Sketching Snowflakes

Even though this story was  posted here in January of this year, Potato Soup Journal did a nice job posting it on their site. You can check it our here:
http://potatosoupjournal.com/sketching-snowflakes-by-james-bates/

Swing Dancing

Swing dancing night at the Long Lake Retirement Home. "It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing," sang the singer. Jerry could dig it as he sat off to the side in the community room, watching.  One of the orderlies had a boom box set up on a card table and was playing dance music from the thirty's and forty's. It was the best. In his memory Jerry could picture a long ago nightclub filled with sweaty bodies dancing up a storm, cigarette smoke swirling and the band wailing to the big beat of the drums and the thumping rhythm of the standup bass. He tried to contain himself but he couldn't.

            When the next song started he turned to his wife. "Let's go cut the rug, Alice," he said, standing up and reaching for her. "Let's get on that dance floor and show them how it's done."

             He grinned as she took his hand and stood with him, smiling. How wonderful she looked tonight, she in her blue and white checked poodle dress, looking like she was born for this, jitterbugging and jiving with him. Swing dancing. What a lucky man he was. He smiled, thinking this must be what heaven was like.

            With Alice by his side, Jerry hurried out to the floor ready to dance like there was no tomorrow, ignoring the fact that it'd been fifteen years since Alice had been with him. Fifteen years, since she'd passed away from a valiant battle with  cancer. But tonight that was all forgotten.

            The crowd watched awestruck as Jerry pivoted onto the floor and began jiving to "In The Mood," by Glenn Miller, dancing up a storm, a smile as wide as the key board of a piano, as energetic as the wailing of a saxophone. They watched him there on the floor, lost in his memory of those long ago days, swing dancing across the floor with Alice, the love of his life, together again the way it should be, never wanting the music to end. 

This story was posted on CafeLit, 8-11-19. You can view it here: https://cafelitcreativecafe.blogspot.com/2019/08/swing-dancing.html?spref=fb&fbclid=IwAR2O30py5TkDljUOUz-yqiUQcMpDbEP53NUZuxtU9cSoxRQl1WlgbLkHCCQ

Frozen Fingers

My story, Frozen Fingers, was published by Simon Webster on his site, the Cabinet of Heed. It's a nice posting and you can check it out by clicking on the following link. If you have the time, you might want to check out some of the other of the stories.

https://cabinetofheed.com/2019/07/27/frozen-fingers-jim-bates/

The Stink Of The Diesel

This 75 word story was posted 7-31-19 by Richard on Paragraph Planet

The stink of the diesel idling outside their apartment agitated the old man. His caregiver opened a vial of patchouli oil and wafted it under his nose. Instantly he calmed. A smile formed as he remembered the sixties, a tie-dyed hippie in love with life and a flower child named Sunshine. Who became his wife. And caregiver. She joined him on his lap and took a whiff, hugging him and mellowing out, grooving once again.