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Elaine Faber

by Elaine Faber



It was a dark and windy night?April, 1865. A man swathed in black, creeps down the hall, looks back, and then thrusts a derringer beneath the folds of his long dark cape. Perspiration dots his forehead as he approaches President Lincoln’s private box. His hand trembles as he turns the doorknob.

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Kitty’s Blessing: A Christmas Cat Short Story

IN THE December 21 ISSUE

FROM THE 2013 Articles,
andPets,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Elaine Faber



Once, in a faraway land on a crisp winter afternoon, Kitty strode across a hillside, contented as only a cat can be, her tummy full and her breath pungent with the after-flavor of mouse?that morning’s breakfast. She jumped to the top of a warm rock, stretched out and prepared for a snooze in the sunshine. Nearby, a group of shepherds tended their sheep. The bleating of lambs faded as the flock moved on down the hillside. Kitty curled her tail around her nose and fell asleep.

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by Elaine Faber



The comforting scent of Thanksgiving turkey wafted through the dining room. Corinne glanced at the clock, mentally judging her dinner’s progress with the anticipated arrival of the children. She pulled a silver fork from the rosewood box and gave it a swipe with the polishing cloth. With the rewarding gleam returned to its tines, she placed it on the counter beside the growing stack of polished silver forks.

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The Shopping Bag: A Halloween Cat Short Story

IN THE October 26 ISSUE

FROM THE 2013 Articles,
andPets,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Elaine Faber



It didn’t matter what she thought. He always got his way. If it felt good, he did it, if he wanted it, he took it. When he was finished, he threw it away, or in this case, walked away. He could still hear her shrieks as he slammed his car door and sped away. He wouldn’t come back. Women were like new shoes. In about three months, the shine wore off and he’d get a new pair. Jenny had shined for four months, almost a record, but it was time to move on. Tom twisted his rear view mirror, grinned at his reflection and ran his hands through his carrot-red hair. Jenny would be harder to forget, but why stick around? Commitment wasn’t his cup of tea. Not to worry. Another would take Jenny’s place, probably within the week.

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by Elaine Faber



One October weekend Mom took Sissy and me to the Leger Hotel in Mokelume Hills, in the Sierra Mountains. She left us in the room while she went sightseeing. We stepped through the windows that opened onto the balcony where the prostitutes used to sit, according to the maid, advertising their wares. Coming back inside, we could just make out the wispy outline of an old guy sitting on the sofa. His face was covered with gray whiskers and he was missing a front tooth. He waved a gnarled hand. “Excuse me. Could I trouble ya’ to help me move on to the here-after?”

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Only In America: A Cat Short Story

IN THE September 7 ISSUE

FROM THE 2013 Articles,
andPets,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Elaine Faber



I was born on a cool spring morning under a woodpile, a fair distance from the big city. It was rumored that my mother was a tramp, but I loved her. She taught me all she knew and I often fell asleep listening to her purr and the thrum of her heartbeat. She shared with me the secrets of the universe, which are known to all cats.

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The Old Dog Remembers: A Dog Short Story

IN THE August 10 ISSUE

FROM THE 2013 Articles,
andPets,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Elaine Faber



“No, Sheba. You stay here.” Master slammed the door on his car drove away. The sound of his rattling muffler faded into the distance. Sheba stared at the corner where Master had disappeared. She lay down on the curb. She would wait, as always, until he returned.

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