Short Stories by William S. James

a short story by William S. James

Cabel Evans regained consciousness, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. When he could once again focus his eyes, the first thing he saw was his broken model car. It was a candy-apple red ‘67 GTO he had built all by himself, and it looked as though it had been run over by a Mack truck.

The whole left-side of Cabel’s face felt numb and on fire. His left eye especially felt like it was burning and expanding rapidly. He gently touched it with the back of his right hand and dabbed some tears, the contact made him flinch. The back of his head rested against the stained and torn Winnie the Pooh wallpaper covering the walls of “his” bedroom, and when he tested the spot with his finger, and felt a tender lump blooming to a point.

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a short story by William S. James

Polished black boots marched across the South Commons in a sharp, steady, stride. The sound they made with each step was drowned into silence by the howling January wind. The wearer of those boots bore evidence to their quickening pace and the frigid night air, with smoky puffs of air that blew out from the mouth hole of his black and orange ski mask. The puffs were in cadence with each step of his left boot.

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FZ2878 is a fictitious colony of freedom, at sea in international waters off the coast of the eastern United States. Created by author William S. James, it is the basis of James' first novel length offering, Freedom Zone FZ2878.

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When does freedom become too much? William S. James found the answer to that question in the story of Randal Shotski. Shotski's meteoric rise into the history books is narrated by his best and closest friend, Ship's Captain Rudy Jenkins. Shotski's dream of total freedom is founded on good luck, and challenged in the face of media controversy.

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a short story by William S. James

Johnny Hardrive was a rocker, and he knew it. Hell, everyone knew it. He had that lean look, along with cute, and had it all rolled into one. He was almost too pretty. When they saw him, young girls giggled with excitement, positive he was somebody from television or a Teen magazine. Johnny had felt their recognition, and it made him feel good.

Johnny slumped in his chair staring at the TV, not moving a muscle. On the surface, there was no visible movement of any kind. On the inside, behind those dull, staring eyes, his mind was working feverishly. It skipped from one subject to another every few minutes. But Johnny’s mind did come up with some good thoughts once in a while, and sometimes, he even managed thoughts that could be productive to his musical career. Unfortunately his wandering mind just turned them into short thought phrases with no real ending or resolve.

Johnny was a rocker, but he was not a star by any means. Johnny was poor, and lived with his mother. He had the ambition to be a star, but his mind hadn’t yet synched with his actions to make any money, and being a star was all about the money.

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