New Short Story: “Pie” Out in Refractions

20 Jan

You can now order Refractions, a collection that includes “Pie,” the first short story I will ever be getting paid to publish! Paying people for producing art? In America? What?!

The collection, Refractions, is geared towards teen readers (which doesn’t mean adults won’t like it). It’s $4.99 for the eBook (it’s a PDF, there’s artwork too), and $9.99 for the print. The publishers, Golden Fleece Press, are creating a lot of really cool books and are awesome for actually committing to paying contributors.

Here’s a little excerpt from “Pie”:

“I’m outside raking leaves, getting ready for the bonfire Mom and Dad are letting us have, when something beeps in the kitchen; I hear it through the open window. It must be the oven timer, announcing that Dad’s pumpkin pie is finished. Normally, Dad sets an alarm on his phone, so he’s back in the kitchen before the timer even has a chance to beep.

“Dad, the pie!” I yell, but I get no answer.

Maybe he’s too far away to get there in time. I look out over the backyard—or as my younger sister Meggie likes to say, with a British accent, “our lands.” We live on almost 40 acres that used to be part of a farm. Mom’s gathering kindling in the woods to the left side of the house, and Meggie’s to the right. Dad must have gone over the hill. The foot of the hill is lined with trees, and you can’t see anything that’s right at the bottom. Dad’s pies are amazing—well, everything he cooks is amazing—and I’m not about to let this one burn, so I set off to the kitchen.

“Mom, Dad left his pie,” I yell as I jog towards the house. She looks up and scans the yard.

“Make sure Pancake can’t get it,” she shouts. Pancake, our mutt, ate an entire turkey last year, when Dad left it on the edge of the counter. We ordered pizza, and Pancake did nothing but sleep and poop for the next two days. He makes us get creative about where we put food. Like, you’ll reach under the bathroom sink for a new roll of toilet paper, and you’ll pull out a half-eaten bag of pretzels that someone (probably Meggie) stashed out of Pancake’s reach. I guess that’s what you get when you name your dog after food, even if he is skinny and tan, like a Pancake. But Pancake’s outside with us, so the pie should be safe. I haven’t seen him for a while—he must be with Dad.”

 

Read the rest in Refractions!

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