tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15852988286540420782024-03-14T00:41:43.244-07:00FLASH FICTIONBlog No Longer Supported.
All Finished Work Published on Medium,Com/@Artemis_J_Jones
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-49118326125346025152017-09-24T01:00:00.000-07:002017-09-24T01:00:27.490-07:00GOLD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><i><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gold<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B4Xe8Zd3YQg/WcZog_0tJMI/AAAAAAAAClY/s8X-zMnT2a0puLpLL8Qn8mwB6afUBOkVwCLcBGAs/s1600/GOLD%2BNUGGETS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B4Xe8Zd3YQg/WcZog_0tJMI/AAAAAAAAClY/s8X-zMnT2a0puLpLL8Qn8mwB6afUBOkVwCLcBGAs/s1600/GOLD%2BNUGGETS.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Why do I believe anything he says? Boone Bogus always tells a tall
tale. Twisted yarns of spin. He’s the master. Follows me everywhere. Annoying. So, again, why do I listen?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I dig for gold in the Yakima range, lots of experience up here, did panning
for over a decade by myself. My friends said to me, ‘Dewey, you’ll never find
gold. Get a job. I did. Now I’m working. Working to dig up another man’s gold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Boone, who goes by Bo for short, spins his yarn like this. The truth, I’ll get
to in a minute, or two. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bo says to me, “Did you hear about that strike up north in Calachua?” Bo
always starts his stories with a question. But you need to take it like it’s
just talk. Chatter. I did lie to him and say, “yes.” Thought he’d go away. But
he continues about the biggest vain seen by man. Glistening walls, refractions
of golden light, soft malleable pure gold, twenty-four carat sunshine. Told me
his dreams. Told me he’d never forget me. Reaffirmed our friendship. Promised
girls, which I rejected, because I told him I was more interested in women. He
looked confused, couldn’t understand the difference between a girl and a woman.
I attempted to clear away his bewilderment with an explanation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Girls are silly. Women are not. When you ask a girl out, she giggles
inside first. Loves the attention. When that feeling gets to her face it shows
as a smile. But when it’s time to answer, he lips move the wrong way and tell
you, no. Girls are confusing. Best to keep away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Women, they’re a whole different sort. Not just more mature. A woman
knows what she wants, and if it’s not you, there won’t be any coy looks wanting
attention. They’ll look you straight in the eye, women love direct eye contact,
and if you look back, make her laugh a little, you’ll get a date. Women know
they like sex. There’s no playing around. If you have chemistry with her, I
don’t mean to describe a reaction like baking soda and vinegar, but you’ll want
the same result. Explosions. More than one, three per day, tired out heavy
breathing. That’s what a woman wants. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bo wanted an explanation on the <i>explosions</i>.
I shook my head. Thick as a brick sometimes. Let him have his girls. I wanted
him to get done his story, so I redirected back to the lucky strike. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bo tells me about core drilling to eighty-five feet. Placing the dynamite
down the exploratory holes. He blasts away this section on the south side of
Calachua cave. Claims a nugget fly’s out and hits him in the nose. Tested it
right there. So heavy he could hardly lift it. (Yet he was still standing on
impact with his nose?) It gets better, taller, more yarny. The gold he
recovered was enough to buy himself a jet. He was very specific about this,
almost believable. A Citation ten. He described the flowing lines of the
fuselage, the leather interior, wild amenities, symmetry in the wings, tip
sails. He hired an all-girl crew. Went up to the mile-high club. Joined. Gold
flowed from mountain sides to treasure chests of delight. I told him I needed
to use the john. He went back to work with his pic-axe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I sit in the john. Wondering what makes a man go off in delusions of
grandeur. I sit on this throne. It’s easy to dream, to take yourself away. To
feel the pleasures of freedom. Real freedom. A momentary release from Society’s
ills. I begin a fantasy. I actually talk to the first girl that caught my eye.
I go back to the staring. The wonder of her presence. Her smile. She’s a woman
now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The awful smell is suddenly overwhelming. I stand. Pull up my pants. When
I open the door, our crew leader is waiting. His name is Jeremy. He motions for
me to come over towards him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jeremy tells me I’m not hitting the goals the company has set for each
worker in section twenty-four. He asks me if there is anything that needs to be
changed. He suggests a change. I listen to him speak. I challenge his thoughts
and blame everything on Bo. He talks to much. Doesn’t drill the core holes
properly. Bo’s messing everything up telling dreamy stories all the time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jeremy says, “Dewey, I’ve tried to help you. Kept all your stories quiet.
But the facts are we’ve never employed a Boone Bogus. Never. This section has
been your responsibility for eight weeks. We know there’s gold here. You never
clear the blast zones. Someone’s going to get hurt. You’re distracted all the
time. I’m sorry Dewey, but I’m going to have let you go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">2017 Artemis J Jones <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">#FlashFiction <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This version uses the a reference to himself, first person, in the first paragraph. You can read an alternative version that splits up Dewey's mind a little more with second person references on Scriggler.Com </span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-62414128149243944122017-02-10T05:01:00.000-08:002017-02-19T17:42:45.955-08:00Riding On A Bus With Old People<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Riding
On a Bus With Old People<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HYm0mJEDj2U/WKBwul1GK1I/AAAAAAAACDY/KTsbC6Mx3wg9oIJn-hNtQMrbCyIdBvfSwCLcB/s1600/Citybuss.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="90" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HYm0mJEDj2U/WKBwul1GK1I/AAAAAAAACDY/KTsbC6Mx3wg9oIJn-hNtQMrbCyIdBvfSwCLcB/s200/Citybuss.png" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The driver instructed me to place
four quarters in the machine. She smiled
back, and without saying a word nodded for me to take a seat. I looked down
range into the mob of gray hairs, with ginormous dark glasses and was
immediately terrified that my youth would suddenly be taken from me. I’d never
even known my grandmother, or grandfather. My parents had no siblings, so there
was never a cool uncle or ravishing aunt to teach me about the dangers in life.
Apparently the gray haired crowd gets up with the rest of us. You know, us
folks who go to our jobs, that pay dirt, all of us fully committed to losing our
energy for an entire week, so we can’t have any fun with the significant
hopefuls we want to latch up on at the end of that interminable week. Someday I
have to buy a rust bucket. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You can sit here sweetie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Does
she really think I’ll sit on her lap? </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s all right I’m
aiming for the middle seat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah, there she is, torn padding,
rusted and lose backrest, right over the rear wheels so I can feel every bump.
I take the only seat left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What’s your name?” I’m Doris.” Going
to work?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ah yeah, going to my wonderful job.
No car”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s Jean-Anne over there, and
Felicity in front of you. We ride to the mall every Thursday morning to walk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I only nod. Felicity turns a little and asks about my
wonderful job. “Are you a carpenter? That sounds wonderful”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No what? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m not a carpenter.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh, I thought I heard you say
carpenter. My husband was an electrician.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I nod. “I wash dishes at a café.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Doris askes Jean-Anne a question, I
think. They both turn and look at me. Okay, I’m self-conscious. I think
something is wrong with my clothes, or shoes, or hair. Doris asks Felicity,
“What does he do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He owns a café on Washburn street.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Washburn, his name is Washburn.?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, he owns a café on Washburn.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh, he washes clothes at the
Washburn hotel.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The three of them continue to talk. I
try to ignore them, but they occasionally turn and smile at me. I just nod a
little. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Doris, did you say the seal was
broken on his washing machine?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He’s a Navy seal. Oh my gosh. A real
live hero on our bus.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That I heard. And I looked at my
toothpick frame. Definitely not a Navy Seal. The bus bounces down the pothole
zone of route twenty-one. The engine seems to be getting louder. The ladies
continue to chat, and look at me, and chat. <i>I
think they’re fantasizing. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Kroger street, two more blocks,” the
driver announces.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Cougar, where’s a Cougar? asks
Doris.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh I’m afraid my cougar days have
passed,” says Felicity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Jean-Anne, you still have some
cougar in you. Don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They all laugh. Then Jean-Anne looks
at me. She waves when our eyes meet. They’re all batty!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The bus stops, two young girls from
the back get off, and two elderly gentleman get on. They go the back, then one
asks to switch seats with me. I get up and move back one row. The gentleman’s
name is Tom; Felicity calls for him. He waves back. Then he fidgets with a
hearing aid in his right ear. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Watch Arrival Right Now </i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a target="_blank" href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01M3XJHGR/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B01M3XJHGR&linkCode=as2&tag=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&linkId=c60963d516ec7a474d7e6c2c842fe3fb"><img border="0" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&MarketPlace=US&ASIN=B01M3XJHGR&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&tag=ff1100.blogspot.com-20" ></a><img src="//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B01M3XJHGR" width="1" height="1" border="0" alt="" style="border:none !important; margin:0px !important;" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Tom, where you off to today?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“To get fudge for the grandkids.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Doris tells the others, “He’s fudged
up, he’s going to the doctor.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They all cover their mouths. Such
revelations! Tom attempts to correct.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, I’m not going to the doctor. I’m
going to the candy store to buy fudge for the kids.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh, he’s taking his son who owns the
candy store to the doctor.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Doctor, who’s a doctor? The young
man. I thought so. He didn’t look like a Navy Seal.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Okay. Now I’m smiling a little. I’m
being admired, and elevated in life from dishwasher to Navy Seal to Doctor.
What’s next CEO of What-A-Burger?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“After the candy store, I’m going to
Robbins to get some cloth for Claudia, she’s not feeling well, couldn’t make
the trip today”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All at once, all three. “Tom, no
don’t do it. I implore you don’t resort to this. We’ll help you. Whatever money
you need. But don’t rob the candy store.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Tom turns and says to me, “Thank God
I only need to put up with this one day each week.” He laughs. The ladies
continue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Tom, can’t your son the Doctor help?
Please we beg you, don’t do it. Think of the children. The sad faces. You’ll
scare them. Then Doris stands and out loud proclaims, “Tom, don’t rob the
Baskin-Robbins.” She stands on one crutch, while holding the seat-back bar.
“I’ll stop you I will.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I lean forward. “Do they have hearing
aids?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They do. But they won’t wear em’. Stubborn!
Still clinging to their youth,” Tom responds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My stops coming up. On my way to the
front, Felicity pats my butt, and Jean-Anne seconds her. Groped on a bus. Don’t
think I’ll share. While I walk the two
blocks to work. I start to smile again. I can’t help it. It was funny. Maybe
I’ll forget about the rust bucket. Nothing but a pain in the ass with
insurance, registration, and changing my own oil. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">© Copyright 2017 Artemis J Jones <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-54789091037434654182015-10-03T01:00:00.000-07:002016-11-21T09:53:52.359-08:00QVC <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i5OgZnyq09w/Vg7X8__-MJI/AAAAAAAABSE/Kz8Nwf-XIbk/s1600/Open%2BSourced%2BPhoto%2Bnot%2Btagged%2Bby%2BQVC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i5OgZnyq09w/Vg7X8__-MJI/AAAAAAAABSE/Kz8Nwf-XIbk/s320/Open%2BSourced%2BPhoto%2Bnot%2Btagged%2Bby%2BQVC.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">QVC<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=Conversations+Artemis+J+Jones" target="_blank">Take a look at my latest book! Conversations a KDP Select Book</a></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“My
guest tonight will read from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s works.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Bill
wake-up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Huh, what,
oh, was I sleeping?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “You dozed
a little, musta been having a bad dream. Figured I best wake you, snap you out
of it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Benny, It
was a horrible dream. David on QVC had a guest and they were talking about
blueberry apple scones.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “You don’t
watch QVC.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “My mom
does, she’s always buying stuff on that channel, I hate it. They really sucker
in the old folks with their charm and easy payments.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Do you
remember any of it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Any of what…?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “The dream,”
implored Benny.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Oh yea, it
was horrible. After the blueberry apple scones David Kitchens and his guest,
Shantel from New Orleans were cooking fire breathing kale and shrimp from the
new roaster that was only three easy payments of $99 a month. Then Shantel
disappeared and Calypso Vega came on the set and cooked Coconut veggie burgers
in a tropical colored grill that automatically cleaned itself for four low easy
payments with your Q card of just $119 a month, but it didn’t end there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “What
happened next?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Miranda
came out and started selling ten inch tablets, that were Andriods, and you
could hang them like pictures or take them to the office, and hook them to the
cloud, or connect them to 3D printers that made thousands of toys for kids you
don’t have and then turn the toys into life managers that could buy more apps
without your permission, and drain your bank account.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “That’s our
modern world. Its breeding laziness and ignorance, soon we’ll all be stupid.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Yeah,
you’re right about that. So any way the dream shifted to my mom watching these
purveyors of delusional lives constantly selling crap and I freaked out. She
was sitting there in her recliner, talking and rambling about ‘I could use
that. Wow, only nine easy pays, and I could have a rolling cart that is
turquoise—which goes with my new grill—so I can put my nutty blaster on the
other counter to make fritters for your papa.’ Mom, Dad doesn’t eat fritters, I
told her. She just waved me off like I was some nonsensical idiot trying to
delude her with crazy ideas. Yeah in the
dream I turned into the bad guy, my Mom thought I was evil trying to stop her
from happiness.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Did she
throw something at you like last time?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “No, this
time it got worse before it got better. Miranda disappeared and Lori from Shark
tank came on selling jewelry with a model. The model was cute, nice brown hair,
long and wavy, but the horror was soon unveiled. Lori opened up a case for
jewels that constantly opened into new and ever expanding sections. It had
draws that had more draws, and doors that were hidden behind more doors, soon I
was trapped by emeralds and diamonds behind a thousand doors and no-way out. Mom
was in her recliner saying ‘I want that, I need that.’ She got on the phone and
asked if she could get three easy Q card payments. Lori talked to her, smiling
right into the camera, pulling her in, taking her back to her youth, dreaming
of glamour, and having the desires of strong affectionate men. I’m telling you,
my mom saw herself as twenty-five again, and partying on Lori’s yacht. She
bought the case. Lori thanked her then disappeared. I screamed at the top of my
lungs STOP! STOP!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Is that
when I woke you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “No, there
was a moment of peace; suddenly I was a guest on re-runs of Q & A on
C-Span. Brian Lamb asked me about my new book of Tennyson quotes and other
thoughts. I responded to several enlightening questions that brought viewers to
the inner-sanctum of deep thought. But my Mom called in and said right on the
phone, to a national audience, ‘My sons an idiot. He wouldn’t know how to write
a book on anything that really matters. Like how do you bake coconut custard
pudding while reading your eBook in your motorized reclining chair while
watching QVC and never have to get up and turn on the oven. That’s what’s
important in life.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “It’s like
Mick says, ‘you can’t get no satisfaction,’” Benny commented, then added, “Let’s
make a pizza.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=Conversations+Artemis+J+Jones">Finished version of this story is titled Home Shopping. It's in my latest book, Conversations. </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright © 2015 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Artemis J Jones <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">#FlashFiction This is a draft. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-29018182006204681822015-07-24T01:00:00.000-07:002015-07-24T04:32:22.892-07:00The Obituary <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Obituary<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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</div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">My first impression was: is this photo
of Shelly photo shopped? She was smiling. I worked with her for twelve years, quit, and
later came back to work another eight years with her and I never saw Shelly smile once. She was my boss, not directly, she
was the owner’s daughter and she took care of the accounting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">
I wasn’t happy about her death,
but it was expected. Shelly smoked, drank—like a fish—and never looked healthy.
Her partying gold digger boyfriend John, only added to her overall
deterioration. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">
John, in polite company, was a lush, but in honest company, he was a sponge
ready and willing to soak up any amount of funds he could get his hands on.
Someday Shelly’s replacement will find a trail that leads to John, and a lot of
used up missing cash. But what does that have to do with Shelly’s obituary? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Plenty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
To be sympathetic, the obit was written by one of Shelly’s sisters. As a
family they all seemed close, but you could tell there were differences </span>among<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> the Strunk clan. Shelly and her twin
Kelly were both average looking, slightly unattractive, and both had the same
habits. The other two sisters, were more
health conscious, obviously did better in school, and married successful people.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">
Let’s take some actual quotes from the real obituary. “Died after a courageous battle with cancer.”
False, she went where her money could take her but never made any attempt to
battle the disease. She continued to smoke, and drink— to newer higher
excesses—and never made any attempt to change her life. There was nothing
courageous about it, she gave up the day she was diagnosed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">
“Never one to sit idle, even for a moment.” False, she only came to work
when she had to, she hated her boring job, and frequently came in late,
sleeping off a hangover. When she did arrive, usually after ten in the morning,
she left for a two hour liquid lunch, and returned to her office late. But
let’s be fair, she did work past closing time, sometimes as late as five
thirty. Of course, after closing time,
it was drinking time. Shelly was an
alcoholic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Next. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">
“She had an abundance of pride for her only son Stephen.” She loved her kid, in her own miserable
drunken sot way—but pride? Not by a long shot.
She complained to the staff openly about the number of times he was in
re-hab, she constantly shook her head in disgrace at him when he came in the
business with really dark, old fart, sunglasses on to ask for money. She had to fire her own son at least six
times from a cushy job that he never deserved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Next.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> “Shelly shared a most
unique bond with her identical twin sister Kelly.” True. They were both party animals in their youth,
they were both unhappily married on the same day, both divorced quickly after
they realized their first husbands could only have sex with them when they (
the husbands )were drunk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Shelly shared a most unique bond with her identical twin sister Kelly.” True. They were both party animals in their youth, they were both unhappily married on the same day, both divorced quickly after they realized their first husbands could only have sex with them when they ( the husbands )were drunk. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div> <div class=;"> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Next. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Okay, so it isn’t wine and roses. It wasn’t
a fairy tale life. After all the fancy words someone lost a family member, and
a sponge lost a revenue stream. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> But why write a bunch of lies? Of course we all have a tendency to think
about ourselves in a state of constant regard for our family and friends,
always caring, always loving, and always thoughtful. We never see ourselves living—not for one
single moment— in pursuit of selfish pleasure. So why do we write a bunch of
lies about the dead? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Because the truth hurts too much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-51567573569447901852015-05-25T15:33:00.000-07:002017-09-29T03:51:42.326-07:00The Weight of the World<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">The Weight of the World</span></h2>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LWl81kwTGi4/VgLdp-lIVnI/AAAAAAAABQ8/TN91brKczvY/s1600/Not%2BAtlas%2BFrom%2Bopen%2BSource%2BImages..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LWl81kwTGi4/VgLdp-lIVnI/AAAAAAAABQ8/TN91brKczvY/s1600/Not%2BAtlas%2BFrom%2Bopen%2BSource%2BImages..jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When will man ever be satisfied with his own
existence? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is the question that Harry asks to himself out
loud every morning. Harry gets up at precisely 6 am. each day and prepares his
morning nourishments. Then he walks out onto his teak deck over-looking the
forest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Harry is a genius. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ever since man has had a whim of his power and
prowess of the land, he has sought conquest: conquest of other men, other
living creatures, and himself. Modern
man fights disease, enforces the rule of law, builds technologically complex
structures and because of all this, man seeks to re-create himself as an automated
machine in the form of A.I robotics. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Harry lives in this modern world. He is a large
integral part of it: the constant development of mans knowledge to further
enhance the reach of the human race. Yet Harry gets up every day and asks
himself a troubling question. He is concerned that man is going to far, that
mankind should stop the march of progress and just be happy with what we’ve
got. That conflict drives Harry onward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>Watch Arrival Right Now</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01M3XJHGR/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B01M3XJHGR&linkCode=as2&tag=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&linkId=c60963d516ec7a474d7e6c2c842fe3fb" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&MarketPlace=US&ASIN=B01M3XJHGR&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&tag=ff1100.blogspot.com-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B01M3XJHGR" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Harry is a savant, young, brash when required, and
gentleman when not. He easily moves from the laboratory to the boardroom with
the comfort only afforded to a modern guru. Harry knows that he can control man
and change his behaviors, thereby affecting the future actions of all mankind. He
also knows that the wars, greed, sexual over gratification, and hypocrisy will
continue no matter what he does. The playing field will alter a little, robots
will fight other robots, but in the end it will only have value if other humans
die. Humans seem to cherish life precisely because they know that they can
destroy it. Humans feel powerful knowing they can remove the ultimate reward,
life, and in doing so constantly test their will to cherish life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Harry knows the essential battle that takes place in the minds
of humans each and every day, of each and every human being, is this: Who must
I conquer today in order to survive tomorrow?
That survival not just be the physical form, but must include the idealism inside of
each and every human being. Ideals that crash. Ideals that conflict.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Humans do find others who agree, and they live
together because they all support a designed survival plan. Sometimes these
groups are large and well organized. The power of these human organized groups
is impressive—albeit to the members of that group—but there is always a need to
increase membership for the survival of each specific group, and that is where conflict
among humans always finds a spark. Atoms in human cells energized in pursuit of domination. The rage of neurons begins. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tomorrow Harry will get up at 6am, make his morning
nourishments, walk out onto his teak deck, and ask himself the same question.
Then he will go downstairs get in his Tesla and leave for the office. Harry is many things, but he will never be
able to answer the question that he poses to his great mind each and every day.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Artemis J Jones 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-86602560486262960342015-05-02T08:23:00.000-07:002016-10-17T11:29:15.797-07:00What would Ernest do? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-alIq9vgfCKs/VUTtFVwTu_I/AAAAAAAAA00/XOrxsp908g4/s1600/Ernest%2BHemingway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-alIq9vgfCKs/VUTtFVwTu_I/AAAAAAAAA00/XOrxsp908g4/s1600/Ernest%2BHemingway.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ben and Jerry have both been working in New York for
a long time. Their friendship has lasted
through many jobs and they both have a lot of juicy stories that they could
tell, but they’re sure the lawsuits would follow, so they keep their mouths
shut. They always meet for lunch on Fridays. Ben calls Jerry at 11am.. </span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hey, you have some time for lunch today? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Where at?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Housing works Bookstore and Café.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t know where that’s at. Is it in SoHo?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yeah, it’s at 126 Crosby Street.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why do you want to go there?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m looking for an old book that might help me with
a screenplay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Who you working for now?” demanded Jerry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mr. Allen, and I hope he doesn’t walk in while were
there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Touchy subject.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ben got there first and wrote <i>Ben and Jerry </i>on the list for a table. He liked to do this, when the servers read
the list, they always started looking around the room for the ice cream
guys. Ben had a need to mess with people,
even in the slightest way. Jerry didn’t like trouble, so he was kind of Ben’s
watchdog. Jerry is a stage manager, and Ben writes screenplays most of the time,
the rest of the time he goes about the city looking for occurrences of
conflict. He jumps right in, well after the punches have stopped of course, to
try to get some feeling of anger, rage, and discontentment. But let’s be clear, Ben is not a fighter,
just a fan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Table for Ben and Jerry,” the waiter calls out. The
rest of the patrons in the restaurant look to see who these Ben and Jerrys are,
curiosity, disappointment, and a smirk on Ben’s face all happen at the same
moment. The waiter takes them to a table
with a view of the street. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“So what’re you working on that is so hush, hush?
asks Jerry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“The screenplay is about how people don’t say what’s
really on their minds, and how one segment of our society is becoming a little
sheepish, and another more arrogant at the same time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“That could get deep,” Jerry said while chuckling a
little. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“So I’m here because there is supposed to be a first
edition biography on Ernest Hemingway. As a historical figure he comes across
as a person who spoke his mind. I need some sense of what it would be like to
be a person so blunt, in order to continue with the screenplay. Imagine if he
were alive today, would he be a success or failure?” Would society dismiss him
for his lack of tact, and irascible temper?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Irascible, that’s what his ex lovers wrote about
him when they were in a good mood. He left a trail of women in his wake. I saw
the <i><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0007WFUMY/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B0007WFUMY&linkCode=as2&tag=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&linkId=N62LBVKMVBIU3ZEV">Biography documentary on A & E </a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B0007WFUMY" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
</b></i> about ten years ago He flared tempers in
his day. If he was alive today, he’d
knock your current employer out cold.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“What, why,?” asked Ben with a little curiosity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“His granddaughter has a new book out <b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1941393233/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1941393233&linkCode=as2&tag=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&linkId=f9ecf4a0439c935c2e2259e15784f423">Out Came the Sun: Overcoming the Legacy of Mental Illness, Addiction, and Suicide in My Family</a><img src="//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&l=am2&o=1&a=1941393233" width="1" height="1" border="0" alt="" style="border:none !important; margin:0px !important;" /></b>. It’s
a memoir of her life. In the book she tells about how your boss Mr. Allen was
constantly trying to get her in bed, always grabbing her ass, as she stood
inside the edge of the curtains on stage in low light, pestering her about
lunch, and threatening to never allow her to work in this town if she didn’t
comply. Your boss was doing all this while he was sleeping with his adopted
Asian daughter, and hiding it all from his wife.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Let’s order, I’m hungry, and later we need to find
that book if it’s still here. Waiter!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Two Reuben’s, and two Sam’s Summer Ale please,”
Jerry called out to the waiter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mr. Allen’s neurotic behavior will drive the
directors mad, after he reads about more of his past shenanigans. And I can’t
count how many times he will bother the writing staff. But I like it. Imagine a
womanizer beating up another womanizer.
Who do you think would throw the first punch? That is if Ernest was
still alive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Dumb question there Bennny: Ernest of course.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“No, I’m thinking that Mt Allen’s famous paranoid
neurotic personality would go straight for his lawyer and get a restraining
order. That would be his first punch, hiding behind the legal system. He’d be
dancing in a room by himself cheering victory, or cowering behind a large curio
in his dining room.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Ernest wouldn’t care about that, he’d follow wobbly legs Allen down Broadway and knock him out cold in the street. Can’t you
just see him? Ernest Hemingway, limping in his right leg from the plane crash
in Africa, dressed in his safari clothes and that symbolic gray beard accenting
his scowl. He would be yelling at Mr. Allen, ‘coward,’ with his fists raging
through the air as he dragged his bad leg through the streets of New York. Mr.
Allen would be screaming for dear life, ‘ he’s a mad man, he’s trying to kill
me’, of course no one in New York would care. Everyone would just think he
deserved it, that justice was taking place on the streets.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jerry looked for their food while a smile of delight
over the scene he just imagined went across his face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They both ate, and Ben got up and looked for the
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0306808900/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0306808900&linkCode=as2&tag=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&linkId=547H5OPSH57GR3X2">biography of Ernest Hemingway</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0306808900" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
. Jerry helped, but after one hour and asking for
help, it didn’t appear to be in the store. They walked out to 126 street, Ben
had to head back to his loft and work, while Jerry headed back toward the New
York City theater off Broadway. While Ben walked, he thought about, being
direct, being the kind of person that speaks out, right or wrong, and puts all
their cards on the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I wonder what that would be like,” Ben exclaimed
aloud.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The pedestrians ignored Ben. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">© Copyright Artemis J Jones, 2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-63460997381313927562015-04-11T07:55:00.000-07:002015-07-25T08:04:12.923-07:00HER <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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HER<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RtPe30e_Iiw/VbOfvnfuEOI/AAAAAAAABF4/AwOYKZIRoQ8/s1600/Women%2BProfessor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RtPe30e_Iiw/VbOfvnfuEOI/AAAAAAAABF4/AwOYKZIRoQ8/s320/Women%2BProfessor.jpg" width="224" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
sounds of an automatic door opening—a sudden swoosh of air—and lite pleasant
conversation between two friends: that’s what caught my attention. Those words that signified a bond of trust
and love, and admiration: released from your lips to the outer world, allowing
the rest of us to hear, to be a part of your moment. Your movements requiring little
effort as you accompanied your friend up to the car door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I do not know either of your names and I never will.
I am sitting here outside a building watching many people come and go, and I’m
suddenly mesmerized by the woman that you accompanied to the car door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">When your friend stood alone for a moment, you
disappeared briefly from my sight and I watched her get into the car, her stature,
poise, and grace taking me directly into the past— for a moment— allowing me to
see her as she was before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">You are a
Professor, and it is so easy to imagine your students and their entranced
interactions with you. Most would
describe you as articulate, attractive, and insightful. Your students gather
around your desk, for conversation and advice after every lecture. One student–a
young man—is in love. You’re the focus,
of unknown affection. Those loving fantasies, with no manifestation, created
strong indelible images that remain in an older man’s life to this very day. Your
brown hair flows a little past your shoulders, and it always has a classic
style. The lilt of the words you speak, as they carry themselves through the
air, always find their way to the souls of each devotee. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">But you have another problem now, and you will not
give up. You are on your way to the long term care facility. A converted old hotel,
that is a single story, with wide hallways and drab decor. Not quite perfect
for you and all the other guests who are in wheelchairs. It is sterile just
like the hospital from which you just emerged. No-one, including you, knows how
long your stay will be. Your reality isn’t juxtaposed with a past life, it is a
divergent path away from everything you have ever wished for, or dreamed of. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The person—you—that I witnessed getting into the
car, was frail, and had a urine bag hanging off of her wheelchair. You carried
the bag for feces and placed both bags on your lap as you were helped into the
car seat. Too weak to fasten the seat belt, your caregiver and friend who first
caught my attention, secured you in place, then she got in the driver’s seat
and drove you away. A lot of your hair had fallen out, and your skin was pale,
blotched, and loose. I think you were clinging to one hundred pounds with
desperation that only a relentless lover of life could understand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do you think it’s better not to know?” I ask myself
two years later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes.” I answer to myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I could not bear to know of a negative outcome. I am
fine thinking about you almost every day, and hoping that you are recovering,
dreaming, and cherishing life. The tall beautiful woman that stood with all her
strength, in that moment, will be unforgettable in my mind, and in the minds of
many admirers that come from a past that is gone forever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">© Copyright 2015
Artemis J Jones <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> 1<sup>st</sup>
revision, 07/25/2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
</h2>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Some after
thoughts</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">:
when you look at people who are sick, do you just see that moment? Or do you realize
that you might be witnessing life interrupted,
a person who was vibrant, before illness took over their life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">To me this is a true story, and it will never be
fiction. I was sitting on a brick wall
outside a hospital in Chicago two years ago. I had been in for ten days, going
in very sick and coming out feeling much better. The Hospital CTCA only treats
cancer patients. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">When the caregiver and her friend came out of the
building, this story begins. I have
thought about the women I witnessed on that day-every day since. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Be well!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">AJJ<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-38758503510519471102015-03-23T06:14:00.000-07:002015-03-24T09:56:54.431-07:00Whatever<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Whatever</span></i></span></h2>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r6eExuehbmE/VRAaNLwOtyI/AAAAAAAAAts/1VWtnkBlh64/s1600/Father%2Band%2Bson%2Bworkng%2Btogether.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r6eExuehbmE/VRAaNLwOtyI/AAAAAAAAAts/1VWtnkBlh64/s1600/Father%2Band%2Bson%2Bworkng%2Btogether.jpg" height="293" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It’s really not that hard, you just make
a decision. You think about what you want to do and then you work at it.
Simple. Easy. That’s what I tell him, but it never sinks in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lots
of people change their jobs, but you need to pick a vocation. You have to
start. If you don’t do something you will never be ready for anything, that’s
what I’ve been telling him for three years. I keep on telling him, but he never
listens. Now I’m trying to show him carpentry, but he’s always distracted.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’ve got a splitting headache.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lot
that phone will do for you son. Yeah, keep on staring at that phone, texting,
watching videos. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Son, will you put that thing down and
pay attention!” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Wait It’s almost done, Dad you should
see this.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No thanks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Boy
can’t read you know, that school just passed him through, can’t read a sentence,
can’t turn a page, doesn’t know what a page is. Hell doesn’t know what a book
is. Last month I bought him a book, he never read it. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Come on son, put it down we need to cut
these boards. I need to get these deck boards cut before it rains.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Deaf as a post. </i>Put your gloves and
goggles on and go get that plank over there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What’s a plank Dad? Don’t look at me
that way. I asked cause I don’t know. You always tell me to ask, don’t you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“The planks are the one by sixes,
thinner than the other boards, and they are as long as the shed.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Always
ignores me, don’t pay no attention. I showed him everything as a kid, took him
places, took him to Washington, told him about this country, took him to a Chicago
museum just to show him a dinosaur. I showed that kid how to ski down a
mountain when he was seven, and now all he does is look at that damn phone. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I will set the guide fence on the saw,
but you need to keep an eye on the plank as we guide it through.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I don’t like this saw, it’s noisy and
I’m kinda scared of it. Can’t you get someone else to help.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No, I got you. Afraid you might learn something,
huh. Just keep your eyes on the board, it needs to go straight and not bind the
blade or she’ll kick back. Now, son look at me, are you ready?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Whatever… all-knowing father. Wisest
man on the planet!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Smart
ass ain’t he. Got that from me. Only way I’d know he’s my kid. Ain’t got a lick
a sense. Start this saw up, and then I don’t need to listen to his
disrespectful mouth. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I motion to him to keep the board near the
fence, he is shaking a little. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Or maybe
it’s that damn phone vibrating. </i>I keep pushing at a nice steady speed,
watching the fence, watching the board. Darn it! There’s a knot in the board. I
should have looked at it. Gonna pop out, kid didn’t put his goggles on. I
motion to him about his goggles and point to the knot. “Your goggles not the
phone cover your eyes.” I keep putting one hand up to show him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Does he think I’m gonna call him while I’m
pushin this board through. Here comes the knot, and there goes the knot, right
up to his forehead. He’s not bleeding, gonna be fine.</i> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m done dad. I’m not helping no more.
I going to Kaitlyn’s house.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Son, I need you here.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m not staying here cutting these
stupid boards and doing whatever you want. I’m nineteen and I got a life. I’m
going to Kaitlyn’s.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You know son, you got yourself a nice
girl. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s pretty. What are you
going to do when she’s done school and moves on?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thanks for the slap and the compliment.
That’s what I love about you dad— can’t say something nice without saying
something bad.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2zUPSckDsNQ/VRAV29uKpAI/AAAAAAAAAtg/hi_SxRSIolg/s1600/father_and_son_by_kleinmeli-d2zeobg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2zUPSckDsNQ/VRAV29uKpAI/AAAAAAAAAtg/hi_SxRSIolg/s1600/father_and_son_by_kleinmeli-d2zeobg.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m not supposed to be your friend, I’m
your father.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
need that kid and he’s not here. How am I going finish this. I just sit
sometimes thinking about my boy. I need my boy. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I need my boy. I need him. Stop crying you baby. I need him, God bring
him back. Why’d you take him. I wasn’t done teaching him, not even close, had
so much more to do and you stole him. Gimmie back my boy. </i>Every time I sit
on this deck, I hear those sirens going… I think about him. I hated that phone,
I hated it so much I wanted to smash it with my hammer. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hate it Hate it…</i> I can see myself striking it, watching the pieces
fly into the air, but it never changes, he’s gone. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I wasn’t done coaching you boy. You know I tried, you know it, I tried
always every day, I kept trying to show you something, wanted you to be ready,
more ready than me. Every father wants that… every dad, always wants their kids
to be better than themselves. I kept telling him don’t talk and text on that
phone while you’re driving. His mother bought him that phone, I was against it,
and now she’s damned for it too. It was just a drive back from the market, he
was just going to Kaitlyn’s. She was just going to the market, she be back
soon. I hear them now, maybe that’s her car, maybe they’re getting a second
chance. Them sirens blaring again, who is it now? This deck was for me and her,
she liked a little wine in the evenings and watching the sunset, it was all for
her. Now they’re both gone, and it’s just me and little Lisa. How do I tell
her, her mom’s never coming back? </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dear god, how do I tell her… that her
brother killed her mother?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Copyright
© 2015 Artemis J Jones</span></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q7FC7HVFvFQ/VRASOiOirEI/AAAAAAAAAtU/MzaNbpuxeE8/s1600/cellcrashfacts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q7FC7HVFvFQ/VRASOiOirEI/AAAAAAAAAtU/MzaNbpuxeE8/s1600/cellcrashfacts.jpg" height="114" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-87984312969643615752015-02-13T06:34:00.000-08:002017-02-19T11:08:07.921-08:00HAIR<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Hair
</span></i></b></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
“It flows unending,
smooth as silk, and its beauty knows no boundaries.” Unknown. </div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1Wt6yzHweZs/WDMxoetvysI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/TRNcZVPZPRs-5XSxTDDkzJYt_5fTCqljwCLcB/s1600/Final%2BBreakup.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1Wt6yzHweZs/WDMxoetvysI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/TRNcZVPZPRs-5XSxTDDkzJYt_5fTCqljwCLcB/s320/Final%2BBreakup.JPG" width="262" /></a>Hey, I wanted to talk some more.</div>
<div class="Standard">
Why are you breaking up with me? What happened?</div>
<div class="Standard">
I cut my hair, so that’s it. That’s the reason your dumping
me. You shallow bastard.</div>
<div class="Standard">
I'm stressed, damn right I'm stressed. My mother's been sick,
the new job I started, rents due.</div>
<div class="Standard">
No, your right I didn't cut my hair because the rent was due,
but the new job, they wanted a certain look and I saw the other girls in the
office.</div>
<div class="Standard">
Yeah, Yeah, go on ranting about looking like everyone else.
Keep talking bla, bla, bla, …</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br />
You know I'd go out with you if you were fat.</div>
<div class="Standard">
No that's not a lie.</div>
<div class="Standard">
It's not a lie, your shallow and I guess all this time you
were just dating my lovely locks, not the lovely me. It'll be your loss. I
should have seen it coming the way you always wrapped it around us when we were
making love. Taking all those pictures of it flowing over my breasts. My hair
was just a fetish for you, and I was nothing. You bastard.</div>
<div class="Standard">
Yeah I know, and I'll say it some more if I feel like it! So
what did you tell your friends?</div>
<div class="Standard">
That I changed, BS. You are so full of it!</div>
<div class="Standard">
The job has changed me? That’s what you think? No way I’m
still the same, I was always thinking about cutting it shorter, but I kept it
long for you.</div>
<div class="Standard">
I should have asked …<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Get the all New Echo here for $49.99 </i></div>
<a target="_blank" href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B015TJD0Y4/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B015TJD0Y4&linkCode=as2&tag=artemisjjones.blogspot.com-20&linkId=be6262b00c63fa5a6c4e8661eef48e06"><img border="0" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&MarketPlace=US&ASIN=B015TJD0Y4&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL250_&tag=artemisjjones.blogspot.com-20" ></a><img src="//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=artemisjjones.blogspot.com-20&l=am2&o=1&a=B015TJD0Y4" width="1" height="1" border="0" alt="" style="border:none !important; margin:0px !important;" />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
</div>
<div class="Standard">
I never considered how you would feel …</div>
<div class="Standard">
I did keep it longer for you …</div>
<div class="Standard">
Because I felt like it, damn it!</div>
<div class="Standard">
Look my life is mine – not yours.</div>
<div class="Standard">
And now you want to bring that up!</div>
<div class="Standard">
Yes I was hoping you'd ask me – I've been in love with you
for a long time. Did you forget after I told you each and every day for the
last five years.</div>
<div class="Standard">
Yeah, I know you said it too, but lately it was not that much,
and that bothered me.</div>
<div class="Standard">
I don't think you meant it.</div>
<div class="Standard">
Why do you want to talk about my job again?</div>
<div class="Standard">
He's just a flirt, it's nothing.</div>
<div class="Standard">
You know his wife. Where from?</div>
<div class="Standard">
So you just worked with her?</div>
<div class="Standard">
Oh, now we’re getting upset.</div>
<div class="Standard">
Why would you- not look at her, she has that five thousand
dollar rack for everyone to see.</div>
<div class="Standard">
Really? You sure can spin some crap.</div>
<div class="Standard">
Oh, you’re serious. Now you want me believe that breasts are
not that important to you. You sure liked mine a lot.<br />
<br />
Continued in my new book, Conversations.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
<div class="Standard">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=Conversations+Artemis+J+Jones">The rest of the story, plus two never before published short stories, Ice and My Intention, are in my new book, Conversations. </a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</h4>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-37387892517301025632015-01-09T09:30:00.000-08:002015-07-29T23:53:25.895-07:00A Short Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
A Short Life</h2>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
( Note as of 07/28/2015 ) I've revised this story and had another edit done. It will be posted in Short Stories, since the new version is over 1000 words. Read it at SD1100.Blogspot.com </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OZUqHPikcHg/VK_2dAR29HI/AAAAAAAAAm4/0xA_rCdzMMo/s1600/Glock_17_2nd_Gen%2B(640x439).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OZUqHPikcHg/VK_2dAR29HI/AAAAAAAAAm4/0xA_rCdzMMo/s1600/Glock_17_2nd_Gen%2B(640x439).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
When Bob walked into the gun store, he had no idea what he was doing. He had never owned a gun, only shot a BB gun when
he was a kid, and was not a very good shot. But he was now sixty-five
years old, he had heard about robberies in the area and started
thinking he needed to protect himself. Bob never served in the
military, and never did anything with law enforcement. He had been an
actuary before retirement. He and his wife of forty-five years were
living one block off the beach in a small cul-de-sac in sunny
tropical Florida. The crime rate for his zip code was less than one
in a thousand on petty crimes and zero per thousand on homicides. Bob
went ahead and bought a gun anyway and, paid for a months’ worth of
lessons.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Stop
squeezing your wrist! Use your trigger finger! You miss all your
targets to the left!" The instructor exclaimed in a firm, but
barely polite tone.</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“ I’m
trying, my finger is not strong enough to pull the trigger. Maybe you
can show me another way to fire the gun” Bob replied</div>
Go to <a href="http://sd1100.blogspot.com/">Short Stories</a> to finish reading.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-75625644228184509662015-01-09T09:20:00.000-08:002015-01-09T10:10:28.471-08:00A conversation with Carlos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
A Conversation with Carlos</h2>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p-XnsXS9Y-w/VK_uQ3hWhzI/AAAAAAAAAmg/0x-ExxQkDhk/s1600/Carlos%2BFuentes%2BQuote%2B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p-XnsXS9Y-w/VK_uQ3hWhzI/AAAAAAAAAmg/0x-ExxQkDhk/s1600/Carlos%2BFuentes%2BQuote%2B.jpg" /></a><i>Present
Day, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1500754560/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1500754560&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=ZKG7KUKHE7S466XZ">Miami Beach </a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1500754560" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
Florida<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Lummus park, always a relaxing place, at the heart of this jewel in the
south. You can sit here and enjoy the morning sun, unstressed, while the sounds
of <i>a day in the making</i> are created for your ears. Those sounds, <i>la turistas</i>, chatting and the blend of
delivery trucks making there rounds to all the restaurants along Ocean Drive.
Rollerbladers, most, barely dressed females, streaking by and weaving through
the dog walkers and a few homeless lugs on the sidewalk. Later some musicians
will appear on the street, playing some rhythms and melodies from transcendent
cultures deep in Latin America. The sounds of a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0634006037/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0634006037&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=HPK6ZPE6NCRZL5VA">Latin Guitar</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0634006037" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
riding on the
light breeze from the ocean, perfect!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Far off in the park, there is a
mirage and a distant image of a man walking towards me. No one else notices
him, disguised in his fedora, and dark glasses. He is holding a rolled up
newspaper, probably <i>El Tiempo</i>, or
maybe the <i>Herald</i>. He sees me on the
bench and points right at me while shaking his newspaper. It is Carlos and he
is upset with me. Carlos starts talking, I mean yelling, first.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Gringo, it was your dumb luck we
met in the hospital last year. You’re all alike. Stupid! Always putting the cart before the horse”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What are you ranting about now, you
old <i>Mexican.” </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Your blog, I was looking at it yesterday. I think it is
stupid. Who cares about story development? In my day I sat down, with a pen
& paper, writing from eight a.m. to one p.m. After I finished I gave my
work to a publisher and they did they rest.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“So you
think my blog is stupid, because I am posting stories before they are
completed. Carlos, you were a unique pre-modern writer. But times are different
and I am showing readers, especially young readers, the process of writing. For
me it starts with a story outline, then I write a first draft, maybe a second
draft. Then I ask for opinions from a critique group. I make changes and send
the story to a line editor.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“So that's
it? You're a Gringo for sure. Cart before the horse mentality. You’re a writer,
you write, the publisher makes sure the story is edited, proof read, and begins
to sell and market your book. I know how it works, I have done it many times,
very successfully! Have you forgotten, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1564783448/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1564783448&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=5BKC35GPYITURGB7">Where the Air Is Clear </a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1564783448" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
</i> & <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0374530521/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0374530521&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=5AZ557BCRFXYNISF">The Old Gringo</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0374530521" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
</i>?<i> </i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Carlos, the
horse <i>is</i> the story. It is always
first. Publishers are, the cart, which all Indie Authors must <i>be</i> on their own. My Blog is the first
step in marketing my stories. I explain to the readers the status of each
story, as it goes through development. I also write some notes on why I am
writing the story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“So now
you’re an Indie writer? Bullshit! Breaking into writing with a new model for
Indie writers. <i>Pila de mierda</i>.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“<i>Tranquilo, me amigo</i>! I have a lot of
work to do. I have an outline for <i>Story
Development</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
After I publish my current works in progress, I will post the
first paragraphs and pages of each story and a link to the web site to purchase
the story or the collection.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Gringo, <i>entonces que</i>. Everyone is doing that … I
should care!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Yes, great
philandering Author God! When my next series of stories start. I will post the
outlines with the corresponding first draft, later adding critique notes from
esteemed <i>Author Gods</i> like you. Next I
will post edited versions with more critique notes. Before those stories get
published, I will post beta versions for a short time, then publish and start
the process all over again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Who gave you
this strategy, was it one of my Cuban Author friends?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“You do not have any Cuban friends, remember? … No great
Carlos, it was you. I read about your early writing, always challenging
everyone, always trying to be different and irreverent at the same time. You’re
last book, is inspiring me to write a novel. My work in progress, will be about
the biggest challenge faced in my life, a challenge that many are facing, and
suffering through every day. I loved the way you used, sarcasm and knowledge,
blending both elements so well together. Pure Artistry!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“So, my
American friend, you’re going to show other aspiring writers the need to have
patience and work through the process, not publishing until the process is
complete.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“<i>Tu eres correcto</i>! Spoke the old man with
both feet in the grave. Now you are catching on, it is a different world out
there for writers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
Carlos, do you
remember when we met last year? I had just finished reading your book in the
hospital, I fell asleep and you came into my room. The book about the starlet ( <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00BQMLIG6/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00BQMLIG6&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=2ICYC73UXRXUV377">Diana: The Goddess Who Hunts Alone</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00BQMLIG6" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /> ) you met, while she was filming in Mexico.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I was a real
dumbass for going with her. <i>Mucho
machismo</i>!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
Carlos got up, shaking his head a little, and waved goodbye.
He walked south towards Fifth Street and slowly disappeared into the mirage
that he walked out of earlier. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
End<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
© Copyright Artemis J Jones 2014 <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div><script type="text/javascript" src="http://wms-na.amazon-adsystem.com/20070822/US/js/link-enhancer-common.js?tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=PN6MZSAF56HGHGIY">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-13203208302347310472015-01-09T09:15:00.000-08:002015-01-17T07:53:53.847-08:00Itchy Feet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<i>Itchy Feet</i></h2>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UAIwSLvqtdI/VK_lqVtEUgI/AAAAAAAAAmU/vb2DHErWNr8/s1600/Girl%2BWalking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UAIwSLvqtdI/VK_lqVtEUgI/AAAAAAAAAmU/vb2DHErWNr8/s1600/Girl%2BWalking.jpg" /></a><i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span> “</i>Jenny Marie you get in this house,
now! I am talking to the air, Robert do you know where she is at?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“You know where
she is, she always goes to Lisa's house and then they go hide in the woods.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I don't like
this”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Cheryl, will
you just quiet down some?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“No… no I won't
it’s time for her to be home. Her and Lisa joined at the hip, sometimes I would
swear by it! But I am worried, please go check on them. I will call Lisa's
house and talk to her mom.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Hello”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Hi Kathleen,
it's Cheryl. Do you know where the girls are?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I thought they
were at your house. When Lisa left here this morning, she said she was going to
spend the whole day at your house. She told Philip and I that ya’ll were going
to the beach. I know Lisa had a towel with her. Cheryl did you and Robert go to
the beach today?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“No, no we did
not! Where are our girls? I am worried.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I don't know,
but when Lisa gets home, she will be grounded for a month”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I am thinking a
year right now for Jenny-Marie. Let me
talk more with Robert and we will call you if anything comes up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Thanks, we will
do the same.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Bye”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Bye”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Lisa wait up. Do
you think our parents are looking for us now? What did you tell your mom
anyway?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“That I was going
to the beach with you”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“You're such a good
liar.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I am! What about
you? What did you tell your mom?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“That we were
spending the day together and we would find some adventure to go on”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“You always do that,
tell some little white lie. Do you really think she fell for it? Did you even
hint that we were going to visit your Uncle in Orlando”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“No, I kept it a nice
clean white lie”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Let's go to the
interstate highway and hitchhike up to Cocoa Beach then take that road that goes west
to Orlando”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Okay”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Jen, how much more sunlight you think we have?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“We have a few hours, more than we need to get to Orlando. My
Uncle will be shocked when he see's us standing at his door.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“You didn't call your Uncle? Another white lie.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I did call him and I said we wanted to visit him in Orlando.
He said 'Well Jenny-Marie we'd love to have you come up this weekend'”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“And that's all?... just a white lie, to me and your Uncle.
Why am I your fiend?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“You know we are two free spirits, nothing but <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0140286012/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0140286012&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=4DVCL55VFL5N2HME">wanderlust</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0140286012" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
in
our feet”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Hey Jen , I think we got a ride, that old car is slowing
down for us. Do you think we should take it, the ride that is”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Let's see who's driving first”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
An old Buick Electra slows to a stop on the shoulder about
100 feet in front of the girls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Why you girls out here on this road—it is dangerous—do you
need a ride somewhere?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Yes Mister, we're going to Orlando. Can you give us a ride?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Get in, I'm only going up to Cocoa at Route 520. I will drop
you off there. Can I call your parents
or something for you's? Let's get moving.” The man replied and continued
talking to the girls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“How old are you two anyway, don't look like much more than
fourteen. Don't you know it ain't the sixties anymore. Used to be able to
hitchhike any where in the U S of A back then, but times are different. If I
had the time I take you to Orlando, make sure you got there safe. But I got my
life too, I got me a wife, fine woman. I got's to spend time with her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
The girls giggled in the back seat as they listened to the
man driving.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Well this is your stop. You can go over to the gas station
and here is some change for the pay phone. Sure I can't help in some way?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“My Uncle in Orlando is expecting us, we're okay thanks” Jen
replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
The old Buick Electra drove away. They watched it go east and
then they turned west, noticing the sun had started to set. They were only
about thirty minutes from Jen's Uncle’s house. There was just enough sunlight
to get there safe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Come on, Lisa we need to get moving.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Where are we?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“We’re on Route 520 and we better start going west to
Orlando.” Jen replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Jen you ever think about the future? I am thinking about
tomorrow, going to some water park, going down a slide, splashing, and having
fun with you.” Lisa said. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I think about the past, when I was a kid, at Christmas time.
My mom and dad always had some surprise for us. My brothers always planned our
attack of the presents. My older brother telling everyone what to do, ‘Jen you
get the scissors, don’t let little bobby have them.’ We have good families.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
Lisa what are you staring at?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“The tree’s it’s just a never ending line of tall trees”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“What is?” Jen asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“This road, it’s all Pine trees, not one palm tree like in
our yard. The pines don’t sway with the wind, like palms. They just let the air
pass them by and leave the sounds of whispers flowing in the breeze.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“You’re creeping me out”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Jen look that old pickup truck is stopping, maybe we got a
ride.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“You girls can jump in the back if you want, I am going
towards Orlando. I do need to stop in Naracoosee, but only for a moment. You
two should not be out here all alone.” The driver said. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Lisa stop pulling at me, we need a ride”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Not him – I’m not getting in that truck”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Thanks mister, we’re okay” replied both girls <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>If you want to read the full story go to Story Development ( Top Menu ) and read Whispers through the Pines. </i></b></div>
</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
© Copyright 2014 Artemis J Jones <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-20786176800569631552015-01-09T09:10:00.000-08:002015-01-17T08:06:29.557-08:00Route 520 <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Route 520</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CZcOsvCnD8I/VK_ecmCZgDI/AAAAAAAAAmA/PIy_LhVs7iA/s1600/Route520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CZcOsvCnD8I/VK_ecmCZgDI/AAAAAAAAAmA/PIy_LhVs7iA/s1600/Route520.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;"> I watched Lisa
stare down the road, looking at the tall pines, and began to wonder what our
mothers were thinking right now. A moment ago Lisa was thinking one day into her
future and telling me what a wonderful day tomorrow would be.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">She turned around a lot to watch me as I
walked just a little behind her. Lisa knew I was mad because we had not
accepted the ride in the old pickup truck. The truck was gone —long gone out of
sight —and I knew her <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0062004735/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0062004735&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=ONOK767RY75OJBQ6">fears</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0062004735" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
were increasing as the sun set over the tall pines—
her dreamy ideas fading away within a mirage far up the road.</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
What else could I
do but keep walking towards the setting sun?
With each step, I thought about my past, and my family. Not talking—thinking. This was all my idea, going to visit my Uncle
in Orlando, I talked Lisa into it, now we were on a deserted road, thirty miles
away from my Uncle’s and we were tired and hungry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Jen wait up, here comes a car. It looks like the car that
the old man was driving, the one who gave us a ride earlier.” Lisa said<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I don't think it is! That car was light gray, this car is
darker” Jen replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“How can you tell with the sun going down.” Lisa asked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“It's slowing down, we have a ride”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br />
The car—full of
partying teenagers—just slowed down. The teens inside laughed at the girls,
then sped up and drove away.<br />
<br />
We watched the car go off and seemingly vanish
into the never ending line of trees. Neither of us noticed the van that had
been following the car, but now stopped a short distance away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
Two men got out.
They began to walk towards us. They spoke in soft tones and asked us questions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Where do you girls need a ride to?” said the older one. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
Their non-threatening words did not match the quick pace in
their steps. They were coming after us and I ran out into the road screaming
for help. Lisa froze. The men forced us into the open back doors of the van and
told us to be quiet, and we would not get hurt. The older man was mostly bald
with straggly hair down the sides of his head. His hands were callused and they
felt rough on my skin, he continued to touch me and Lisa. The men did not say
much and only referred to each other as ‘Cousin’. The younger man had a
moustache and longer hair. He held a gun—pointing it at both of us—while
placing a finger up to his lips. The older man, stopped fondling us and quickly
moved to the driver seat, started the engine, and drove away. The van went
about one hundred feet up the road and turned around back towards the
interstate highway. The man in the back with a gun put duct tape over our
mouth’s. He sat across from us just staring at us, devoid of any expression.
Feeling the terror, we just stared at each other. Lisa began to urinate and the
urine soaked right through her new Guess jeans. When the odor from the urine
reached the man’s sense of smell, he grinned. We felt the van turn right and
speed up as it entered the traffic on the interstate highway. Our eyes watered
up. Lisa’s view of the future was full of sadness, and I could see it in her
expression and feel it. She saw other people in the future but she could not
see herself. She felt my presence, and I felt hers even though it was dark now,
and we were unable to really see each other.
The van continued south on the interstate for some time, time that the
men enjoyed as our terror increased. We felt the van slow and turn to the right
again. The van was off the interstate.
The road we were on was bumpy and stones were hitting the bottom of the
van. We had begun to feel a bond now that transcended verbal language and we
began to read each other’s minds. The van stopped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
The older man got
out opened the back door of the van, pulled Lisa out. He tore off the duct tape
covering her mouth, then dragged her down a path. The younger man did the same
with me. It was dark and we could not see each other. I heard Lisa screaming.
The men took turns with us. Then one said ‘I’m done’. He left Lisa on the
ground crying. I heard chains on the ground, Lisa screaming again and then, a
loud flash and a bang. I had never heard a gun go off before. I heard the
sounds of the chains then a splash. I
knew Lisa’s life was over, but I still felt her presence. Both men grabbed
me, and took me down a path. I could hear fish splashing and the croak of a
gator in the water nearby. Lisa was still with me. I listened to the men argue
for a minute, while tied-up – not being able to run away. My breathing became
heavy then a flash.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
*** <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
The two men
wrapped me in a tarp and loaded my lifeless body into the van. They went back
to the interstate and drove south towards Indian Springs County. They parked the van at their shop and put my
body in a large drum. It was there for a week, soaked in some kind of chemical.
At the end of the week a man opened the lid on the drum. He called out to
another man that was there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
“Detective Summers, we got another one”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<i>Lisa and Jen were together in a spiritual
stasis. Their existence, no longer of the physical world, but both aware of
each other—they were <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1909667137/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1909667137&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=EZIQA6H5IP3SEYCC">ghosts </a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1909667137" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
.<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>If you want to read the complete story go to Story Development ( Top Menu ) and read Whispers through the Pines .</b></i></div>
</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
© Copyright 2014 Artemis J Jones <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-7036466594010759692015-01-09T09:05:00.000-08:002017-02-19T17:53:30.042-08:00The Beauty of Green<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
The Beauty of Green</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_e1GxoiGd7g/VK_YSGcOSJI/AAAAAAAAAlw/0khD4eT_F-A/s1600/syringe-green-liquid-d-illustration-35705280%2B(640x633).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_e1GxoiGd7g/VK_YSGcOSJI/AAAAAAAAAlw/0khD4eT_F-A/s1600/syringe-green-liquid-d-illustration-35705280%2B(640x633).jpg" width="299" /></a></div>
<div>
<div align="center" class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">“Look how many people turned up for this —wow.”</span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Your silly, how can you make a joke at a
time like this? And it is only two dozen people, who I'm sure are getting
paid.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"What color is that?" <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Some shade of green"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Do you think they gave him
enough? I hope it is. I don't want something bad to happen. I mean I don't care
if he is in pain, I just want to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ESN04YM/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00ESN04YM&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=R56ZTA64MINLCAIN">make sure he is dead</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00ESN04YM" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"I know"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It is
strange being two spirits. Knowing
exactly what you are thinking and feeling. If we were alive we’d be joined at
the hip.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“We have always been joined
somehow.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Look at her, the witness in the second
row, third chair. She looks like she is crying. Did we know her? Maybe she knew
him. There is always someone who loves a murderer.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“We did not know her, but the
guy in the first row third chair knew your uncle. Remember we saw him at your
Uncles funeral. Your Uncle Bob took all this pretty hard.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You know, there are a lot of
cars outside.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yea people always get curious
about this kind of thing. They didn't get to curious about us or any of the
rest of the victims. If I could laugh, I would be hysterical over the people
doing the candle light vigil for the killer.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Remember the trial? He and his
cousin were convicted of killing six. I wish we could do something for the
other eight that nobody knows about.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Someday, someone will find more
bones”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“We need to help with that”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I know, but later. We both need
to go back home when this is done. We have to sit with our families, let them
know it is okay, help them move on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It's kinda cool that we can
just imagine ourselves at home and then be there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yea our poor relatives outside,
have a long ride home from Starke.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“We had some nice family trips
coming up this way of course for nicer places than here. My Dad putting his
hand out the window, letting it ride the flow of air, pretending he was a
pilot. Now they will all have to get in the car and ride on that highway,
silently, thinking about us- it will be a long ride.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Remember Ichetucknee”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Read Norse Mythology, By Neil Gaiman</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/039360909X/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=039360909X&linkCode=as2&tag=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&linkId=68cb9f7c51f99c01f6f8c024d7680bc1" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&MarketPlace=US&ASIN=039360909X&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&tag=ff1100.blogspot.com-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=ff1100.blogspot.com-20&l=am2&o=1&a=039360909X" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yea that was so much fun riding
the tubes down the river. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1561644226/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1561644226&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=OPNKHEWJX2GTYDVC">Swimming in the spring water</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1561644226" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
, <i>ohh</i> -that was
always cold.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You got used to it quick. It
was the best times for us. We had good families. Why did we do something so
stupid?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Adventure”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It wasn’t worth it. This has
hurt so many people. I know there were others, but look at what it did to our
families. This has taken so long, he has been on death row for twenty-eight
years.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“How long is this going to take?
Is he still breathing?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I think he is, trying to fight
it maybe. Should we help?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No —and you know the rules”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yea you’re right. Just testing
you”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“We never said that when we were
young: <i>Just testing you</i>!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I am getting with the times.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“How are we going to help the
others?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Good question. We have to be
careful the rules are very strict. Only show the truth. Never cause a loss of
life —no revenge.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I know … those bones in the
grove. We can have some kids ride there four-wheelers near the bones.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Maybe , there are some big
Orange tree’s growing over some of them now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What about the ones near his
shop? I can’t believe the detectives didn’t find them, they were so close.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To late for those, his shop is
gone. Bulldozer took it down faster than this creep is taking to die.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It is strange how society just
erases things, all the bad memories, just gone so no one can see it and relive
it. Just like us, we are gone. They wrote very little about us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That was because of our age,
and our families”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I know, but what about us. We
were just fourteen. We stopped on that day, at that moment- just ceased to
exist, to dream, and to ever know the feelings of love.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No, we knew love, and we can
still see it and feel it”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You know what I mean—<i>love—</i>with
a boy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You were always ahead of me on
that. I knew the things you thought about, even when you tried not to tell me,
but I knew. Joined together always!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You know what I want to do? I
want to go sit in school, and find some girls who think they can do stupid
stuff like we did, and stop them”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Stop them. How?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Like we could lock the doors of
their rooms, keep them safe.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You know that if their truth is
taking them down a bad road, we cannot stop them”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Their truth, their truth, I am
tired of that. I know of two girls right now, who are on the same path as us, I
want to stop them. I am tired of this truth- this unchanging path for the
living. And you know this truth is not complete: there are some who do their own
will even as wandering souls”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I know that is true, but we are
not ready for that next step, maybe we will be soon.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Remember the guy driving the
old pickup truck, the one I did not trust. He rides on Rte. 520 everyday
looking for the lost and still living. He was our <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0849938716/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0849938716&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=X7RG6EZWZMGMTBLL">Angels</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0849938716" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
and we did not know
it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yea … on that deserted road
alone, every day. Nothing about him has changed”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But he does not interfere. The
truth is in the decision of those he offers to help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Look I think his heart stopped”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Oh it did”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“He’s dead. It’s 6:19 pm”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>If you want to read the entire story go to Story Development ( Top Menu ) and read Whispers Through The Pines. </i></b></div>
</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
© Copyright Artemis J Jones 2014<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12826643248132837897noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1585298828654042078.post-15430786499098456702015-01-09T09:00:00.000-08:002015-01-17T08:17:13.820-08:00Undefined <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<i>Undefined</i></h2>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_a-ULIh_jUE/VK_VV6j_ZfI/AAAAAAAAAlk/cmLiK8goUcI/s1600/undefinedghost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_a-ULIh_jUE/VK_VV6j_ZfI/AAAAAAAAAlk/cmLiK8goUcI/s1600/undefinedghost.jpg" /></a><b><i> </i></b></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“You enjoyed that!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“So did you. Your presence was
almost glowing when they pushed the green fluid into his arm.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I accepted what happened.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“That's a lie. Tell the truth. You
enjoyed watching him die! Your thoughts were swirling with anticipation, about
us, about our families, and it all centered on his death. You think we'll all
be better for it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Why won't we be better off? Tell
me if you’re so smart. Suddenly you understand all of this, murder, revenge,
judgment, and healing. You think …you understand, healing: no you don't! I only
know what direction I'm being guided towards—it's not my choice, but I feel
it—taking me to another place, and I'll go willingly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“So you don't accept all of this,
and now you want another path, away from me. Well I don't, I won't forgive
predators, rapists, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00EFAT458/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00EFAT458&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=DHLETJIS7Z3PXJHS">murderers</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00EFAT458" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
. I want to see them all on the table soaking
up the green fluid!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“We can't continue like this. Yes
I felt something at that moment — it was a strange sense of joy— but it hasn’t
changed anything, and neither will interfering.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I can't forgive what they did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Then you will remain the way you
are now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“How can you just let it go? I
heard that gun fire- the one that killed you- I still feel that bullet, as if
it hit me. I constantly see—my last moment of life— that flash at the barrel of
the gun.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“It's not about that anymore.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“What’s it about, then?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“It's about letting the living, make their own
decisions, until their time has come. We can move on from this, this stasis,
from ourselves.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“What about the ones who make a
bad decision?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Like we did? There is nothing we
can do about that. I'm going to see the kind man who gave us a ride. He's
dying, and he’ll become an angel when he passes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“So he’ll never be a wandering
spirit like us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“That's correct. He's calling for
me now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“He’s calling for you … but not
for me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“You must come with me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“No, I’m going to go see Mr. Fred
Waters, who sits in his <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0818907509/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0818907509&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=OYB43OCXOA6XPZIW">prison cell</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0818907509" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
, pretending that all is forgiven.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“You can’t do that. You must come
with me”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I’m not taking any orders.
Goodbye!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 21.0pt;">
*** <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
<i>I’ve
lost it all, my life, my family, and my best friend. Lisa will become an <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0849938716/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0849938716&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=7H2U44IGO65QOJKU">Angel</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0849938716" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
,
I’m sure of that. All I want to do is make that man suffer—the pseudo
accomplice —the true mastermind: Mr Fred Waters, the predator who knew he would
rape and kill on that day, and how he would use those chains. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 21.0pt;">
<i>*** <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Good evening Mr. Waters.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Who are you? Get out of my cell.
Guards! Someone is in my cell.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“They can’t see or hear me Mr.
Waters.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
"Who are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“You know who I am. I look the
same, and my voice is the same as it was twenty-eight years ago. You remember
me crying, pleading for my life, and begging you to ‘let us go’. I’ve been in
your thoughts and nightmares for a long time. The last time you saw me, you
ordered your nephew Allen to shoot me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“You’re the one they found in the
barrel.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Good, now we can talk. I’m not
going to ask you, why.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Then what are you here for …
revenge?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I watched your nephew die. I
enjoyed that moment. The changes in his respiration, taking in those last
breathes of sterile air. The malfunctions with the equipment, letting him
linger in that state of consciousness, watching him tremble, just before
death.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“You’re here to kill me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“A lot of time went by. We, I mean
me and the other girl—my friend—that you killed, forgot about you. But she has
moved on to be with angels, and I’m here with you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Kill me or get out of my cell.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Nothing has changed you. Not
time. Not reflection. You give orders. You bear your false witness to god every
day, lying to him, telling him you didn't kill those girls.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I didn't kill them. I only had
sex.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Liar! You choked some with your
bare hands …your callused hands that disgrace true, hard working men. Men who
work each day, with their bare hardened skin: bare hands like my father used to
work on cars. The hands he washed every day, trying to clean his hands, his
heart, and his mind. Staring into that dirty sink, scrubbing, thinking, rinsing,
hoping …to be free of my memories. He could never work hard enough to forget
me, to just let me be the past. You left the scrapes of your calluses in his
soul, it eventually killed him too.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“You ran away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I did, but you took my life. You
stole the lives of so many. The ones who were easy prey, like me, and the
family members who died not knowing how to handle the grief.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Get it over with, do what you
came here for!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I’ve been thinking about
that—what I came here for—and how I would do it: to become like you—and enjoy
the satiable pleasure of taking another person’s life. Perhaps I’ll use a guard, or maybe another
inmate to help fulfill my desires.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“You’re still a whiney little
coward, just like the day you died.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“No, I’m different now, my
presence glistens with thoughts of revenge. Look into your mirror you will see
my whole life— the life you took away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I don’t take orders from a kid.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“<i>Stand up and face the mirror Mr.Waters</i>!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I see you, unchanged.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“No, that’s another lie, you took
everything from me. I grew up, got married, and had kids.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Look for yourself, you were going
to die anyway.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“Your lies won’t save you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“I’m forgiven and ready for
Heaven,” Mr. Waters yelled, his words echoing through the walls of the prison.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
“<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0842379428/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0842379428&linkCode=as2&tag=youadugueblo-20&linkId=GEOTJZEDNDFXCGGI">Heaven</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=youadugueblo-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0842379428" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 21.0pt;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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