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    Between Dawn and Dusk
    Between Dawn and Dusk
    Between Dawn and Dusk
    Ebook68 pages50 minutes

    Between Dawn and Dusk

    By Stefon Mears

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Twenty-two brief stories that you’ll read in a flash, but remember for ages. From fantastical tales of demons, zombies and doppelgangers to serious and silly looks at loss, relationships and personal struggle.

    Included in this collection:
    Does It Count as Cheating?
    Overheard on the Stairs
    A Devastating Combination
    Rising with the Dawn
    Fingers in the Shadows
    Dawn and Dusk
    Grow Some More Flesh
    Salt in the Wound
    Must Sell By Midnight
    The Bedfellow
    Spell to Bring a Lover Back
    Spilling Salt
    Drum Shopping
    Just a Stage
    Outnumbered on a Friday Night
    Shooting Free Throws
    Just Yet
    Running Away Shoes
    Safe Word
    First Steps
    Clint's Barroom Brawl
    Ask the Cats

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStefon Mears
    Release dateFeb 5, 2015
    ISBN9781311428219
    Between Dawn and Dusk

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      Book preview

      Between Dawn and Dusk - Stefon Mears

      Fantastical

      Does It Count as Cheating?

      You bastard!

      I stood in the doorway, my key caught in the deadbolt. I should have seen this coming. My life had gotten too quiet.

      I did see the scotch tape dispenser coming, screaming through the air at my head. Sheila used to play college softball, and could she throw. I dropped to the floor, hiding behind my briefcase as the dispenser sailed past and shattered in the hall.

      How could you? HOW COULD YOU?

      Did I forget something? Was it her birthday? Our anniversary? Think, man!

      Oh, I don’t know, maybe that YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND? Not the remote, Sheila. Not the remote! Or maybe that Jess is MY BEST FRIEND?

      The remote crashed into my briefcase. Something cracked, and I admit that part of me hoped it was the briefcase. Since when was Jess her best friend? I knew better than to ask that, of course, but I had to say something.

      It wasn’t me.

      She started looking for something else to throw.

      It wasn’t me, Sheila.

      She flung a coaster like a ninja throwing star and clipped me in the forehead. She grinned malevolence at my pain.

      I don’t know what Jess is talking about. I’ve never touched her. It wasn’t me!

      She sent me pictures. I like the one of you standing naked in her bathroom doorway. Really shows off your six pack. She held up her phone to show me while my stomach sank through the floor. How many of my relationships had ended this way? And don’t worry, she continued, I have vengeance planned for her too.

      Sheila, I said with a silent prayer, I need you to come with me. Please. There’s something you need to see.

      It was not easy to get her to come across town to a certain coffee shop, and she stopped in our garage first to fill her purse with golf balls. She ranted for the whole drive. As we made our way across the parking lot, she limbered up her throwing arm and promised me death with her eyes.

      She fumed in the corner while I bought our drinks. I had a moment to reflect on the unmitigated stupidity of handing this woman a scalding hot beverage, but I needed a peace offering.

      Well? she demanded.

      Just wait. It won’t be long.

      Five eternal minutes later, the door opened and I came in, dressed for a night on the town. Sheila’s jaw dropped.

      I have a doppelganger, I said. I don’t know if he’s actually trying to steal my life, but he’s been messing it up since college. So when I say I never touched Jess. . . .

      Give me a second. She looked at him, tilted her head, looked at me. Her brow wrinkled in thought as not-me ordered a double mocha latte with extra everything. She took another sip of coffee, looked at me, looked at him. Finally, she said, Threesome?

      Overheard on the Stairs

      Pretty Shoes rested on the tip of a fourteen-year-old tongue, and found itself stuck there all through third period Geometry. It almost escaped on a note, and might have reached some whispering in the corner, where it could stretch out a little. The note got shoved in a pocket, though, because Mrs. Jefferson threw a pop quiz at the class, stranding the poor conversation until break.

      When the bell finally rang, it burst forth from the ready tongue, bouncing happily among several students for fifteen delightful minutes. It even briefly saw its friends Last Night’s Game and Dress Code. Dress Code was one of the oldest conversations at the school, starting way back at the founding, over fifty years ago. Pretty Shoes used to be the youngest, since the school had only been co-ed for twenty years, but recently new conversations had sprung up. Pretty Shoes’ favorite of these was Internet Memes, which had a good sense of humor, even if the jokes could get repetitive.

      The conversation halted when a basketball ricocheted into the middle of the group of students, and then the bell rang everyone into fourth period before it had a chance to get moving again. It drifted through the halls, hoping to entice a student to pick

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