Third Place Winner: 2026 Kathryn McClatchy Flash Fiction Contest

Tanner by Jesse Owens, Jr.

TANNER

Memories were a terrible annoyance. Tanner had to fight feelings of guilt,

especially of damnation he felt for the daughter he abandoned. He never came

through for anybody. When he thought about it, panic overwhelmed him, and he

fled into a bottle. He thought "abandoned" was inadequate. Deserted under hostile

fire! Tanner felt he was a soulless bastard with no chance of salvation. He had lost

his job, his family, even his identity. He had long since quit feeling sorry for

himself. The only emotion Tanner could muster was disgust.

Stretching his lanky frame, Tanner wrinkled his nose at the putrid odor

emanating from his clothing. Shit! How long had it been since he'd bathed? He

didn't mind the packing crate he slept in; at least it kept the rain off his head. It was

the rats that pissed him off. Gnawing at the wood all night. It was bad enough that

there was always some asshole trying to take his box, but those damn rats didn't

have any respect! What the hell did they want to eat wood for anyway? Stupid

things. Almost as stupid as that dumbass he had kicked in the head for getting in

his box. Said he didn't know it belonged to anybody, but he knew. They all know it

now; leave Tanner alone!

It doesn't have to be like this. Sometimes the voices were so loud that Tanner

would press his hands over his ears and shut his eyes tight, singing loudly to drown

them out. His little girl crying, calling. It was no use. The voices just got louder

and after a while his head would start hurting. It was only when he got a good buzz

that the voices left him alone. After a while, his daughter would leave him alone,

too. Damn memories.

"Hey, Tanner! Want some beans? Got 'em from outback the grocery store.

Whole box of 'em."

Tanner caught the can that Weird Willie tossed, nodding his head. Willie

was okay, but Tanner didn't have much use for him. Sometimes Willie would bark

like a dog and run around pissing on all the fire hydrants. One night they caught

him chasing a cat but didn't think anything about it until they saw the steak knife in

his hand. Just weird shit. Everybody left Willie alone, too.

Eating the beans, Tanner thought about the dream he'd had. He could see his

daughter walking towards him, moving through a mist. Then the fog swallowed

her, and he couldn't see her anymore. She never came out of the fog. How long had

it been? Ten years? Tanner fumbled in his pocket for the bottle he had stuck

there, then took a long pull. Man, why couldn't his head quit hurting?

A cold breeze whipped through the alley. He hated the cold. It got under his

skin and made his bones ache. Punishment from God for having a frozen soul.

Maybe he could get a coat from Goodwill, but they wouldn't open until tomorrow.

His old jacket just didn't cut it anymore. Tanner could hear the chimes playing at

the church around the corner, Oh Come, All Ye Faithful! The music just made him

feel colder.

As it started to drizzle, Tanner crawled back into his box. Damn box smells.

At least it's real wood. That piece of crap Willie has is just cardboard. Tanner

watched the rain fall, counting the drops disturbing the water standing in a pothole.

Two old men shuffled down the sidewalk across the street, passing a young woman

huddled in a doorway. Tanner could tell she was getting wet, as her red hose

started to speckle from the raindrops, and her hair began to droop. Who's that

woman over there? Tanner rubbed his eyes, squinting, and studied her for several

minutes. Woman, hell. She's just a kid. He had seen her before, usually with some

greasy looking shit with a ponytail. One time Tanner saw him slap her, but he

stayed out of it. Who the hell needs it?

The rain started coming down harder, tapping out rhythm to the chimes. The

First Noel! The girl pressed herself into the doorway, but it was obvious she was

getting drenched. Why the hell doesn't she go inside? Nothing's open. Even the bar

won't be open today. So, what the hell is she doing here? Tanner crunched further

back into the crate. At least it isn't raining in here.

A black Corvette came speeding down the street, splashing the girl with

dirty water. Shithead! Jerking around in a U-Turn, the driver stopped the machine

inches from the doorway. Tanner couldn't hear, but he could tell that the girl wasn't

happy, and she kept shaking her head. After a while the Corvette squealed away,

fish-tailing and spewing water. Tanner heard the girl scream, "Bastard!", and

watched as she sat down on the curb and bury her face in her knees. Hark, the

Herald Angels Sing! The music was getting on his nerves, and the rain was pissing

him off.

So, what happens now? For several long minutes the girl sat perfectly still,

Tanner matching the stillness, even with his breathing, which came in short

shallow pulses. Maybe she'll go away. She can't just sit in the rain. Stupid thing to

do. Tanner's left leg was being to cramp from tension, but he didn't want to stretch

out or rub it. Can't move. She might see. He sat there, the pain in his leg growing

proportionally with the throbbing in his head. The girl finally stood and looked up

into the sky, bringing her hand across her face. Stepping off the curb, she crossed

the street, moving directly toward Tanner, who slid back even further into his box.

Stopping at the alley, she looked at Tanner, her face a portrait of disappointment.

Without a word, she turned and walked away, Tanner watching until she

disappeared. She sure looks like her mother, doesn't she?