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I’ve lived most of my life in places that have a lot of wind.
By MD
When the boiler exploded on the Neptune and fire spread to the neighboring Poseidon, I wasn’t surprised. I’ve lived most of my life in places that have a lot of wind. What was surprising, though, was the way the Neptune’s captain lingered on the foredeck, surveying the smoke and the flames as firemen rushed to the boats cannoning water at the conflagration. I mean, the command that the captain must go down with the ship is well known, but that generally applied to a boat that is sinking, not burning up. And even though the gusting wind hadn’t quite spread the flames to the Poseidon, it was obvious the captain and crew were wisely in the process of departing.
“What about the captain standing on the deck there?” I shouted over the wind to a passing firefighter. “Shouldn’t he be ordered to leave?”
The firefighter didn’t break stride but yelled as he ran by. “That he is a she. The Mongolian Navy’s first female captain. She doesn’t speak English and doesn’t know she doesn’t have to go down with the ship.”
“Oh,” I said. I was gasping as I ran along beside him. “Stupid bitch. Isn’t that just like a woman. She probably feels it's what the man would do, and she’s making her statement for equality.”
We all watched as the captain caught fire from a blowing ember and was quickly consumed by the flames.
“Well, at least she did her part for the women’s lib movement,” the fireman remarked. I had to agree.
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A keen ornithologist and egg collector, he watched birds in his free time.
By BG
Frankie grew up in a neighborhood right next to the airport. He spent hours laying in a chaise lounge on the roof of his apartment building staring up at the sky watching everything that flew by.
Most folks figured he would become a pilot or maybe an air traffic controller. His family was very proud when he was accepted and went off to college. Life was very good. Frankie was an excellent student. He applied himself and got several degrees. Everyone in the neighborhood thought he’d never move back. He was destined for a career far, far away. What could he do in the city next to the airport with all those degrees?
Everyone was so surprised one day when Frankie appeared on the news. He was introduced by the newscaster as a keen ornithologist and egg collector, he watched birds in his free time, and he was back in the area to save the birds from the airplanes. Oh, my!
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By CC
Jeremiah hated being called Jerry. The cataclysmic tantrums he threw if anyone made the error of using his nickname were the first sign of his dangerous temper. As he grew, incidents multiplied. He was written up countless times at school, sent to see counselors, therapists and pediatricians. Later he was prescribed medicine by psychiatrists.
His favorite psychiatrist had a secret, embarrassing passion: He was an amateur parapsychologist. He had started with hypnotic regressions and ESP testing and moved on, by the time Jeremiah became his patient, to direct communication with the dead through a Ouija board. Jeremiah knew none of this.
In a strange synchronicity, Jeremiah’s own oracle had begun coming to life. Three doll’s heads he had severed from his sisters toys and set on his dresser had begun to speak. At first they seemed to mutter amongst themselves, a sound he often confused with muted voices from the living room or kitchen. Occasionally he thought he could see eyelids moving up and down. Later he distinctly heard them conversing, asking questions of one another. He thought he heard, “His sister sure doesn’t think much of him.” and “A yellow Labrador puppy ran out from under the cedars!” and “He ought to kill that psychiatrist.” Once they even said “Jerry is a jerk!” He punched his pillow one hundred times after that, but the doll’s heads were too fascinating to damage. Yet.
On his next visit with his psychiatrist, Jeremiah asked the doctor “Why should you continue to live?” The implied threat flew right over the doctor’s head; it seemed congruent with such a disturbed young man’s diagnosis. He just smiled at Jeremiah while thinking with pleasure about asking his spirit guide what to make of it when he got home that night. Having received such an unsatisfyingly ambiguous response, Jeremiah pulled out his handgun and shot the psychiatrist. The sound was enormous in the small room. He got up and walked out.
At home, he went into his bedroom and shut the door. One of the dolls said, “That was stupid, Jerry.” Then he shot the dolls. Life would go on for him, but not them. And that was OK with Jeremiah.
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By JS
It was that midway point in the afternoon, when there is a hiatus, a blank spot in time. The words were not coming to me and my editor was expecting my first draft this evening.
My daughter had been trying to persuade me to update to a computer and I was trying my best, but the words just didn’t flow when I stared at all that blank screen.
And then there was “auto correct,” jumping about “correcting” words that didn’t need it, supplying unsuitable words that ruined my train of thought.
“But Mom,” my daughter argued, “it takes you forever to erase on that old Royal. And they don’t make carbon paper any more!” Ha. Maybe it was no longer manufactured, but I know of several second-hand stores where boxes of carbon paper could be purchased – and cheaply.
Besides the rhythm of hammering those keys and throwing that carriage provided a rhythm for my novels. Except today. With the deadline almost here and the task of erasing yet another error – crumbs falling down into the keys – no wonder the keys kept jamming, ruining my concentration.
I gave up. Forget the editor. Forget the book. The ancient Royal and I would be on hiatus…a really, really long blank spot in time.
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She had always wanted a duck pond in he back yard.
By CT
When Hortensia moved to Samoa, she found a lovely home with an atoll-incased pond behind the house.
She had always wanted a duck pond in the back yard. The very next day, she thrilled at the sight of seabirds floating on the water.
One morning she stood amazed as she watched an orca breech the waters playfully.
“Mmmmm,” she thought, perhaps my dream was too small. I now have a whale pond.
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