TBD on Ning
Parts
This thread is for those parts of tales we’ve written – inspired beginnings (or middles and endings) and flashes of brilliance that came out of nowhere – only to mysteriously disappear as quickly as they came- leaving us stranded at our keyboards.
Good writing, but orphaned without a “rest of the story”.
Check your files…show off some of that stuff. Who knows? Maybe now is the right time to complete it.
Views: 1795
Replies to This Discussion
-
Permalink Reply by Westerly_2 on
-
Yeah, I wondered how a python could be sporting a braided pony tail with aspiked ball attached, but you could do it..
-
-
-
Pain
Georgia was set to settle into the plush chairs with a stack of old People magazines to wait out however long it took.
“Are you kidding?” she asked, at Mundy’s request.
“No, really. Humor me. Come on back and sit with me. Just a little while. I really hate the dentist.”
“After all you’ve been through? To be afraid of the dentist?” She whispered, checking to see if the gals in the print smocks could hear her. And what had he been through? Not everyone needed to know he had killed a man with his bare hands years ago and had done time in one of the toughest joints in California.
“I know, I know,” he said. “But this is different. I can’t explain it. I hate that kind of pain.”
Georgia sighed and trotted down the hall behind her boyfriend. The room was small, but the staff was okay with the intrusion. Surely they catered to many dental cowards on a regular basis.
The doc was a big man, round in his loose green smock, a gentle giant with a wide grin. He offered earphones and a selection of music. While the numbing agents took effect – and even that required the holding of hands with a grip that numbed Georgia’s fingers – the doc doled out the small talk.
“So what was your name again?” He glanced at the chart before him. “Casper Mundy?” he asked. “Really?”
He stiffened and stared hard into Mundy’s face, and then his own face became dark with a long-stored pain.
That was when Georgia got it. The doc had looked familiar, and now she knew why. She had seen someone very much like him before. The doc and Mundy’s dead foe could have been twin brothers. What were the odds?
She waited for what was to come.
-
-
Permalink Reply by Bmichael on
-
“Tell me about your brother.”
“He was seventeen – very strong and athletic. A tough guy - he loved rough sports, especially football and hockey ‘cause of the contact - the harder the better. He was good at football because he was bigger and stronger than most of the kids he played against and also because he had a reputation for his short temper - most folks were scared of him. Wasn’t so good at hockey, though, mostly ‘cause he couldn’t skate very well. He seemed to forget that he was on ice and spent a lot of time knockin’ into people, fallin’ down and earning penalties.
Now that I look back, he was a bully – Keel was always shovin’ people around and could be pretty mean. He liked to pick fights – not so much around the neighborhood, but usually with strangers.
On Saturdays, we’d go down to Madison – to the movies. As soon as we got off the bus, he’d start looking around. My brother was like a cat – his eyes always moving – always looking for something.
I said he was a bully… but maybe that’s not quite right. Bullies pick on people who are weaker and smaller. Keel wasn’t like that, though. He always went after big guys – bigger than him.
One time, while we were standin’ in line for tickets, there was this tall kid behind us a little ways down. Not real big, or muscular – just taller than everybody else. He had a burr haircut, thick glasses, bad acne, and stood kind of stooped over. He was awkward - one of those folks who didn’t quite seem to know what to do with his hands and seemed kind of clumsy.
Keel handed me some money and said “Get the tickets…I’ll be right back.”
He left the line, walked up to the kid, smiling, and said “Are you a queer?”
The kid looked at him as people in line started moving away.
“Huh?”
“I said… are you a queer?”
The kid was confused – had no idea why he was bein’ called out or what was goin’ on –he just stared at the ground stutterin’, until Keel hauled off and hit him in the mouth.
The kid took the punch and fell back a few steps. For a moment he stood there trying to shake it off, his fists clenched as he wiped his mouth on his shoulder. His lip was split and when he saw the blood, I figured he was gonna fight back. Instead, he grabbed his mouth with both hands… and started cryin’.
Keel was acting like he was getting’ ready to hit him again when this girl broke from the line suddenly, stood between them and started screaming at him… in another language. She kept slammin’ her hand into the other, readin’ him a riot act he couldn’t understand. It was kinda funny in a way – ‘cause she was really pissed off, but nobody knew what she was sayin’- except for her girlfriend who was staring at Keel all hateful, nodding her head in agreement at everything she said.
Keel was lookin’ at her dumblike, until the theater manager, who had seen the whole thing from the ticket booth, came up and told him to get out – he was barred.
Keel started to say something, thought better of it, found me and motioned “Let’s go”.
He was quiet as we walked down the street, though I knew he was wonderin’ about what just happened.
“Next bus back home is due in an hour” I said. “Whattya wanna do?”
At Woolworth’s, he tapped my arm and we went inside. Woolworth’s was one of the first stores in town to have air conditioning – it felt real good, but kind of weird. I read somewhere that cold spots meant ghosts and spirits and such were around, but it sure was hard to imagine a haunted Woolworth’s…
We were sittin’ at the lunch counter when I asked Keel why he hit that guy – “Shut up and mind your own business, puke.”
A few feet away a waitress was leaning against a refrigerator- readin’ one of them Hollywood magazines – the ones where they put those black bars over people’s eyes in the pictures for some reason and ignoring us, which I thought was strange ‘cause we were the only customers.
After about a minute, Keel pushed one of those shiny napkin holders over the edge of the counter. The racket made her look up from the magazine in our direction.
Miss Sarah, I’m not kiddin’ - she was a goddess – the prettiest girl I ever saw. Reminded me some of Annette Funicello, only a whole lot better. Bigger hair, giant jet black eyes, and way bigger boobs…uhh, sorry…ma’am…I mean…”
“Go on.”
“Anyway, she had this birthmark or mole thing just above her lip and some green eye make-up, and I don’t know exactly what happened, but I was in love.”
She acted disgusted and stared at the floor for a bit, before she set the magazine down and very slowly, walked towards us – the whole time concentrating at me, as I stared back at the gold cross that was raisin’ up and down on her chest next to a name tag that said “Bobbi”.
Suddenly, the hateful look disappeared and turned into a smile “What can I get ya, Hon?”
I felt myself startin’ to blush…
“HON don’t want nothin’”, said Keel, “but I’ll have two large orders of your greasy fries and two cokes – make one of ‘em cherry. An’ I got a bus to catch, so hurry it up, OK?”
Ignoring Keel, Bobbi smiled at me and said “Are you sure you don’t want anything, darlin’?”
The “darlin’” did me in. I went doorknob dumb and started gettin’ dizzy…
“You deaf or somethin’? Keel shot. “I said we was in a hurry. You wanna lay off the kid, OK? How ‘bout them fries, Dolly – I’m starvin’- let’s go - hop to it, huh?”
“Hop?” Bobbi’s eyes flashed, the smile disappeared, and in an instant she was in Keel’s face. “Bunnies hop, junior” and then, lowering her voice she snarled “you see a fucking rabbit around here, mister?
WELL, DO YOU?”
Keel’s eyes got real big and his jaw dropped.
“Maybe you’ll get your order, boy, and maybe not – I haven’t decided yet. But two things are going to happen before then. First, I’m going to finish my conversation with this handsome young man over here…and when I’m done, I want to see some money because, frankly, from the looks of you, I’m betting you can’t come up with that kind of cash.”
I don’t think Keel had ever been treated this way by a girl. The big, tough guy - football hero – always had lots of girls comin’ on – but no one ever talked to him like that, and for sure no girl we knew ever used the “F” word.
First there was the girl in line at the movies – heck, for all we knew she was usin’ it too, and now this.
Like he was never there, she turned towards me. “What’s your name, sweetie?” she said softly.
“C-Colin” I squeaked.
“Colin, huh? Well, I like that name. My name’s Bobbi…nice to meet you, Colin” and she put out her hand. Awkwardly, I shook hands and tried to pull back but she held on. Don’t think I’ll ever forget that – how soft and warm her hand was and the way she looked at me.
“C’mon, puke, we gotta go” Keel said to his reflection in the mirror opposite the lunch counter.
Still smiling at me, Bobbi said matter-of-factly “COLIN will be with you in a minute – just as soon as we’re done.”
Bobbi continued “You’re a doll baby, Colin, you know that? I bet you got lots of girlfriends, don’tcha? Heck, mister, if you were just a few years older, I’d consider giving you a tumble, myself.”
She winked.
I stopped breathin’.
Bobbi gently squeezed my hand “Next time you’re in town, baby boy, stop by and see me, hear?” Nodding towards Keel, she added “And leave Mr. Impatient at home, OK?”
Keel’s neck was blood red as he jumped off the stool and headed towards the door, brushing against a sunglasses display – sendin’ a bunch of ‘em flyin’. I quickly followed and right before we reached the door, I turned and looked back at Bobbi as she short-waved and mouthed “bye”.
The next Saturday, Keel said he didn’t wanna go downtown – had other things to do.
-
-
-
Yes! I have seen and liked this before.
-
-
-
Aero struggled through the torpor to consciousness – straining her senses for the source of the intrusion.
Pulling her tunic tighter against the chill, she could sense no imminent danger, but yet there rose a feeling of uneasiness from the darkness of the forest floor below.
Peering over the side of the nest, the stark boundary line between the forest and the open expanse of the Great Space was slowly becoming visible as the sky began to lighten.
A small island of large, smooth boulders appeared in the sand as the light grew brighter, revealing a dark glistening moss on their surface.
Inside the forest, a vibration, followed by a low hum caught her attention as scant light crept into the woods. What had been soil and vegetation the night before was now a seething, pulsating mass pressing forward towards the sand.
At the boundary line a large dome shaped figure emerged and made its way toward the rocks. Slow and clumsy, the creature stumbled frequently apparently unaccustomed to the sand. As it ventured further , the humming intensified as Aero realized that the forest floor was now covered with a herd of similar creatures.
Reaching the stones, the creature stuck out a long channeled tongue and began scooping and scraping the moss into its toothless mouth.
In the forest, the humming had been replaced by loud clicks, as if in approval.
Near by, the sand erupted as a small figure – a boy carrying a long pole – jumped up from his hiding place and attacked. Lodging the pole under the creature, he lurched forward and tipped it onto its back.
Helpless, the creature could only lay there – legs kicking furiously in the air, beak snapping wildly as it sunk deeper into the sand.
In the forest, the clicking had now become something of low, angry moan Aero thought, as the boy withdrew a long blade from his pouch and in one quick motion, sliced a large bulging sac from the creature’s belly .
Holding it high in a victorious gesture, he punctured the sac and began to drink - pouring more of the pale yellow liquid down his body than he was able to catch in his mouth.
Caught up in the drama below , Aero did not sense the Wing Man circling high above until he attacked. Diving at full speed, he hit the boy from behind – burying long talons into his shoulder and back, then rising quickly into the sky with his struggling prey, disappearing into the distance.
By now the moss was gone – quickly evaporated by the rising suns. As quickly as they had come, the dome creatures melted noiselessly back into the forest – leaving their fallen comrade behind, still struggling on its back in the sand.
Aero climbed down the tree and headed towards the rocks.
The witch was hungry.
-
-
-
lyrical, with a fierce beauty. Can you turn away from the fight for life, red in tooth and claw?
-
-
-
At 2:20 am, Lenny Saturni signed a form, was given back his personal property, and ordered to stand against the wall as the sweat-stained uniformed guard shouted “One going out, Captain!”
At the sound of a bell, the guard opened the steel door and nodded “See ya when you get back”, he taunted.
Lenny passed into the small foyer on the other side, and through another doorway, marked “OUT” that opened to the street. The six month sentence served, he clutched his boat pass tightly and headed towards the pier, trying not to run as he’d been instructed.
An hour later, Lenny stood on the deck of the ferry, watching the island lights dim in the darkness. He rubbed his still tender ribs, a reminder of the last beating he took from the guards.
Singled out three times during his term, the last one was the worst – two of them came into his cell while he was asleep, threw him to the floor, and began kicking him. The rule for survival was starkly simple - shut up, don’t resist, and never fight back.
There was nothing Lenny could do, except go fetal and wait it out.
After a few minutes, one of the guards said “Hold up” to the other and reached down - pulling Lenny’s arms away from his head and face.
“What’s your name, boy?”
“Lenny Saturni, boss”.
‘Saturni? Who the hell are you? How long you been in this cell?”
“They moved me in today, boss.” The guard leaned over and looked closely at Lenny.
“Hah”, he laughed. Turning to his partner, he said “Well, whattya know, Burl, we got the wrong guy…c’mon, let’s go”, as Burl let loose with a final kick in Lenny’s back.
-
-
-
!!! "go fetal and wait it out."
-
-
-
For hours the two sat together in the shelter – talking and ignoring each bus that stopped, paused, and opened its doors for them.
Although Adam was twenty years his junior, they had quite a bit in common. A shared love of baseball produced a lively trivia competition as each pleasantly surprised the other with a multitude of facts - real, useless, and occasionally suspect.
Both loved books and writing. Stan revealed that he had once written a book, years earlier, that was published. It was a war story based on his experiences. Unfortunately for Stan, it was just one of many genre books published during a time when people were tiring of war stories, and reading in general, due to the advent of television.
“It sold 118 copies” he laughed.
Adam liked jazz – Stan liked classical. Both liked “Mustang Sally”.
There was Moses, Jesus, Mohammad, and Buddha.
... Abraham, Martin, and John.
... Cowboys and Steelers.
...women.
...dogs and cats.
...beer and scotch.
“Be right back.”
Adam excused himself and returned a few minutes with two brown paper bags and offered one to Stan.
“It's imported...”
As the two sat in silence listening to the sound of the passing traffic on the wet street, a middle aged woman emerged from the darkness and hurried into the bus shelter. Observing Adam and Stan suspiciously, with their brown paper bags, she chose to remain standing at the far end of the shelter until the next bus arrived.
“If you were immortal, Stan, how would you spend your time?”
Stan thought for a moment and said “I'd keep doing what I'm doing, I'm sure.”
“What's that?”
“Sell.”
“What do you sell, Stan?”
“Clothespins.”
“You're kidding...clothespins? Really?”
“Yep.”
“They still make those?”
“Oh yes – quite a few actually.”
“Jeez, I would have thought that by now almost everyone had a washer and dryer – or at least used a laundromat.”
Stan laughed. “You'd be surprised. Besides, they're not just for laundry anymore! Our research indicates that they have a variety of other uses – from crafts, chip clips, and the like, and to a lesser degree...hmm... how can I say this... a less than mainstream appeal to some folks and their, uh ...sexual preferences - not exactly one of our marketing plan bullet points, though.”
“Really?” How'd you find out about that?”
“Lawsuit. One of the pins malfunctioned and they sued us. It was unsuccessful,” he chuckled.
“In reality, though, I don't sell, Adam. Don't really have to. People just want them. I simply take orders from old friends, and make new ones along the way - like tonight. “
How long have you been selling clothespins, Stan?”
“Oh, I'd say about a hun...
Stan stopped in mid sentence and took a drink.
“Adam, what would you do if you could live forever?”
-
-
-
Nice!
-
-
-
Wild Birds
Myra and Lizzie hustled toward the squat stucco building as fast as they could make it on the hitches, aches and pains of their mature years. They were wearing their best slacks and blouses for their surprise visit to Myra’s niece who had just landed her first job as a cocktail waitress at this fine lounge. Lizzie clutched her purse with both hands as she observed the screaming purple neon sign and blacked-out windows. Discarded wrappers and butts lay around the steps. Two bearded men stood sucking from brown paper bags.
“They call it ‘Wild Birds’?” she asked. “That’s a funny name for a fancy cocktail lounge.”
“Brooke says it’s very classy inside,” Myra assured her. “Great snacks and great tips. She says she’ll have savings for college in no time. She wants to be a pharmacist. Did I tell you?”
Lizzie bit her lip. “Still, it feels strange to be having a drink in the afternoon, and it’s nobody’s birthday.”
“Ah, live a little,” Myra said, marching ahead and pulling the door open wide.
…darkness inside…candles on tables…
…jukebox music tinkling out…and on a raised stage…
…someone dancing up there, prancing, strutting, straddling a pole, arching…
…pale limbs…everything uncovered but for a few scraps of cloth glowing fluorescent blue under the lights,
…bent back, a fall of pale hair sweeping the floor….
“Oh, my,” said Lizzie, clapping her hand to her heart.
Above the dancer, a banner proclaimed: Brooke-Lynne Bridges 4 U.
“Is that your niece up there, Myra?”
Myra let out a gasp as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Hands to the side of her face….
A sodden laugh erupted from a swaying man near the stage. “Shake them titties, babe.”
“Dear, no,” said Myra, grabbing her friend by the elbow and steering her toward the door.
“We’re in the wrong place.”
,
-
© 2024 Created by Aggie.
Powered by
