STORIES     Paypal me $1 ( Paypal pay to name ) and I'll email you an ebook of these stories.........thanks .........Joe

Also available, 6 narrated strange stories on an audio CD.... $5,  free ship USA& Canada.........good reviews on all stories !!! Makes a good gift for the blind, too !!!

                       Short Stories by Joe Portman

                            THE GHOSTWRITER

                                                                                  By Joe Portman   7/20/95

 It is hard to remember things when you were only four years old. According to most brain doctors, only a very few of us can remember our infancy. Well, I can’t remember everything, but this account I can recall very well indeed !!!


    It was the summer of 1937 and my whole family, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles, grandmother,  (mother’s side), grandfather (father’s side) and my mother, were all in the Congo on an expedition. My dad was not there, as he had run off a couple of years before and was never heard from again. He did not even say goodbye to me, and this made me feel very worthless and insecure.

    We were all gathered in a clearing, which we had selected for our night camp. We were all eating, laughing, and talking. Kids were running everywhere, playing as they hollered. I did not play much, as I was always sickly and depressed.

    I resolved some of my poor feelings by running to aunt Martha for a hug, then to uncle Joe for a hug and a kiss, and then back to mama, who I was always afraid would leave me, or die, or something.


    Now my grandfather was big, burly, and rough looking, but was looked to by all to run the show, which he did with an iron hand. No nonsense. He was always very gentle with me, except when he was attempting to teach me something. He was a good teacher, and I looked to him to answer all of my questions as they occurred to me.


    All of a sudden, Grandpa said “hush”, whereas everyone promptly shut up. He got up and looked to the South. Grandma asked “What is it ?”, and he replied “it’s a couple of those damn hunters with their big rifles. I got really scared. He said “Everyone sit tight and I’ll go take care of them”, and he proceeded to walk out to them. Well , I was real brave, walking a little behind him so I wouldn’t miss anything.


   He hollered to them “No hunting is allowed in this territory. That’s the law, so leave right now” all the while, waving his arms at them. One of the hunters raised his gun and fired…..kaboom…..hitting grandpa in the chest. He grunted hard, as he sat down on the ground. I ducked down behind a bush as grandpa lay back on a rotten log. Another hunter asked “ Damn, why the hell did you shoot him ?” “I


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                                          CRAZY LADY

                                                              By Joe Portman   11/23/06

After a long days work, I was heading home on the boulevard leading to my area. I came upon a very slow car and decided to pass. As I passed it, I looked over, expecting to see an old lady. To my surprise, it was a young lady, glaring back at me with murder in her eyes. I kept going and forgot her until I felt a big jolt from behind. It was this crazy lady, ramming me !


   I stepped on the gas to escape, but her Porsche was quicker than my little Honda. She came alongside and tried to push me off the road. I was just coming to a side street, so I whipped around the corner and gunned it. She didn’t get a chance to make the turn…….but I could hear her burning a donut to come back. I took a left on another side street, and then a right down an alley……..figuring she would never find me. I could hear her tearing down the first side street, and soon she was out of earshot.


   About a third of a block down the alley, I stopped at a fence partly across the alley. I got out and walked up to the opening to see if I could squeeze my car thru, but it was too narrow. The alley was overgrown as if it hadn’t been cleared in years. I was curious, and walked a little further. I then noticed that a man had come out of a yard and was walking behind me. I figured he was just wanting to see what I was up to. Then to my left, I saw 4 turtles. I paused to look at them, thinking that on my way back I would take 2 of them home.


    As I went further along, I noticed a deep muddy pit to my left. I stepped over to it and was bewildered by the many albino turtles and baby albino alligators in it. The alligators were about 18” to 2 feet long. They were eating pieces of other turtles and alligators. I thought to myself, they must be starving to be so cannibalistic.


    I squatted down and picked up two of the turtles. As I looked at their wiggling legs, the man suddenly nudged me from behind……hard enough that my leg slipped into the pit. I quickly put my other leg in so I could push myself out, but many alligators were biting and tearing at me.


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                                       The Boot

                                  By Joe Portman



His name was Hank and he had always been glad of that because he was a country and western musician, mainly a singer. He was driving his old 70 2door Maverick to his next gig. He had just hired on to a band called the Stringbreakers. He thought that was weird, but a gig was a gig. He was a pro and could work for anybody, good or bad, without the least problem.

    He heard a familiar rumble and knew he had a flat on the right rear. It was already dark, as he steered over to the side of the road and stopped. He was not happy at the flat, but even more unhappy because all of his equipment was on top of the spare. Dammit was his first word as he started to unload. After his music was out, he put his left leg up in the trunk so he could pick up the spare easier. He heard a car approaching and saw it’s lights, but didn’t think much of it. Then.........WHAMMMM!!!...... he was flying thru the air looking down at his car as it slid along on it’s nose...he could see the trunk lid was gone...strange, he thought....he was unaware of what had just was all in slow motion. He was turning as he floated back to the ground....he bounced along behind his car, then stopped, as did the car, which now came back down on his unconscious body....his first contact with the ground had been the back of his head.

    The other car had disappeared into the woods. Although badly wrecked at the rear, the Maverick was parallel to the side of the tho it had been parked there, not knocked there.

   Cars came and went as tho nothing had happened. After about an hour, Hank awoke to a smashing headache. He was flat on his back, pinned by his car, arms to his side, with his head lying right on the white stripe that was the border of the hiway shoulder. He thought....surely someone will see him and stop. More cars so close to his head that it made him aware that he was still in trouble. There was dim moonlight as he moved his head from side to side to see what he could see. Out on the double stripe, he saw a boot....what a nice boot he thought. Then he saw that there was a hairy half a leg sticking out of it. The boot was two-tone blue and brown leather with Mexican silver toe and heel decorations. He thought that maybe he had struck a pedestrian.....then he read the large initials at the top of the boot....H P !!!!....”Oh God.!....that’s my boot.!....and my leg !!!.” He tried to feel both his legs under the car, but could not.   He lay there like a hypnotized chicken for maybe five minutes before another car passed and startled him back to the present. He began praying with all his heart and soul. He had prayed all his life, but now this was really for real.

   Why couldn’t all the passing drivers see his leg lying there in the moonlight ?, he thought. Are they asleep at the wheel. Suddenly he saw a big dog, and then a bunch more....a pack. The big dog took a lick at his bloody face and he quickly told it to git. It went to the rear tire that was next to him, raised it’s leg and leaked. Then another dog did it...and then another. Finally the last one did it, but he was right legged and did the left side of the tire, and it splashed on Hank’s face.

    The dogs trotted out to his boot and leg...licking and smelling it. Finally, the big one grabbed it with his teeth and ran off, with all the others chasing and barking.


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                           NO COMFORT IN COMFORT


It was a nice day down in El Trasho, Texas, a small town where Cher and I decided to make our home, on a little place called the Apple Pie Ranch. We named it that because of it's shape.

   We decided to go north on a motorcycle ride for a few hours. We rode straight through town, Cher on the back of my Yamaha 1000.I don't like going through town, but "diameter" is shorter than "circumference". Oh well, what’s wrong with a few only go around once.

    We both are always looking for old cars, old shacks and wildflowers, and on that day, we saw many of all !

   We sailed right on past Boerne, a town I don't like. Finally, we turned off the main drag and headed for Comfort, a little town where I had gone to summer camp as a child. It had barely changed except for prices. Of course, the camp was long gone.........washed away by a big flood in the 40's. As we tooled up Main Street, I noticed there were no cars in sight.......strange, I thought. About halfway into town, I saw military planes dropping cluster bombs and strafing. There had been talk of terrorists, but this was ridiculous !I saw shrapnel coming up the street from way off......I jumped the curb, got on the sidewalk, riding behind the porch posts. Up ahead, I saw American planes chasing the bad guys, and firing air to air missiles at them. Behind these fighters came another round of terrorist planes with more cluster bombs.

   I had really been wanting to turn around but couldn't get a chance to. This time the arriving shrapnel was on our side of the street......coming at us and mowing down porch posts....


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