by Ron Sokol | Nov 20, 2019 | Stories
“To start with, son, you’re not even in the main story. By definition you’re on the periphery. Barely a stand-in. You get scooped up in that old style carnival glass thing, when the shovel picks up something no one really wants. A footnote. My kid...
by Ron Sokol | Nov 10, 2019 | Stories
I am a rather large bass cello. A double bass. My player (the cellist) lays me on my side when he takes a break. His moustache, by the way, actually looks like a bow. We have joked that my bow is made out of his whiskers. His name is Samuel. My very good friend over...
by Ron Sokol | Oct 9, 2019 | Stories
It is lovely to walk in the neighborhood, at least at times. The air is comfortable. Sunset just concluding… Hard not to marvel at the artist who creates these visions. If necessary I bundle up a bit. Clothes are comfortable. I will wear gloves, if it is...
by Ron Sokol | Aug 10, 2019 | Stories
Gwen knew she could look much prettier. Knew well she could make effort to get a bit dolled up. And, why not? Smell nice, look equally nice, have a beguiling smile. The fact she is elderly is a minor blemish, if a blemish at all. She could seek to take advantage of...
by Ron Sokol | Jul 13, 2019 | Stories
For B.T. Collins I am old, and he is not young. Or, he seems old, and I am not young. It is possible we are both on our last legs, except I do not have any legs. If I did I would probably turn into a centipede. He has one full leg, and one that from the knee down is...
by Ron Sokol | Jun 15, 2019 | Stories
I stopped and smelled the roses. My neighbor, a few doors down, has such a nice group of roses in his front yard. “Hey, get off my lawn! What the hell are you doing?” His tone really startled me. He had burst out of his front door, and was shaking his...
