Stories by Miles Venison
Harry leaned back and twisted a sideburn in grave thought. Jerry shook his head. “Think about it,” said Ishani. “No more Elvis weddings, no Elvis party appearances, no venues booking Elvis tribute acts. Do you know how much demand there is for a female Indian Elvis impersonator? I can make five grand on a fully... Continue Reading →
For the next forty-five minutes, the committee sat in wonder and listened to Ewan retell every detail of his brush with Elvis Presley. There were so many questions, so many possibilities. It was Gene who finally suggested what many were thinking. “You know,” he said, “New Orleans is only about a six-hour drive. We could... Continue Reading →
When everyone had taken their seats, Harry invited Ewan to the pulpit. Ewan savoured every moment of his first address to the club committee, and Harry let him. Ewan began by explaining the clues that led him this time to one Aaron McAllister, then detailed his month-long surveillance mission. He described the traits the old... Continue Reading →
At seven-thirty that night, twelve senior club members, along with Ewan (by special invitation) and Ishani (who knew how to operate the new coffee machine), gathered for an emergency session of the club committee. The clubhouse was a small timber building with a high sloped ceiling and stained-glass windows. It had previously served as the... Continue Reading →
Harry returned to his place at the table and cleared a space. Ewan set the folder down and opened it. Harry leaned down a little as he stood squinting at the contents of the folder. He felt his shirt pocket, his pants pockets; he picked up his jacket from the floor and checked its pockets.... Continue Reading →
“If you look here,” said Carol, pointing with her pen to one of the graphs on the screen on the wall, “you can see the increase in online sales in the last three years. And then here. Based on market trends, this is our projection going forward. That’s second quarter... third, and so on. We... Continue Reading →
When I was nine, I went to my cousin’s wedding. It was at a church. Not an old church, or one with a spire; it wasn’t made from big stones, and it didn’t have a graveyard or stained-glass windows. There were no hard wooden pews or hymn books. It didn’t smell weird. This place was... Continue Reading →
In Search of Lost Marbles 