Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    A Gossamer Cord: A Medley of Short Stories
    A Gossamer Cord: A Medley of Short Stories
    A Gossamer Cord: A Medley of Short Stories
    Ebook92 pages1 hour

    A Gossamer Cord: A Medley of Short Stories

    By Violet Grayson

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Love is a gossamer cord that links humanity and inspires us to care for each other and for the animals entrusted to us. It's fragile but if true may be stretched to the limit and become frayed but won't break.
    Ordinary people sometimes live through extraordinary events that change their lives. A Gossamer Cord isn't about caricatures or superhumans but persons who are simply trying to live and love, be happy and be loved.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTrafford Publishing
    Release dateJan 21, 2011
    ISBN9781426949159
    A Gossamer Cord: A Medley of Short Stories
    Author

    Violet Grayson

    Born in her grandparents’ bedroom on October 11, 1925, Violet Grayson says of her writing, “At the age of fourteen, I wrote a poem and a rather dismal short story. I sent the short story to Collier’s magazine, where it was immediately rejected. I redeemed my pride by later winning a school-wide essay contest at Cumberland High School and becoming an at-large reporter for our school paper, The Chronicle. As a senior, I was named literary editor of our yearbook. My English teacher, Mr. Skahan, suggested I switch to the college course since he saw me as scholarship material, but that was too much of a reach in those Great Depression years. After graduating in 1943, I worked in an office, married in 1949, and became a mother in 1950 and then a single parent in 1952. My writing would have to wait until January 1986 when, at the age of sixty, I launched my literary career.” Violet has had twenty-four personal-experience stories, articles, how-to pieces, and short stories published. She also wrote a column for the Foxboro Reporter in her former home of Foxboro, Massachusetts. In California, since 1993, she contributed to “Two Cents,” an opinion column in the San Francisco Chronicle maintained by a pool of citizens. She is an active member and Secretary of Writers West of Alameda Inc. This is her fourth book. The first, In the Village Lonsdale, was published in 2006. Her second, A Gossamer Cord, was published in 2011. Her third, Jeremy’s Cottage, was published in 2013.

    Read more from Violet Grayson

    Related to A Gossamer Cord

    Related ebooks

    Short Stories For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Bag Lady

      Jun 15, 2021

      Bag Lady
      6 min read

    • Article

      Jenkins

      Feb 4, 2021

      Jenkins
      6 min read

    • Article

      The Truth Is I Never Left You

      Aug 17, 2017

      The Truth Is I Never Left You
      8 min read

    • Article

      Metaphors

      Mar 10, 2023

      I’m knitting on my front porch when a car roars to a stop in front of my house. It’s a red Mustang convertible, top down on this warm Thursday afternoon in June. Two girls sit in the front, two in the back. They smile and wave at me. I smile back tho

      8 min read

    • Article

      Winter Sun

      Feb 6, 2020

      Winter Sun
      4 min read

    • Article

      Soggy CHIPS

      Oct 19, 2022

      Soggy CHIPS
      7 min read

    • Article

      Bag Lady

      May 23, 2023

      Bag Lady
      6 min read

    • Article

      Thieves

      Apr 11, 2018

      Thieves
      25 min read

    • Article

      The Wigwam

      Sep 21, 2023

      The Wigwam
      4 min read

    • Article

      The MISTAKE

      Aug 30, 2023

      The MISTAKE
      8 min read

    • Article

      On The Road…

      May 27, 2021

      I met Jürgen whilst we were both emptying our respective toilet cassettes at a site in Spain. When female fellow campers walk nearby during this ritual, I often feel uncomfortable but, when walking to the toilet block with our evening’s after-dinner

      3 min read

    • Article

      The PINKY PACT

      Apr 4, 2023

      The PINKY PACT
      10 min read

    • Article

      Uncontrollable, Irrelevant

      Dec 6, 2022

      My sister called me the other day. She wanted to let me know that I had once more been merciless and cruel in my relations with our parents. “They say there’s a lot of anger in you,” she said. “It makes them mad. It hurts their feelings. They think y

      14 min read

    • Article

      ‘Ordinary Girls’: Featured Nonfiction by Jaquira Díaz

      Oct 29, 2019

      We shared stories about our fathers, both mujeriegos, all the women they’d betrayed...We played our favorite songs for each other. The post ‘Ordinary Girls’: Featured Nonfiction by Jaquira Díaz appeared first on The Millions.

      4 min read

    • Article

      The Jamie Brisick corner

      Dec 22, 2021

      The Jamie Brisick corner
      9 min read

    • Article

      The Sound Of Bongo

      Oct 2, 2019

      The Sound Of Bongo
      4 min read

    • Article

      Serenity

      Feb 2, 2022

      Serenity
      9 min read

    • Article

      The Turn Of The Tide

      Sep 24, 2020

      The Turn Of The Tide
      4 min read

    • Article

      Serenity

      Jan 12, 2022

      Serenity
      9 min read

    • Article

      Home Alone

      Aug 16, 2022

      Home Alone
      9 min read

    • Article

      Ambient Ecstasy

      Jan 2, 2022

      Ambient Ecstasy
      4 min read

    • Article

      Tomorrows

      Mar 15, 2022

      The night, as most nights, was like a dream. At ten, once I’d fed the dog the last scraps off the stove. Once I’d cursed the cat for scratching up my mama’s antique furniture, then welcomed him back into my arms. Once I’d slicked my hair into a ponyt

      26 min read

    • Article

      The Freshening

      Sep 15, 2018

      My cashier’s black hair was beautiful. Though not unlike mine, it was shinier and thicker, and hung glamorously down to her waist. It looked strong, too, like Christopher Reeve’s in the Superman movies. A strand of Superman’s silvery hair could hold

      21 min read

    • Article

      Winter SUN

      Oct 4, 2022

      Winter SUN
      4 min read

    • Article

      Waving Not Drowning

      Aug 8, 2022

      Waving Not Drowning
      6 min read

    • Article

      Queen Of Salt

      Feb 6, 2020

      Queen Of Salt
      10 min read

    • Article

      The Man With No Name

      Oct 1, 2021

      The Man With No Name
      4 min read

    • Article

      The New Queen Of Country Has Arrived

      Apr 9, 2024

      Dress to cause a stir.  “When I heard I’d been nominated for a Brit, I told my stylist my vision: really glam at the front, arse out at the back. I knew it was going to turn heads (my ambition was to get on the Daily Mail’s worst-dressed li

      2 min read

    • Article

      Under WATER

      Aug 10, 2021

      Under WATER
      6 min read

    • Article

      Temptation

      Dec 28, 2021

      Temptation
      6 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for A Gossamer Cord

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      A Gossamer Cord - Violet Grayson

      Contents

      ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

      DEDICATION

      SEAGULLS ON THE LAKE

      DAISY’S FATHER

      WHITE CAPS

      MILDRED AND DEBBIE

      A GOSSAMER CORD

      DRIFTWOOD

      WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS

      MIRANDA’S JOURNEY

      MY REAL MOTHER

      SEESAW

      ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

      To my daughter, Darcy L Morrison, for designing the cover and

      the title page.

      To the members of Writers West of Alameda, Inc., for their invaluable comments and suggestions.

      DEDICATION

      To my late and beloved husband, George B. Schultz, with thanks for his belief in me and his precious encouragement.

      To my talented and beloved daughter, Darcy L. Morrison, for her help in preparing the manuscripts for publication and her support.

      SEAGULLS ON THE LAKE

      Help your brother’s boat across and your own will reach the shore.

      Hindu proverb

      The six o’clock crowd had thinned when a local policemen strode into Vinnie Grenier’s Home Cookin’ Diner and pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen, his boots clomping on the tile. In a low voice he told Vinnie, Maurie fell through the ice. He’s at Spruce Bend Hospital and he’s giving them a helluva time. He refuses to take off his clothes and let them warm him up unless you say it’s okay.

      Vinnie banged his fist on the hard surface of the chopping block. That idiot, for cryin’ out loud! He knows I can’t leave the diner. You tell my brother to take off his clothes and do whatever they want him to do or I’ll… He ran his hand over his bald head. Sorry, Charlie he mumbled. Reaching around to his back pocket, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and shoved it into the officer’s hand. Show him this and tell him I said it’s all his if he’ll do what they want him to do, okay?

      Charlie patted his shoulder. Thanks, Vinnie. See yuh later.

      Yeah, thanks,. Vinnie sighed and shook his head. An hour earlier, borne on the frosty, late February air of New Hampshire, the cracking sound of rifle shots and yelled obscenities had drifted up from Bluehill Lake. In the diner, spoons heavy with beef stew were halted in mid-passage and the chicken-in-a-basket lay untouched momentarily while the eaters raised their heads, murmuring questions. In the kitchen, Vinnie pulled a bowl of hard-cooked eggs out of the refrigerator and slammed the door shut with a curse.

      His old friend, Simpson Cady, swung around on his stool at the counter and called out over the din, It’s okay, folks. No need to worry. It’s just one of our friends trying to the scare the seagulls off Bluehill Lake. In a ripple of laughter, the crowd returned to their meals.

      Holding the bowl of eggs, Vinnie called through the pass-through opening. Thanks.

      Sim swung back, smiling and snickering. Looks like your brother’s been suckin’ on the bottle, again. Vinnie nodded as he began to slice the eggs.

      At 10:00 P.M. he closed the diner. Sim stayed past the time the waitresses, busboys and assistant cook had left for the night. In the parking lot he paused near his old Ford pickup truck, his breath fogging the air in the lucid bluish-white light of the moon. Need any help with Maurie?

      Vinnie waved his hand. Nah, but thanks anyway. He’ll be in the trailer by now, sleeping it off. He slapped the hood of the truck. Get outta here so I can go home." His brief smile relieved the downward set of his mouth.

      After Sim left, Vinnie trudged wearily behind the diner and down a path to the mobile home he shared with Maurie on the shore of Bluehill Lake. He found his brother sprawled on the couch, fully dressed. Empty beer cans littered the floor. He stood in front of Maurie, his anger a ball of hot metal scorching his insides. What the hell’s the matter with you?

      Huh? Maurie blinked up at him through watery, blue eyes, moving his mouth in an effort to speak. He licked his already wet lips and tried again. I slipped. Honest to God, I did, and I couldn’t get up. His voice quivered like that of a frightened child. I yelled and yelled and some kids saw me. Pulled me to shore with my rifle. His face folded unexpectedly into a grin. But I scared those old seagulls. You shoulda seen ‘em take off. His smile faded as quickly it had appeared. The loose skin on his face sagged. Seagulls don’t belong on a lake. Why don’t they stay at the ocean? Why do they fly all that way to eat garbage at a dump and hang out on a half-frozen lake? What’s the matter with them?

      Vinnie spat out the words, At least they know what they’re doing.

      His brother closed his eyes. His voice slipped out in a wavery whisper. Remember when we were kids and we went to Hampton Beach? Remember?

      Oh, cripes, here we go again. Vinnie yanked off his jacket and baseball cap and hung them in the too-small closet. Unperturbed, Maurie continued his reverie.

      The water was like ice and we’d dare each other to dive in. The first one in got to splash the other one. We’d yell and play and try to forget that our mom and pop were tanking it up at the Safe Harbor Café and would probably beat us for getting sand in the car. It was just you and me and the seagulls. I loved them. They looked beautiful to me. They made that wild cry… He tried to imitate a seagull but all that came out was a thin Skreek! Skreek! Remember how they sailed around in the sky. I wanted to be one of them. I‘d run up and down the beach and pretend I was flying off with them and I’d never have to be beaten again or smell the booze or listen to mom and pop throw up. His head drooped. Vinnie could hear the muffled sobs. He shook his head in disgust as he flopped onto the threadbare recliner. Maurie opened bleary eyes. It’s like this, he continued.. I can’t stand to see them here. They don’t belong here. Why do they come in and eat off a lousy dump when they can be clean and free at the ocean? Why do they do that to themselves? He paused and looked away. Why do I keep drinking and messing up my life?"

      Vinnie snorted. Your life? Why do you keep messing up your life? He leaned forward, dropped his hands between his knees and looked directly at his brother, enunciating each word in an icy tone, I’m tired, Maurie. I’m fifty-seven and you’re fifty-three. I’m not twelve any more and we’re not at Hampton Beach. I work fifteen hours a day to keep that diner going, with little help from you. I give you a job washing dishes and you screw that up. I don’t have kids to help me. My wife left because I was never home. I don’t wanna hear no more of that crap about the seagulls. I’m goin’ t’bed.

      Maurie made it to the diner the next day wearing haphazard patches on his face to proudly tell the world he had shaved. I even took a shower, he announced over and over until Vinnie yelled at him to shut up and start washing dishes. I’m gonna quit drinking, honest I am, he blubbered, You’ll see, Vinnie.

      He honored his pledge for a week, saving his roaring binge for Sunday, Vinnie’s day off. He begged his brother to take him

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1