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    Four Stories
    Four Stories
    Four Stories
    Ebook48 pages34 minutes

    Four Stories

    By Matthew Wayne Selznick

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    About this ebook

    Four Stories puts the spotlight on revelations of clarity and epiphanies of character in the face of emotional challenges.

     

    ABOUT FOUR STORIES

    Each work of fiction is accompanied by a brief essay exploring the formative experiences, memories, and themes that inspired the work, making this a very personal and intimate collection.

    The book opens with "You Got Me," in which the way two people each get through one particularly rough day might have a lot to do with how they spend their days to come.

    A musician struggles with expectations and understanding when he travels far from home with his new band for "Gig Number Two."

    He says it's "Not My Fault," but is something driving a wedge between them at their anniversary dinner, or is he just… distracted?

    "The Days of Wine and Roses by The Dream Syndicate" provides a mental soundtrack for a reluctant walk through memory and pain on the way to save a troubled damsel in distress, one last time.

    Each of the Four Stories is fiction, but they each have a piece of the author woven between the lines. You might find yourself in there, too.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMWS Media
    Release dateJun 21, 2014
    ISBN9781501464195

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      Book preview

      Four Stories - Matthew Wayne Selznick

      Four Stories

      by

      Matthew Wayne Selznick

      mws_media_500x250

      You Got Me

      I almost went the whole day.

      Jerry looked up from his book. Tabitha's face was slack; her eyes lost in the middle distance.

      What?

      She focused with a start. I… nothing.

      He closed the book and put it on the coffee table. It doesn't look like nothing.

      She shook her head. Really. She stood and stretched. You want some tea?

      Jerry thought it looked like a performance. No. Thanks.

      She crossed the living room and disappeared into the kitchen. Well, I'm going to make some tea. You sure?

      Yeah. But you never drink tea.

      After a moment, her reply came from the kitchen.

      I just want some.

      He heard her open the cupboard, remove the crinkle wrap from the box, and fill the kettle. There was the stony slide of a mug from the cupboard shelf, and there, the mild knock it made when she set it on the counter.

      He happened to look at his hands, and was startled to find they were white on the knees of his slacks. He sighed and unlocked his fingers.

      He crossed his legs.

      Uncrossed his legs.

      He picked up the book again, leaned back in his chair, and sought his place in the pages.

      Tabitha returned.

      Jerry put the book down. What did you mean?

      She cocked her head. About what?

      You said you almost went the whole day.

      She sat down on the couch and bounced. She crossed her arms; a hug across her breasts. I don't know. I don't remember.

      Jerry leaned forward. Well, what were you thinking about?

      She shrugged. I don't know. I don't remember. I was just thinking out loud.

      She looked toward the kitchen. The kettle barely hissed; wet static.

      Jerry sat back, not relaxing. Oh. Okay.

      Tabitha got back on her feet and darted to the kitchen.

      Jerry stood up, alarmed. What's wrong now? He followed her.

      She spun to face him. The kettle rattled on the stove.

      Jesus Christ! Does something have to be wrong?

      He put up his hands. No, but…

      I was just thinking!

      The kettle bawled.

      Tabitha turned off the burner with a snap of her wrist, pulled a potholder off its hook, and picked up the kettle. A tea bag waited in her mug.

      Jerry reached for the box of tea next to the mug. Tabitha tilted the kettle; hot water splashed.

      Shit! Jerry jerked back his hand.

      Tabitha set the kettle back on the stove, where it shook until she carefully centered it on the burner.

      I didn't get you, she said. You're fine.

      Jerry scowled and rubbed his hand. No, you did. He made a

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