Eric Marcarelli

Software Developer, Writer, Painter

The Music of the Forest

April 10, 2015 by Eric Marcarelli in Nature, Short Stories, Writing 0 comments
Brom’s left foot was cold. In truth his entire body was cold, but his left foot was also wet, so it stood out as especially uncomfortable. His mind had little else to do but ruminate on the irony of having a leaky boot as he trudged beside his ox, carrying a wagon load of shoe leather through the winter forest. Under better conditions, on better roads, he might perch himself on the cart and ride along on the ox’s strength. Of course, that was least advisable when it would be most welcome. This road, hardly worthy of the name, wound around the side of the mountain with a wall of rock on one side and a steep and perilous descent into bare trees and rocks on the other. It was bad enough in the summer when holes, rocks, and roots alternated with impassible mud. Now, in the heart of winter, a bed of snow obscured and enhanced the risks, alternating only with sheets of ice. There was no chance Brom could rest his feet at least until he reached the relative safety of the wide, well traveled road that led into Troutbeck. It was only mid afternoon but already the […]

The Shovel

July 30, 2014 by Eric Marcarelli in Short Stories, Writing 0 comments
I originally developed the characters Matt, Jordan, Ally, and their nemesis, Rusty Nail, for The List. This story is a second for the series. The sun was just barely touching the highest point of the distant hills. Setting, finally, but the fireworks were still endlessly away. A pebble bounced off the parking sign with a dull wooden thud and fell to the gravel. “A direct hit,” declared Matt lowering his slingshot with slow pride. “Now are you ready for those brownies?” asked Jordan with more than a hint of impatience. “Alright, let’s go,” agree Matt, pocketing his slingshot. They set off for Jordan’s family’s encampment of chairs, but almost immediately Matt stuck out his arm and turned him around again. Matt ducked down and motioned for Jordan to do the same. “There he is! ” he whispered. “Who?” replied Jordan in a mock conspiratorial tone. They crawled behind a row of parked cars and watched as the new kid, Seth, and his family walked by several yards away. “The thief!” said Matt. “Oh, not that again,” said Jordan with a groan, “how do you even know it’s the same shovel?” ”It’s one of a kind, and he has the one. […]


May 09, 2014 by Eric Marcarelli in Culture, Walking, Writing 0 comments
Some time back I came to a stop second in line at a red light on my way home. Out of nowhere, the car ahead of me started to roll forward and drove away through the light. I pulled up in its place in a state of complete incredulity, but for the moment it seemed nothing more than one more “idiot driver” story. As days passed I reconsidered. I noticed that this stoplight was placed fairly close to the next light and recalled that the car ahead of me pulled up far over the line. The two lights are not synced — the one farther ahead always turns green first. Being pulled up past the line, the driver in front of me might have seen the green light ahead without straining up to see the light above his car. He might have reasonably believed he was holding up traffic sitting at a green light and hastily drove away to cover his “mistake” as quickly as possible before being assaulted by horns. While he might be condemned for putting himself in the position of not being able to actually see the light, I believe it is possible that the driver had, […]

Memories of the Cold

February 19, 2014 by Eric Marcarelli in Culture, Nature, Walking, Writing 0 comments
Recent days have been the coldest I can recall. In previous years I’ve seen a few -1° or -3° days, to be sure, but they’re usually the apex of cold, sprinkled among relatively warmer days. This has been quite a stretch. Most notably, last Friday, the day of the season’s biggest snowfall to date, there was a combination of strong, snow-filled wind and a temperature of -9° when I ventured out into the pre-dawn darkness. I dressed for adventure. I started with two pairs of pants, which was not unusual, as I often wear sweat pants over my jeans when it snows. But this was the first time I ever put on both my lighter weight and heavier winter coats at the same time. Luckily I was still able to lower my arms. It may be the first time I’ve worn not two but three pairs of socks, and it was definitely the first time I wrapped a scarf around my face so that only a slit remained for my eyes. Over the scarf I wore my heavy coat’s hood. Under it, in ascending order, I had a winter hat, a sweatshirt hood, and the hood of my lightweight jacket. […]

The Watchmaker

July 24, 2011 by Eric Marcarelli in Poems, Writing 0 comments
I’ve uncovered a lost character from the Canterbury Tales: A watchmaker was anachronistically there, His bent back and crooked hands his sins to bear. He carried the tools of his wicked trade, The masters of men he slavishly made. No longer a dial, a candle, a glass; Banish the sun and moon alas. Equal hours were his dark art, Crafting time as empty as his heart. The Prince of Darkness beside him as he rode, A pilgrimage was his hope’s last abode.