Tomato Pulp Makes the Wound Look Worse

in Featured/Stories/Stories and Poems

I never owned a bow and arrow as a kid but learned archery from my friend, Stanley Llewellyn. Using mud, we painted a target on an old tree in Llewellyn’s backyard. We were eleven and it was too easy, so we tried shooting into a gap – no wider than my thumb – in a stone wall taller than we were. When I finally got one through, it raced across the neighbor’s garden, pierced a ripe tomato and embedded in the left knee of seventy-three-year-old Reggie Smothers, who was pruning the hedge. Tomato pulp made the wound look worse. Although true, my defense – that I wasn’t aiming at anything – failed to absolve me. And poor old Smothers limped for the rest of his life.

End

 

Dave Gregory spent nearly two decades working on cruise ships before he returned to Canada, married the woman he dated in high school, and started writing fiction in a bay-windowed, book-lined room. He is an Associate Editor with Exposition Review and a Fiction Reader for journals on both sides of the Atlantic. His work has appeared in more than twenty-five literary publications including The Nashwaak Review, The Lindenwood Review and Typehouse Literary Magazine.

4 Comments

  1. There are a lot of things I like about this story. I won’t list them….I won’t point them out. I’m sorry about the bio. I’m working on formatting. The italics just don’t show up.

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