The second collection of short stories by J. R. Kruze.
Known for a unique take on common situations, and a dry wit, Kruze is also able to look at usual circumstances and see unusual aspects to write about. These stories will let you start wondering about the world around you.
Mystery, fantasy, paranormal, romance and science fiction are a few of this mixed genre collection.
Enjoy seeing your world through J. R. Kruze’s eyes…
J. R. Kruze Short Story Collection 02
This anthology contains:
One Thought, Then Gone by J. R. Kruze
The Lazurai Returns by C. C. Brower & J. R. Kruze
The Case of the Forever Cure by J. R. Kruze
Ham & Chaz by C. C. Brower & J. R. Kruse
The Girl Who Built Tomorrow by J. R. Kruze
Synco (TM) by J. R. Kruze & R. L. Saunders
On Love’s Edge by J. R. Kruse
The Case of the Naughty Nightmare by J. R. Kruse
To Laugh At Death by J. R. Kruze
Voices by J. R. Kruze
The Case of the Walkaway Blues by J. R. Kruze & S. H. Marpel
“Life isn’t fair!” I cried out to no one in particular in the cluttered machine shed I called my shop.
I would have run to my mother’s skirts to bury my tear-soaked face in her lap, except I’d long been trained that this would only make the teasing worse.
I was better off getting a clean work rag – one that didn’t have oil or grease on it, or something worse – and wipe them away.
“Just suck it up, bimbo.” That’s what I learned to tell myself. With five older brothers, I got treated like just another son in the family.
They all taught me from an early age that tears didn’t matter. And even if they got a tongue-lashing from Mom, I’d still inherit a little hell-on-earth later for every story I blubbered to her.
Not that I’d ever get touched, although that happened. And they’d get away with it as long as they didn’t leave a mark or rip any of my clothes. But the worst was when they would wreck something I was working on.
And that’s how I taught them to leave me alone.
Because I was a better “fixer” than any of them. Once they found that out, they’d bring their stuff to me rather than try to figure it out for themselves.
And when the teasing got real bad, they’d wind up with something of theirs suddenly start to run badly – or wouldn’t run at all. Right when they needed it the most. Of course, they couldn’t prove I’d done it.
So they quickly learned to stay on my good side. And stay out of my shop. And never, ever, “borrow” my tools.
Because it wouldn’t stop until they did. I was just built that way. “Eye for an eye” type of gal. “Hell hath no fury…” and all that.
When they started racing, life got better for me. They learned that their little sister was an advantage no one else had. The machines I worked on for them gave them an edge – they performed better, ran faster, lasted longer than anyone else’s.
And if they wanted something special done, I’d find little gifts on my workbench – or somewhere I’d notice.
That worked just great. They won their races, and my life got easier.
Until I discovered how nice boys could be outside my family. Ones who didn’t need their machines fixed or tuned. The ones that gave me stuff because they liked me.
But wasn’t prepared to find someone who really understood me. Even my parents didn’t get the scope of what they had created…
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