jxmartin

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I have 483 stories published in one collection on the site.
My stories have been read 382711 times and 46 of my stories have been cherry picked.
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Joseph Xavier Martin

My stories

The Scarecrow

The Scarecrow It was the surprisingly loud and unexpected explosion that accompanied the shattering of my rear windshield that gave me the first indications that I might not be entirely welcome back in these hills. The glass fragments of the safety glass window erupted into the interior of the vehicle in a hail of crystal menace. It was the surprise of the attack, more than actual fear, that had startled me. I had just barely noticed, in the rear view mirror, the ugly twin barrels of an old shotgun peering from the side window of the battered pick up behind me when the explosion occurred.

A Light In The Closet

A Light in the Closet I could see the narrow band of light gleaming from across the open space at the top of the hall closet door, which was slightly ajar. My childhood memories immediately conjured up a visage of something that you might see in those 1950's science fiction movies. You just knew then when you saw it, that something evil was waiting just beyond the door, waiting for you to be dumb enough to go and open it.

The Skim Milk Cow

The Skim Milk Cow I never really thought much about cows and the milk that they produce. I guess I have always known in the abstract that the two were related. It is just that I was raised in the City of Buffalo and am accustomed to buying quarts of milk from vending machines and grocery stores. The actual origins of the milk that we drink became sort of detached from my consciousness. Oh sure, I have seen television pictures of cows being milked by hand and vacuum machines. Yet it all seems sort of removed from reality. I suppose I might appreciate the connection more if I had to get up at 3:30 A.M.every day to milk the bovine suppliers.

The Skim Milk Cow

The Skim Milk Cow I never really thought much about cows and the milk that they produce. I guess I have always known in the abstract that the two were related. It is just that I was raised in the City of Buffalo and am accustomed to buying quarts of milk from vending machines and grocery stores. The actual origins of the milk that we drink became sort of detached from my consciousness. Oh sure, I have seen television pictures of cows being milked by hand and vacuum machines. Yet it all seems sort of removed from reality. I suppose I might appreciate the connection more if I had to get up at 3:30 A.M.every day to milk the bovine suppliers.

The Maltese Marble

THE MALTESE MARBLE It didn't seem like a special marble when I first looked it over, at old Mr. Warner's place. True, it was larger than the other cats eyes and steelies in my collection. And the smoky green eye, in the middle of the glass orb, did seem to pulse and glow, when you looked at it for a while. But, when you are eight years old, everything seems special and by logical extension, nothing is ever too extraordinary. It was just another piece of glass, or so I thought at the time.

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