H N Arabian Blog - Random Tales

  ***   In "A Late-Night Visit" The father feels “slightly out of place, like someone who’d stepped out of a family photo and into a campus hallway.” This simile establishes the narrator’s split identity: part of a family unit, part of an independent college life. *** A Late-Night Visit I was halfway through a statistics problem set, numbers swimming on the page, pencil hovering uselessly above the graph, when a quiet knock rattled my dorm door. Ten o’clock—too late for deliveries, too early for the night guard’s rounds. I wasn’t in the mood for company. When I opened it, there stood my dad: wind-tousled hair, travel-creased jacket, and that familiar grin. “Surprise,” he said. “I was in town and … I missed you.” For a second I just blinked. He looked both perfectly ordinary and slightly out of place, like someone who’d stepped out of a family photo and into a campus hallway. “You came all this way just to knock?” I asked. He shrugged. “Figured the window was a risk.” ...

*** The story is a slice-of-life narrative baked with humor and tenderness , offering both laughter and reflection. It sits comfortably between memoir and comic sketch, proving that even a simple pie can carry the weight of memory, love, and laughter. *** Apple Pie Flash Memoir I never meant to betray the apples. Really, I didn’t. Marie and I had just picked them from our small backyard orchard , and she carried her basket like a trophy. “These,” she declared, “are going to make us healthier.” I nodded solemnly, already considering how to prepare them with butter and sugar . Back in the kitchen, she washed the apples while I sharpened the knife. “Salad?” she asked. “Pie,” I answered. She rolled her eyes. “Of course.” Soon the counters were covered in flour as though a storm had passed through . Marie was laughing at my lopsided crust, insisting hers looked “like the cover of a baking magazine.” I countered that hers looked “like it was holding on for dear life.” The apples—once so ...

  *** "Saint Joseph and the Case of the 'For Sale Sign' " succeeds as a humorous vignette that carries thematic weight beneath its wit. By pairing a skeptical narrator, a desperate scientist, and a knowing dog, the story examines the porous boundaries between logic, faith, and community ritual. Its charm lies in its understated irony and its ability to invite laughter while prompting reflection on the strange, enduring human need to believe. ***  Saint Joseph and the Case of the “For Sale” Sign By Harry Arabian On a deceptively sunny morning, when my legs protested louder than my alarm clock, I dragged myself up the grueling incline of Palfrey Street to Whitney Hill. The air smelled faintly of freshly cut grass, and a sprinkler clicked lazily in the distance, as if the whole neighborhood hadn’t quite decided to wake up. Whitey, my ever-enthusiastic canine companion, made it first, wagging his tail like a tiny metronome behind the fence while issuing three barked proc...

*** " The Great Airport Escape" is a compact, humorous personal narrative built on irony and contrast—between exhaustion and urgency, high-tech promise and low-tech mishap, triumph and loss. Its strength lies in the lively voice, the vivid pacing, and a resolution that delivers both comedy and thematic closure.  *** The Great Airport Escape By Harry Arabian After spending the whole day at CES in Las Vegas—with its buzzing lights, shiny gadgets, and more sales pitches than a used car lot—Andy and I finally flew into Orange County around 8 p.m. My brain was fried, my feet were sore, and all I wanted was to reach my couch, only four miles away. I shifted the weight of my overstuffed backpack, bulging with CES loot and my iPad—the crown jewel of my haul. Every step reminded me how much I wanted both me and the bag safely home. As we walked toward the exit, Andy’s phone rang. Rosie, his friend, was running late. “Sorry, traffic’s a nightmare. I’ll swing by around nine,” she ...

***   "The Morning the Cranes Came " is a brief, lyrical meditation on awe, nature, and the quiet transformation that can occur when we stop to pay attention. It achieves emotional depth through understatement, and its craft lies in careful observation and rhythm more than overt drama. Like the cranes it describes, the story arrives gracefully, unexpectedly—and leaves the reader with a sense of stillness and reverence. ***   The Morning the Cranes Came It was the second morning of our family getaway at Lake Winnipesaukee. Early spring still clung to the chill of winter, but something about the way the lake exhaled mist over its glassy surface called me out of the warm cottage before sunrise. I left quietly, not wanting to wake anyone, and walked the narrow trail down to the shore. The air was crisp and smelled faintly of pine and thawing earth. Small waves lapped at the stony beach as I wandered, hands in my pockets, thoughts half-formed and unsettled, like birds themselves...

*** "Life’s Checkpoints" illustrates how ordinary events—yard work, a walk, a chance meeting—acquire symbolic weight when framed as tests of belonging and identity. Through its layered use of metaphor, vivid imagery, and ironic encounters, the narrative argues that life’s true examinations are not scheduled ceremonies but fleeting moments of recognition and judgment. In both familial and civic contexts, approval is never permanently granted but always subject to renewal. Narrator's short piece thus captures the poignancy of living in constant, quiet readiness for the next unannounced test. *** Life's Checkpoints By Harry Arabian That afternoon, I was in my backyard, raking piles of leaves into mounds that the wind immediately tried to scatter. My mother arrived just as I leaned on the rake, catching my breath. She gave me a look that mixed pride with amusement. “Still working?” she asked, stepping into the yard. “There are always more leaves,” I said, trying to sound...

*** "Knafeh and Country Roads" elevates a domestic memory into a universal meditation on heritage and love. By weaving together sensory richness and cultural symbolism, the piece situates personal joy within a larger narrative of generational continuity. The father’s song embodies not only a celebration of new life but also a transmission of identity, ensuring that the grandchild will inherit both the sweetness of rose water and the soaring cadences of ancestral music. *** Knafeh and Country Roads By Harry Arabian   It was Easter morning in April 1982—our first wedding anniversary. Marie had invited my parents for breakfast at our apartment on the fourth floor—two cozy bedrooms with plush carpeting and large windows that framed a clear, unobstructed view of the Charles River and the old mill buildings of Waltham. The morning light streamed in, golden and bright, as if it, too, had been invited to celebrate. My parents, Nick and May, arrived right on time—9 a.m.—bringi...

  ***  The story blends professional duty with cultural immersion, creating a dual narrative of business and discovery. On the surface, it’s about two engineers traveling to Puerto Rico to oversee production at Jabil’s Cayey facility. Beneath that, however, the narrative emphasizes themes of cultural exchange, resilience, and the search for meaning beyond work . The backdrop of Puerto Rico’s tropical warmth contrasted with the snowbound Boston they left behind reinforces the idea of escape—both physical and emotional... First Installment ***  Mission to Cayey  By Harry Arabian We were searching for the right place to bring our medical instruments to life . After months of design trials, documentation reviews, and test procedures, management decided to partner with Jabil Manufacturing in Puerto Rico. Their global reach and reputation for precision gave our team confidence that the first production run would be in steady hands. I—Herald, fifty years old and serving a...

  *** “Cape Cod Labor Day Adventure” is more than a travelogue—it is a meditation on family, resilience, and the search for peace in an unpredictable world . Through storms, missed connections, and youthful excess, the story reminds us that the essence of travel lies not in flawless logistics but in the laughter, bonding, and fleeting moments of beauty we carry home. *** Cape Cod Labor Day Adventure by Harry Arabian It began with a photograph. A modest two-room house perched on the edge of Falmouth, Cape Cod—its clapboard siding pale against the deep blue of the ocean, its balcony turned westward as though built for sunsets. The online advertisement promised a private beach, quiet seclusion, and a setting that seemed lifted from a postcard. From Southern California, I studied the listing, tempted yet wary. Was it too perfect? Since a deposit was required, I asked my college-aged nephew, who studied nearby, to visit the property in person. His report was reassuring: th...

  *** "The Mark of Trust " is story about a business trip, an unexpected intersections of duty and delight . It asks the reader to reconsider the meaning of success: Is it reaching your flight on time, or is it allowing yourself to be swept up in an Oktoberfest polka dedicated to you by name? The story elevates a business anecdote into a reflection on serendipity, community, and the layered texture of human experience. ***  The Mark of Trust By Harry Arabian Five days felt like five weeks inside the towering walls of Underwriters Laboratories. The hum of test rigs, the sharp crackle of fire chambers, the rhythmic ticking of timers—all of it blended into a relentless soundtrack of scrutiny. For nearly a week, Steve and I had lived in that cycle, watching our fire safety product pushed beyond its limits. Flames seared, alarms blared, and data poured into monitors until the numbers either proved us right—or sent us back to the drawing board. By Friday morning, exhaustion cl...

 *** In Red Rocks and Sourdough , the narrator recounts a serendipitous afternoon in Concord, Massachusetts, where music, memory, and food converge to create an unexpectedly profound reunion. What begins as a casual moment in a library swells into an exploration of how art and place shape identity, how hunger guides human connection, and how the past resurfaces in the present with uncanny force. Through its sensory detail, layered symbolism, and cyclical structure, the piece demonstrates how the ordinary and extraordinary intertwine, reminding us that life’s most enduring moments often arrive by chance. ***  Red Rocks and Sourdough (Music, memory, and a sandwich that stitched the past to the present) By Harry Arabian The Concord Free Public Library smelled faintly of old paper and polished wood. I was thumbing through the latest periodicals when soft guitar strumming drifted through the open window, delicate and inviting. Curious, I stepped outside. On the lawn, a small con...

*** At the heart of the story " The Pastry Box"  lies a simple promise: to visit Uncle Aram before leaving for Detroit. What could have been dismissed as a minor courtesy becomes the central moral thread. The protagonist’s choice to honor this promise, despite the pressures of time and business, highlights the tension between professional obligations and personal commitments. The pastries themselves, fragile yet enduring, serve as a symbol of loyalty and the weight of promises carried through chaos. ***  The Pastry Box By Harry Arabian The week in Detroit loomed large before me—an endless carousel of client meetings, hotel lobbies, and airport corridors. Before leaving, I promised Marie one small thing: visit her Uncle Aram. He always asked about me on the phone, always said my name when Marie called. A promise is a promise. By Friday, after a final, wearying meeting, I steered the rental across town. The city rolled past in shades of gray, traffic oddly lighter than the wei...

  ***    The story “Under the Live Oak” juxtaposes two distinct settings: the serenity of Golden Gate Park’s Arboretum and bison paddock with the oppressive environment of Acme’s workshop. These contrasting spaces act as symbols of freedom versus confinement, vitality versus exploitation, and natural cycles versus industrial degradation. Recognize that comfort and suffering often exist side by side. *** Under the Live Oak By Harry Arabian San Francisco had a kind of restless energy that even our toddlers seemed to absorb. By mid-morning, they had pulled us through every winding path of the Arboretum in Golden Gate Park, chasing ducks, touching every flower they could reach, and laughing at their own echoes in the quiet garden groves. Marie and I followed, half-shepherds, half-spectators, until their energy finally began to slow. The bison paddock gave them a final burst—two little bodies pressed against the wooden rail, pointing and squealing as the massive animals lu...