F. Poj's Blog

Gator Grove (Short Story)

Rick Mendez got on the road way before sunrise. The drive from Key West to Lucky Knowles' was a solid five hours. Lucky's place was the last post before the deep wilderness of the Southern Everglades."You must've left the Keys pretty early Mr. Mendez," said Lucky as he walked out of the junkyard."Well, I'd like to serve this notice and get back home soon; it's my little girl's birthday today.""I don't know 'bout that, Mr. Mendez; it will be a slow ride to O'Sullivan's place," said Lucky as he jumped into Mendez' Explorer."What is it that the County wants with old O'Sullivan anyways?" asked Lucky."It's an eviction order. The property is being foreclosed on back taxes. We've sent him plenty of notices to show up in court, and we can't seem to reach him.""Well, I'm not surprised. Since this area became protected, wild alligator meat was outlawed. He can't sell his catch anymore. I haven't seen the old man in months."They drove for two miles on a muddy road to a clearing. A mud runner boat was tied to a post a few feet into the marshland. Lucky adjusted the 4HP motor to the stern."Now, you will head southwest for 'bout an hour right through the open marshes," explained Lucky, "you will see a mangrove ahead of you, that's Gator Grove. By the eastern end you will find a way in through the mangrove. O'Sullivan's place is on a lagoon right at the center of the grove."Lucky hanged a rabbit's foot at the bow."For good luck?" asked Mendez."You bet.""I see."Lucky noticed the skeptic grim on the man's face."It's not called Gator Grove for nothin'; you know? Plenty of alligator 'round there, so, keep your hands on the boat and stay dry. Oh, and remember to keep an eye on that compass too.""Will do.""Well, sir, good luck. I better start walkin' back, gotta feed the dogs.""Thank you, Mr. Knowles.""You bet."
Mendez soon realized the little motor wouldn't pick up much speed. The morning had died and now the high noon sun was merciless, Mendez was drenched in sweat; he had underestimated the blazing desolation of the marshland.He found the opening by the edge of the mangrove like Lucky mentioned. In the darkness of the mangrove the air was sticky, but Mendez felt relieved from the scorching sun. The bellowing of hundreds of alligators filled the thick air; their presence was dark, unseen. Mendez got the message; he was an intruder.
By early afternoon, he found the clear in the mangrove. The house was standing on piles and surrounded by water. Once the boat was properly tied to a post, Mendez walked on the deck. "Mr. O'Sullivan? Are you home?" He knocked on the door, no answer."Mr. O'Sullivan, my name is Rick Mendez; I am with the Monroe County Assessor's Office. I have important information for you sir."Mendez came close to the glass window next to the door to take a look inside.The butt of a rifle came full force through the glass and hit him on the nose and forehead. As he was coming in and out of unconsciousness, he noticed he was being dragged through the deck, and then he was out again.
"Eviction?! You sonofabitch!" yelled the old man as Mendez was starting to wake up."What is this name on your ID? Ricardo Mendez?" continued O'Sullivan, "Where d'you come from, Mexico, Cuba?""What?" asked Mendez."This ain't no American name, you piece o' shit wetback."Mendez was now fully awake. He was tied to one of the piles. His chest was tightly chained to the post, and from there down, his body was submerged in the swampy water of the lagoon. He was completely naked, his feet entangled in oily swamp weed."Mr. O'Sullivan, please..." begged Mendez."Shut yer mouth you fucking immigrant!""I'm not...""They send a fucking immigrant to take my home?""Sir, please...""No habla English, motherfucker? I said shut yer mouth!" As he said this, he hit Mendez in the head, this time with a hammer.
The steps of the boots on the wooden deck woke him up again. The sun was going down now and thousands of mosquitoes came out of the mangrove. Mendez kept shaking his hands to keep them away, but to no avail.Old O'Sullivan approached him from behind."Did they teach you to read the Bible in your country, Mendez?""Please Mr. O'Sullivan; I need to get out of the water.""You still ain't gettin' my questions, are ya?"O'Sullivan took Mendez' left arm, pulled it back and stretched the hand over the wood deck, palm up. Then he took a four inch galvanized nail and hammered it down through hand and deck in three hits.The screams were loud, loud and lasting. The bellows of the alligators stopped suddenly. Only Mendez' cry could be heard in the lagoon. O'Sullivan moved to the right and did the same to the other arm, only this time, it took him five hits. Blood was trickling down to the water below.The old man stood up behind a crucified Mendez and proceeded to recite."O Lord, you are my dwelling place! No evil shall be allowed to befall me, no plague come near my tent. For you will command your angels concerning me to guard me in all my ways," he paused, "And here come the Lord's angels!"Two large male alligators silently and carefully came to inspect the offering. Then one of them closed his jaws on Mendez' left leg. O'Sullivan was silent and his eyes wide open as Mendez kept desperately screaming and crying. The eight hundred pound beast started twisting his body to pull the leg out of its socket. The second reptile followed, and then others came to finish what was left. There were no more screams or cries in Gator Grove, only bellowing, only hissing.
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The Fishmonger's DaughterA Flash Fiction Piece by F. Poj ...

The Fishmonger's DaughterA Flash Fiction Piece by F. Poj

Theriver turned golden as the sun rose behind Alessio's back. He steered the boatas he approached Ponte Vecchio at the heart of Florence. The bridge was rebuiltabout a century earlier, after the flood of 1333. The road over the bridge was linedwith houses and stores. He tied the boat to the abutment and called Filippafrom under the bridge.Filippa,the daughter of Benvenuto Bronzino, the fish merchant, opened her window toreceive Alessio's catch.
"Goodmorning, King of the Arno!" said Filippa."Goodmorning to you, Queen of Ponte Vecchio.""Whatbrings you this morning to the crossing of our kingdoms?""Icome to offer you the riches of my realm.""Andwhat could that be, sweet Alessio?""Browntrout, in quantity and quality.""Isee, but are they fresh?""Morethan fresh, fair Filippa, alive I towed them in the net behind myvessel...still in water.""BravoAlessio! Wait for my bucket."Fiveminutes later she was lowering the bucket from the pulley of the first floorwindow.Asthe first bucket came up she noticed the fish frantically shaking their tails."Trulyalive, I see!"
Whenthe last load was ready, Alessio stood on the bucket and hoisted himself up tothe window."Whatare you doing, my king?" asked Filippa as she placed a trout on the weightscale."Icome for a kiss, no less.""Butyou must go, Guidobaldo Malatesta is coming soon with his father to discuss awedding date with my father. They will kill you if they find you up here.""Whatis this Filippa, a wedding?""Ohmy sweet Alessio, will you take me away? Steal me from this bridge, from thisnightmare, from those butchers.""Ihave enough savings. Will you come with me to Sorrento?""Sorrento,by the sea. Yes! But when?""Afteryour father goes to bed tonight, come and meet me. I'll be under the bridgewith the boys by the right abutment.""Iwill, I promise."Shesaid these last words as she pressed her lips firmly on his. When Alessioopened his eyes, he saw Guidobaldo coming through the front door."Whatis this?!" screamed the butcher's son as he saw them kissing. "Youstinking fish boy!"Hegrabbed a knife from the gutting board and pushed Filippa against the wall.Alessio saw that Guidobaldo was ready to give him death so he took a largetrout from the bucket and slapped the man's face, then immediately let himselffall into the river below. The butcher boy saw Alessio get on his boat and runacross the store and out to the street only to bump into Signora de Rossi, thewidow of the hen merchant next door.Thebasket of eggs was crushed between their chests."Outof my way!" he yelled.Hestormed into his father's shop and jumped right out of the window to fall intothe river missing Alessio's boat by 2 hairs of a fruit fly."IfI see you touching Filippa again, I'll kill you fish boy!""Youcan kiss my trout, Malatesta!" screamed Alessio with a fish between hislegs.
Thatevening, Filippa wrote a short letter to her sleeping father, and walked out.Guidobaldowas spying on her from his window across the street. He made his way downstairsand out into the street. He saw Filippa turn the corner at the end of thebridge and ran for her exactly when Signora de Rossi opened her front door onhis face."Aaah!It's you again! You broke my nose you old bag of fat!""OhI am so sorry my boy.""Move,old bag, I have a score to settle."
Alessioand Filippa were sitting hand in hand under the bridge, by the right bank ofthe river. Piero Baldovinetti, Alessio's best friend, was singing old songs,while Father Barbarigo was grilling a trout.AsFilippa finished her wine amidst giggles she saw a familiar figure approachclumsily down the embankment."Martinella,is that you?""Ohmy dear, I found you!" answered Signora de Rossi."Howdid you know we were here?""Nothinghappens on or under Ponte Vecchio that I don't know of, my dear.""Well,I'm glad you came. We were just...""Mydear Filippa, there is no time. That butcher's son is looking for you andAlessio, and he carries a knife. You two should run far and fast.""FatherBarbarigo, we must hurry, would you do us the honor?" begged Filippa."Nothingwould pleaaaase me more, child. Off we go. Piero, Signora... we need you aswetnessessss' said a rather inebriated priest.Asthe group walked into the cathedral, Guidobaldo spotted them from across thepiazza."Ihad a drunk too many...a drink too many I mean" said father Barbarigo,"On with the baptism...no...the wedding...rrrrright...holy mrathremony."They all burst in laughter.
"AlesssssioMarrrfggghrmonti, do youuuu take Filrrhhippa Brronzinahh as yourrr..." FatherBarbarigo attempted the speech while suddenly; loud knocking was heard from themain door of the cathedral."Openthis damn door right away, you miserable scoundrels!" yelled Guidobaldo."Quickfather", said Alessio, "I do! I do!""Oh...allwwrrright. And you, fair Filfffhippa Brrronzinaaahhh, take AlesssioMarrrggh...""Ido! Father, for the love of Jesus, I do!"Thethumping on the door was louder and louder."Iprreneunce yeh...hussband and wwwrife. Yeh may kissss thee bridghhh."Filippaand Alessio kissed each other's smiles.BANG!Guidobaldo broke through the door and BANG again, a bronze crucifix fell on hishead. Guidobaldo hit the floor unconscious as Signora de Rossi stood by him.
Filippaand Alessio were riding South on Pietro's horse when the sun broke the day onthe horizon."HaveI told you about the size of the octopuses we used to catch in Sorrento?""No,my love, you haven't" answered Filippa."Tenpounds and more, I swear.""Tellme more, my king, tell me more."

The Fishmonger's DaughterA Flash Fiction Piece by F. Poj...

The Fishmonger's DaughterA Flash Fiction Piece by F. Poj

The river turned golden as the sun rose behind Alessio's back. He steered the boat as he approached Ponte Vecchio at the heart of Florence. The bridge was rebuilt about a century earlier, after the flood of 1333. The road over the bridge was lined with houses and stores. He tied the boat to the abutment and called Filippa from under the bridge.Filippa, the daughter of Benvenuto Bronzino, the fish merchant, opened her window to receive Alessio's catch.
"Good morning, King of the Arno!" said Filippa."Good morning to you, Queen of Ponte Vecchio.""What brings you this morning to the crossing of our kingdoms?""I come to offer you the riches of my realm.""And what could that be, sweet Alessio?""Brown trout, in quantity and quality.""I see, but are they fresh?""More than fresh, fair Filippa, alive I towed them in the net behind my vessel...still in water.""Bravo Alessio! Wait for my bucket."Five minutes later she was lowering the bucket from the pulley of the first floor window.As the first bucket came up she noticed the fish frantically shaking their tails."Truly alive, I see!"
When the last load was ready, Alessio stood on the bucket and hoisted himself up to the window."What are you doing, my king?" asked Filippa as she placed a trout on the weight scale."I come for a kiss, no less.""But you must go, Guidobaldo Malatesta is coming soon with his father to discuss a wedding date with my father. They will kill you if they find you up here.""What is this Filippa, a wedding?""Oh my sweet Alessio, will you take me away? Steal me from this bridge, from this nightmare, from those butchers.""I have enough savings. Will you come with me to Sorrento?""Sorrento, by the sea. Yes! But when?""After your father goes to bed tonight, come and meet me. I'll be under the bridge with the boys by the right abutment.""I will, I promise."She said these last words as she pressed her lips firmly on his. When Alessio opened his eyes, he saw Guidobaldo coming through the front door."What is this?!" screamed the butcher's son as he saw them kissing. "You stinking fish boy!"He grabbed a knife from the gutting board and pushed Filippa against the wall. Alessio saw that Guidobaldo was ready to give him death so he took a large trout from the bucket and slapped the man's face, then immediately let himself fall into the river below. The butcher boy saw Alessio get on his boat and run across the store and out to the street only to bump into Signora de Rossi, the widow of the hen merchant next door.The basket of eggs was crushed between their chests."Out of my way!" he yelled.He stormed into his father's shop and jumped right out of the window to fall into the river missing Alessio's boat by 2 hairs of a fruit fly."If I see you touching Filippa again, I'll kill you fish boy!""You can kiss my trout, Malatesta!" screamed Alessio with a fish between his legs.
That evening, Filippa wrote a short letter to her sleeping father, and walked out.Guidobaldo was spying on her from his window across the street. He made his way downstairs and out into the street. He saw Filippa turn the corner at the end of the bridge and ran for her exactly when Signora de Rossi opened her front door on his face."Aaah! It's you again! You broke my nose you old bag of fat!""Oh I am so sorry my boy.""Move, old bag, I have a score to settle."
Alessio and Filippa were sitting hand in hand under the bridge, by the right bank of the river. Piero Baldovinetti, Alessio's best friend, was singing old songs, while Father Barbarigo was grilling a trout.As Filippa finished her wine amidst giggles she saw a familiar figure approach clumsily down the embankment."Martinella, is that you?""Oh my dear, I found you!" answered Signora de Rossi."How did you know we were here?""Nothing happens on or under Ponte Vecchio that I don't know of, my dear.""Well, I'm glad you came. We were just...""My dear Filippa, there is no time. That butcher's son is looking for you and Alessio, and he carries a knife. You two should run far and fast.""Father Barbarigo, we must hurry, would you do us the honor?" begged Filippa."Nothing would pleaaaase me more, child. Off we go. Piero, Signora... we need you as wetnessessss' said a rather inebriated priest.As the group walked into the cathedral, Guidobaldo spotted them from across the piazza."I had a drunk too many...a drink too many I mean" said father Barbarigo, "On with the baptism...no...the wedding...rrrrright...holy mrathremony." They all burst in laughter.
"Alesssssio Marrrfggghrmonti, do youuuu take Filrrhhippa Brronzinahh as yourrr..." Father Barbarigo attempted the speech while suddenly; loud knocking was heard from the main door of the cathedral."Open this damn door right away, you miserable scoundrels!" yelled Guidobaldo."Quick father", said Alessio, "I do! I do!""Oh...all wwrrright. And you, fair Filfffhippa Brrronzinaaahhh, take Alesssio Marrrggh...""I do! Father, for the love of Jesus, I do!"The thumping on the door was louder and louder."I prreneunce yeh...hussband and wwwrife. Yeh may kissss thee bridghhh."Filippa and Alessio kissed each other's smiles.BANG! Guidobaldo broke through the door and BANG again, a bronze crucifix fell on his head. Guidobaldo hit the floor unconscious as Signora de Rossi stood by him.
Filippa and Alessio were riding South on Pietro's horse when the sun broke the day on the horizon."Have I told you about the size of the octopuses we used to catch in Sorrento?""No, my love, you haven't" answered Filippa."Ten pounds and more, I swear.""Tell me more, my king, tell me more."

The Wife (Award Winning Flash Fiction)

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They devoured each other in the bathroom. They kissed every inch of skin. They explored every curve, and corner, and cavity. They tasted each other. They exhausted their energy and spent every drop of love on one another. Then they crawled back to the blanket on the floor. She hated the bed, he knew it.The morning was tired and getting ready for noon. They had time for one last nap. They fell asleep as one, tight. The day grew older and noon became afternoon.
 Get award winning short story The Wife on Amazon for FREE 

Award Winning super short story.

The Wife is now available at the Five Stop Story website as an Honorary Mention winner.

Awards!

My very...very short story "The Wife" has received another award. It got an Honorary Mention at the Five Stop Story Spring Competition and will be published in their app in a few weeks. Back in March it was awarded a second place at the Darker Times Competition and it has already been published both in paperback and digitally in the Darker Times Collection, an anthology of dark tales and poems.
Here are the links to these cool sites full of short fiction by new writers:

 http://www.darkertimes.co.uk/
http://www.fivestopstory.com/index.html

Trains and airports sketch log. NY/DC

I find it hard to concentrate on writing when I'm traveling. Trains, airports, airplanes...hard to focus surrounded by hundreds of people. I spend my time at these places sketching from art books or magazines. Sometimes, these sketches will even inspire me with ideas for short stories. Here is my sketch log from my last trip to NY and DC. I hope you enjoy it!
 

Crawl Space by F. Poj ©

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"Crawl Space, Architectural Definition: a shallow, unfinished space with a dirt floor beneath the lowest level of a building.  Created especially for access to plumbing and wiring. This space is accessible by crawling, its clearance being less than human height."
It was just a job like many others; an old, abandoned public school near downtown Buffalo. Even only a couple of blocks away from City Hall, Buffalo could be a pretty desolate place in winter, almost a ghost town. The City was going to turn this old school into an office building and they needed updated floor plans.
'Everything,' said Laura on the e-mail. 'Plans of every floor, roofs, basements, attics, and crawl spaces.'
Frankie had been freelancing for Laura as a building surveyor for years now. After 9/11 many Architecture firms went down and Frankie had been laid off like thousands of young architects. He was fast and accurate with CAD though; so he scored this opportunity to do free lance building surveys for Laura. She charged handsome fees for these jobs, and paid her surveyors good money, and on time. Frankie enjoyed the freedom, the traveling, and the pay check. Flight to a city for three or four days, sketch and measure, flight back home to draw the whole thing on CAD, e-mail it, get paid.
As he got off the car, the frozen wind cut through his face. 'Nice fucking weather for a roof survey today,' he thought. He was getting older now and would often think that surveying was not the glamorous Architecture career he dreamed about during his senior year in college; but, the money was too good to reject in times like these. A job which could be done in two or three weeks provided comfortable income for a month and a half.
It was the fourth and, hopefully, last day on site. Frankie had to finish the roofs and then one last area at the basement. As he walked the long main corridor, to get to the back staircase, he had the feeling that there was someone else in this building, that he wasn't alone. But, this 250,000 sq. ft. abandoned public school had broken windows; the wind howled through the openings and, old hanging maps and charts fluttered with the draft. Not to mention cats, rats and birds. He eventually got used to all these noises and stopped paying attention to them. Besides, if there was someone else there, it wouldn't be the first time he found a homeless person living in a place like this. They would always stay away from him, hiding, out of fear of being "evicted".
To access the section of roof he needed to survey that morning, he had to walk out a window on the top floor. He then took two steps on the ledge and climbed an old exterior ladder. Once on top, he had to climb over a section of sloped copper roofing which was covered with ice. When he was about to grab the ridge, one of his pens fell off his jacket pocket and he slid down back to the ladder as he tried to catch it. His body was stopped by the old ladder, but he could see the pen falling into the abyss and finally hitting the ground four floors below in the inner courtyard. The whole thing lasted a few seconds, but he felt the sweat pour out throughout his body even in the cold.
He finally made it to the flat section up on top. The wind was strong, and ice was all over the roofing membrane, very tricky. After a few minutes, sketching became painful and difficult. He couldn't work well with the gloves on, so he took them off and the cold penetrated his fingers. Long dimensions were difficult to measure. It was becoming hard for him to see the laser mark across the distance with all the glare on the ice. 'You better get me a big fucking job down in Florida next month, Laura, or I'll kick that irresistible cute little ass of yours,' thought Frankie.
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Subsótano (Título original "Crawl Space")

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"Subsótano, Definición arquitectónica: un espacio poco profundo y sin terminar, con piso de tierra, por debajo del nivel habitable más bajo de un edificio. Construido especialmente para acceso a instalaciones eléctricas y sanitarias. Este espacio es accesible arrastrándose, ó de rodillas, siendo su altura menor que la humana."
Era sólo un trabajo como tantos otros; una vieja escuela pública abandonada cerca del centro de Buffalo. Incluso solo a un par de cuadras de la municipalidad, Buffalo suele ser un lugar bastante desolado en invierno, casi un pueblo fantasma. La Municipalidad iba a convertir esta vieja escuela en un edificio de oficinas, y necesitaban planos al día. 'Todo,' había dicho Laura en el e-mail. 'Planos de todos los niveles, techos, sótanos, áticos, y subsótanos.' Frankie había estado trabajando como contratista independiente para Laura, haciendo relevamientos de edificios por años. Después del 9/11, muchas firmas de arquitectura quebraron y Frankie perdió su trabajo, como miles de arquitectos. El era rápido y prolijo con CAD (Diseño asistido por Computadora); así que consiguió la oportunidad para hacer mediciones de manera independiente para Laura. Ella cobraba honorarios muy altos por estos trabajos, y les pagaba a sus sub-contratados buen dinero y en fecha. A Frankie le caían bien la libertad, los viajes, y los cheques que recibía. Volar a una ciudad por tres o cuatro días, bosquejar y medir, volver a casa a dibujar todo en CAD, enviarlo por e-mail, cobrar. Al bajar del auto, el viento helado le cortaba la cara. 'Que clima de mierda para andar midiendo techos hoy.' pensó. Ya no era tan joven, y más de una vez pensaba que hacer relevamientos no era la carrera prestigiosa de arquitecto con la que había soñado durante su último año de universidad; pero, el dinero era demasiado como para rechazarlo en tiempos de crisis. Un trabajo que podía realizarse en dos o tres semanas, representaba ingresos para vivir cómodamente un mes y medio. Era el cuarto, y con suerte, último día en el edificio. Frankie debía terminar de medir los techos y luego una sección que le faltaba en los sótanos. Mientras transitaba el largo corredor principal para llegar a la escalera de atrás, tuvo la sensación que había alguien más en el edificio, que no estaba solo. Pero, esta escuela pública abandonada, de 25.000m², tenía muchas ventanas rotas; el viento soplaba por las aberturas y, viejos mapas e ilustraciones vibraban con la corriente de aire. Sin mencionar a los gatos, ratas, y pájaros que allí anidaban. Eventualmente se acostumbró a estos sonidos y ya no les prestaba más atención. Además, si hubiese alguien más por ahí, no sería la primera vez que se encontraba a un vagabundo viviendo en un lugar así. Siempre se apartaban de él, escondiéndose, por miedo a ser desalojados.

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The Long Honeymoon (A Short Story with Russian Accent) by F. Poj

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This morning I woke up and I noticed I was dead. I mean, I've had some tough mornings before, but this was fucking ridiculous. Even before I opened my eyes I noticed I wasn't breathing, but that didn't bother me that much, what was really getting on my nerves were those flies coming in and out of my ears. Through the buzzing I could hear a commotion outside my door, something about a foul stench. My mother was already blaming my grandmother for clogging up the toilet again and my father kept yelling at her that the toilet was just fine, and that the smell was coming from somewhere else.
She started banging at my door and yelling at me: 'Misha, get up, you need to go get the plumber!'
'In a minute Mom, I'll be right out.'
I was sluggish, my energy was really low and it took me a while to move my dead limbs. I could finally sit at the edge of my bed when my mother opened the door.
'Misha, what wrong? The smell come from your room!'
'Mom, I don't feel very well this morning.'
'What Misha? You look so pale, I make you some tea. OK?'
'Mom, I don't want any tea, I think I'm dead.'
'Dead tired you mean? You came so late last night, I hear you come in. You drink too much?'
'No Mom, I'm dead, really dead. I'm not breathing.'
'What dead?! What is this? Since when?'
'Just now, I woke up and I was dead.'
'Today?! On your sister's wedding day? Stop joking around Mikhail, get up, I make you tea and you go get Pyotr the plumber.'
'I'm not fooling around mom. I am stiff as a 2x4.'
'You not serious. You don't want to be doctor, you don't want to marry Sophia, and now you wake up dead on your sister's wedding day' my Mom said. 'You embarrass me even today! I will have a talk with your father, we will fix this.'


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