The Story Shack Anthology: Year One

By Martin Hooijmans

Hand-picked from over sixty works of flash fiction, The Story Shack Anthology: Year One presents the best of our first year of publishing. Twenty previously published illustrated stories, and five originals make up this book.

Fall in love with 'The Meadow', laugh at Johnny Bravado's desperate measures in 'Fire 'Em Up', or shiver at the dreaded situation sketched in 'Peaches'. Be touched, thrilled or simply amused.

The Story Shack is a daily on-line magazine featuring illustrated flash fiction by various authors and artists. This first anthology, however, includes work from the initial phase of the website, when only Martin Hooijmans and Lars de Ruyter worked on it. In that way, it is the perfect introduction to the older work that triggered the concept as it is today, and has been enjoyed by many readers.

Thank you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martin Hooijmans
• Release date: Apr 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301051410

Martin Hooijmans

Martin’s vivid imagination has been one of the constant factors in his life, but he did not discover his love for storytelling until treading into the movie world four years ago. Since that milestone he has worked on several short films, often as writer, and even as director for his self-produced film ‘Tektites’. In this business he learned, more than anywhere else, how powerful collaborations between talented people can be. Currently, Martin is traveling the world while working on his writing skills and his great passion ‘The Story Shack’, a daily on-line magazine featuring illustrated short fiction.

Book preview

The Story Shack: Year One

Author: Martin Hooijmans

Illustrator: Lars de Ruyter

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 Martin Hooijmans & Lars de Ruyter

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For daily illustrated flash fiction, please visit:

http://thestoryshack.com

Table of Contents

Foreword

One Last Cigarette

6V

The Meadow

Peaches

The Waiting Room

The Lesson

The Boers

Big Tree

Rage

Through the Eyelids

Skybound

Starstealer

Raketa

The Man with the Lined Face

The River

Fire 'Em Up

Guys and Dolls

The Onyx Halls

Dance of the Whale

Night of the Dragon

Shooting Stars

The Shoot 'Em Up

The Men Who Stopped Time

The Walk

The Ember Dance

About The Story Shack

About Martin Hooijmans

About Lars de Ruyter

Foreword

If you read this, you have chosen to emerge yourself in twenty-five bits of my, and Lars', imagination. Twenty-five short stories, covering various genres, cultures and writing styles. Twenty-five opportunities to make you laugh, cry or perhaps think about some deeper meaning in life.

The Story Shack started out as a weekly updated on-line portfolio, featuring short fiction written by yours truly. Shortly after it began, my good friend and talented illustrator Lars de Ruyter decided to join, adding a very interesting visual element to the website.

This collaboration continued for some months, until I felt The Story Shack could be more. It underwent a great change, and now I am proud to say that it is a daily on-line fiction magazine, featuring illustrated work from writers and artists anywhere.

This first anthology features twenty favorites written and published during the first year, plus five previously unpublished works. All stories and illustrations are by Lars' and my hands, and many have been inspired by the traveling I have done in the past couple of years. We love working together, and I hope it shows.

Thank you for your support. I hope these stories will bring you as much joy as they did us when we created them.

- Martin Hooijmans

One Last Cigarette

The old, stone steps felt cold. A shiver that pierced his body crawled through it and drained the last color from his cheeks. That seemed like the last bit of warmth left in the broken shell that still clung on to his soul, desperate.

His hand traveled upwards, nicotine-stained skin firmly wrapped around the bone that had been broken so many times but was now, in the seemingly last moments of his existence, for the first time in years, fully mended, healthy, strong. It was almost comical that his life had to end like this. But it was the truth, the punch-in-your-face truth, that it was approaching him with the speed of a jetliner. It was almost a comforting thought, yet he was not quite ready to give in.

Salvation, although temporary, appeared in the form of a clumsily rolled cigarette. The tobacco seemed ancient, but it was a good one and had some burn left in it. It would go fast, though. He would cherish every whiff, savor it, taste it, draw in the warmth. He held the small object up to his pale green eyes and realized he had never seen it in this light before. What had always been a nasty habit, an addiction, was now his last lifeline. ‘Smoking leads to an early, painful death.’ He was young alright, too young to go, but it wasn’t because of the smoking. He had to laugh, a bitter laugh but still, at the thought that the ‘cancer stick’ in his hands would prolong his life, even if only for a few more moments, then put it in his mouth and grasped in the pockets of his faded blue jeans for the zippo lighter that had been his companion for many years.

The sound echoed through the deserted halls of the old station. The man slowly looked up to see the dark wooden doors swinging open with a loud creak, casting a bright streak of sun that came to a stop right in front of his feet, as if it were afraid to touch him. In the opening a tall figure appeared, looking exactly as he had expected. A young, beautiful woman with a halo above her head would have been preferable, but he was old enough to appreciate that that kind only handed out free shots in the places one went to to get wasted. Still, there was something oddly comforting about this classic appearance of what most people would call the Grim Reaper. As he took in the sight of him, the ceremonial black robe with the hood up that, of course, concealed the wearer’s face, he could see nothing grim about it. There was no scythe. Instead, its hands were calmly folded over each other and held in front of the robe. In the little light that made its way under its hood he saw no skull but the most comforting smile he had ever seen. It reminded him of the woman he used to love and knew that was the purpose of it, that he was perhaps supposed to think she was hiding under that dark appearance, stretching out to him from the place beyond she was forcefully taken to a year before. He diverted his eyes, the memory too painful to face that smile. Had he been too slow? Had he been too much of a coward to take that bullet? His mind told him over and over again that it would have been impossible, but his heart kept blaming him for her untimely death. It had throbbed for a year, stealing every desire to live, numbing his sense of survival. Somehow he had managed to live through it, barely but he