My short story, “Silence of the Imbeciles,” described by its first publishing editor as “well written, understated and poignant,” is now available in Kindle format at Amazon.
The story concerns a young teen boy, Frankie Turnbull, struggling to use properly his fantastical talent of making and using magic wands. Things have not gone well, and Frankie finds his own way to deal with the not-so-uncommon realization (if you remember being 14) that he is surrounded in his life by complete and utter imbeciles. But in this case, more uniquely, he is certain the situation is his fault. When, if ever, will he no longer suffer the isolation of being the only person with more than half a wit?
The story begins:
His father’s voice boomed from the shed door. “What are you doing out here?”
Carving knife in hand, Frankie Turnbull flinched. The blade sliced into the flesh of his finger.
He dropped the knife and flapped his hand once. “Nothing! Okay?”
Like the blade, his response was too sharp. He knew better. But he spoke without thinking. He needed time to fix a very serious problem, and nobody was giving it to him.
Anthony Turnbull cleared his throat, telegraphing to Frankie the shallow depth of the ice upon which he’d just placed himself.
“Sorry,” he said, turning.
His father’s bulky frame filled the doorway, silhouetted by the late-afternoon sun. He crossed his arms.
Frankie’s hair tingled. “I’m almost done,” he pleaded. But it was pointless to argue with the man. He was stubborn, he could throw Frankie a country mile, and he was an imbecile.
Imbecility was the biggest problem. That was Frankie’s fault. It was the problem he wanted to fix…
Frankie’s problems mount from there, and I hope you enjoy the story.