Race Is On

A Bonus Collection of Prize-winning Short Stories

Also available in RTF and HTML formats.

A collection of Stories that all involve a race, sometimes a literal race, sometimes the human race, includes stories by:

Grand Prize Winner:

"An Early Evening Walk," by Richard Havens.

Judge's Choice Award Winners:

"Clock Killer," by Brenda M. Boldin

"The Chosen One," by Jean Cassidy

"King of the Underworld," by Jim Doherty

"The Ultimate Race," by Kris Neri

ISBN 1-59431- 351-2 Anthology Action

Cover Art by Shelley Rodgerson



An Early Evening Walk

by Richard Havens

In the early evening I decided to take a walk on the battlefield. Maria and I had been fighting all day. She did not want to spend her holiday weekend attending a civil war reenactment. She thought they were boring and she missed the delights of the city. Being an historian, I was engrossed by every uniform, every piece of equipment the pretend soldiers carried.

Finally, she threw up her hands and said she was leaving the next morning with or without me. Her red Celtic hair looked like it was on fire the way it bounced as she stomped back and forth calling me every name in the book.

So, I made my way along the dirt road that led to Seminary Ridge. Not paying attention I was enveloped by a wet summer fog. The ground under me felt soft and reassuring. The crickets, by the thousands, were chirping. My anger with Maria was slipping away when the crickets suddenly stopped.

"Who goes there?" Challenged a voice in front of me. The voice was youthful with a deep southern cadence.

"Who goes there?" I challenged back and smiled to myself. These civil war players were really thorough even down to the accents.

Out of the fog stepped a young boy about fourteen and leveled a civil war rifle with a fixed bayonet at my chest. He was wearing old clothing that were too big for him. The knees and elbows of the clothing looked poorly patched. On the back of his head was a small forage cap set at an angle. I was suddenly amazed how far these civil war buffs would go to look authentic. He was even bare foot.

"Who are you?" He asked, looking frightened but determined.

As the boy spoke I noticed his teeth were out of line and twisted. My, god, I thought, can't this boy's father afford braces? I had worn braces for five years and I hated to see someone not take care of their teeth.

"Aren't you a little young for this?" I asked. "That rifle is taller than you are."

The boy lunged at me and the bayonet passed just between my arm and body. I stepped into the boy's lunge and yanked the rifle out of his hands.

"Are you crazy? Someone could get hurt doing that!" I said angrily. "Where's your father?"

The boy looked like he was going to cry. I could see tears welling up in his eyes.

"I don't have a father," he stuttered.