My First Short Story: The Key to Life and Death
I was sorting through some old boxes in my garage the other day when I came across various mementos from my past–an old baseball signed by five or six members of the 1974 World Champion Oakland A’s baseball team (Rollie Fingers was my favorite player), a few old trophies, a tattered wallet, and a miniature book.
It was my first short story (really short, that is). “The Key to Life and Death.” I remember creating it one winter afternoon when I was home sick with the cold and flu. I was nine years old and stuck home alone, bored out of my mind. I wanted to do something creative–but what? No paint. No computer. Just me and my insatiable imagination.
The idea of writing a story sprang into my head. A mystery. Something eerie and unexpected. Something with my name on it as the author. Yeah!
My parents had a fairly new Smith Corona electric typewriter in the hall closet. I found an unused, Wells Fargo-branded 3″ x 4″ notepad in a desk drawer. Only about 10-15 small sheets were left–but I figured it would do. I dimmed the lights, placed a tan, felt Fedora on my head, inserted a piece of paper into the feed rack of the typewriter, and began writing.
Here is the actual mini-book for your viewing pleasure. It’s not a very good story, mind you. But ah, the memories! Enjoy.


