Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock
Bio
Retired Ordained Elder in The United Methodist Church having served for a total of 30 years in Missouri, South Dakota & Kansas.
Born in Watertown, SD on 9/26/1959. Married to Sandra Jellison-Knock on 1/24/1986. One son, Keenan, deceased.
Achievements (6)
Stories (158)
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Hopelessly Peared
It was the beginning of their freshman year in college, out on the quad, under the pear tree where the table for aspiring thespians sat. He’d signed up for set design, maybe a little acting. When he turned around & saw her, he looked nervous. It was cute the way he couldn’t seem to find his words, then looked down &, seeing the pencil in his hands, offered it to her.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock5 years ago in Fiction
On Frozen Pond
Corbin had been watching the clouds for the last forty-five minutes as they gradually darkened over the mountain peaks. He knew a system was moving in & that storms were expected by evening, but he had hoped to reach the cabin before they hit. He was close—only seventeen miles to go—but the road from here would be narrow & winding, with frequent steep drops off the shoulder, & the freezing drizzle had begun.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock5 years ago in Fiction
Pinky-Swear
This is my retelling of a story I first heard in January of 1980 in the back of a Suburban as I was trying to get some sleep. We were just setting out on our Yankton College choir tour heading to Gackle, North Dakota. The Dakotas, January, 331 miles, five & a half hours—you’ve got the picture, right? I didn’t get any sleep.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock5 years ago in Fiction
Spare Me the Nematodes, Redux
Tagetes. Possibly from the founding prophet or god of Etruscan religion, Tages, who according to mythology, is supposed to have leapt from a deep furrow left by a ploughman. Described as having the appearance of youth but the wisdom of sages, he taught the people to predict the future through divination.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock5 years ago in Pride
Just Another Squatter
His name is Conrad & he’s my friend. He lives five miles north of town on the narrow, paved road leading to Nebraska & another two miles east over gravel & dirt. He has taken up residence in an old, abandoned farmhouse at the end of the road. He scavenges for things he needs, things we take for granted. We flip a switch; he sets up solar panels he’s acquired over the years to charge batteries for two hours’ worth of internet access on a computer so old it’s a wonder it still works. We turn on a faucet; he fills buckets with rainwater or from the irrigation systems so ubiquitous in our area. We head to bed; he heads to a pile of worn-out blankets on the splintering, bare wood floor of a room where, when it rains, it doesn’t leak too much &, when it blows, it only whistles through the cracks in the wall a little & rattles the dust-covered windowpanes.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock5 years ago in Humans
