The Ramingo’s Porch – “The Unending” a Short Story By Mike Fiorito


The Unending

            We had recently moved into an apartment only a block away from an elevated train track.  At times, the trains roared loudly, as if surging through our living room.  Sometimes the train’s rattle was subtle, like a gurgling brook.  Sometimes we didn’t hear the train at all.

One night, a few weeks ago, I got home very late from work.  All of the lights were out in the apartment.  On the kitchen table, I saw a cigarette still smoking in an ash tray, though I didn’t see Triny, my wife.  I figured she must have just gone to bed.  I undressed, closed the lights and settled into bed. Continua a leggere

The Ramingo’s Porch – “Roasting By An Open Fire” A Short Story By Mike Fiorito

Mike Fiorito

Roasting by an Open Fire

Arriving tired and hungry to my mother-in-law’s house for Christmas, a wave of cinnamon scent fills my nostrils, as I swing the front door open. The scent is so thick I have to breathe out of my mouth so I don’t choke.

My eyes still red, I’m greeted by the two-foot-tall porcelain Santa statue positioned at the door entrance.

“Hello,” says Marian, my wife. “We’re here.”

We hear rustling from upstairs. “Be right down.”

Earlier that week, I had to plead with my son Tommy to come. Continua a leggere