Chris’s Comments (group member since Nov 04, 2015)

Chris’s comments from the Science Fiction Microstory Contest group.

Excellent story, Thaddeus. Congrats!

Mines up. Kind of a variation on an MG novel I've been working on. Now, if I can only publish one of them...

The Herald Returns

“This can’t be it,” K’eth doubted of Ayla, studying the tiny blue and green planet from the bridge of their starship. “They aren’t even spacefaring.”

“The Key is the way,” Ayla said, producing the small, glowing cube from her pocket. It shimmered, more brilliantly now than ever, its energy pulling to an edge closest the world below them.

“After a thousand lifetimes? I hope you’re right.”

“I’m sure of it,” she replied, just as a streak of fire tore through the upper atmosphere. “They’re here!”


**********


Running. Liam Hollander tore through the evening forest, fleeing a monster. He never really saw it, but a distant reverberating growl and the sense of life threatening dread compelled him. So, he ran. Through the forest between his school and his family’s old farmhouse, he knew every rock and fallen tree, even in the darkness, never slowing…never relenting to the beast. Limbs snapped and the ground crunched, a desperate fury closing in behind him.

Finally, Liam reached the clearing, his feet hitting the old boards of his front porch just before frigid darkness enveloped him, a shadow of teeth and claws. Terrified, Liam staggered backwards.

Then, the whole world exploded.


**********


Crickets hummed their soothing rhythm, dusk settling upon the farmstead, and Christopher Hollander worked at the old mule post which had loosened itself over the years.

“How’s it going, Dad?” Owen asked, charging down the stairs and using the post to pivot before heading into the dining room. It creaked and shifted again, his father dropping his head, defeated.

Kim Hollander smiled. “You’ll get it one of these days,” she said, helping her daughter, Emma, transfer an overgrown houseplant into a larger pot.

“Yeah, maybe when the kids move out,” he chuckled.

Suddenly, blinding light burst through all the windows at once, bathing the house in the brightness of daylight. “The heck is that?” Owen shielded his eyes.

“A car up the driveway, maybe?” Kim supposed.

The house shuddered.

“That’s no car,” Christopher doubted, approaching the front door with hammer in hand, his wife tepidly behind him. He’d no sooner reached the knob when the doorway exploded inward, tossing the two back. Both hit the far wall, slumping over unconscious.

The door landed hard, Liam dropping down upon it in a fetal position, covered in bits and goo. Then, through the haze, a slender human-like female stepped inside, holstering her pistol. With glistening cobalt skin and deep obsidian eyes, she said, “G’thek uk no,” extending her hand.

Without consideration, Emma raced to their parents, who were thankfully still alive.

Then, the being produced a small glowing box, light pulsing in three separate directions, one for each child, upon its surface. Puzzled, the visitor turned the object in hand, but no matter the position, the signal remained true.

Owen grabbed for a baseball bat kept in the corner, and instantly charged.

A beam from the stranger’s wrist caught him immediate and he froze. “G’thek uk no,” it repeated.

“We don’t know what you want?” Emma cried.

The visitor pressed behind her ear. “Sorry,” Ayla explained, “I’ve reset my translator. You need to come with me.”

“We’re not going anywhere!”

“The fate of the universe is at stake, little one,” Ayla pleaded. “Reject your destiny, and your planet, along with every other world, will be destroyed.”

Liam groaned, and Ayla helped him up. “I’m here as a friend.” She released Owen and he reluctantly lowered his bat. “Curious, there’s never been more than one,” she marveled. “I don’t fully understand, but you three are the Ketzolk N’or – the Herald returned. It’s said you will save the universe.”

“I saw something,” Liam said. “Something terrible. She’s right. I can feel it.”

“Me too,” Owen agreed with sudden realization.

“How can three kids from Nebraska possibly save the universe?” Emma wondered.

Ayla explained, “You’ve yet to unlock your power. This cube is the key. Hidden within each of you, is the power of creation. You were born to save this reality.”

An explosion from overhead and K’eth announce from the ship, “Ayla, more just arrived! Time’s up!”

“What about our parents?” Liam wondered, comforting Emma.

Ayla scanned each of them. “They’ll be fine, and the Grelx are only after you. If you truly love them, we have to go, now. We’ll contact them later.” She placed a small device upon the floor.

“You sure about this,” Owen asked Liam.

“Probably shouldn’t be, but I am,” he answered.

So, they followed Ayla out into the light.

Congrats, Marianne! :)

Thanks, Tom. I appreciate it.

Mine's up. Went with a bit of a superhero slant.

Enemy Revisited

Harlan Osborn summoned his strength and lifted his old tractor sideways, the alien runes running the lengths of his arms surging with power. “Damn,” he said to himself, discovering a cracked transfer case. “Gonna be next to impossible to find. Well,” he set the tractor down again, “can’t stay here in the middle of the field.” So, he shifted his leverage and lifted the machine overhead, his feet leaving the ground as he drifted back to the barn with four tons over his head.

Dark clouds from the west meant a storm on the horizon. It had been a dry summer and the rain was more than welcome. The air began to stir, thunder approaching as hundreds of acres of corn covering the hills all around him danced in the wind. Harlan set the tractor down inside the barn and wiped the grease from his hands. A deep sigh and his mind drifted to other times – epic space battles, planetary aide missions, even the collapse of whole star systems.

“Do your people even know?” a familiar figure sneered, rounding the entrance to the barn.

“You should be dead,” Harlan said, tossing his rag away before strolling coolly past him into what was left of the remaining sunlight.

“Please, you know me better than that.”

“Sent to hell for everything you’ve done.”

“I did it for the good of the galaxy.”

“Telling yourself that doesn’t make it so,” Harlan said. “Malgus the Obliterator, Destroyer of Worlds, isn’t that what they call you?”

“Simple labels from simpler minds,” Malgus replied. “But you never answered my question. Do your people even know?”

Harlan didn’t answer at first, headed toward his old farmhouse at the center of the property. “No. And hopefully they’ll never need to.”

“Even after all this time, after everything we’ve been through, your world is as backward as you were when we first fought. Incomprehensible interstellar power, contained within the miserable meatsack of a human, and none of your own kind even have a clue. Pathetic.”

“The Intelligence chose me for a reason, Malgus. God knows why.”

“Likely, your wretched notions of honor and justice…antiquated nonsense.”

“They were enough to defeat you weren’t they?”

“Were they?” Malgus grinned, smoothing down his splines with crimson fingers. “I’m still here after all.”

“After all of it,” Harlan acknowledged. “The good people lost, whole worlds ravaged…” He turned back to Malgus. “I chased you across the universe and back! Defeated your armies! Saved whole star systems!”

“But you finally broke your first rule. You took justice into your own hands when you killed me,” Malgus grinned, new faces appearing from the cornfield - old enemies, terrible conquerors, the most horrible villains in the universe, all of them fixed on Harlan. “And I was just the first of many.”

“I did what I had to.”

“Telling yourself that doesn’t make it so,” Malgus taunted.

The memories weighed heavily on Harlan’s mind. He’d lost good friends, had arrived too late too many times, and finally had almost given up on being a hero altogether. He was tired, exhausted from the constant conflict. Of course, Harlan never asked for his power, and it felt more like a curse now in some ways, especially with the universe quiet, for he could never forget the things he’d seen. Still, there were the planets he’d saved, the coalitions he’d created, the allies who became friends…the hopeful gaze of tearful eyes on too many alien worlds that had all but given up. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“Just to stare one more time into the face of my mightiest foe,” Malgus said, Harlan’s enemies closing in all around. “Just to see you finally defeated.”

“Am I?”

Malgus ran his fingers along the simple wooden fence surrounding the old farmhouse. “You’re already defeated and don’t even know it. Farming,” he scoffed. “The universe’s mightiest champion, reduced to digging in the dirt. I suppose, in the end, I won.”

Suddenly, a gale burst forth and the faces of his old foes drifted away, all but Malgus. Harlan charged his fist and blasted an energy bolt which passed cleanly through his old nemesis’ ghostly body without a mark. “Maybe not in this form, maybe not as I was, but I’ll be seeing you,” Malgus grinned before he, too, drifted away on the breeze.

“And I’ll defeat you again,” Harlan said confidently, settling back into his rocking chair as the rain began. “As many times as it takes.”

Congrats Marianne! Nicely done!

Tom wrote: "I think there was ample "foreshadowing" when the princess says she barely knows her father. Clearly, there was no love lost between them and hardly any need for internal conflict. In that sense, th..."

Tom, thanks for your input about my story. I really appreciate it. I'm really not all that much of a wordsmith, so that pesky word limit seems to handicap me sometimes. That being said, and since we had some time left, I was able to go back and reconsider the story, taking into account yours and Paula's input. I made a few small changes. Not sure if they made that much of a difference, but I think the story works a little better with the edits.

Thanks again! :)

Paula wrote: "[spoiler alert]--persons other than the story's author should wait to read this comment until after month's voting is over.
Chris--this story is vivid, well-paced, grabby . . . right up until near..."

Thanks, Paula. I always really appreciate your input. To be honest, I was a little concerned that the ending was a bit flat and too rushed (that pesky 750 word limit. I must have shaved about 400 words off the original story). Oh, well, thanks again! :)

Mine's up.

Reja

Her skin was impossibly soft and I ran my fingers along her cheek as if I hadn’t a care. God, I so adored her deep lavender eyes. Lounging together in the tall grasses overlooking the ocean, she saw me, and I, her. But it was an impossible dream, for I was human, one of dozens at the Oordian Embassy here on Earth. She was my assignment – protecting the Reja’s daughter. Even touching Xylenya risked an agonizing death if we were discovered. Still, her gaze was intoxicating.

“Brennigh, copy?” my comm signaled, bringing me back to reality, the rhythm of the waves against the shore and the hum of a half dozen security drones returning.

“I’m here, Sanchez. What’s up?”

“The Reja’s ship just dropped from hyperspace and’ll be arriving in the hour. Better head back. They’ll be expecting the princess.”

“Gotcha. Hey, you have any idea what this is all about?”

“Way above my pay grade, man. Just get back here.”

“Will do,” I replied. “Looks like our little retreat is over,” I smiled, rising and straightening my gun harness.

Xylenya rolled onto her back, her pearlescent skin glistening like stardust. Anxiously, she turned the ends of an ancient Oordian blade in her fingertips, her mind lost in the clouds.

“You’ll cut yourself,” I teased.

Grinning demurely, she replied, “This dagger is from my Initium, as intimate to me as my affection for you.”

“We should go.”

“Your world is a paradise. I would lay here forever, if it was up to me,” she sighed, “but it’s not.”

Helping her up, her gown caught the breeze. She was like an angel, more captivating than any woman I’d ever met, human or otherwise. Xylenya tucked her knife away and kissed me gently on the lips, pressing herself into my chest. “What I would give to spend my days with you – my title, all that I own.”

“I wish I could give as much, but if they ever discovered…”

“I know,” she lamented, stepping away. “Someday…”

Alarms blared and our drones’ indicators shifted from blue to red. “Remain still!” they commanded in unison, guns turning on us.

A shadow suddenly broke through the clouds. “Oracle’s breath!” Xylenya exclaimed. “He’s here!”

“Your father?”

“Don’t call him that. He’s a brutal tyrant, a contemptible stranger to me.”

Polished durasteel caught the sunlight, deep luminous etchings flowing elegantly along its slender keel. Atop the hull, charged Ionic syphons extended up and away, like the azure sails of a glorious yacht now covering us in shadow. Finally, landing struts dug into the hillside and a slender ramp descended from a towering ornate doorway.

The first to emerge were the Royal Order, the Reja’s personal guard. Next were the lavishly kept concubines, followed by the attendants. Finally, a deep reverberating groan announced the descent of the Reja, and he drifted down upon a richly adorned hovering dais, his closest consorts at his feet. Stopping at Xylenya, he extended his hand. “Greetings, daughter.”

“Your highness,” she kissed his ring. Only the Reja’s heirs dared to get so close.

“Rise,” he glowered down upon her. “You’ve been busy.”

“Excellency?”

The Reja motioned to me. “This…peasant.”

“My bodyguard?”

“Your lover!” he accused, mouth drawn into a scowl. “I see everything,” our drones landed neatly beside him. “As first heir, you are to be pure of physical contact, now infected by this wretch.”

“I assure you I…”

“Dared to let him touch you!” he scolded. “The insolence! You taint our house with his filth!” A simple gesture and his guards restrained me.

“Forgive me! Father, I…” she pleaded.

“Spare me your indignity,” he leaned in, glaring devilishly. “Be assured, we shall beat the infection out of you. First, however, I shall filet him…”

Her Oordian dagger entered beneath his jaw, eyes widening in immediate shock as his body went limp. Withdrawing the blade, she ran her fingers along its edge, placing a spot of his blood upon her forehead.

Instantly, the guards released me and every attendant dropped to their knees, facing her.

“What…what did you do?”

“What I had to,” Xylenya admitted. “On my world, there are two ways to ascend the throne, but both are through death. This way is more unfortunate, but necessary for this sca’avak. Now that I am Reja...”

“Should I be afraid?” I interrupted, suddenly chilled by the unexpected brutality of it.

She placed her blood soaked fingertip upon my forehead, marking me as protected, before kissing me passionately on the lips. “Not anymore.”

Congrats on another win, Jot! Nicely done! :)

Seasoning


“…unknown virus…certain death with no cure…doomed…our final transmission. May God have mercy on...”

A ‘clack-clack’ and I lurched awake, their final broken communication still echoing in my mind. My sentence had been my salvation, stranded on a barren planetoid at the edge of the galaxy.

Rolling out of bed, I massaged my lower back to limber up. I should’ve slept on the floor. It’s funny that I really missed the simple things, like an occasional supply ship, and had no idea at the time that I’d have to make do with whatever I had left. It wasn’t much.

‘Clack-clack.’

I propped open the steel shutters, sheltering my eyes from the continuous flood of daylight. My prison, this hell I called home, never knew night, never knew weather…nothing but endless sunshine in a trinary star system. In the beginning, I justified it to be better to die free and alone than be damned to a crowded prison. Now, my exile was maddening, and the fail-safes implanted in my brain prevented me from even killing myself.

‘Clack-clack.’

At least I had the breeze, and I opened the door wide. Of course, my home wasn’t much – just an old shipping container baked by the suns. I had plenty of water, drawn from deep below ground, but my cooling system struggled. Thankfully, my rebuilt converter could transform a handful of dirt and a few grams of my own shit into a reasonable approximation of a filet mignon. Today, though, I’d just start with coffee.

Easing back into my old steel chair, I wiped the sweat from my brow and took a sip. I’d finally gotten the acidity right. The wind danced through steel chimes, accompanying the steady ‘clack-clack’ from a loose panel on my shed clapping down with every surge of wind.

‘Clack…’ Silence.

Odd, I stepped from my porch and rounded the corner to find an unexpected figure across the meager garden from me, not unlike a man, though taller by a meter and lacking any sort of a face. I stumbled back in terror, searching for some sort of weapon and finding it in a nearby shovel.

“Don’t be alarmed,” I heard in my mind, for the creature had no mouth from which to speak. “You’re the last.”

“The last what?” I asked.

“Human, of course.”

“Am I?” I suppose I was. “What…who are you?”

“One of trillions, spread across the universe like seeds upon the wind.”

“What do you want?” I brought my shovel up.

“To save you…resurrect your species.”

“How? Cloning?”

“No. A healthy breeding pair is the only way to preserve your quality,” it said.

“But, if I’m the last...”

“The last remote survivor, yes,” it confirmed.

“There are others?”

“Some. Yours is now the most prized species in the universe.”

“Prized? What does that mean?”

More creatures appeared beside it, approaching from behind the rocks. “We’ve savored you only recently. Sadly, our seasoning attempts only culled your herd.”

I stumbled backwards, trying to flee, but discovered more of them behind me. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Return you to your flock. We’ll take every measure to ensure a healthy, productive life – low stress, the freshest food, and access to many mates. In time, you’ll rebuild your numbers. Humanity is really the most delicious of all those we’ve encountered, especially now because of your rarity.”

Helplessly surrounded, a beam descended upon me and I was drawn into their ship. It was the last thing I remembered before waking up in a paradise.

“More fruit?” a stunning beauty asked, brushing her long brunette hair away to expose her perfectly toned body. I knew her name – Sophia. In my solitude, I would have settled for an old hag, even a robot for company, and Sophia was more striking than any woman I’d ever seen. There were dozens just like her, men too – just as perfect, just as fit, rescued from around the galaxy and brought to this utopia. Our caretakers groomed us gently to ensure our fitness, lacing our food with androgens and even limiting our clothing to encourage breeding. I’d gone from enduring hell to tolerating heaven, though their sinister purpose never left my mind.

“Leave me be,” I sulked into a pillow, remembering that I couldn’t even kill myself.

“Mr. Bishop, please try to relax. We must rebuild your species,” a familiar voice whispered in my head.

“Perhaps you’d like more than fruit, then,” Sophia teased, pressing herself in. Too aroused, I welcomed her eager caress.

Congrats Jeremy! :)

Thaddeus, wow. Had not been in on the comment feed for this month until today, so hadn't gotten any notifications. So sorry for your losses and truly happy for your victories. You've had a busy time of it and I hope you find peace amongst it all.

Seamstress

Elissa missed the charging clamps and her hoverbike toppled over sideways. “Shoot!” She was late, and sprinted for her room. Nora, the Regal Seamstress, was already there when she arrived. “Sorry,” Elissa moaned, hurrying to remove her outer garments, dropping them to the floor. “Lost track of time.”

“Pish-posh,” the old woman smiled. “Here you are.” Surrounded by antique trunks, she untied a wrapped bundle, rolling it out to reveal her tools. “I should say, however, you’re taking this ceremony very lightly. Here, hold this.” She produced a small device attached to an elastic strap.

“What is it,” Elissa asked.

“A garment field,” she said. “My own invention.”

“What do I do with it?”

“Put it on your wrist,” she explained, and Elissa did so. Next, the woman pulled out her best silks and finest ribbons, laying them out. She then opened the tall trunk behind her, revealing a simple, yet elegant, white gown, bare at the shoulders and just about Elissa’s size. “Now, turn the dial to the first setting.”

Immediately, the gown drifted weightlessly away, rising over Elissa’s shoulders and lowering itself down over her. The material shimmered in the warm light and was soft as a feather. Elissa turned circles in the mirror, smoothing the dress down admiringly. “It’s beautiful.”

“The finest Cortusian silk,” Nora agreed and went to work tightening the seams. “Your parents spared no expense.”

“My parents,” she sighed, her mood suddenly changing. “Is all this really necessary?”

“You’re coming of age, my dear. The presentation ceremony is a critical moment for you.” She winked, “Hopefully, you’ll fetch a wealthy husband, maybe even a royal. Now stand still.” Nora turned Elissa’s device to the second position, then began placing long trains of fabric at specific points in midair around her, the field anchoring them in place.

“But what if I don’t want this?”

“It’s your birthright. And I’m doing this fitting just as I did for your mother.” The last piece in place and Nora turned the girl fully toward the mirror. Elissa stood adorned in glistening silks floating over open shoulders, wraps and laces drifting on an imperceptible wind, all accented by fiery virtual wings upon her back. “Well?”

“It’s…beautiful.”

Nora sensed disappointment. “Yes, too much around the shoulders, I think,” and she turned back the dial. Immediately, all the fabric dropped away.

“It’s not that,” Elissa sighed. “I just want more than a privileged life. I want to really live!”

“The decision is ultimately yours,” she said, pins between her teeth and layering a bit around Elissa’s shoulders, even more behind the hips. “Of course, if you decline the ceremony, you’ll never ascend.”

“But I don’t want to move up the elitist ranks,” she sulked. “I want to know what it is to work, to prepare my own food, clean my own room, and go wherever I want. I want to fall in love and have children that aren’t genetically engineered.”

“Let me tell you the story of a girl who wanted the same. She was young and beautiful, impulsive, though bright, even heiress to a Grand Duke. She, too, longed for a great adventure.”

“What happened?”

“She found it, I suppose, travelling to the farthest reaches of the Verellian Abyss, even surfing the cometary jetties of Relusia. She met a man, who broke her heart, found another and had children. One of them died. Eventually, she even regained the trust of the Great Houses in the simplest of jobs – Regal Seamstress. A good life.” Nora turned Elissa back to the mirror. “Done!”

Tight at the waist, long trains of silk and satin flowed weightlessly behind her, whilst elegant ribbons wound through her hair. She sparkled, and Elissa could hardly believe she was the girl in the mirror.

“Well?”

“Stunning.” She ran her fingers along the layers of ribbon, then sighed, “But it’s not me.” Elissa turned the dial back to zero and the fabric dropped immediately away. Her dress lifted overhead and returned to its trunk. “I’m sorry,” she said and gathered her clothes. “You’ll tell my parents?”

Nora nodded.

“Will it cause you trouble?”

“Heavens no,” she chuckled. “I’ve listened and retold the same story to countless daughters, even your mother.”

“Give them my love.” Elissa embraced her warmly before bolting away.

“Was that the outcome you expected?” the seamstress asked.

“It was the one I’d hoped for,” Elissa’s mother stepped from the shadows of the next room. “A mistake I made that, thankfully, she was strong enough to avoid.”

Great job Thaddeus. Congrats!

This Old House

“Just sign here,” the man said, wrinkled, shaky fingers handing over the pen. He pressed the documents firmly onto the hood of his car to keep the edges down in the wind.

Emerson Brock scratched his signature. “So this is it, then?”

“It’s all yours,” he handed Emerson the key, then latched his briefcase. “Good luck, Mr. Brock.” The man tipped his hat then drove steadily away down the forgotten road.

Elsa brushed her windblown hair away. “It’s not much to look at.”

“Well, no one’s lived here for years.” Emerson started up the long dirt driveway toward the house, a lonely Victorian overlooking twenty acres of golden prairie.

Part of the steeply pitched roof had succumb to time and the faded clapboards were loose in places. The porch creaked with the first step, so Emerson tested the boards just to make sure they could support him. Satisfied enough, he crossed the porch and inserted the key, the door creaking open. Inside, he found a single letter on the floor, likely dropped through the mail slot years ago. It left a clean spot, when he lifted it. The front said ‘Marianne.’ “My mom’s name,” he realized as the house whistled, drafty windows driving the odors of age and mildew.

Elsa ran her fingers across the sofa table, picking up a layer of dust before brushing it away. Every bit of the old furniture was still there, untouched as if they had simply just walked away. “You lived here?” She found a frame on the mantle and wiped the glass to reveal a happy family. “So what happened?”

“My dad just left. Didn’t say a word. Our whole life changed.” Emerson took the frame, running nostalgic fingertips over the image before setting it down carefully. “It hit my mom hard. I mean, my dad was brilliant, way beyond his engineering job at the mine. She never recovered. The bank eventually took the house and, when the mine went dry, so did the town.”

“So, why buy it back?”

“I still grew up here,” he said. “And I got it for pennies.”

She patted a pillow and a plume burst into the air. “I can see why.”

Emerson ran the envelope between his thumb and forefinger, distracted, a deluge of memories flooding back.

“Are you going to open it?”

“What?”

“The envelope.”

“Right. He ripped it open and his eyes went wide. “It’s…it’s from my dad.”

“Well?”

He began, “’Marianne, I know you’ll find this hard to understand, and hope you’ll forgive me. I pray I haven’t lost too much time. Please, head down to the cellar.’”

“Found it.” Elsa was there, descending the staircase with only the light on her phone.

“This is ridiculous.”

“C’mon, keep reading,” she urged.

He rolled his eyes but continued, “’You’ll find an old mirror that’s not a mirror at all.’ What the heck does that mean?”

Elsa pulled a sheet away. “This, I bet.”

“’On the side, there’s a keypad. Type the code 031793.’” Emerson paused. “My birthday.” Then, he read the last line. “’Hope to see you soon.’"

Elsa punched the numbers and their reflection instantly changed to a swirling tempest. Then, without warning, a figure burst through, landing hard on the floor. Frank Brock rolled onto his back.

“Dad?”

“Emerson?”

Emerson leaned in. His father hadn’t aged a day. “Where…where’ve you been?”

“1925,” he replied plainly. “It’s been months. Thank God that letter was delivered as instructed.” He ran his hand along his son’s adult face. “A bit late, I see. Oh, Emerson.”

“Seventeen years.”

“Sevent...” his response faded as his mind raced. “And your mother?”

“She’s okay,” Emerson stepped away, suddenly confused and angry. “Dad, what happened?”

“I’d been working the calculations for years, kind of a hobby,” he said. “Time travel requires a tremendous amount of quantum energy, but I finally cracked it. Problem was, the former owners of this house were scared to death when I came up their stairs from out of nowhere. The police arrested me for trespassing, and my remote lost charge while I was detained. I knew any recall had to be activated from this side, so as soon as I was released, I arranged for that letter.” Frank sighed heavily with regret. “I’ve missed you.”

“A lot happened after you disappeared.”

“I’m sure,” he lamented and rose to his feet. “Guess I’ve got a bit of catching up to do, and a lot of explaining. I think I should start with your mother.”

Tom wrote: "Chris wrote: "It's been a while, but I finally got one posted."
Welcome back, Chris. Missed you."

Thanks, Tom. I'll admit that this pandemic has wreaked havoc on my schedule. It's good to get something in this month.