Buried by Robert Vaughan

She crushes out a cigarette on the patio. Shakes her head.

“Trent’ll call soon,” I say. “You’ll see.”

But we both know he won’t. The plane went down in the Hindu Kush.

Over a week ago. Still missing. A celebrated pilot in the air force. That’s where we’d all met, Pensacola boot camp in 2005.

Then Debbie and I both got pregnant. Return tickets home. We were lucky to score jobs at the Wal-Mart in Keene.

She still doesn’t know it was the same guy.


She lights another Marlboro.

I grab it from her. Extinguish it.

“It’s all I have,” she pleads.

“Debbie don’t,” I say. “Think of your kid.”


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Filed under Robert Vaughan

10 responses to “Buried by Robert Vaughan

  1. Oh, I just love it when we know something one of the characters doesn’t. Nicely done, Robert.

  2. len kuntz

    great fervid pacing. you packed a ton in here in a very tiny space. you always hit me in the jaw and put a knife in my back with the ending. bravo, rv.

  3. Michelle

    Hard, this one. Hard edges, hard to read. Which means really good.

  4. Wow. Short and sharp. Excellent tale-spinning, Robert.

  5. guy

    The spareness of the piece brings out the rhythms e.g. “Debbie don’t”, Trent. Nice pacing, too.

  6. Lots to think about in this little story. Great.

  7. Yes – not a word too may. Well done. I can see Lizabeth Scott in the film they never made …

  8. Pingback: Here. There. Everywhere. « One Writer's Life

  9. Thanks for the comments everyone! I really appreciate them!

  10. Pingback: Week #52 – Threesome | 52|250 A Year of Flash

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