Short Stories Series
by Juniper Rue Publications

Three Stories - $6.00
First Series Set
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Sandy Bender is a Bucks County Pa. musician who plays the banjo, mandolin and classical guitar. His unique instrumental style is culled from bluegrass, folk ballads, blues, jazz and classical music.
Sea Grass Music Composition by Sandy Bender

To listen to "Sea Grass" click on the music icon.

Inner Thief Excerpt

Two cells down, a man played the harmonica, Bruce’s least favorite instrument. Another tone-deaf mate on the opposite row sang along, while a third beat his fists on bars, serenading in a cacophony of sound. 

Bruce dampened a couple tissues into balls, and tucked one in each ear. They barely muffled the sound as he collected his thoughts. 

Lying down on the cot he settled into waiting through a long weekend. In a weird way Bruce felt relieved to be there. A first offence, he would most likely be dismissed with a limited parole period, possibly sent for counseling, and monitored while he mended his ways. 

He certainly didn’t look the part of a common thief, a paunchy middle-aged man of medium height and weight, brown hair and eyes, a dark tan suit with maroon tie, white starched long sleeve shirt and dull brown shoes. He knew his nondescript attire made it easier to pursue his chosen new career of theft. Still, if he got off easy with this arrest, he would have to be careful from now on. 
Sister Mary Aloysius Excerpt

​"They are unable to go to the police. We are illegal immigrants for over ten years now. Yesterday, I learned from a gang member where Rosa was being held, three blocks from here. I borrowed my Uncle’s gun, and today went to the row house to get her.'

'I needed the gun for self-protection. These people are very dangerous. They are known to shoot first and ask questions later. I was wounded in a scuffle. Chuma pulled his knife out and slashed my forehead. He was going for my neck, but I ducked. I shot at him and he ran off.'

'I may have hit him. I couldn’t go to the cops. Even if I didn’t wound him, I would risk deportation for myself and family.” 

'He paused with a visible shudder, recalling what they went through to get to the United States.'

'I knocked on your door seeking cover. When I was a child growing up in Guatemala, the mission sisters were very good to our friends and neighbors. They helped a lot of the people in our village hide from the local vicious drug trade, and human traffickers.”

The Art of Living Excerpt

The next morning she woke up early, feeling tired and hungry, but stayed firm in her resolve to take the ‘bus’ on her own terms. So as not arouse suspicion or visits from Terry and the others, she met with them, mentioning she was going on a trip to her son’s for a few days.

Terry, who lived two floors below was aghast. “But we’re not going to meet your neighbor until you return! We were hoping you would arrange a luncheon meeting for us all and now we’ll have to wait,” she whined.

“I’m sure you’ll see him coming and going, and you can always introduce yourselves in the community room,” Irene snapped.


By the second day Irene’s stomach was still churning. This is not going to be as simple as I thought. I should have spent more time researching at the Library, she scolded herself.