“Where did you say you found her?” Ellis asked.
“On a bench out by the ER entrance. I was running final checks on the ambulance,” Scott said.
The baby girl kicked and squalled, red in the face as Ellis tried to check her over. Ellis tried to maneuver his stethoscope around her flailing limbs, but she wasn’t having it.
“Where’s the NICU nurse?” Ellis demanded.
“Down in the NICU,” Scott said.
“If she’d just hold still --”
“She didn’t start screaming until you touched her,” Scott said. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I’d know if I could just check her vitals.” Ellis leaned in, reared back to avoid taking a foot to the eye. He growled, frustrated, and that made the baby cry louder.
Scott elbowed Ellis aside and scooped the baby up awkwardly into his arms. Then he rocked her gently and began to sing.
Ellis stared.
Scott lowered his head and sang softly, barely audible above the tiny girl’s sobs. But her cries slowly subsided, and Scott continued singing, rocking her to the rhythm of the song.
Ellis blinked. “She...she likes your voice.” Then he frowned. “Is that song really appropriate for a baby?”
Scott glared at him but kept singing, kept rocking her. By the end of the song, she’d closed her eyes and stilled. Scott went to lay her back down on the cot. Her eyes flew open and she squalled some more. Ellis gestured sharply, and Scott scooped her back up, began to sing once more.
(250 words)
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Voice
David remembered Ariana's voice so clearly that at times he thought he could hear her next to him.
Ariana's voice could cast a spell on the hardest of hearts. It flowed sweetly in Italian, and seductively in French. It was harsh in German, and staccato in Japanese. Her voice was tight when she was upset, and modulated when giving a speech. Her bell-clear voice could soar to that perfect pitch, her entire soul laid bare in the moment.
I hear your voice on the wind
And I here you call out my name
'Listen my child', you say to me
'I am the voice of your history
Be not afraid, come follow me
Answer my call and I'll set you free'
I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain
I am the voice of your hunger and pain
I am the voice that always is calling you
I am the voice, I will remain
It was the voice David would know anywhere. But for years, it had been silent.
(short, and not very good, but here it is. I also know it it a bit of an impossibility for her to know that many languages.)
Ariana's voice could cast a spell on the hardest of hearts. It flowed sweetly in Italian, and seductively in French. It was harsh in German, and staccato in Japanese. Her voice was tight when she was upset, and modulated when giving a speech. Her bell-clear voice could soar to that perfect pitch, her entire soul laid bare in the moment.
I hear your voice on the wind
And I here you call out my name
'Listen my child', you say to me
'I am the voice of your history
Be not afraid, come follow me
Answer my call and I'll set you free'
I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain
I am the voice of your hunger and pain
I am the voice that always is calling you
I am the voice, I will remain
It was the voice David would know anywhere. But for years, it had been silent.
(short, and not very good, but here it is. I also know it it a bit of an impossibility for her to know that many languages.)
Friday, September 25, 2009
Switching Places
Dinah tilted her head to one side. “That’s not Clay’s voice.”
Shelley paused and listened as well. “No. The triplets are helping some younger boys write a song. Must be one of them singing.”
“You’re probably right,” Dinah said. She and Shelley stood side-by-side in the kitchen, fixing lunch for the boys. “Should we make more sandwiches, then?”
“Teenage boys are bottomless pits.” Shelley reached for the loaf of bread she’d just tied off. “A little extra couldn’t hurt.”
Once all the sandwiches were done, the women headed upstairs to deliver the food. They paused in the doorway and watched the boys brainstorming lyrics.
Dan was laughing. “You mean...a song about insects?”
One of the teenage boys raised his eyebrows. “Dude, did you just say incest?”
Bob flung a crumpled ball of paper at him. “He said insects.”
The boy shook his head, confused.
The triplets exchanged looks, and then Bob said,
“Never mind - song was before your time.”
“Wait a moment,” one other boys said, “you sang a song about bugs?”
“We were nine at the time,” Clay protested. “Come on - what’s going on in the second verse?”
“Hey Clay, did we already use the phrase ‘on the floor’?” the third boy asked.
Bob consulted the laptop. “No. Unfortunately.”
Then the boy blinked. “Did I just call you Clay?”
Dan said, “They switched places.”
Bob and Clay laughed. Dinah glanced at Shelley, and they smiled. It was good to hear laughter in the house again.
(249 words - I couldn't resist this one)
Shelley paused and listened as well. “No. The triplets are helping some younger boys write a song. Must be one of them singing.”
“You’re probably right,” Dinah said. She and Shelley stood side-by-side in the kitchen, fixing lunch for the boys. “Should we make more sandwiches, then?”
“Teenage boys are bottomless pits.” Shelley reached for the loaf of bread she’d just tied off. “A little extra couldn’t hurt.”
Once all the sandwiches were done, the women headed upstairs to deliver the food. They paused in the doorway and watched the boys brainstorming lyrics.
Dan was laughing. “You mean...a song about insects?”
One of the teenage boys raised his eyebrows. “Dude, did you just say incest?”
Bob flung a crumpled ball of paper at him. “He said insects.”
The boy shook his head, confused.
The triplets exchanged looks, and then Bob said,
“Never mind - song was before your time.”
“Wait a moment,” one other boys said, “you sang a song about bugs?”
“We were nine at the time,” Clay protested. “Come on - what’s going on in the second verse?”
“Hey Clay, did we already use the phrase ‘on the floor’?” the third boy asked.
Bob consulted the laptop. “No. Unfortunately.”
Then the boy blinked. “Did I just call you Clay?”
Dan said, “They switched places.”
Bob and Clay laughed. Dinah glanced at Shelley, and they smiled. It was good to hear laughter in the house again.
(249 words - I couldn't resist this one)
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Deadly Calm
"Your worthless Joe!" the man said as he landed another kick to his ribs, "just like your brother. Both of you; a pair of worthless hoods not worth the money from the government!"
Joe curled in around himself, stifling a whimper of pain as he felt another blow catch him in the hip. If he was quiet, it would be over soon.
"The only good thing about the two of you is the money. And now there is even less of it now that your brother is gone. If I could have gotten the money without either one of you, I would have killed him myself!" he said. Joe felt a rib crack and fire began dancing under his skin.
"No," Joe whispered, curling tighter. "No," he repeated louder, firmer, a tone of determination sliding into place as if it should have always been there.
"NO!" he yelled as he twisted away from the approaching blow. He spun swiftly and caught Earl's leg in an iron grasp. He didn't release his leg when he stood up, causing Earl to fall backwards.
Joe towered over Earl, "I could kill you now myself and have no regrets about it," his voice was icy calm, deadly, "Make no mistake. I have no compunctions killing you, other than Alec would not want me to. It's only for his sake that you are still breathing. If you ever touch me again, then I will have to pray for his forgiveness, because I will kill you."
Joe stepped away from where Earl lay on the floor and walked out the door into the night.
Joe curled in around himself, stifling a whimper of pain as he felt another blow catch him in the hip. If he was quiet, it would be over soon.
"The only good thing about the two of you is the money. And now there is even less of it now that your brother is gone. If I could have gotten the money without either one of you, I would have killed him myself!" he said. Joe felt a rib crack and fire began dancing under his skin.
"No," Joe whispered, curling tighter. "No," he repeated louder, firmer, a tone of determination sliding into place as if it should have always been there.
"NO!" he yelled as he twisted away from the approaching blow. He spun swiftly and caught Earl's leg in an iron grasp. He didn't release his leg when he stood up, causing Earl to fall backwards.
Joe towered over Earl, "I could kill you now myself and have no regrets about it," his voice was icy calm, deadly, "Make no mistake. I have no compunctions killing you, other than Alec would not want me to. It's only for his sake that you are still breathing. If you ever touch me again, then I will have to pray for his forgiveness, because I will kill you."
Joe stepped away from where Earl lay on the floor and walked out the door into the night.
No Big Secret
Clay stared at the piece of paper that had been locked in his father’s desk for five years.
“I found it. The envelope was still sealed,” Dan said quietly.
“What does it say?” Scott asked.
Clay cleared his throat, but at first he could only stare at the words.
Dear Scott, Clay, Robert, and Daniel,
I’m sorry. For everything. For the secrets I kept, for the person I really was who certainly wasn’t the person you called your friend. I’m sorry I never told you the truth and never trusted you with who I was, even though you trusted me with your lives. I’m sorry for any pain I caused, and I promise you will never see me again. I wish all of you the best and hope you find serenity and happiness beyond the disaster that marked the end of your youth.
Farewell.
Thank you for keeping my secret, Dan.
Clay could almost hear her voice, as if she were kneeling beside him on the bed and whispering in his ear the way she had, sometimes, when she was translating something important and forgot, for one moment, that he wasn’t his brother.
Then his brow furrowed. “What does this mean?” And he read the last line to his brother.
“It means she told me a secret and she wants me to continue keeping it,” Dan said.
Scott’s eyes narrowed. “She kept enough secrets from us. Spill.”
“It was no big secret,” Dan said. “No national security issue.”
(248 words)
“I found it. The envelope was still sealed,” Dan said quietly.
“What does it say?” Scott asked.
Clay cleared his throat, but at first he could only stare at the words.
Dear Scott, Clay, Robert, and Daniel,
I’m sorry. For everything. For the secrets I kept, for the person I really was who certainly wasn’t the person you called your friend. I’m sorry I never told you the truth and never trusted you with who I was, even though you trusted me with your lives. I’m sorry for any pain I caused, and I promise you will never see me again. I wish all of you the best and hope you find serenity and happiness beyond the disaster that marked the end of your youth.
Farewell.
Thank you for keeping my secret, Dan.
Clay could almost hear her voice, as if she were kneeling beside him on the bed and whispering in his ear the way she had, sometimes, when she was translating something important and forgot, for one moment, that he wasn’t his brother.
Then his brow furrowed. “What does this mean?” And he read the last line to his brother.
“It means she told me a secret and she wants me to continue keeping it,” Dan said.
Scott’s eyes narrowed. “She kept enough secrets from us. Spill.”
“It was no big secret,” Dan said. “No national security issue.”
(248 words)
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
River Stone
"Hello?" Steven asked, his voice coming out gravely from sleep when he picked up the phone.
"Lieutenant Blackwood!" his commanders voice barked over the line.
Steven rolled out of bed and came to his feet in a perfect parade rest, an automatic reaction to the voice of authority. He would have saluted, but there was no one in the room to salute. "Yes Sir," Steven snapped out. "What are your orders sir?" his words came out firm and smooth, like a rock that had been worn flawless by an eternities dance with the tides of a river.
"Get your gear; wheels up in thirty minutes. Notify the others," David ordered before hanging up on his subordinate officer.
"Yes Sir," Steve said, though it made no difference. Steve ran across the hall to their team barracks and flipped on the light. The others made noises of protest and covered their faces.
"All of you. Get ready to go, we have a hot one and no time for complaints," he laced his words with an edge of steel, daring anyone to argue with him. "Wheels up in thirty, so you have fifteen to be ready and on your way to the hanger. Now Move!" Steve commanded.
Steve ran back to his room and was ready in no more than eight minutes. After the allotted time he ran back to the team room where there was organized chaos everywhere.
"Time to go gentlemen," Steve said, his tone brooking no argument, "let's go." He lead the way down the corridor and a swift jog towards the jet hanger.
"Lieutenant Blackwood!" his commanders voice barked over the line.
Steven rolled out of bed and came to his feet in a perfect parade rest, an automatic reaction to the voice of authority. He would have saluted, but there was no one in the room to salute. "Yes Sir," Steven snapped out. "What are your orders sir?" his words came out firm and smooth, like a rock that had been worn flawless by an eternities dance with the tides of a river.
"Get your gear; wheels up in thirty minutes. Notify the others," David ordered before hanging up on his subordinate officer.
"Yes Sir," Steve said, though it made no difference. Steve ran across the hall to their team barracks and flipped on the light. The others made noises of protest and covered their faces.
"All of you. Get ready to go, we have a hot one and no time for complaints," he laced his words with an edge of steel, daring anyone to argue with him. "Wheels up in thirty, so you have fifteen to be ready and on your way to the hanger. Now Move!" Steve commanded.
Steve ran back to his room and was ready in no more than eight minutes. After the allotted time he ran back to the team room where there was organized chaos everywhere.
"Time to go gentlemen," Steve said, his tone brooking no argument, "let's go." He lead the way down the corridor and a swift jog towards the jet hanger.
Introductions
Carolyn knelt in the instrument rig, pieces of a Glock laid out on a box. She checked the stopwatch, started it, then closed her eyes and scooped up the first pieces she touched.
As the last piece slid into place with a click, voices met her ears. She’d spent hours studying footage, photographs, and files about the four boys that she was going to be living with, but she’d never actually met them. Yet.
She could hear them singing.
She opened her eyes and didn’t even bother to glance at the stopwatch.
Then she poked her head out of the rig and saw all four boys standing around their father, at attention, like little soldiers, filling the air with sugar-sweet harmony. Given how young they were, their sense of three-part harmony was sophisticated.
Even if they did sound like chipmunks.
“Scott, keep your posture up. Dan, control those higher notes. Clay, sway in time with your brothers or don’t sway at all.” Kevin turned to his other son. “Bob, what the hell was that?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” one of the little boys said. He had a slight lisp. “I tried to stay on key --”
“No excuses, Robert. Did you warm up like I told you?”
“I did, sir.”
John coughed politely. “Has anyone seen Carolyn?”
“Who’s Carolyn?” all four boys asked.
“John’s bringing his daughter on the road, the way Captain Lyle sometimes brings Ronnie,” Kevin said. “I suppose introductions should be made.”
(245 words)
As the last piece slid into place with a click, voices met her ears. She’d spent hours studying footage, photographs, and files about the four boys that she was going to be living with, but she’d never actually met them. Yet.
She could hear them singing.
She opened her eyes and didn’t even bother to glance at the stopwatch.
Then she poked her head out of the rig and saw all four boys standing around their father, at attention, like little soldiers, filling the air with sugar-sweet harmony. Given how young they were, their sense of three-part harmony was sophisticated.
Even if they did sound like chipmunks.
“Scott, keep your posture up. Dan, control those higher notes. Clay, sway in time with your brothers or don’t sway at all.” Kevin turned to his other son. “Bob, what the hell was that?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” one of the little boys said. He had a slight lisp. “I tried to stay on key --”
“No excuses, Robert. Did you warm up like I told you?”
“I did, sir.”
John coughed politely. “Has anyone seen Carolyn?”
“Who’s Carolyn?” all four boys asked.
“John’s bringing his daughter on the road, the way Captain Lyle sometimes brings Ronnie,” Kevin said. “I suppose introductions should be made.”
(245 words)
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Mass
Their voices rose in perfect harmony, tenor and base twining around each other, the young voices of innocence. Bryan and Mark stood in the chancel of the chapel where they had always gone to church, dressed in matching robes. It was the last time that they would be singing in public as altar boys. The melody crescendo effortlessly.
APERI, Dómine, os meum ad benedicéndum nomen sanctum tuum: munda quoque cor meum ab ómnibus vanis, pervérsis et aliénis cogitatiónibus; intelléctum illúmina, afféctum inflámma, ut digne, atténte ac devóte hoc Offícium recitáre váleam, et exaudíri mérear ante conspéctum divínæ Majestátis tuæ. Per Christum, Dóminum nostrum. R. Amen.
Dómine, in unióne illíus divínæ intentiónis, qua ipse in terris laudes Deo persolvísti, hanc tibi Horam persólvo.
APERI, Dómine, os meum ad benedicéndum nomen sanctum tuum: munda quoque cor meum ab ómnibus vanis, pervérsis et aliénis cogitatiónibus; intelléctum illúmina, afféctum inflámma, ut digne, atténte ac devóte hoc Offícium recitáre váleam, et exaudíri mérear ante conspéctum divínæ Majestátis tuæ. Per Christum, Dóminum nostrum. R. Amen.
Dómine, in unióne illíus divínæ intentiónis, qua ipse in terris laudes Deo persolvísti, hanc tibi Horam persólvo.
Standing in the Doorway
Kevin stood in the doorway of his sons’ empty room. It was bare of all but the bones of the furniture - four bunks, a desk and chair, a lamp. The wall was still marked with pale spaces where Scott had hung his first guitar, where Bob and Clay tacked stacks of sheet music to make notes and squabble over harmonies.
Kevin closed his eyes and remembered his sons’ voices, little piping children’s voices as they leapt from bunk to bunk, pretending to shoot each other with water pistols in a game of cops and robbers. He’d stood in the doorway just like this when Scott came skittering out of the bathroom, whimpering because his voice squeaked whenever he spoke. He’d stood in the doorway just like this and heard rock’n’roll pour out of his sons instruments as they’d sat in a circle and laced harmonies over Scott’s first real guitar licks.
He’d stood in the doorway just like this and listened to them hiss at each other in their twin-speak as they packed their clothes and ignored him thoroughly.
He opened his eyes and he was still standing in the doorway, but their voices were gone.
Kevin closed his eyes and remembered his sons’ voices, little piping children’s voices as they leapt from bunk to bunk, pretending to shoot each other with water pistols in a game of cops and robbers. He’d stood in the doorway just like this when Scott came skittering out of the bathroom, whimpering because his voice squeaked whenever he spoke. He’d stood in the doorway just like this and heard rock’n’roll pour out of his sons instruments as they’d sat in a circle and laced harmonies over Scott’s first real guitar licks.
He’d stood in the doorway just like this and listened to them hiss at each other in their twin-speak as they packed their clothes and ignored him thoroughly.
He opened his eyes and he was still standing in the doorway, but their voices were gone.
Monday, September 21, 2009
#42 Winner!
First of all, I apologize for not writing more in this post but I have very little time (and energy) to finish. I've found that I both love and hate judging these things since it's awesome to look at everyone's work with a critical eye but very difficult to choose a writer who did the best.
We are all experts and we are all novices.
Although, I chose Nagi and since we already discussed her prize, in fact I already unwittingly finished it. Thats about all.
We are all experts and we are all novices.
Although, I chose Nagi and since we already discussed her prize, in fact I already unwittingly finished it. Thats about all.
The Letter
Steve picked up a piece of paper that was tied with a ribbon. It had fluttered down out of the sky to land near where he was enjoying a bit of sun on the grass. Attached were bits of balloon and a long thread. Steve glanced around and unrolled the paper. He was surprised to see it was a letter.
Dear Ari,
Here it is, another year gone past and I am still here. Oh, how I long for the day when we are together again. I don't know if you are watching over me; I like to think that you are, that you can see all I do. Would you be proud of me? Would you shudder in shame at the things I have done for our people? Our people, such a strange concept. All inclusive, but at the same time, we are all isolated. When I stop to think about it, they are not my people, they are only the people, the people that I serve and protect, the people that I have no doubt, one day I will give my life for. I would have given my life for you. Then I have to stop and ask myself, why do I do this? Is it to shut the world out, keep everyone and everything at a distance?
I've never said it to anyone, not that anyone knows much about me, But I never got over loosing you. I stopped caring for a long time. In fact, if you were watching me, you know that I nearly laid down and died that winter. Then, I had so much hate for so long that I didn't know what to do. And then when my hate was gone, I didn't know who I was anymore. I simply continued in what I had become. There was nowhere for me to go, no one to go to. I became a shell, I still am a shell in some ways. Hollow, with a great void where my heart should be, where you should be. Maybe that is how I am able to do my work; to kill people, and give little thought to it.
If there is some great eternal realm after we die, will you be there waiting for me?
I love you Ari, with all the love that I have left in me, all my love has always and will always be yours.
David
Steve nearly choked when he saw the signature. He recognized it.
Dear Ari,
Here it is, another year gone past and I am still here. Oh, how I long for the day when we are together again. I don't know if you are watching over me; I like to think that you are, that you can see all I do. Would you be proud of me? Would you shudder in shame at the things I have done for our people? Our people, such a strange concept. All inclusive, but at the same time, we are all isolated. When I stop to think about it, they are not my people, they are only the people, the people that I serve and protect, the people that I have no doubt, one day I will give my life for. I would have given my life for you. Then I have to stop and ask myself, why do I do this? Is it to shut the world out, keep everyone and everything at a distance?
I've never said it to anyone, not that anyone knows much about me, But I never got over loosing you. I stopped caring for a long time. In fact, if you were watching me, you know that I nearly laid down and died that winter. Then, I had so much hate for so long that I didn't know what to do. And then when my hate was gone, I didn't know who I was anymore. I simply continued in what I had become. There was nowhere for me to go, no one to go to. I became a shell, I still am a shell in some ways. Hollow, with a great void where my heart should be, where you should be. Maybe that is how I am able to do my work; to kill people, and give little thought to it.
If there is some great eternal realm after we die, will you be there waiting for me?
I love you Ari, with all the love that I have left in me, all my love has always and will always be yours.
David
Steve nearly choked when he saw the signature. He recognized it.
Self-Arguing
The Orphaneer was certain of one thing - The Carrier was insane. She could hear him on the other side of the aisle, arguing with himself. It was one thing to talk to oneself, but self-arguing was definitely a sign of madness.
It was too easy to take out a crazy guy, and she’d signed up for a challenge.
“Make up your mind. Do you want potatoes or french fries?”
“They’re the same thing.”
“No they’re not! If you want real potatoes, then go get some fresh potatoes, but if you want fries, then we’ll get a huge bag of frozen ones and thaw them as we need them.”
“We can make fries as we need them from real potatoes and it’s a whole lot healthier.”
His voice wasn’t anything special; faintly nondescript, a light tenor. She hadn’t cared to listen to the music he sang with his siblings; she didn’t believe in undercover nonsense and would rather use chloroform and a tackle than pretend to be a mindless teenybopper fan.
Not that she wasn’t a teenager.
She studied the photo the Generals had given her and took a deep breath. Time to take him out.
“Since when do you care about health?”
“Since I don’t want to tick off Dad.”
She reached into her pocket for the chloroform and a handkerchief, soaked the handkerchief with a smooth dip of her wrist. Then she rounded the corner.
And stared at the pair of twins who hovered over a shopping basket, still arguing. They both wore shorts and t-shirts and baseball caps, and she sneaked a peek at the picture once more.
Maybe she should have asked for his name before she set off.
(284 words)
It was too easy to take out a crazy guy, and she’d signed up for a challenge.
“Make up your mind. Do you want potatoes or french fries?”
“They’re the same thing.”
“No they’re not! If you want real potatoes, then go get some fresh potatoes, but if you want fries, then we’ll get a huge bag of frozen ones and thaw them as we need them.”
“We can make fries as we need them from real potatoes and it’s a whole lot healthier.”
His voice wasn’t anything special; faintly nondescript, a light tenor. She hadn’t cared to listen to the music he sang with his siblings; she didn’t believe in undercover nonsense and would rather use chloroform and a tackle than pretend to be a mindless teenybopper fan.
Not that she wasn’t a teenager.
She studied the photo the Generals had given her and took a deep breath. Time to take him out.
“Since when do you care about health?”
“Since I don’t want to tick off Dad.”
She reached into her pocket for the chloroform and a handkerchief, soaked the handkerchief with a smooth dip of her wrist. Then she rounded the corner.
And stared at the pair of twins who hovered over a shopping basket, still arguing. They both wore shorts and t-shirts and baseball caps, and she sneaked a peek at the picture once more.
Maybe she should have asked for his name before she set off.
(284 words)
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Project #43: Voices
Let this be an exercise is voices - of all kinds. Your own voice in a tiny essay-rant. The voices David hears in his head when he's lining up a sniper shot for a kill. The way Eddy's voice sounds in the dark when no one can hear him. The way Scott sang while his voice was changing. How a character's voice sounds in a letter when another character reads it. Make the voices unique and alive. 100-350 words. Enjoy!
Overview #42: Virginal
I think I did only all right this week. It was a long, tough week for me IRL, so what came out was mediocre. I did some of the traditional first times, like Dan's first time imbibing alcohol. Carolyn's first time killing was pretty much a necessary evil. Some of the other first times weren't personal enough, maybe, like the ones beating around the bush about Dinah and Shelley, but they were pretty important for the plot, so I went for it. I think the last entry was the most creative one I came up with as far as I could tell - Scott's very first time playing a guitar. Ever. It was short but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
Awed Awake, pick this week's winner!
Awed Awake, pick this week's winner!
Saturday, September 19, 2009
A-440
He’d known its sound for years, been comforted through nightmares and lulled to sleep by its noise, but never once had he dared use it himself.
It was taller than him, but father cradled it easily in his massive hands, and it didn’t look that heavy. He looked around the room, but the three were crying and mother and father were trying to make them stop.
No one was there.
No one would know.
He reached out and pressed his little hand tentatively against the smooth wood of its body, walked his tiny fingers up its neck.
Then, with his child-heart pounding in his chest, he did the deed, reached out and plucked one of the shiny steel strings.
The sound of A-440 would live with him forever.
(130 words)
It was taller than him, but father cradled it easily in his massive hands, and it didn’t look that heavy. He looked around the room, but the three were crying and mother and father were trying to make them stop.
No one was there.
No one would know.
He reached out and pressed his little hand tentatively against the smooth wood of its body, walked his tiny fingers up its neck.
Then, with his child-heart pounding in his chest, he did the deed, reached out and plucked one of the shiny steel strings.
The sound of A-440 would live with him forever.
(130 words)
Friday, September 18, 2009
Get You A Sprite
“Congratulations on going platinum!” The forty-something man clapped Dan on the shoulder and shoved a flute of champagne at him.
Dan stared at the bubbling golden liquid for a long time, then peered at the crowded reception room. Lily, their publicist, had separated the four of them as soon as they’d entered, and Dan couldn’t see any of his brothers or really anyone he knew. He’d have liked to have another chance to chat with the producer, but the sea of adults had swallowed everyone up.
He stared at the champagne some more. On every side, people were holding half-empty flutes of champagne, talking and laughing and obviously enjoying themselves. They didn’t seem drunk. Dan shrugged and took a sip.
And very nearly died. Carbonation shot up his nose, and fire raced down his throat. He coughed and spluttered. It tasted like Nyquil and sugar and he couldn’t speak.
Someone relieved him of the flute of champagne and patted him on the back, hard.
Dan squeaked and blinked unexpected tears away.
“You all right, kid?”
Dan opened his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. Sir.”
“First time, huh?” The man standing over him grinned, amused.
Dan coughed and spluttered a little more. “Yes, sir.”
“No need to call me sir, kid.” The man offered a hand. “My name’s Nate Ulrich. I hear you boys play your own instruments.”
“We do.”
The man grinned. “Great. Let’s talk about your next album. I’ll get you a Sprite.”
(244 words)
Dan stared at the bubbling golden liquid for a long time, then peered at the crowded reception room. Lily, their publicist, had separated the four of them as soon as they’d entered, and Dan couldn’t see any of his brothers or really anyone he knew. He’d have liked to have another chance to chat with the producer, but the sea of adults had swallowed everyone up.
He stared at the champagne some more. On every side, people were holding half-empty flutes of champagne, talking and laughing and obviously enjoying themselves. They didn’t seem drunk. Dan shrugged and took a sip.
And very nearly died. Carbonation shot up his nose, and fire raced down his throat. He coughed and spluttered. It tasted like Nyquil and sugar and he couldn’t speak.
Someone relieved him of the flute of champagne and patted him on the back, hard.
Dan squeaked and blinked unexpected tears away.
“You all right, kid?”
Dan opened his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. Sir.”
“First time, huh?” The man standing over him grinned, amused.
Dan coughed and spluttered a little more. “Yes, sir.”
“No need to call me sir, kid.” The man offered a hand. “My name’s Nate Ulrich. I hear you boys play your own instruments.”
“We do.”
The man grinned. “Great. Let’s talk about your next album. I’ll get you a Sprite.”
(244 words)
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Big Family Dinner
“Catch!” Scott tossed the baseball.
Bob caught it easily with one hand. “No ball in the house - you know the rules.” He kicked off his sneakers and nudged them against the wall between Clay and Dan’s shoes, padded toward the kitchen.
“Hey Danny, did you set the table?” he called in the general direction of the stairs.
Shelley said, “Dinner’s all ready as soon as you’ve washed your hands.”
Bob came up short. Scott crashed into his back.
Shelley stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She wore an apron and held a wooden spoon.
Bob blinked. “I didn’t realize you and Dad would be back from your honeymoon so soon.” He scratched his head nervously. “We’d have, uh, cleaned up a little bit if we’d known --”
“It’s fine,” Shelley said. “I have to do my part in the household now too, right?” Her smile was a touch too bright. “Your dad told me you love homemade pizza.”
Scott opened his mouth to ask if she’d used their mother’s recipe, and Bob dug an elbow into his ribs.
“Yeah. We do. Uh...need one of us to set the table? Dad has regular chores for us when we’re off the road,” Bob said.
Again with the too-bright smile. “Nope. I got it. Our first big family dinner, after all.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, tone suspicious.
Bob backed away, tugged Scott with him. “We’ll go wash our hands.”
(237 words)
Bob caught it easily with one hand. “No ball in the house - you know the rules.” He kicked off his sneakers and nudged them against the wall between Clay and Dan’s shoes, padded toward the kitchen.
“Hey Danny, did you set the table?” he called in the general direction of the stairs.
Shelley said, “Dinner’s all ready as soon as you’ve washed your hands.”
Bob came up short. Scott crashed into his back.
Shelley stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She wore an apron and held a wooden spoon.
Bob blinked. “I didn’t realize you and Dad would be back from your honeymoon so soon.” He scratched his head nervously. “We’d have, uh, cleaned up a little bit if we’d known --”
“It’s fine,” Shelley said. “I have to do my part in the household now too, right?” Her smile was a touch too bright. “Your dad told me you love homemade pizza.”
Scott opened his mouth to ask if she’d used their mother’s recipe, and Bob dug an elbow into his ribs.
“Yeah. We do. Uh...need one of us to set the table? Dad has regular chores for us when we’re off the road,” Bob said.
Again with the too-bright smile. “Nope. I got it. Our first big family dinner, after all.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, tone suspicious.
Bob backed away, tugged Scott with him. “We’ll go wash our hands.”
(237 words)
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Liquid Void
Joe was unsure what to make of the strange new sensations he was experiencing. All around him was a liquid void; clear, yet dim to his eyes. He could hear clearly the hiss of air as he drew in a breath and was fascinated with the bubbles that started so small when he exhaled, but grew to resemble mushroom clouds of air. Joe reached out one hand and batted at one of the blossoming bubbles. It exploded into micro bubbles. He smiled behind his respirator and hit another one.
He could see Steve just below him, cruising along with the current slowly. As Steve exhaled and the bubbles drifted up towards him, Joe removed his own mouthpiece and breathed in the bubble of air. Delighted, Joe almost forgot himself and laughed, but he remembered to replace his respirator.
Joe deflated his BCD just a little and sunk lower, passing the thermocline into colder waters, coming along side of Steve as his friend studied a bit of rock formation.
Steve turned to look at the younger man, peering out through a slightly fogged mask. He tapped Joe's air dial and motioned that it was time for them to return to the surface. Joe nodded and began to rise lazily, passing into the warmer waters just below the surface of the lake.
After surfacing, Joe removed his mouth piece, "that was amazing! Can we do it again?" he asked.
"Sure," Steve said, "let's go get more air."
He could see Steve just below him, cruising along with the current slowly. As Steve exhaled and the bubbles drifted up towards him, Joe removed his own mouthpiece and breathed in the bubble of air. Delighted, Joe almost forgot himself and laughed, but he remembered to replace his respirator.
Joe deflated his BCD just a little and sunk lower, passing the thermocline into colder waters, coming along side of Steve as his friend studied a bit of rock formation.
Steve turned to look at the younger man, peering out through a slightly fogged mask. He tapped Joe's air dial and motioned that it was time for them to return to the surface. Joe nodded and began to rise lazily, passing into the warmer waters just below the surface of the lake.
After surfacing, Joe removed his mouth piece, "that was amazing! Can we do it again?" he asked.
"Sure," Steve said, "let's go get more air."
Light and Empty Air
Stone had a kind of impatience to it-
like Eddy's solid stare, he knew the rock and
the wind better than me.
Would rather be telling it what to do, rather tossing an
errant pebble into the black sea.
-rather maybe toss me.
Lights like blood in vein and
dark punched out by star stare, he waited
on a tall building worry free.
With a wave of nothing between us
he beckoned down the black street.
-time to jump, to let my death free.
Before he could push me, I jumped-
and did not die-
but wish to the moon I had.
like Eddy's solid stare, he knew the rock and
the wind better than me.
Would rather be telling it what to do, rather tossing an
errant pebble into the black sea.
-rather maybe toss me.
Lights like blood in vein and
dark punched out by star stare, he waited
on a tall building worry free.
With a wave of nothing between us
he beckoned down the black street.
-time to jump, to let my death free.
Before he could push me, I jumped-
and did not die-
but wish to the moon I had.
Empty Kitchen
Scott threw the door open and kicked off his shoes, barreled into the kitchen with a holler of, “Mom!”
He drew up short when the kitchen was empty. The triplets crashed into his back, and there was a cacophony of yelps and protests.
“I got dinner, boys,” Kevin said.
All four of them turned and stared at their father, at the bags of take-out he was trying to juggle. Scott swallowed hard and turned back to the empty kitchen. As one, the four brothers burst into the kitchen and tore through the cupboards, the drawers, but everything was finally gone - Mom’s favorite pans, the glass bowls she’d gotten from Grandma, her best knives.
The boys had been forced to wait outside of the courtroom while their father and mother finished talking to the judge, and they’d listened to their mother say she’d get the rest of her things, be “out of their hair” by tonight, but they hadn’t expected her to be quite so gone.
Kevin set the bags of food down on the kitchen table. “Scotty, get some plates.”
The boys stared at each other. Kevin huffed, impatient.
“Scotty, Clay, I said plates.”
Dan shook his head. “Níl ocras.” And he turned and headed for the stairs. His brothers followed.
When Kevin went to check on them hours later, they were all crammed onto Scott’s bed, curled around each other like a pile of puppies, faces wet from crying.
Kevin had heard the first night was the worst.
(250 words - Irish is "not hungry", or an approximation thereof)
He drew up short when the kitchen was empty. The triplets crashed into his back, and there was a cacophony of yelps and protests.
“I got dinner, boys,” Kevin said.
All four of them turned and stared at their father, at the bags of take-out he was trying to juggle. Scott swallowed hard and turned back to the empty kitchen. As one, the four brothers burst into the kitchen and tore through the cupboards, the drawers, but everything was finally gone - Mom’s favorite pans, the glass bowls she’d gotten from Grandma, her best knives.
The boys had been forced to wait outside of the courtroom while their father and mother finished talking to the judge, and they’d listened to their mother say she’d get the rest of her things, be “out of their hair” by tonight, but they hadn’t expected her to be quite so gone.
Kevin set the bags of food down on the kitchen table. “Scotty, get some plates.”
The boys stared at each other. Kevin huffed, impatient.
“Scotty, Clay, I said plates.”
Dan shook his head. “Níl ocras.” And he turned and headed for the stairs. His brothers followed.
When Kevin went to check on them hours later, they were all crammed onto Scott’s bed, curled around each other like a pile of puppies, faces wet from crying.
Kevin had heard the first night was the worst.
(250 words - Irish is "not hungry", or an approximation thereof)
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