Louis M. Serra

Short Stories & Tall Tales by Louis M. Serra


Louis M. Serra grew up in Chicago Il, entertained both by stories about gumshoe detectives and tales of werewolves, vampires, ghosts, and other supernatural beings. He began writing short stories at about ten years old, slowly developing a storytelling style that incorporated his favorite subjects.

After years of keeping his family entertained, they convinced him he should write some books.

Louis’ first published work, The Reluctant Vampire, is a story about a vampire who learns some new things about himself and his man-servant, Wilbur.

Louis has since, written seven novels, five of which are in print. These other novels involve visitors from other dimensions, outer-space, and even some from our very own soil. The book, Notes From The Hermit, is a collection of short stories.

To expand his writings, he has taken on a different genrex crime without things that go ‘bump’ in the night. His first crime novel is called, The Hawke’s Lair.


Two Soldiers

Louis M. Serra

One day my grandson came up to me and asked if I ever served in the Army. Before I could answer, he explained why he asked me about my ‘days when I was younger’.

“You see, Grampa, we learned about the Civil War this week in school. Did you know that the war was about Americans fighting Americans? Did you fight in that war?”

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Mr. Will Gates

Louis M. Serra

My name is Jerome Ira Barnes. Everyone just calls me Jib. It took me a long time to get comfortable being called Jib. I guess I have Mr. Will Gates to thank for explaining how some people just like to give out nicknames. Actually, I owe Mr. Will Gates my life. Here is why.

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What Do You Say To A Ghost?

Louis M. Serra

At first I thought that I was just hearing things. I guess it was because, against my better judgment, I had agreed to fix up an old house for a friend of mine. It was a beautiful old place, built somewhere around 1860. It looked exactly like the ol’ Southern Plantation mansions you see in the movies.

The walls of every important room such as the Dinning Room, the main Study and so forth were paneled with deep oak or light birch, depending on when the sunlight came through the large glass doors and lit up that particular room.

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The Rifle

Louis M. Serra

Around here… and everywhere else I guess, they call me Prairie Pete. Ain’t never been on the prairie though. Ol’ Jake Withers says my face looks like the prairie… all dried out n’ crinkly. I’ve been running this ol’ off-the-trail hotel/saloon for so long that no matter what anybody who stops by here says to me, I’ve heard it before. That is until this young man showed up telling his story.

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Two Men Gulch

Louis M. Serra

Long before I was born, a little town gave up its existence so the State could build a much needed water reservoir. I thank all those that once lived there just so that many of us would not only have water all year long but have a place to fish and go boating in. It’s not a true lake, but we’re happy it’s here. Most of all, I wish to thank two gentlemen that my friend, Tom Lane, and I met there one Saturday morning.

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Chest Of Gold

Louis M. Serra

My name is Prairie Pete. You may recall me tellin’ you about the yung’n with the old Winchester 73 rifle. Then agin’ if you’ve been outta town for awhile, ask some of your friends about it. I can’t retell it right now because ol’ Jake Withers is on my back about tellin’ you how we were this… close… to havin’ all the gold we would ever want. It happened like this.

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Kid Elam

Louis M. Serra

By now you all know me. I’m Prairie Pete, the unofficial story teller here in Iron Hole, Utah. Some folks has gone an’ written to the people what print out these stories, claimin’ there ain’t no such place as Iron Hole. Well, if there ain’t, I’d sure like to know what we here in Iron Hole is doing in a genuine old cowboy town. Shoot, we still has hitchin’ posts in front of most places you goes to eat or drink.

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Sam & Sam Burgers

Louis M. Serra

Ol’ Shotgun insists I tell ya’ll about what happened here one day last year. Oh, by the way, it’s me, Prairie Pete. Ain’t real sure how it happened, but it seems like I’ve become the mouthpiece around here in Iron Hole.

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