Horizons

By Michael Galloway

If God does not play dice, does He ever play marbles? A gambling weatherman finds hope in the heart of a hurricane, amidst mounting losses. An ancient message arrives to a futuristic church...but is it too late?

 

Here are six short stories and twenty poems whose themes range from rollercoasters to fatherhood to the aftermath of a summer thunderstorm. From an underground library to a remarkable rescue in a Christmas Eve blizzard, each story is a venture to a new horizon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Candlepower Publishing House
• Release date: Nov 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9798223175018

Book preview

Horizons

By Michael Galloway

© 2011 by Michael Galloway. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without written permission from the author.

www.michaelgalloway.net

The short stories in this collection are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locations or events is entirely coincidental.

For Keeps

I

Matthew Webb set his newspaper down on his lap and watched his son Brandon slyly draw a circle in the beach sand like a hawk circling its prey. His son’s friend sat cross-legged across from Brandon and both boys had set down their coffee cans half full of marbles. Both rummaged through their collections for a shooter. His friend pulled out a fiery orange agate, while Brandon withdrew a black and indigo one.

He smiled as the boys set their marbles into a cross pattern in the middle of the circle for a game of ringer. It had only taken a few months for his son to build a rather large collection. Some marbles came through store purchases, but many more came through victories. Before the game even began, however, Matthew could hear a hint of arrogance in his son’s voice.

You ready yet? Ready to lose? Brandon said.

Yeah, I’m ready. Ready to clean house.

If you’re gonna clean house you’re going to need a new can of marbles.

Matthew gave his son a disappointed stare. At that, Brandon’s friend fired the first shot and Matthew went back to reading his newspaper.

A warm breeze stirred in the Jack pines around his hammock as he opened the paper to the business section. By day he was a certified gemologist and co-owner of a jewelry store in a strip mall in Bloomington. He scanned the precious minerals markets, having watched the price of gold creep steadily upwards over the past few weeks. He then turned to the main news section and with distant interest read a story about snow being sighted on Mars by one of the NASA rovers.

A handful of shouts later, his son came running up the grass and wooden steps that ran up from the beach to the cabin. With a burst of enthusiasm he shouted to his father, even though he was only five feet away from the hammock.

I won!

I can see that. Congratulations.

No, Dad, I won almost all of his marbles.

Matthew set his newspaper down across his lap as his son approached. Brandon held out his coffee can which was now brimming with marbles.

I understand. But you may want to start giving some of those back at some point. Other kids may stop playing with you if word gets around too much. He winked at his son, who now seemed a bit disappointed.

But I won these.

I know that.

Matthew waved his son to come closer. Look, Dennis doesn’t have much.

Brandon stood there a moment, gazing over the contents of his coffee can. He plunged his hand into the can and lifted up a handful of jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, and emerald colored orbs. They fell between his fingers like running water. Matthew could see his son contemplating the meaning of all this.

Brandon sulked a moment and wandered back onto the stepped path, kicking up clouds of dirt as he went. Matthew returned to reading the paper but found himself distracted now by thoughts of his own childhood collection, and one of the last games of marbles he ever played.

One of those final games was played on a hot summer afternoon, much like this one, in the backyard of an abandoned house on his home street. He remembered squatting in the dirt across from his friend, Nathaniel. His friend was born in the Philippines, orphaned at only a year old, and adopted out to a family that already had four boys and one daughter. He fit in well, loved the outdoors and was a quick wit, but was a poor marbles player.

Matthew recalled how he set his mason jar half full of marbles next to a circle drawn in the dirt. Nathaniel played some games before, but as the games carried on Matthew could tell perhaps it was a mistake to have chosen to play for keeps. He looked on at Nathaniel’s face, whose features became withdrawn as the afternoon carried on.

By mid-afternoon Nathaniel’s collection dwindled to a mere handful or enough for another lone game. He felt a bit guilty for filling his own jar with another pile of marbles, but that feeling soon left him.

"I’ll