"The Curve" a short story by Craig Zimmerman

Alex Gable blew past the road sign warning of the curve up ahead and pressed the accelerator down even farther. The sign said something about reducing speed to thirty, but that sounded boring as hell.

Alex approached the curve doing at least sixty and began to feel the centrifugal force that pulled him towards the driver's side door. All at once, a face appeared right in front of him and he instinctively knew that it was someone who had died on the curve.  The single face was eventually joined by others and Alex had no choice but to pull over to the shoulder.

Alex said a simple thank you to the ghosts and the faces gradually faded away.

"The Fort" a short story by Craig Zimmerman

After several hours of hiking, Joel had penetrated the swamp on his father's property deeper than he ever had before. The trees were alive with the sound of birds and all manner of critters slithered through the grass.

Joel decided to stop for lunch and that's when he found it. Some sort of cleverly-camouflaged building was nearly invisible at the top of a large tree. After he finished his lunch  Joel made an attempt to climb the tree and find out what the building was.

The climb was easier than he expected and Joel reached the top of the tree without incident. An unsecured trap door in the bottom of the structure was plenty wide enough to crawl through. The interior of the building was like stepping into the past. Posters of rock stars and Playboy centerfolds from the 1970s covered the walls. In fact, nearly everything in the treehouse appeared to be from the past.

Joel was so busy examining the relics that he didn't hear the trap door opening until it was too late. An old man with a shotgun entered the treehouse. "I built this fort in 1974 when I was 12 years old and you're the first person to find it," he said to Joel.

" I promise I won't tell anyone about it," Joel said with tears in his eyes.  "You're damn right you won't," the old man said as he chambered a round into the shotgun.

"The Christmas Wolf" a short story by Craig Zimmerman

 Cassie was guarding her family's sheep herd on their ranch in eastern Montana when she sensed a disturbance at the edge of the flock. Gathering her rifle, Cassie waded through the frightened sheep until she came upon an old wolf. The animal appeared to be starving and also had a crippled leg.

The merciful thing to do would be to put the wolf down, but Cassie didn't have the heart to do it. Instead, she went and got her lunch and slowly fed it to the emaciated animal.

Cassie sat on a rock and watched the old wolf gobble down her ham sandwich, cookies, and banana bread. "I wish I had more to give you bud, but that's all I brought," she said to the wolf. The animal seemed to understand and limped back into the dark woods. "Merry Christmas Mr. Wolf," Cassie said into the night.

"The Forgotten Ones" a short story by Craig Zimmerman

 All of the warning lights on Jake's instrument panel lit up at once and his car stopped cold. He repeatedly tried to get the car started again, but it was no use. Trying his cell phone was also futile since he was in the middle of nowhere.

Jake exited the car and looked around. Off in the distance there appeared to be some kind of farmhouse. He locked the car and started walking.

By late afternoon, Jake had reached the farmhouse.Threshers and other equipment rusted in the big yard. A grey-muzzled lab gave a half-hearted protest to his arrival and then settled back to his nap.

Jake knocked on the weathered door and a woman that he estimated to be in her early eighties answered the door. "I'm sorry to bother you, but my car broke down and I need to use your phone." Without a word, the old woman opened the door, and pointed to a wall-mounted phone in the kitchen.

While using the phone, Jake studied the photos that lined the walls of the kitchen. The farm was once filled with children and activity and he couldn't help but feel a terrible loss.

When he had finished with his call, Jake thanked the woman and departed the house. The napping dog huffed a little but took no other action. For just a moment, he thought he heard the good-natured shouting of men as they brought in the harvest and then it was gone.

"Christmas Watch" a short story by Craig Zimmerman

Officer Peter Isaacs had been working Christmas day for the past seven years and despite what the public might think, the holiday was no respite from the mayhem that afflicted the rest of the year.

A few years before, several people were shot on Christmas morning after an argument about tree ornaments. Just once, Peter wanted to see a Christmas in which no one was harmed in any way.

So far in the present nativity things had been rather quiet. Officer Pete cruised around his dilapidated section of town until he came to a landmark of sorts. "Balsam's used books" had been a fixture in the neighborhood for at least thirty years. Peter often wondered how the owner survived financially since the shop was usually empty when he passed by.

Since his lunch break was coming up, Peter parked his cruiser and went into the old book shop so he could find something to read while he ate. As usual, old man Balsam was behind the counter and the store was empty. Officer Pete nodded at Mr. Balsam and went to search the shelves.

Oddly enough he found a copy of "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens. After paying for his book, Pete found a nice quiet parking lot and began reading while eating a burrito. He was up to the "Ghost of Christmas present" when he heard the call on his radio: Balsam's book store had been robbed.

Officer Pete rushed over to the book store and was relieved to find out that Mr. Balsam had not been hurt. Peter asked how much was taken and the old bookseller began laughing. "What's so funny?" Pete asked.

"All they got was the two dollars that you paid for A Christmas Carol," Mr. Balsam said as he laughed some more. 

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