There he was, waiting for another train. He was so sick of the subways. Always late. Dirty. Noisy. Flying maniac kids dancing for dollars. Bad musicians. Endless panhandlers. And the so-called ... [+]
Born in Welland, Ontario. Lived in Australia & backpacked the world. Survived the 1979 Grenada Revolution. Spent 32 years with Edmonton Fire Rescue. First author to write Canadian firefighter crime novels. He swam with a marlin in Honduras, climbed the Great Wall of China, was accused of throwing eggs at an Aussie PM, and has won several author awards. "Night of the Strawman" is in Short Circuit #17, Short Édition's quarterly review.
I had to have it.
It waited for me in the night as I summoned courage.
Soon, it would be my trophy.
The scarecrow stood, a stark silhouette against the light from a rear window, guarding old man Oleskiw's big garden. Ragged fingers of straw poked from its sleeves, the tattered fabric fluttering like dead leaves in the faint breeze.
Crickets ratcheted a rhythm in the summer night, their chorus both soothing and unnerving. A half-moon peeked between dark clouds, its silver light casting jagged shadows over the garden.
Soft clucks came from inside the clapboard chicken coop ag