out of here and come back when you are done. The man was old; he had to be Walt. Everyone said to stay away from Walt, that he was trouble and a drunk, even if he was our neighbor.

I’ll be back in a minute. I just have to take the snake up to the house and put it in a box. I live—

I know where you live. You’re that Walsh kid. Take your snake home and come on back here. Hurry it up, now.

I ran up Walt’s driveway to where there was a hole in the fence between his property and ours, which was about two acres each, and climbed through, being careful not to lose my grip on the snake’s head. Black snakes aren’t poisonous, but their bite hurts. I ran across the field, the snake losing his grip from the bouncing, and up to the shed. Master, my giant German Shepherd, trotted over to see what I had.

It’s a nice one, don’t you think, Master? He sniffed the snake and wrinkled up his nose, baring his teeth. I laughed as I went into the shed and opened the box. Another snake started slithering out. Ah! Get back in there. I shook the box to knock it back in and added the new one, then looked back at Master. I’ll take them down this evening. I know you don’t like the smell of them. Master wagged his tail. I scratched his head and started back to the bridge.

On my way back to Walt, the water stopped squishing out of my shoes. Maybe they would dry before Maw knew about getting them wet. When I stopped on the bridge, Walt laughed and said, Come on over here, kid. I ain’t gonna hurt you. I went on over and sat down on the grass beside him. The creek bank here didn’t have weeds. Walt’s yard was nicely kept, and there was mowed grass down to the water’s edge.

That’s better, don’t you think? Walt said, smiling. His words were slurred, and he smelled of cheap wine. The front of his tan pants was wet. Unlike my damp shorts, I didn’t think his came from falling in the creek.

I guess so, I said, looking him over. He had close cropped gray hair and a scruffy gray beard on his red face. I wondered why everyone had said he was trouble. He was rail thin, too wasted away to be a threat, and there were a lot of drunk people even in my family, so he seemed okay to me.

I have a proposition for you. Do you know what a proposition is, kid? I was ten years old, but I had a good idea what he was talking about.

You want me to do something for you, right? I said, looking down at the creek.

Well, yes, that’s part of it. In return, I’ll do something for you. Are you interested?

I’ll have to hear what I have to do first. I won’t do any nasty stuff with you, if that’s what you want.

Walt laughed loudly, rolling onto his back. I have no interest in doing any nasty stuff to any kid. I may be a drunk, but I’m not a pervert.

So, what is it you want me to do then? I asked, feeling a little better about being here with Walt.

Walt sat back up and dug into his pocket. He pulled out five dollars and handed it to me. Go up the road to the store, you know, Sheets’ store on the corner? I nodded to show I knew what he was talking about. Go in and tell old man Sheets to give you Ol’ Walt’s stuff and get yourself an ice cream. Then bring back what he gives you.

I sat thinking it over; I could ride my bike up to the store and be back in ten minutes; I didn’t see a downside, plus I liked ice cream. Then a thought hit me. What about the woman that is in there sometimes. She was a large woman, on the fat side. A stained apron tied around her ample waist. Her gray-streaked dirty hair was tied back with twine, and she made a buzzing sound all the time with spit frequently running down her double chin. What if the old woman is in there? She scares me.

This brought another laugh out of Walt. Wilma won’t hurt you. She’s just a little slow. Don’t have all the gears working upstairs, you know? She will give it to you anyway. So, what do you say?