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    The Cruel Edges of the World: 13 Tales of Intrigue & Redemption
    The Cruel Edges of the World: 13 Tales of Intrigue & Redemption
    The Cruel Edges of the World: 13 Tales of Intrigue & Redemption
    Ebook69 pages57 minutes

    The Cruel Edges of the World: 13 Tales of Intrigue & Redemption

    By Jason Drexler

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    About this ebook

    In this debut collection of short stories, Jason Drexler pulls together elements of O. Henry, Edgar Allan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft to bring readers to places they've never known. At times fanciful and humorous and at other moments steeped in dread, The Cruel Edges of the World is a fascinating foray into unexplored territory.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJason Drexler
    Release dateJul 8, 2011
    ISBN9781452415376
    The Cruel Edges of the World: 13 Tales of Intrigue & Redemption
    Author

    Jason Drexler

    A newspaper veteran of 8 years, mostly as a copy editor. A magna cum laude journalism grad from the University of Maine. Husband and daddy, living in Southern California. And an avid gardener.You like-a my tomatoes?

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      Book preview

      The Cruel Edges of the World - Jason Drexler

      The Cruel Edges of the World

      13 Tales of Intrigue & Redemption

      By Jason Drexler

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2011 Jason Drexler

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Table of Contents

      Grayin’ Up

      Fault Line

      The Inbox

      Unopia

      Emptied

      Table for Two

      Lonely Boy

      Idiot Light

      The Krueller and the Camel

      Wish I Was There

      Parasite

      The Sting of Death

      The Shape of Life

      Grayin’ Up

      James’s mother stood at the kitchen window watching him play in the snow, an all-too-familiar ache gripping her in her chest.

      WHUMP!

      Jenny landed a snowball right between James’s eyes. It was such a good shot that he congratulated her, then wound up to return fire.

      PAFF!

      His shot thumped into her back and exploded into a hundred pieces. She squealed.

      Ha! said James. How’d you like that one?

      Jenny turned and ran up a snowbank, jumped off the backside and landed in a deep drift. James chased after her, a snowball clutched in his hand.

      Yaaahhhhh! He sailed off the bank and landed with a frump! next to Jenny. The drift stopped him dead.

      Truce! she said.

      It’s okay – I’m done.

      Givin’ up already?

      No. Just feel like takin’ a break all of a sudden.

      "This is comfortable, isn’t it?"

      Yeah, it is.

      They reclined, all snug in the drift, taking a well-deserved rest – snow had been falling at varying speeds all day, and the two children had been engaged in a bitter battle – The War of the Snows, they called it – for a good part of that time. The storm had let up a bit during their last scuffle, but the snow was now falling hard again, and they lay there watching it, letting it mesmerize them.

      It’s grayin’ up, said Jenny.

      What?

      It’s grayin’ up.

      What do you mean?

      When it snows hard like this, all the evergreens get hazy-lookin’ – you know, kinda grayish – so I call it ‘grayin’ up.’

      James stared up at a tall pine at the edge of the yard.

      I think I see what you mean. … That’s what I like about you – you see those kinda things.

      I get it from you.

      Really?

      Yeah, and you get it from me.

      He giggled a bit. Then she did. Then they got to laughing so hard that they caused a mini-avalanche, which dropped snow down their necks and made them laugh more.

      James! his mother called out from somewhere behind them. Suppertime!

      Comin’!

      James’s mother watched him climb up over the bank and trudge through the deep snow, a lonesome-looking sight all by himself, and her heart cringed, wishing that she still had her daughter, and that James still had his sister.

      Fault Line

      John stepped out of his truck into the foggy dark, the crunch of the dirt under his feet piercing the still, midnight air. The world around him slept in loud silence, but his senses, as always, were invigorated by the cool, quiet hours.

      After breathing the crisp air into his lungs for a minute, he headed for the porch stairs at the side of his house, digging in his pocket for his keys as he went, but when he reached the top step, his foot knocked against something, sending it clattering across the porch.

      Oh no. Not again.

      He unlocked the door, reached inside to flip on the porch light, then looked down at his feet.

      Yup. Just what I thought.

      A bag of trash, which he’d set out on the porch earlier that day, was now torn open, its guts spilled out all around it. John’s blood ran hot and he slammed the door shut.

      Dang raccoons!

      Last night he’d shot one that was trying to get into his trash – the latest in a recent string of rubbish ravagers, and, he had hoped, the last one. Visions of vengeance now played across his mind, sandwiched by self-condemning thoughts, his stupidity for even leaving the trash outside again, and then he remembered that he’d left a shovel by the back door that morning after using it to carry the carcass into the woods. He huffed.

      I’d better go take care of it while it’s on my mind.

      He descended the steps and went down an embankment onto

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