John Reddington sat in his living room, thinking of the next story he would write. His wife, Kathy, had gone to California to visit her folks, bringing their daughter, Gracie, along. There was a rare peace to the house after they had left, and John found it wonderfully relaxing. That’s not to say he didn’t miss them, he did. But the characters inside his head were louder, the ideas fuller, and, for the first time in months, he felt a true story birthing inside him. Then the phone rang.
“Hey!” he said. “Are you finally there?”
“Yeah,” Kathy said, “we just cleared the airport traffic.”
“Well, how was your flight?”
“It was good, baby, we really miss you.”
“I miss you guys, too. How many days again?”
“Just the rest of this week. I wish you were here, John. I can’t believe that ole’ bastard didn’t approve your vacation hours. You’ve been working for him for five years. And to think, asking for three days off would be a big deal.”
“I know, babe. I know.”
“That’s okay, because as soon as your stories start selling, you can tell the old man that I said to pack sand!”
They both laughed.
John had written stories ever since he was a small child. He had never been published, but his dream was to go into a bookstore, see his book on the shelf, grab it, and flip the pages quickly, taking in that glorious smell.
“One day,” John said. “Can I talk to Gracie?”
“She’s sleeping.”
“When you get to your Mom’s, please have her call me.”
“I will.” She paused. “Let me get back to driving. It’s been so long since I’ve been out here.”
“Drive safe, baby, I love you.”
“I love you too, bye.”
YOU ARE READING
Bestseller: A Short Story
TerrorJohn Reddington always wanted to write a bestselling novel... He had no idea it would be so painful. With the house empty, as his wife and daughter are away at her mother’s house in California, John dives straight into a mystery novel he has been wo...
