www.montereycountynow.com december 26, 2024-january 1, 2025 MONTEREY COUNTY WEEKLY 33 much I can do for the first few periods. After millennia of lecturing, we have 50 minutes of freedom. I’m at the top of the stairs when I see undercooked pasta on a tray. We need more options for lunch. Two more hours of suffering, I finally go home and start my everlasting homework. The Cave By Gus Wellin Fox and Snake stand outside the cave. Well, one does. They eye each other. After a moment, Snake begins, “I hear there are mice.” “I like mice,” responds Fox conversationally. “Could be.” They both turn to look at the cave. “Do you?” Fox continues. Snake’s head tilts. A tongue tastes the air. “Like mice I mean.” “Mice are a little furry.” Fox clears his throat. “For me that is.” A drop of water slips free from the mouth of the cave and lands in front of them. “Oh.” Fox finishes. There’s a long silence. They both walk away. Well, one does. About Those Baby Shoes… By Roy Verley The doctor’s numbing words echoed in his ears as he walked home from the hospital in the rain. “We’re so sorry, Mr. Henry. We couldn’t save them. They’re both gone.” Then something about a twisted umbilical cord and massive hemorrhaging, but he’d stopped listening by then. He was thinking about Catherine. How much he loved her. How hard she’d tried to deliver their first child. And now... He called the local newspaper to dictate an ad. “For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.” He paused. “On second thought, let’s say ‘free.’” Catherine would have insisted. And Catherine would get the last word. When His Search Hit the Paws Button By Scotty Cornfield The old friends met in front of Carefree Park. “Hey, stranger,” Ryan said. “Haven’t seen you in months.” “True. Last time I saw you, you were scouring every pet store and shelter around,” Maxine said. Ryan laughed. “Right. I got Rocky, a Great Dane. Way too big for the apartment. Then I found Bubbles, a Yorkie. Cute, but so small I almost stepped on her. Eventually, I discovered Isabella.” “Don’t tell me. You went from dog too big, to dog too small, to dog just right.” “Almost. Isabella owns a pet store. I married her. Still looking for the perfect dog.” Foot Guy - A True Story By C Fredericksen Costco was brimming with vigilant foragers in pursuit of free tasty morsels when I noticed a skittering about from the corner of my eye, like a cautious rat on the move. “Wow! Those are nice shoes!” says the face, unexpectedly in front of mine. He chatted: wife, hiking, my cool slip-on sneakers. Harmless. My baby babbles in the cart. “What size are those?” He asked to inspect the soles then reached down and slowly stroked my toes, to my horror, and skittered away into the crowd. Twenty years later, standing at my job, chopping vegetables… “Hey! Those are nice shoes!” Market Day By Lud Geiger A brisk autumn morning. She walks nearly empty streets, a wicker market basket with a small baguette wrapped in cloth, a slim slip of paper carrying the hope of freedom hidden there. She approaches the stalls as usual, taking time to peruse the offerings. A few potatoes, some carrots and an onion. The stalls offer less now; some have closed. At last she stops, offers the baguette to the vendor, selects a wilted bunch of radishes and pays with hoarded pennies. She walks on. Don’t look nervous; never look back. If they are coming for you, they will come. Clarinets By Steve Schechter My father grew up during the Depression. His father owned a pharmacy, where my father worked just to see him. As a teenager, my dad played clarinet with big bands that snuck him into clubs. He went to college for free on a music scholarship, enlisting halfway through. Afterwards, he finished college and married my mother, joining her family’s business. My father played clarinet twice during my lifetime. Hauntingly beautiful, dark notes. Twice. Why, then, years after his death, do clarinets make me well up? Because those two times seemed glimpses of who my dad really was, and might have been. Free and Easy By Donnolo Beren Ledecky swims freestyle. Molchanova was a free diver. Ruth was a free swinger. Ohtani was a free agent. Walks are free passes. Curry takes free throws. Messi takes free kicks. I support freedom of religion and freedom of the seas. I believe in a free press, free trade, free speech, free shipping, free will, free love, free verse, and free fall. I free-associate. I’m a free spirit, freemason, free-lancer, freeloader, and freebooter. I write freely freehand. My energy, electrons, and radicals are free. My freestanding freehold is in free socage. Some freeways are toll roads. There’s no free lunch. You’re Dreaming By Nepenthe Machado Wake up, you’re freefalling. Is the internet up? Need to find my to-do list. No time to be carefree. Have to find my glasses first. I’ll make a smoothie while I look. Why did I come in this room? My daughter sees the frazzled look. “I’m looking for my glasses.” One pair is on your freethinking head. One pair is in your hand! Here! One pair is in the freezer! “Thanks.” Now I can breathe. Is breathing still free? Or do I have to pay through the nose? “Where’s my té doo list?” Phoenix By Madeline de Campos Emerald leaves glided the whirls of spring air freely in swirls of pine. Under a canopy of trees, Aurora walked in a white sundress. She carried an embroidered bag with daffodils that fluttered across the canvas. Reaching her destination, she knocked on the apartment door and coughed as soot flew from her rapping knuckles into her face. There was a groan from inside before the door cracked open to reveal her rumpled-haired ex in wrinkled clothes. His bloodshot eyes widened. “You got my letter?” he asked. She opened her fist and blew the ashes of the letter in his face. Furnished Studio Apartment By John Fredrickson Now that the kids have moved out, Mary has decided to offer for rent the studio apartment behind her house. A sign is posted; flyers are circulating. But she’s having second thoughts. “Can I really charge $1,000 per month for this tiny apartment? And, I mean, is it right?” A friend offers advice. “It’s less than the going rate. You’re free to charge whatever.” Mary remains perplexed. “It still seems like a lot to me. There’s no way I could ever afford it for myself.” Suddenly it dawns on her: “I’m the kind of people I don’t want as my tenant.” The End By Lori Robinson “Read me a story, Daddy.” “I’ll tell you a story,” he replied. “OK.” “Once upon a time there was a girl living with her daddy in a cottage they owned so the landlord couldn’t evict them.” “What about taxes, insurance, and zoning, Daddy?” Her father, taken aback, responded, “Well, those are considerations. But it’s still worth owning land.” “Did they have to share a driveway, Daddy? Was it near a factory polluting air and water? Nothing is free of drawbacks.” The man sat up, “And they lived happily ever after. The end.” “Good night, Daddy. No fantasies next time.” My Escape from Reality By Gabriella Jackson The sun was low, painting the course in soft gold as I stood on the tee box. I inhaled the fresh, grassy air, the quiet only broken by the distant chirp of a bird. I swung the club, and the ball flew straight, landing just shy of the green. Not bad. As I walked the fairway, I felt the world slip away. Out here, I was free—free from texts, deadlines, and the weight of daily life. On the final hole, I sunk a long putt, grinning as the ball dropped. Victory or not, the real win was this fleeting, perfect freedom. 101-Word Short Story Contest 101-word continued from pg. 24
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