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Posts Tagged ‘short story’

Much as around this time last year, I’ll be shortly shifting the focus of my blog. I’ll still be posting fiction, but I’ll write an entry exclusive to the nature of the shift next week.

In the meantime, I wanted to end a year of posting short fiction with one last tale of my recurring character. Here was her first appearance, and here her second. This time the idea came to me while in transit, the idea will unfold in front of me at the computer now. May whatever comes out of me bring something very good to whoever takes it in. Thank you to everyone who has checked out any of my short work, and I hope y’all take the journey with me as I post here starting next Sunday my new work. Peace, and, may you enjoy!

Leslie

Leslie took a step toward getting for herself a cup of water. One step later she felt everything shaking as the floor split open below her, and down she fell.

Past floorboards, and earth, and rock, and dirt, down, down, down. And further, and further, and further. She considered for a moment the end to Don Giovanni, and then decided that her virtue would declare her fate otherwise. She felt no heat as she descended.

After many minutes the light from above began to fade until she was left in darkness, descending. No rumble below her as after the first break of ground, there was nothing below her to open wide. She dared not test the aerodynamics of trying to go in a direction since at this speed she didn’t relish the idea of crashing into the wall of ground, and to what end? Could she climb if she found wall? Why would she want to stop the journey she didn’t ask for, but found herself upon?

Last known location of walls to touch, feet away in any given direction, no bottom in sight, and darkness and quiet surrounding her, she found relief in her fall as she closed her eyes and tried to experience fully the unique situation in which she found herself rather than thinking about what she wouldn’t dare change. So in silence, much to her relief, she let herself continue to fall without thinking of interrupting.

What felt like hours later, she saw the color of the inside of her eyelids lighten, and so opened her eyes. The dirt wall surrounded her with roots poking out out of reach every now and then. The vertical tunnel filled with light slowly as she fell for the next minute. She half-expected to see a white rabbit checking the time shortly before the tunnel flew past and she found herself falling through what seemed to be blue sky, lit from a source apparently far below her and indistinguishable from the blue the light reflected into existence from further than she hoped to fall.

Occasionally a dolphin swam by her, and it occurred to her over time that now that there were no walls to crash into, perhaps if she shifted her body she could choose in someway, if not direction alone, where she fell, and so in some sense fly.

She spread her arms and found that she did not feel as though she fell any longer, but even seemed to be able to will herself upward as she chose. She thought it curious that she’d never felt freedom before, now that she had an eternity in any given direction with nowhere to go.

As she felt her lungs fill, she felt neither hunger nor thirst; flying was all the sustenance needed to satisfy.

As a dolphin came swimming in into view, she flew to it, felt the side of its body. It seemed to like her. They kept each other company as she followed with her new, flippered friend. She had nowhere she wanted to go, so, it led.

The time they spent flying and swimming together was deeply satisfying  to her sense of experience when out ahead they were heading toward a convergence. Dolphins everywhere heading toward, swimming around a brightness hanging in the blue.

And as they approached, it grew and felt happy. The light washed over her in waves of warmth as she patted her companion a final time to say goodbye and dove straight toward the center of the light. She flew toward it faster and faster until coming upon it, she penetrated deep and sure. In she went, and moments later, at its center, there she stopped.

There was no further she could go. Still she found herself resonating outward from what filled her completely, the heart. Warmth flowing from her in every direction as she was the same as it. Perfectly still, without care of body that was satisfied in every way where motionless it arrived. There she was for as long as she’d have liked.

And when she was again outside of it, she saw a tunnel above her leading what her current orientation could call “up” unless she decided to rotate somewhat, which she did not.

Up she flew.

Through tunnel, past dirt, and rocks, and the rest, until she shot up two-and-one-half feet above the floor with just enough time for it to heal itself before landing with ease and grace in front of her water cooler. She took a glass from the counter and filled it. She was satisfied as she drank.

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Hi all! I’ll be walking Relay for Life this weekend, and, as is such my new story won’t go up until next Sunday. Hope y’all have a good week, and, if you haven’t checked it out yet I hope you take a look at the two-parter I posted most recently Wizardry part 1, and Wizardry part 2. Or for that matter please peruse older entries. In the meantime enjoy the walking-related music below.

TTFN!

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I was hoping to post one I wrote earlier, but, while I’m still working out the kinks of the new machine, this one’ll have to do for now. I find my writing lately to be rather personal, but I think it’s all coming out rather entertaining nonetheless. May you enjoy!

Pile of Bills

The stack of bills had cornered me in the alleyway as it slowly closed in. The massive pile was no less than ten feet high, six feet across, and aside from the numbers of amounts due, and names of debt collectors, the one discernible feature of this gigantic creature was its huge, gaping mouth taking up almost the entire length of it body. I crouched down against the brick wall at the end of the alleyway, filled with terror, as the creature made up of the piles of my bills slowly made its way forward to devour me. It’s shadow engulfed me as its body loomed overhead, the thing no more than four feet away. Then, at the very top of this stack of debt, two piles rose above its mouth on either side, as though forming something like eyes. It stopped its forward movement, “looked” down at me, and spoke, “Really?”

I awoke in a cold sweat. It was six-o-clock in the morning, and I didn’t have to be awake for work for another hour. I thought about my desk where my bills lay in wait for me in the next room, and, begrudgingly, tried to force myself back to sleep. I tossed and turned, and maybe was able to get another 20 minutes when, groggy, I awoke to the piercing shriek of my alarm clock.

I hurried passed the room containing my desk as I got myself ready for work. Shower, shave, quick breakfast, and to my car for a full day of drudgery that I could be grateful for; something to keep the real stack of bills at bay. And, today was payday. It was some peace of mind while in transit to remember that even as I was driving, something was being added to my account with which I could beat off the stack of bills, at least temporarily . . .

When I got home that night I went to my office space so that I could see the effect my last week of efforts had made on my account, and see what I could offer my ever-hungry pile of bills.

I logged onto my computer and went to my bank’s website. As I was looking at what I had in my checking account, and contemplated who I could afford to pay something to this week, I heard a voice come from the side of my desk, “Seriously?”

A chill went through me as I froze. Ever-so-slowly I looked to where the sound had seemed to come, there at the left-most part of my desk where my stack of bills lay.

“Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you!” It spoke, I saw it! Two “Cs” for eyes with slashes over them for eyebrows. Zeros made up its mouth as it seemed to seperate itself from the piece of paper under it as it spoke. “Look pal, I’m all of three different pieces of paper. Stop lookin’ at me as though I’m about to chew off your flesh and spit out your bones! I don’t even have teeth for cryin’ out loud!”

What could I say? On the one hand it had a point. On the other hand, it was speaking to me!

“Look, I could understand you cowering if I was ten-feet tall and nothing but a mouth, but come on! And speaking of ten feet with a mouth, I’m all of three loans! I know, I know, student loan, car loan, and waaaaay too much on your credit card, so you’ll be paying me off for a while, but I’m barely three pieces of paper! How the heck can even your subconscious make me out to be ten-feet high? I mean, really?”

“Okay, so maybe you’re not that scarey, but you’re inanimate. It’s still pretty creepy that you’re talking to me . . .”

“Yeah, well, let’s make it a one-time thing, eh? Look, you’re young, your credits good, your job let’s you pay off at least the minimums, and eat, and have a roof. What are you worried about? By the time you’re done payin’ me off you’ll be able to buy a house your credit will be so good! You don’t need to sell your leg so you can buy somethin’ to eat tomorrow. Relax, would’cha? “

Despite the weight I felt on my shoulders, the years worth of work those three little slips of paper represented, it was right; I certainly wasn’t about to go hungry. Nor was I going to have to give up the new CD I wanted to buy, or the concert tickets. I shrugged, looked at the creepy mini-stack and said sincerely, “Thank you for putting yourself in perspective. I guess you’re really helping me grow in every way possible even if I do think you’re a little loomy . . . and creepy when you start talking to me when I was pretty sure you weren’t capable of doing that. And by the way, please tell me you’re the only inanimate object capable of speech . . .”

“Like I said a one-time thing, don’t mention it. As far as anything else ‘inanimate’ speaking to you goes, let’s just say it’d be a good idea to clean out your fridge, or else something legitimately taller than you, talking to you, might give you a heart-attack . . .”

And I did clean my refrigerator out that night . . . thoroughly. And I’ve kept it clean ever since. Quite frankly, I never have been able to look at an inanimate object the same way, but thankfully, neither have I ever been quite so anxious for the bills to stop coming.

As I finished writing this story, this was the song playing in my head.

Namaste!

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If you read my post last week you know that my blog is switching format a little. I’d originally set up my blog hoping to gain interest in my novel (a link for which is located conveniently to the right of the screen). After a year of rambling on about a version of God hopefully a bit more palatable for those disinclined to read Mother Goose as though an exact history of the reality of all existence, I have decided, for the sake of having time to do my real art, to begin writing short stories and posting them here, since, I have come to the inevitable conclusion that either I have time to blather about the divine, or write stories, but not both. Not to the exclusion of observation about the whole of the universe, if anyone wants my two cents on something pertaining to theology, just ask and I’ll be happy to answer in this medium.

In the meantime, my inaugural work in this format will be substantially shorter than what I’ve already written. I have much more in the works, but the first thing to come to mind was short, so that is what I’ll be sharing this week. That, and, it is some coincidence that my new software cannot be set up fully at this time anyway, so, I actually have to write the whole story out again, blessedly short though it is, rather than having the convenience of “cut and paste.”

Bear with me these first few weeks as lately my writing seems to be more expressive of my own mind than something pondering a universal question as I have been accustomed previously.

Without further adieu:

Porch

Loudin sat down by his father’s side and asked him a question. “Dad, what’s the point to living?”

His father thought but briefly as a smile arose to his lips, “My son, not so much you, or your brothers and sisters, but your Mother.”

That said, they sipped sweet-tea on the porch as the sun set, the crickets chirped, and the lightning bugs began to dance to the sweet music of the cicadas.

photograph courtesy Philip Greenspun

photographs courtesy Philip Greenspun

Namaste!

Photograph courtesy of Philip Greenspun

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