“Isometry”

My new short story in Eclectica:

Artwork and photo by Baird Stiefel

We grew up together, Mack and I. Or at least we shared the same classrooms from Sister Mary Margaret’s kindergarten through Father John Patrick Denning’s 12th-grade history class. But it was only later, after my wife and I divorced and Mack was just getting engaged, that we became friends.

Mack was the name he preferred. His real name is Judah Maccabeus O’Flaherty. It should have been “Judas” Maccabeus, of course, but his mother was afraid the other kids would tease him for having the name of the apostle who betrayed Christ—an odd scruple on her part, given the handles she actually did burden him with. But parents are like that. They rarely consider what it’ll be like for their offspring to wear a sandwich board of weird monickers for an entire lifetime. I should know. My parents called me Christopher Aloysius Lifkovitz….

Read the rest.

About Thomas J. Hubschman

Thomas J. Hubschman is the author of Look at Me Now, My Bess, Song of the Mockingbird, Billy Boy, Father Walther’s Temptation, The Jew’s Wife & Other Stories and three science fiction novels. His work has appeared in New York Press, The Antigonish Review, Eclectica, The Blue Moon Review and many other publications. Two of his short stories were broadcast on the BBC World Service.

Posted on July 17, 2020, in fiction, My Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. I read this story with fascination, and have been thinking about it for days. I wonder if, in real life, you are more like Mack, and the “fiction” is about the face in the mirror. In any case, it reminds me of my discovery about myself when I was in my mid-fifties – that I am capable of being a down-right bitch and not just the person committed to kindness and love and care, which I mistakenly thought I was through and through.

  2. Thank you, Terry. Once I finish a story I become just another reader. It sometimes surprises me to hear what a story means to another reader. It also reminds me how much a work of art is a collaboration between the artifact and the reader/listener/viewer. Rich and mysterious, ya?

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