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Eight Stories that Define My Character by Paul Beckman

1

My Aunt Edith called me and said her brother, my Uncle Lou, was dead and I should send her $1000 to pay for half his burial expense since he jumped off his hotel roof a couple of days after we met for the first time and she knows I must’ve done something to cause it, but after I hung up without saying anything I thought back to my conversation with Uncle Lou and think I figured out what I’d said that caused him to jump but I never told my Aunt or sent her any money.

2

I kept threatening to run away from home and one day my mother walked into the living room and handed me a bag lunch, my gym bag with a change of clothes, and a $5 bill. “Have a good life,” she said. I stayed away for three weeks and figured I taught her a lesson. I showed up home and after showering first, I came downstairs expecting some love, but she silently handed me another bagged lunch and a $1 bill and opened the front door so I took my 12-year-old ass out on the road again.

3

 I awoke dreading my day of showing an obnoxious family houses again when I knew they were really gathering free decorating tips and had no intention of buying. I told my manager who said I had to do it anyway. I shower, shaved, coffeed, and backed my car out of the garage but the moat I always dreamed of having stopped me from getting to work and I didn’t know how to put down the bridge.

4

I was sitting on a tall chair mid-court judging an all-Orthodox rabbi badminton tournament. Every time I called a shuttlecock out of bounds, or a double racket hit, the two-man rabbi team would run over to my chair, with their black hats and suits shiny from wear, and argue about my call. I never understood them because they were speaking Spanish and I don’t.

5

When I go to bed with a fever I see myself leaping from the second floor to the first floor landing but I wake up mid-air each time and I’m sitting on the first-floor landing.

6

When I was ten years old, we lived in a garden apartment which mirrored the one next door. I went to bathe and there was a hole over the rim of my tub going all the way through to our neighbor’s tub. I watched the mother taking a shower, washclothing her breasts and between her legs and she yelled at me to scoot or she’d tell my mother. I didn’t scoot and she didn’t tell my mother that night or the next three before it was fixed.

7

A friend and I took a train from Connecticut to New York. I spotted my only rich relatives near Rockefeller Center and crossed the street to say hello. My great uncle, great aunt, and their bratty kid all said they didn’t know who I was. I mentioned my mother’s name as well as my grandfather’s who was my great aunt’s brother and others in the family and they knew them but hustled my ragamuffin ass away. I told my mother when I got home and she said I was making it up, but I was so insistent she called and they said no, I never approached them, but they were at Rockefeller center that day and time. To this day I don’t know if I approached them or not.

8

My brother says he’s special because he can dream in color and I can’t so I told him I can dream in 3-D even though it’s in black and white. He says I’m lying and I tell him to prove it.

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Paul Beckman’s latest flash collection, Kiss Kiss (Truth Serum Press) was a finalist for the 2019/2020 Indie Book Awards. Some of his stories appeared in Spelk, Connotation Press, Necessary Fiction, Litro, Pank, Playboy, WINK, Jellyfish Review, The Wax Paper, Monkey, and The Lost Balloon. He had a story selected for the 2020 National Flash Fiction Day Anthology Lineup and was short listed in the Strands International Flash Fiction Competition. Paul curates the FBomb NY flash fiction reading series monthly in KGB’s Red Room (Currently Virtual).