Contributor: Eric White

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“You can’t do this,” said the wiry man across from me. He spoke in Russian. It was sloppy, and his accent was almost comical.
“Please, Mr. Oswald, let us speak in English. It is, after all, your native tongue,” I said, and poured myself a drink.
“I’ve already told you. I’m more than willing to denounce my American citizenship. I can help you,” he said in English.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Oswald. That is just not true.”
The man was taken aback, but he knew better than to raise his voice. All he did was squirm in his seat, and glance around the mahogany office.
“I’ve already proven that I could be one of your agents. I’m the perfect spy.”
I nearly choked on my drink.
“What’s so funny? I’ve taken all the tests. I’ve proven I’m more than capable.”
“Why do you want to be a spy for the Soviet Union, Mr. Oswald?”
“What?”
“Answer the question, Mr. Oswald,” I said.
“I want to help the Soviet Union. I want to take down tyrannical capitalist governments. I want to — “
“You want to be a celebrity. You want undying fame and glory. It’s really quite easy to see.”
“What? That’s not true. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but—“
“I’ve heard plenty, Mr. Oswald. I’ve had plenty of reports from the town. You claim to denounce your homeland, but you use your status as an American to gain local fame. A spy that wants to be famous is no use to me.”
“That’s not what I’ve been doing. I have just been trying to—“
“Yes, I’ve heard about how the girls love the American turned Soviet spy. You have even been heard comparing yourself to the likes of Vasily Zaytsev with a rifle.”
“It was harmless fun. The locals don’t know anything.”
“You insult my people, Mr.Oswald. Everything that has happened since you’ve arrived on our base has been part of an assesment. You have been in contact with no less than twelve of my agents in the last month. You have been assessed and determined to be of no use to the Soviet Union, or anyone else.”
“Please, Mr. Chardov. I can still help. Maybe not as a spy, but I could be a translator or monitor American news or I could—“
“Mr. Oswald, you can barely read or write your native language. Do you take us for fools?” I said, taking another sip of my beverage.
He was sweating profusely as he rubbed his hands together.
“No, sir. Never.”
“Then why do you think I have any use for a dropout with no special skills whatsoever? A dropout who can barely read his own language. “
“Well, what about my citizenship? If your government approves it, I can still make a living. I can be a Russian. I could stay in the town, off base, and never bother anyone.”
“That will not be happening either,” I said. “You will be leaving the Soviet Union tonight on a flight back to the United States.”
“What? No. Please, no. Why?”
“Mr. Oswald, you are a sniveling and pitiful creature. My country has no use for incapable cowards. And that’s what you are, Mr. Oswald. A coward.”
“I can’t go back. What if they find out? I could be thrown in prison. I can’t. I can’t risk it.”
“Don’t worry about any of that. We have fabricated a story for your last year and a half in the Soviet Union and your last month on this base. You will comply with our fabrication, or you will be killed. That’s how I know you will agree to our terms.”
“Why are you just letting me go? Aren’t I a liability or something?`”
“No, Mr. Oswald. You are not,” I drank down the last of my glass. “You are of no threat whatsoever.”


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Author: Eric White

Contributor: Eric White

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“It was a beautiful service. I think it would have made him smile,” Ryan said to his mother.
“Yes…it was. He would have been shocked that so many people showed up. It would have definitely brought a tear to his eye,” his mother replied.
“You think so?” asked Ryan, “I don’t think I ever saw dad cry. He always told us he loved us and always showed it, but he was so strong. He was always in such control. I don’t think things got to him the way they did to us.”
“Come sit by me honey, I want to tell you something,” said his mother. “Now, how many times have you seen me and your father sitting where we’re sitting now?”
“I don’t know. Hundreds maybe…maybe more…you guys spent our whole childhood on this porch swing.”
“That’s right, all them times you kids played in the yard, we’d sit here and watch you. We saw every laugh, scraped knee, personal victory, and hurt feeling. So many moments of your childhoods took place in that yard right there.”
“I know, mom,” replied Ryan, “He loved this porch, and he loved watching us grow up from it.”
“Me and your father used to sit out here at almost every night and look at the stars, and I know you remember the rain storms. He loved them. We always sat out on this porch swing when it rained like this. He loved the way the rain made the grass and trees look, and we both loved the strong cool winds.”
“Yea, I remember, I didn’t know you two came out here that often though,” replied Ryan.
“Well baby, we did, and your father cried on a few of those starry nights. He cried when you got cut from the baseball team. He cried when your little brother had that surgery, and he cried when your sister’s first boyfriend broke up with her. He cried after every one of y’alls graduations too. Honey, him and I both cried several times out here.”
“I didn’t know…” Ryan said.
“And he never wanted you to,” replied his mother. “That’s why we always waited till you kids were sound asleep. Then the two of us came out here and talked about our hopes and dreams for you kids, and we talked about our worries and fears.“
“There were times when you kids were hurting, and you all went through some personal battles. You kids also made us so proud too. That’s when your father cried. He cried when he couldn’t do anything for you, because it hurt him to see y’all hurt. He cried when he was proud, because he loved seeing you kids happy. He loved y’all so much, but he always wanted to be strong for you. He just never wanted you kids to see that side.”
“I…I never knew that. I always knew he cared, but I never knew that you two were out here crying over us. I wish you guys had told us...”
“Now don’t go thinking we were out here flooding the Mississippi every night,” his mother chuckled. “We had some nights where you kids had us madder than we have ever been in our lives, but we always cared. We always had this porch.”
“Well, I know I shed some tears today myself.” Ryan said.
“I know, baby, but your father would be happy right now. He’s at finally at peace, and you kids turned out so wonderful. He’s smiling right now, Ryan.”
“Are you sure?” asked Ryan.
“Even through the rough times, we always smiled when it rained. It was our favorite, and it made him so happy. You see that rain out there?” asked his mother.
“Yes ma’am.” Ryan answered.
“That’s how I know your father is up there smiling at us now. He might have a tear in his eye, but trust me, Ryan. He’s up there smiling. Now just sit out here with me, and lets smile back at him.”


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I'm a current student at Full Sail University. I have been writing all my life, and I am hoping to write for television and animation. However, I enjoy writing in any form.

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Author: Eric White

Contributor: Eric White

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Michael was sitting on the living room floor propped against his over-sized stuffed dog, Floppy. It was Saturday morning so he was able to watch cartoons if he twisted the antennae just right. The bowl of stale fruit-loops sat undisturbed next to him when there was a loud knock on the front door of the trailer.
Michael knew better than to answer the door. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. The visitor wasn’t going away.
Michael tiptoed to his father’s room. His dad was passed out on the floor with the belt still around his forearm.
Michael knew that it would be futile to attempt to wake his father. So he went back to the living room floor with Floppy and his stale fruit-loops. Just when he thought the visitors were gone there was a violent crash at the door, and all of a sudden three men stood in the door way. Two of them barged in and began tossing their stuff out the door, while the third man went into Michael’s father’s room yelling about the rent. They didn’t so much as glance at Michael.
Michael never made a sound. He clung to Floppy, and he watched the men throw away the little bit he and his father had. Eventually the men made their way over to Michael. One grabbed Floppy right out of Michael’s arms and tossed the dog outside into the mud. Michael ran to follow. He picked Floppy out of the mud in time to see his father’s unconscious body hurled from the doorway as well.
There was nothing to do, but watch with tears of confusion running down his face. Eventually, an ambulance came and took his dad away. During that time a woman in a nice pants suit appeared. She told Michael that she would make things better for him, and that she was going to make sure he was taken care of for now on.
The woman smelled like flowers, and Michael liked her right away. She took him by the hand and led him to the back seat of her car. After she took her place in the driver’s seat Michael had a terrible realization and began to cry at the top of his lungs.
The woman turned around and softly said, “I know you’ll miss your daddy, Michael, but this is the best thing for you. I promise.”
“No, it’s not that,” said Michael. “ I don’t care about him, but I left Floppy in the yard. Please, let me keep him. Please, please!”
The woman smiled warmly at Michael, then she went back for Floppy. She brushed some dirt off of him, and she secured the stuffed dog next to Michael in the backseat. They left the sad and empty trailer, and Michael never looked back.


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I am a current student at Full Sail University. My long term goal is to write for entertainment.

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Author: Eric White