Henry Huggins Novels & Stories

Dalton After I put Layla to bed, I return immediately to the shed. I look down at the dead man with a mix of pity and rage. He’s not much older than me. He was handsome, with blond hair and eyes that used to be blue. But now, they’ve started to decay into his skull. The skin is flayed from his fingers, revealing bone, but the rest of him is in surprisingly good shape considering how long he’s been here. I remember him. Henry, that was his name. Henry Swanson, from Mississippi, an architect apprentice who never made it back after traveling here to visit his girlfriend.

In the middle of it, Henry stood with his hand pushing the door frame to make it stay open. After a few seconds giving the three men a blank look, he stepped inside, making the air in the room cool again. He dropped the food containers inside the transparent plastic bag onto the table with a thud. “Someone steals your brain?” Evan scoffed. “I met Barry when I bought food for us. I invited him to join us, and he said he had an urgent meeting. But he told me some shocking news.” Henry ended dramatically. “What?” Asked Evan curiously. While Max gave Henry his curious stare.

I answered. "Close enough, except in Pygmalion Eliza Doolittle doesn't come back to Henry Higgins in the end. That's pretty much the story of my last relationship. Minus the fabulous hats." He smiled briefly. I had a momentary vision of Jeff wearing a Cecil Beaton confection and winced.

Henry said continuing with his meal which he relishes delightfully. “Everything seems conspicuous right now and at the end I can't decipher what's next or what move to concede. If mom has spilled out Bella's theft, it must have sent a wave of shock to Avery . He could have been triggered by something and left to seek answers or.. Being a detective can be So annoying and tedious. I don't have an idea on what's going on?”. Henry was cut short from his thoughts by the ringing of his phone in his short pocket, he withdrew it from his shorts and looked into the screen and recognized the number. He glances around and sees that the coast is clear and proceeds to answer.

The alarm clock didn’t go off. When Hanna opened her eyes, the room was still wrapped in an unsettling silence. For a second, everything seemed normal… until she turned her head and saw the clock. — No… — her heart raced. She sat up with a start, throwing the covers aside. Her first day with the new CEO. Her first day without Henry. The first day when everything could change. Hanna rushed across the room, opening her closet with trembling hands. She took a deep breath.

They went for a table and sat down. “Give me a second,” Henry asked. He phoned his son “Hello, come serve me breakfast. I'm at table 18” Henry commanded but there was a yell at the other end. Henry giggles, massaging his temples, he instantly ended the call. “What was that?” “Nothing.” “Oh, here they come.” Henry chimed, staring at an incoming waiter. He appeared to be a strange person “Sir, Erickson refused to come over. He said he is so busy and he has no time to discuss shit over and over.”

"Henry Dickson. Professor Henry Dickson." Why does that name sound strangely familiar? I cork my head and before I can ask, he offers the explanation. "He's the man who kept me in business school for four six years."

“I have my own theory, though it’s nothing I can prove, and honestly nothing I even care to think about.” “What is it?” John asked, leaning forward again. Henry shook his head, a serene expression crossing his face. He was a handsome man; the women had always thought so. Clean shaven except for a small moustache. John remembered how he’d had his choice of young debutantes to lead around the ballroom at every occasion. Not that John wasn’t considered a catch himself. It was just difficult to imagine that this man before him was the same spritely, happy-go-lucky chap he’d spent his formative years with not that long ago. After a lengthy pause, Henry managed to quietly reply, “I’d rather not sa

"What do you want for breakfast, Henry?" "Cocoa Puffs!" he shouted, banging his fist on the counter. "And I want the big bowl!" "Okay, okay, calm down," I sighed, grabbing the box from the pantry. "But only one bowl, or you'll be bouncing off the walls by noon." I poured the cereal, the chocolatey smell warring with the lingering scent of the "nursery disaster" in my nostrils. Once Henry was happily crunching away, I turned my attention to the most important task of the day.

A voice interrupts me and I realize that it is Henry. He is always chewing on something. Now it is an apple. He walks closer to me and his attention falls on the photograph of he and Robert that I was staring at. “Do you know this guy?” I ask him as I hug my body. The sun is up, but it is a cold day nevertheless. “Oh, that’s Robert Jones. Quite a character, that guy.” He says with a chuckle. “Oh.” I reply with a weak smile that disappears as quickly as it came.