Tag Archives: short story

A Writerly Christmas Exchange

You’ve heard me name drop my friend and fellow writer Nick Hayden several times. (If you haven’t checked out his his website or stories do it right now!) Recently, I suggested an interesting project to him: I said we should “exchange” worlds each other had created and write a short story set in it. In other words, I write a story in one of his universes and he writes a story in one of mine.

I suggested this because I’ve been wanting to write a Christmas story with it being the holiday season and all. I wanted to write one that was good and not just Hallmark movie sappy. I conceived an idea and decided to set it in a fictional small town Nick had created. Hopefully, it’ll be done by Christmas. It’ll be posted both here and on Nick site.

What does Nick plan to write in one of my universes? I’ve no clue. Stay tuned.

New short story artwork for ‘The Hammer’

My brother Jarod has contributed yet another piece of excellent artwork for one of my short stories. This time it was for “The Hammer,” a science fiction story you can read here. The artwork portrays the hero, Matthias Maccabeus, punching out a disguised robot assassin. Check it out:

'The Finishing Blow' by Jarod Marchand

So, if you haven’t read the story yet, I hope you will now. Why would you pass up on excitement like this?

My latest short story: ‘Love and Pac-Man’

I just posted a new short story a few minutes ago. It’s entitled, “Love and Pac-Man” (click the title to read it). It is the combination of a flurry of ideas.

First, after watching the original version of The Karate Kid some months ago, and seeing the scene where the protagonist, Daniel, meets the girl he likes at an arcade, I had this idea to write a story about a young man who finds love while at an arcade (this was later reinforced while watching Tron: Legacy). It’s a location almost never used in a romance story.

Second, last month’s assignment given for the Writers’ Corner, a writers’ club that meets at the North Webster Community Public Library, involved writing a story that used certain words. Each person was given a short time to write things pertaining to several categories and questions given by the club leader, Beth. Here’s the list I wrote:

Two Things That Annoy You:
-Lying
-My old laptop

Two People You Admire:
-Abraham Lincoln
-C.S. Lewis

The Names of as Many Horses as You Can Think of:
-Black Beauty
-Silver
-Seabiscuit
-Secretariat
-Quick-Draw McGraw
-Gunpodwer (Ichabod Crane’s horse in “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”)

Would You Rather Live Rural or Urban?:
-Rural

Three Things You Associate with Summer:
-Hot weather
-Blockbuster movies
-Swimming

Pay close attention, and you’ll see that I managed to work all of these into the story, which is surprisingly only 1,000 words long.

Readers who live or have lived in my area may notice a few “local references,” even though it takes place in a fictional small town. There was once a theme park in North Webster, Indiana, called Adventureland, and it did have a small roller coaster called the Wild Mouse. The name of the arcade, Tilt, was taken from an arcade that used to be at the Glenbrook Square mall in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Anyway, I read the piece at the Writers’ Corner’s meeting Monday, and everyone enjoyed it. I hope you will too.

Love and Pac-Man

Love and Pac-Man
By Nathan Marchand

“I don’t wanna be here, Joey!” cried my blonde eight-year-old sister, Kay. “I wanna ride the Wild Mouse!”

I tightened my grip on her tiny hand as we walked to Adventureland’s arcade, Tilt. The stares we were getting from parents and their kids were palpable. I smiled awkwardly at some passersby and then turned my attention to Kay. “Don’t worry. We’ll ride it soon. I just want to play some of the games in here, okay? I promise I’ll buy you a stuffed Black Beauty with the tickets I win.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Pinky swear!” My sister held up her mouse-tail of a pinky.

I wrapped my, by comparison, python-like pinky around hers and swore my oath.

Instantly, Kay smiled, and said, “Okay!” With that, she released my hand and ran through the door into Tilt.

I shook my head and sighed. Maybe I was better off spending my Friday night working on my old laptop or reading a C.S. Lewis book. But someone has to watch her while Mom and Dad are out on their “date night.” That thought felt like a knife through the heart. I wish I had a date tonight. I harrumphed. At least in our tiny rural town we have a half-decent little theme park to go to. I can enjoy a bit of the hot weather this summer before I go back to college.

I pushed open the door and was greeted by a rainbow of flashing neon signs, the smell of pizza, the screaming laughter of children, musty air, and the cacophony of Donkey Kong, Street Fighter, and Mario Bros. Shouting over it was the song “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey, which was blaring from the jukebox. It brought back happy childhood memories.

“Hi-ho, Silver, away!”

I looked to my right and saw a giggling Kay straddling a Lone Ranger-themed coin-operated horse ride sitting next to a Pac-Man machine.

“How’d you get that to work?” I asked.

“I found a quarter on the floor,” replied Kay, smiling coyly.

I rolled my eyes. A few seconds later, the horse stopped, and I lifted Kay off “Silver” and onto the floor. I crouched to make eye contact. “What poor boy did you charm into giving you his hard-earned money?”

Kay hung her head and wrung her hands, wearing her trademark “pouty face.”

“Spit it out, Sissy.”

Hesitantly, she pointed behind me and said, “That one.”

I looked over my shoulder. There, standing between an animatronic Abraham Lincoln and a Gunpowder arcade machine was a little brown-haired boy about her age wearing a Quickdraw McGraw T-shirt—and he was holding the hand of Sue Preor!

I gulped. My sister had just swindled money from my high school crush’s little brother!

You Are Not Alone

Rain pattered against the massive windows, skewing the plane as it descended from the sea of gray looming in the sky. Ethan had been sitting in the airport terminal for what seemed like hours, his hands folded, his head hung. Dozens of empty seats surrounded him like an army. The P.A. hardly, if ever, resounded. He looked up to see his flight crawl down the runway.

He glanced at his watch. His head fell as he sighed, his hand running through his muddy hair. Blockaded tears stung his sealed eyes. A deep breath helped steel his resolve. He zipped up his black jacket, picked up the duffel bag sitting at his feet, stood, and walked toward the gateway. He didn’t look back.

“Ethan, wait!”

Two steps from the gateway, he stopped, turning around. Zoe sprinted toward him. Her amber hair was drenched, nearly brown. Her soaked white university shirt clung to her every curve. Short but shapely legs half-hidden by jean shorts carried her swiftly, her flip-flops slapping her tiny feet.

Ethan just stood there, glowering.

Zoe ran to him, slowing to catch her breath. Her sapphire eyes looked up at Ethan, who was almost a head taller than her, rain pouring down her face. “I made it in time.”

Ethan crossed his arms. “No, you’re late.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get your e-mail until after my economics class. I had no idea you were going to leave.”

“Nobody did because nobody cared.”

Zoe’s lip quivered. “How could–”

“—I say that? Because I’ve been at that college for five months and no one accepts me. A few people act like they’re my friends, but it’s nothing but masks. I did all I could to fit in, make friends, but I’m just some weird artist to them, so they treat me like a leper.”

“I’m…sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for them!” snapped Ethan, pointing accusatively. “You listened to them. You and all the other freshmen let the upperclassmen decide who your friends should be, who was allowed to join the student aristocracy. You were one of them by the end of the first semester.”

Zoe dropped her gaze. “I had no idea they were hurting you so much.”

“You never asked.” Ethan shook his head. “When I met you the first day of classes, I thought you were different. You went to my art exhibits and my poetry recitations. You seemed to understand me. I guess I was wrong.”

“I came here, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know why. None of your ‘friends’ bothered to come. It just proves what I’ve known all along—nobody would miss me if I died tomorrow.”

Zoe sealed her eyes and clenched her fists. “Would it help if—“

“I don’t want to hear it!” shot Ethan, waving his hand dismissively. “It won’t change that I’m cursed to be an outcast everywhere I go. Even home isn’t home anymore. I sent that e-mail to everyone I knew, and even my parents haven’t tried to stop me. What does that tell you?”

Zoe wrung her hands, her eyes staring at the floor and her body tense. “I don’t know…”

“It tells me that I am, and always will be, alone.”

Zoe stood there in silence.

Ethan glanced at the window as the thunderous hum of the passenger jet whined in his ears. “My flight is here finally,” he said, looking back at Zoe. “I have to go.”

“Where?” she asked, her voice cracking.

Gravedigger

After weeks of searching, I’d finally found a decent job—at a graveyard. But after only a few hours of work on my first day, Adam, my boss, insisted I come with him outside. My buddies told me this wasn’t good, but hey, what am I supposed to do? Tell him, “No,” and get fired?

Adam led me into the heart of the graveyard, an ocean of dead yellow grass peppered with black and gray headstones. When we reached the center of the property, Adam stopped, and handed me a rusty shovel. “Dig, boy.”

“For what?” I retorted. “Jack Sparrow’s pot o’ gold?”

“You heard me–dig. And don’t stop ‘til I tell you.”

With that, he walked away.

I sighed, and stabbed the ground with the shovel. The soil was strangely soft. I quickly piled it into a dry heap, nearly suffocating on the dust cloud that enveloped me with every scoop of dirt.

Hours passed. Adam never told me to stop. Heck, I never saw him again that day. The hole deepened, and I slowly descended into it. I didn’t notice how far down I was until I stopped briefly to wipe the sweat from my forehead. The ground was eye-level with me. I cursed my dumb luck, and threw another shovel-full of dirt over my head.

When the ground was a foot over my head, I heard several gruff voices talking about things I don’t care to repeat. After a few minutes, there was a loud thud, like something had been stabbed into the ground.

“What’s going on?” I called.

“Just keep digging, just keep digging,” said one of the voices, sarcastically. I heard his friends laugh and give him high-fives. Then they left.

I kept digging.

Darkness was descending. I’d lost track of time. Where’s Adam? How long do I have to keep digging? I could hardly see above me. Was this some kind of cruel joke? My veins burned, my muscles screamed in pain.

I kept digging.

“Hey!” a voice from above suddenly called.

Sighing, I said, “Is that you, Adam?”

“No,” he said, and quickly moved on. “Do you realize what you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You must stop now!”

Short Story Delayed

The promised short story I was going to post has been delayed. Why, you ask? Technical difficulties.  I wanted to be able to split posts into multiple pages for easier reading, but after inserting the proper codex, it merely cut off my entry after what was supposed to be page one. After doing some research, I discovered that my WordPress theme doesn’t support pagination. I tried to add a code that would make it possible, but it still doesn’t work.

So as they used to say on TV, “Please stand by.”