Phew, it’s been a while.

Last year, I started my own company, Robin Writers LLC, where I teach about content writing and marketing! It’s been a whirlwind, but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on my novels or fiction writing. No, no.

I actually published a blog post this week on the importance of writing fiction in order to become a better content writer, and I wrote a piece of short fiction for the post. How could I not share that here?

If you’d like to stay updated on my endeavors with Robin Writers, you can sign up for my newsletter here and you’ll receive a free guide to boost your writing portfolio!

Now, please enjoy Peaches.

Photo by Mark Stebnicki on

There ain’t much to do during the summers other than steal peaches from Mr. Kooper. 

Last summer, it was just me and Derik. Mr. Kooper had so many peaches in his trees and we never thought he would ever notice. We would sometimes manage to steal a couple, but never really ate ‘em. We just enjoyed the thrill. 

One hot day, we were back at it again. We crept along the bushes on Mr. Kooper’s yard that led to the peach trees and could see him inside the house. But dang it, this wasn’t gonna be the day we were caught, no sir. Just a few more steps…one, two, three, and bam! Go time.

I ripped two of the lowest peaches and clutched them in my hands. They were the size of baseballs and I could already smell their sweet juices. Derik grabbed a few and held ‘em in his shirt, piling in more and more by the second. I reached for another, slipped on a rotting one, and grunted as I hit the ground. 

My peaches scattered all over the ground. Derik asked me if I was okay and I shushed him as quiet as I could, but it was too late…a window flew open on the side of the house.

“You kids! Get outta my yard!” a deep, cracked voice screamed. 

Derik pulled me up by my collar and we started to run, but Mr. Kooper was already comin’ out of the side door and runnin’ after us. 

Derik started to run, but I couldn’t abort mission without at least one peach. So I bent down to grab just one, which gave Mr. Kooper enough time to sling me over his shoulder. I threw the peach to Derik.

“Save yourself!” I screamed at Derik. He was out of sight within seconds.

Mr. Kooper started cursing at me, every name in the book. Some I hadn’t even heard of yet. I wriggled in his grasp, but he held on tight. He jiggled the handle of the door and cursed at that, too. It wouldn’t open.

I thought fast.

“You know, my dad’s a locksmith. He’s taught me some real good tricks to pick a lock. I could help ya, Mr. Kooper.” I wriggled some more, but could barely budge. “To make up for stealin’ your peaches. We were just havin’ fun anyways, I swear.”

“You wouldn’t know how to pick a lock if your life depended on it, ya punk!”

“I swear, Mr. Kooper! I swear on my…my dog’s grave!” 

I wriggled some more. I could tell he was gettin’ tired of holding me up on his shoulders like that. Was only a matter of time ‘til the old man gave up. 

The door knob wasn’t fixin’ itself by Mr. Kooper just sittin’ there rattlin’ it like a mental person, so he let me down while cursin’ under his breath. 

“Ya see, you just gotta find a real tiny little stick. Even a peach stem could work.” I stepped towards the peach tree, thinkin’ I was real smooth. Mr. Kooper held onto my shirt that was now drenched in sweat. I plucked a stem off of a peach and showed him.

I felt his grip on my shirt. He wasn’t lettin’ go. Derik probably thought I was a dead boy by now. 

I started talkin’ nonsense about how the stem replicated a good tooth pick and whatever else I thought to blab on about to buy some time to think. And when I knew I really had his attention, I ripped off my shirt—leavin’ it to him as a souvenir—and bolted down the yard and back to Derik’s house the fastest I ever ran in my entire life. 

We weren’t interested in no peaches any more that summer. 


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