AboutJames Lynn Smith was a storyteller as a teenager, entertaining youth in his neighborhood. After livelihood as a research physicist, he grew serious about writing fiction, became assistant editor and contributor for a small print periodical for a year, and continues to write. One of his early fictional stories won first prize in Calliope (Calliopeontheweb.org). Following fiction publications appeared in The Emerald Coast Review, issues of The Legend, the Mensa Bulletin, and an anthology, Beneath the Rainbow. Some stories also have online presence.
Excerpt : Book of collected short stories pending.
Hal was a sound sleeper. He fell into a deep, rhythmic breathing pattern, but not Julie. For some reason she could not sleep and lay awake staring into the dark. Her thoughts ran over the list of things to do and her future job. She also visualized the house again as it could be, seeing herself greeting visitors at the door while Hal put logs in the fireplace. Abruptly, her thoughts cut off.
What’s that? she wondered. A muffled thud somewhere above. She held her breath, straining to hear. An old house will have creaks and pops. She raised her head off the pillow and realized a thud is different from a creak or a pop. The weather report did not forecast rain so thunder could not explain it. They were not near a military base or mining area. She thought about waking Hal but, not hearing anything further, she dismissed the idea.
Bump! Again, she heard the sound and sat up in bed. “Hal, wake up,” she said, shaking his shoulder. “There’s a thudding noise somewhere in the house.”
Slowly he rolled over. “Huh? What thud? I didn’t hear…”
“It’s a low sound, like a bump over us somewhere. Happened twice.”
“Might be…Might be sonic boom. Can’t hear the Jet. It’s too far.”
She considered this for a moment, feeling more at ease with his lack of concern. True, it doesn’t sound urgent, like a door or window breaking. She lay back down and, hearing nothing further, eventually went to sleep.