A Passing Glance

“A Passing Glance”

a short story

Gary Baker, September 2013

I'm glad you chose to meet me here, Raelyn” Turen began, watching the newcomer from over a steaming ceramic mug. All around them, the busy city of Paris bustled in the throes of mid-morning tourism and locals making their living amongst the less-than-warm fog. “Though I'm really not sure what to say.”

The woman stood across from him, having just made her way to his table moments ago, appearing as formal as they came in terms of European corporate attire. Her pinstripe grey pencil-skirt had been freshly ironed while her well-tailored blouse had been ruffled only at the hems where the belt of a taxi cab must have held. All in all, she was more magnificent than Turen could possibly remember.

Manzana

"Manzana"

a Stories by Baker exclusive

Gary Baker, September 23, 2013

Carnival lights flashed, kids shooting clowns with water toys squealed, petting zoo goats bleated into the air; and all as the smooth, suave, lady-man spy, Carlos Manzana, flickered passed in his Armani black suit.

He vaulted over a bench with a couple slapping tongue, turning even as he landed down to shoot her a wink, then back to running; bad guys were on his heels. Balloons burst as fragments of pistol-whipped bullets broke through them, glass jars with the little orange fish that die two days after you win them shattered in a quick barrage as Agent Manzana swept around the booth corner. Ladies screamed, hands flying to their hair in utter panic, their shrill cries echoing through Manzana who wanted nothing less than to hold them close and let them swoon their fears away.

Most would anyway, Manzana knew, but lets get this straight: most men would too, for this beast of beauty's rock hard bod.

The Bow d'Longoria

"The Bow d'Longoria"

a short story

Gary Baker, December 2012

Desperately Esri drew the bow and let loose a sharp pang of heat across his fingertips even as a bolt of pure white struck down a man in the doorway below. Instantly the man became chars and fell to the floor in a crumbling mess.

It worked. The fabled bow had awakened.

Esri stared in awe, expecting it to be the disillusioned ramblings of a dying mind after an unseen deathstroke. It couldn’t have worked, not for him, not for the manservant with none of the abilities that made his race so noble.

He was the dud, the one man hidden away from the rest of the world in the garments and back alleys of servantry so that no one could ever tell such a mishap could take place for a race with powers over matter and energies from other realms. Yet they couldn’t kill him, either, not without altering empires-old legislature at the core foundations of their society.

And just as daunting was the awakened bow.

The Photograph

“The Photograph”

a short story

Gary Baker, September 2013

There’s something in the way that a sandwich cut in halvsies from the corners seems to mystify the world versus leaving it whole or cutting it like a grid. It’s like taking the first swig of an unshaken gallon of milk, or the singlemost first slice of apple pie when it’s still steaming from the oven and how the world magically contorts to make these as magical as possible. Or like how taking a bite of a chocolate bar made from fairtrade chocolate from Costa Rica or the Amazon in Brazil or something like that, where it’s meant to be snapped into smaller bits and enjoyed piece-by-piece yet choosing not to follow the unspoken rules results in a far superior taste of that one, lone, first bite.

Today was like that, for Savannah. 

outDated

“outDated”

a short story

Gary Baker, August 2013

Never before had I yearned for death to come as much as I do now. For years have I put up with this affliction, and just one more day will be the end of my sanity and humanity alike.

You see, this all started as great as things could get, I was the top of my class, the highest rank achieving the highest high a man could receive by non-organic means. I had it all. Dreams became reality at my feet and leaders came from afar just to meet me, a simple man turned god in less than a decade.

But I’m getting ahead of myself; my name is Jessie Jack -- no not Jackson like the thief or whathaveyou from millennia ago -- former CEO of iGiga, lead producer of humano-mechanical entertwination. So that’s not a real word, but I’m disgustingly rich so who cares; in two months that word will be lighting the pages of dictionaries across the globe.