Parting Shot

An aging pro golfer has one last shot at greatness



Buy it on Amazon

  • Title: Parting Shot
  • Publisher: Amazon Shorts
  • Format: eBook
  • Words: 5,388
  • Pages: 22 
  • ASIN: B000VKC33Q
  • Amazon order link: Kindle ebook

My sci-fi/fantasy short story, Parting Shot, is available as a downloadable ebook for the whopping sum of 49 cents through the Amazon Shorts program.

There are no wizards or aliens or high-tech gizmos in this story. It's a character study of a man and a golf tournament. But there is a fantasy/sci-fi aspect to it.

If golf bores you, you won't like this story. But if you have even a passing interest in the game, and like SF&F, you might enjoy it. Besides, it's only half a buck and you can download it to your laptop or Kindle in seconds.


Tom Gomez is an aging pro golfer, a former phenom, a hotshot who pretty much wasted his career partying. Now, on the downslope of his career, he has one last extraordinary chance at redemption--at the U.S. Open. But fate may have a left turn in store for him.


In shock at how close he’d come to victory, Gomez grabbed his putter and made his way to the far side of the green and onto the fringe where his ball rested, twenty-two feet from the flagstick, mocking him. ‘Blew it again, didn’t you?’ it seemed to say.

Okay, I missed a chance at the outright win, but a good putt here and I’m still in the playoff.

Gomez took a deep breath and lined up his putt. He aimed a foot right of the cup to allow for the break, gave the ball a firm stroke, and watched it shoot up the hill, curling toward the cup as he’d planned.

Come on, come on!

The putt ran true, six feet from the cup, slowing, four feet, two, one—and then it…stopped. On the lip of the cup. A quarter-inch from salvation. 

“No-o-o-o-o-o!” Once again, “destiny” had dangled victory in front of Tom Gomez, and then ripped it from his grasp.

He fell to his knees amid the groans and moans of the crowd. So close. 

Damn it! Gomez slammed the clubhead into the turf, releasing his anger, frustration, and hurt in one futile gesture. He raised the club again, intending to beat the grass senseless with it, when a lightning bolt of pain stole his breath. A giant steel band clamped itself around his chest and tried to crush his heart. The putter slipped from suddenly numb fingers, and Gomez toppled over onto the ground, grimacing.

One of the marshals called out over his walkie-talkie, “We need a paramedic here on eighteen. Now!”