Raphael's Village

A new contributor gives us a reminder that not all bullies are in the classroom and not all friends can be seen. Fiction Editor

B.Obby, by Michael Robertson

Sitting on the packed and sweaty school bus, staring intently at his peers like a cheerful little mole, Bobby is close enough to the back to hear what the older and cooler kids are saying, but not so close as to be ejected from his seat by someone higher up in the social pecking order. While staring at a boy two years above him at school, listening to his conversation about getting drunk, Bobby laughs and says, “I know exactly what you mean.”

The conversation stops dead and they regard the eager twelve year old with utter contempt. The boy then snorts a laugh and returns to his conversation. Bobby pretends not to be hurt by this, runs a hand over his cropped fuzzy hair, and beams his broad and indomitable smile at his peers. None of them notice.

A different kind of ghost story from one of our favorite contributors. Fiction Editor

Sabbath with Auth Helen, by Susan Lindsey

It didn’t take long before weird things started happening. On the first night in her new home, Megan crawled into bed, exhausted after moving boxes and furniture all day. Moving day sucked when all your relatives were six states away.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw a faint glow in the center of the ceiling. She turned on the bedside lamp and saw nothing. She turned it off again. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the dark, there was that faint light again. She realized it was coming from the attic, through the edges of the hole cut for the light fixture.

Enjoy this story of parents, marriage, and life's little challenges. Fiction Editor

The Picnic, by M. V. Lerner

The sharp crack as shards of glass shattered across the Mexican tile floor was immediately followed by two sounds: a muttered “shit” and a wailed “Mommy.” Stephanie sighed, put down her margarita and gathered the little girl to her.

Enjoy this story of creation and philosophy. Fiction Editor

Beheld, by Roland Allnach
    
In the Beginning, the Deity pondered.

Now that the 4th of July celebrations in the U.S. are over, join us while we look at a different form of freedom with its own reason to celebrate. Narrative Non-Fiction Editor

Independence Day, by Susan Lindsey

Maybe they won’t fire me. Maybe I’ll have to keep working here.

Enjoy this slice of life on a tough neighborhood street that not be all it appears to be. Fiction Editor

My Street Brother, by Richard Hartwell

I see on a page of poetry by Thomas Merton, the line “My sweet brother.” What I read and process instead is the line, “My street brother.” It sticks in my mind and becomes mixed with the street scenes and people on Base Line Street in San Bernardino. I travel this route twice daily and I see many of the so-called street people. And yes, they are my brothers and sisters; perhaps not by blood or birth, but by the shared humanity we must all have in common.

A lesson learned at the cost of a dime. Fiction Editor

Once upon a Dime, by Jack Healy

A medieval writer once wrote that he would rather feel compunction than define it.  He points to a psychological reality, I believe, that is true across the board for young children but even at times for adults, namely,  experiencing feelings without knowing how to name or define them.  As a grade school boy growing up in the Bronx, I remember a very distinct event which bears out what the medieval author wrote. Only later could I label it.

Enjoy this memory of motherhood. Fiction Editor

I Remember Mama, by Richard Hartwell

I remember mama. No, not that old movie! I remember a mama who wasn’t. Or was she?

An essay about how satisfaction can come out of our most dire moments. Fiction Editor

Satisfaction, by Richard Hartwell

I believe we do best with these daily transformations. On one most memorable day this past summer, my daughter informed me that it was supposed to be 103 degrees in Riverside later that day. She then went on to inquire if it was going to be even hotter in our own city nearby. I responded that yes, it probably would be. It had not been so very long previously that we had wanted the gray goblins of June driven from the gate and knew with certainty that we would feel much better with a touch of ultraviolet to reinvigorate our veins and stir the juices of our brains. It had not been so very long since it was cold, drab and overcast and we had been searching for the sun. For my daughter, her “yesterday” had been hot, but not oppressively so. For my daughter, her “today” was likely to be that hot and more as well. With that, my mood then became fiery and I became short-tempered, and then we all became lethargic.

A lovely and moving true story from a new contributor, perfect reading for the holiday of love. Fiction Editor

Ruby's Valentine, by Susan E. Lindsey

Several years ago, my grandparents celebrated their seventieth wedding anniversary – a remarkable occasion made possible by marrying young, living long, and nurturing patience.

A fun story about how to pull off a good prank from on of our regular contributors. Fiction Editor

The Laws of the Sea, by Richard Hartwell

The very first time I went down to the sea, it was in a Balboa Dinghy. She, for all boats are she by the mystic laws of the sea, was an eight-foot pram: a blunt-nosed, wooden beginner’s boat. She was built along the lines of the more popular Sabot, but was saved from such mediocrity by being manufactured all of wood and she was varnished rather than painted. Because of this she was, obviously of course, older and heavier and slower. But in a breeze--oh my, in a breeze, she was just superb.

Enjoy this story of family, loss and healing. Fiction Editor

The Toss, by Deb Hockenberry

Eric raced home kicking the red and orange leaves. He panted as he slammed the front door and hurried into the kitchen. “Dad, will you toss the football with me?” He asked as he dropped his spelling book on the table.

A new contributor reminds us why it's always wise to look at things from another perspective. Fiction Editor

It's Always Raining When You Look Sideways, by Margaret Phillips

Ethan Parrola sat in the breakfast nook of his kitchen, focused on his cell phone, his lanky body folded into one of the small chairs that surrounded the table.  Across from him sat Garrett Cho, intently scrolling through messages while disregarding the sighs of his best friend.  On most Sundays the pair could be found working on spins or jumps at the skate park but today their scuffed boards sat at their feet, ignored.  Ethan and Garrett were on a mission, fully aware that they had not reached their goal. Time was slipping away even as they sat there.  The Winter Formal was in six days and Ethan had no date.

Enjoy this story of loss, faith and dreams. Fiction Editor

Blood Brothers, by Anthony Richmond

It was the spring of 1968, and Bobby didn't know it at the time, but it would be one of their last moments together. His best friend and virtual twin, Richie Wilson, walked over smiling; transistor radio in hand. “Listen to this, Bobby.”

A lovely meditation on rain and kindness, from one of our regular contributors. Think of this story the next time soft rain falls where you are. Fiction Editor

Soft Rain, by Richard Hartwell

Midnight shadows are marshaled in my memory. They evoke for me pain and insecurity, longing and guilt. Too numerous are the assignations for which I owe penance and gratitude both, for without these memories, what would one look back upon?

A perfect story for Halloween from one of our favorite contributors. Enjoy the chills! Fiction Editor

Devil's Night, by Steve Barber

I never meant for it to happen like it did, Father. Honest. It's just that Danny was being...well, he was being a little prick. Sorry, Father. I know I shouldn't say stuff like that to a Priest, but that's how he was behaving. Little brothers can be like that, you know?

A very moving story from a new contributor about one aspect of every parent's worst nightmare. Fiction Editor

How to Kill Time in a Waiting Room, by Amanda Heffernan

First, you pray.

Lean forward a little in the plastic seat, eyes closed, hands clasped. Pray to Jesus or Allah or Brahma or whoever, and just beg that higher power to help your five year old kid through this. You worry about his brain and heart and spine and lungs and everything that’s keeping him alive, worry about his toes and freckles and eyelashes. You feel lost inside your own head, inside your own body, and for a minute you forget who or where you are, because all you focus on is the image of your son, lying crumpled in the street. And then, you feel guilty, and you stop praying, because you know that no God would answer the prayers of someone as thoughtless and stupid and fundamentally horrible as you.

A lovely children's story about Purim. No, you don't see this every day, but that's one of the reasons we like it. Fiction Editor (For those not in the know, Purim is the holiday that celebrates the Jewish peoples' escape from annihilation.)

Benji's Mask, by KJ Hannah Greenberg

Benji Brown was very excited. His family was excited, too.

A thoughtful piece about choices from a new contributor. We think you'll enjoy this as much as we did. Fiction Editor

The Substance of Things Hoped For, by Salvatore T. Falco

Twenty five men crowded the model house’s unfinished living room, peering at a tiny black-and-white television. The tarp someone had rigged over the big front window to cut the glare from the Florida sun kept falling, and lousy reception filled the screen with static. Eric squinted to find the Apollo 11 command module bobbing in the Pacific Ocean. When the picture started to roll, Eric scowled. Someone slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble sideways.

A new story from one of our favorite contributors. We guarantee you'll never look at clouds and rain the same way. Fiction Editor

The Weatherman, by Marianne Celano

For the other boys in my class, he was a target for teasing and humiliation: a simpleton who spouted foolishness and couldn’t keep up, a reminder of their towering superiority. For me, he was a curiosity, a gentle soul with mysterious words of wisdom. Ultimately, however, I rejected him like the others did, but for a very different reason.