Mark Gagnon
Bio
My life has been spent traveling here and abroad. Now it's time to write.
I have three published books: Mitigating Circumstances, Short Stories for Open Minds, and Short Stories from an Untethered Mind. Unmitigated Greed is do out soon.
Achievements (1)
Stories (461)
Filter by community
The Eavesdropper
The congregation bowed their heads in reverent reflection as the vicar droned on about the evils of sin and the ultimate reward for the righteous. His ability to preach about topics they had recently been thinking about baffled them. This week’s sermon covered infidelity and the desires of the flesh versus chastity and faithful adherence to wedding vows. As he delved deeper into the subject, several women shifted uneasily on the church pew. Multiple men adjusted their gaze to the floor and refused to look up. They all felt as though he was addressing them directly. How could he sense what was on their minds?
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
A Labor of Love. Top Story - February 2022.
We met one sunny spring afternoon. I had stopped off at a colleague’s new house to help him move when I first laid eyes on her. The previous owners had abandoned her in a field behind the house. Tall grass hid the multicolored exterior, flat tires, and cracked and torn interior. I found a weathered top along with both side curtains tossed haphazardly in the trunk. For me, it was love at first sight.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Wheel
What If?
A beam of sunlight entered his room, turning the wall opposite the window a soft gold. It was the only bright light in the otherwise subdued hospice room. The old man in the hospital bed watched the beam flicker as the fluttering curtains crossed in front of it, creating a change in hues and shapes on the wall. The sight was a pleasant distraction from the constant beeping of the machines stationed next to his bed. He had always enjoyed the sun’s rays bouncing from object to object, casting shadows on some and presenting others in stark detail. What if this would be the last time he saw the sun?
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
Spirit of the Eagle
Chapter 1 Early evening, Max’s favorite time of day, the 15-year-old stood at the edge of a forested piece of land next to his family’s farm and watched as the moon crested the horizon. The orb was a source of wonder to him, its size and shape, changing with the passing of each night. Although he knew this happened because the Earth’s shadow was passing over the moon’s surface, it still fascinated him.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
Cyclops
Two FBI agents stared down at the mutilated corpse. It was the middle of the Great Depression, so finding a body in a rail yard was not an uncommon occurrence. Finding three engineers’ bodies, each in a different rail yard, in three different states, and all displaying the same wounds was. The cause of death for each man was a stab wound directly into the heart. The left eye had been removed postmortem, and a cat’s eye marble inserted into the empty socket. The coup de grâce was the word Cyclops written across each victim’s forehead in their own blood.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
Room With A View
I travel a lot for work and usually stay at one of the major hotel chains. Their rooms are normally clean, beds comfortable, and the interior walls soundproof enough that if the person next door sneezes, I don’t feel compelled to say, “Bless you.” Unfortunately, none was available for this trip.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Horror
XXI
XXI Humans, just look at them, each involved in their own little world; oblivious to everything around them, including me. I was human once, but I’ve strengthened into something more, greater, superior to what I once was. Now I look at these creatures as a wolf looks at a rabbit, or a cheetah at a gazelle. They are nothing more than prey. My quarry has unwittingly wandered within the boundaries of my hunting grounds at the end of Canal Street. The elevated railway line casts a perpetual shadow onto the pedestrian walkway below, obscuring sunlight during the day and blocking the glow from the city’s lights at night; it’s a predator’s paradise. Now I must choose my evening’s entertainment.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Horror
Revelation
I can’t remember a time when Maddie wasn’t in my life. We met as toddlers, our parents were next-door neighbors, and we spent almost every day playing together. Many children drift apart once they start school, but not Maddie and me. We attended the same grammar school, had the same teachers, and helped each other with homework. Inseparable, joined at the hip, two peas in a pod and all those other tired clichés were used to describe us by the adults. That’s how it was right up to the day her father got promoted and the family moved to another state.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Futurism
Survival Sense
Some places just put my internal alarm systems on active standby. Alma Latinas was just such a place. Sure, I’d visited this cantina before with several friends, but never alone. Actually, Gringos never visit this part of Nuevo Laredo alone, and I know this, so what the hell am I doing here? When you’re twenty and bulletproof, in your mind anyway, no place is off limits.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
Talk Radio 1905
I started the company van the other day and was immediately greeted by a bombastic baritone voice booming from the radio. I’m not sure who the speaker was because, to me, they all sound alike. It doesn’t matter if it’s politics or sports, I never listen to talk radio. I want to hear music when I turn on the box, not someone proselytizing.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in The Swamp
