Purest Fiction Archives - Heidi Kortman

Purest Fiction: A Parade and a Hero

February 28, 2020Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Twelve, Purest Fiction, Ruarri, serial, Shona, short story3 Comments

Purest Fiction: A Parade and a Hero

As the author staggered downhill under her load, a turquoise convertible rolled by. She grinned, having taken childhood trips in an identical car.
One block from her apartment, a city worker placed sawhorse barricades across the street. The turquoise convertible idled behind them, and the dark-haired driver leaned out and spoke to the city employee. Then he shrugged, and turned toward his passenger. The redheaded woman braided her long hair.
She wasn’t near enough to make out their conversation, but the mystery partially resolved itself when the author heard a marching band. After a deep breath, she stepped forward. A parade was nothing to cause worry. It’d hold the attention of everyone on the street. As she approached the corner, the author paused for a few moments.

Purest Fiction: Morning Coffee

February 21, 2020Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Eleven, Purest Fiction, serial, short story1 Comment

Purest Fiction: Morning Coffee

A semi-tractor in the street released its brakes.
The frantic author shoved at the scratchy wool blanket, then sat, bewildered.
Because the windows had no shades, she hustled into the tiny bathroom. It was unsatisfactory to scrub at the chipped sink, and she longed for her deep tub.

Purest Fiction: Offensive Apostrophe

February 14, 2020Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Ten, Purest Fiction, serial, short story1 Comment

Purest Fiction: Offensive Apostrophe

When she walked back to the bureau and delved in the suitcase for her bag of pens and pencils, she scraped her knuckles on her “souvenirs.” Despite what she’d told Ed O’Connor, there were rocks in her luggage. A palm-sized lump of pink and gray granite came from the Continental Divide.
One dark jaggedly fractured chunk of stone commemorated a trip to an island in Lake Huron. When she pulled out the flattest fragment, picked up on Mount Washington, mica glared in the harsh light. Would she add Pennsylvania bluestone?

Purest Fiction: She Could Write Here

February 7, 2020Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Nine, Purest Fiction, serial, short story1 Comment

Purest Fiction: She Could Write Here

When the doors closed at ten, the refugee writer had no appetite.
The waste of food appalled her. The slop bin on her cart swam with flat soda, cold coffee, strands of spaghetti, and cigarette ashes. So many customers chose the triple bacon cheeseburger the author was sure the odor in the apartment stairwell would be a living, breathing thing.
“Hey, bus girl, ya did a good job tonight.” Mavis nodded as she swiped the day’s entries from the chalkboard. “I never did hear your name. Did Bill give you your share of his tips?”

Purest Fiction: Bus Girl

January 31, 2020Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Eight, Purest Fiction, serial, short story3 Comments

Purest Fiction: Bus Girl

She missed interaction: bouncing ideas between creative minds. Her agent and publisher agreed to forward messages, but she hadn’t stayed anywhere for more than a week all spring.
The author shuddered, remembering a book signing in Phoenix.
“Hello. I came down here to find warm weather, and I’ve found you too.”

Purest Fiction: Tabloid Headlines—Threatened

January 24, 2020Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Seven, Purest Fiction, serial, short story3 Comments

Purest Fiction: Tabloid Headlines—Threatened

The author sat in a plywood chair with her back to the window.
Traffic flickered in her peripheral vision. Was that a turquoise blur? She shifted, too late to confirm it, and laundry curling in the dryers like surf mesmerized her weary attention.
Rising from the chair, she paced, shaking her head. It was past time to shift images and settings for her work. She knew the urge to write would never leave and no matter where she went, something reminded her of her early tales. If she began a story staged in a hill town, would things change again?

Purest Fiction: Her Newest Refuge

January 17, 2020Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Six, Purest Fiction, serial, short story1 Comment

Purest Fiction: Her Newest Refuge

She took a hard look at her newest refuge.
It was too bad Pennsylvania had no recycling refund like Michigan. If they had, she’d turn in the cans for cash. Still, if she resisted the lure of the Internet, it would be a long time until her pursuers found her.

Purest Fiction: Just My Life No Wheels

January 10, 2020Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Five, Purest Fiction, serial, short story1 Comment

Purest Fiction: Just My Life No Wheels

The author blinked watering eyes as a woman’s voice rose up the stairwell.
“Ed, that weird woman left a huge suitcase under the table. What should I do with it? Mayor Perkins wants his usual seat.”

Purest Fiction: Mob Ties

January 3, 2020Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Four, Purest Fiction, serial, short story5 Comments

Purest Fiction: Mob Ties

“There’s an apartment vacant?” Control your voice, don’t draw more attention.

This situation oozed into shape as smoothly as her first novel. It was almost enough to make her laugh aloud.

“Try me. I need a job and a place to stay while I work out some things. I promise not to hold parties above your premises.”
“G’wan, Lady, you don’t want to bus tables.” The owner snorted and scraped coins from the till for the remainder of her change. “The apartment isn’t much either. Three furnished rooms.”
“I do need work, and anything you’d pay me would stretch the money I have set aside. What terms do you want to set for the lease?” She held out her hand, and he laid a five-dollar bill in her palm, followed by a one, and the coins.
“Are you running from an ex, Lady?” He slammed the drawer of the cash register. “If some guy is going to come here and make trouble, I don’t need that.”

Purest Fiction: No Pickle No Chips

December 27, 2019Heidi KortmanFiction for Fridaypart Three, Purest Fiction, serial, short story3 Comments

Purest Fiction: No Pickle No Chips

Farther down the road were the unmistakable lions that guarded library steps. She could go in, perhaps log on. No! When she logged on, her eye for details demanded that she comment, giving her hunters a place to begin again.
Instead, she entered the Laundromat and found an unused washer. The author raked heaps of laundry from the cavernous suitcase and fished a handful of quarters from her waist pack. There was enough detergent in her bottle for one load, but she needed more than that. The easiest thing was to start the first washer load, then go buy lunch.

Heidi Kortman - Author

words of wonder and appreciation

Tag Archives: Purest Fiction