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Week 226 (August 20-27). Stories. Topic: Wake up call
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AUTHOR: Garrison KellyTITLE: It's Okay For You To Love Me
WORD COUNT: 1,500 exactly
GENRE: Post-Teen Romance
RATING: PG for mild swearing
At the advice of his therapist, the autistic shy guy known as Leif Chadwick underwent sensory deprivation at the Green Dragon Spa and Resort. Once the lid to his isolation chamber closed, it was just him, a tub full of salt water, and his thoughts. He was in complete darkness with nothing to distract him as he floated at the surface of the warm liquid. Leif closed his eyes and relaxed as the nothingness took over his mind.
After a while of floating and thinking to himself, Leif could have sworn he heard a delicate female voice calling his name. He thought nothing of it and continued to relax. He heard his name being called over and over again by this beautiful voice. He opened his eyes and saw a lovely lady in front of him wearing a red sports bra and black yoga shorts. She had her blond hair in a ponytail, but pulled the hair tie out just for him.
“M…Mika? Is that you?” asked Leif. Mika Johnston was a yoga instructor at the Green Dragon Spa and Resort. Leif often thought about taking her classes just so he could be around his crush. But just like with any crush, he never followed through because he didn’t like being told no and therefore being hurt. He figured loneliness was the lesser of two evils, so he remained quiet.
This hallucination of Mika wouldn’t allow him to remain in his social barricade. She slowly approached him and held both of his delicate hands in hers. Leif’s heart was racing as Mika asked him, “Do you know why I’m here?” He could only shake his head no with a shaky disposition. Mika elaborated when she said, “I’m here for you, Leif. I’ve always been here for you. And yet, you never want to talk to me. Why?”
Leif forced a half-smile and said, “What is there to talk about?”
“We can talk about anything you want, honey. We can talk about the weather, your favorite movies, music, what you do for a living, or you could just simply say ‘Hi’ to me. I wouldn’t be against that,” said Mika.
“I’ll never get to the other side with just ‘Hi’,” said Leif.
“Well, maybe it’s not a golden ticket, but it’s a good way to start a conversation as far as I’m concerned. I do love good conversation. You know what else I love? Red roses. I have a whole nursery of them in my home next to my kitchen window. But you already knew that. You know more about me than you’re letting on,” said Mika.
“Look…I’m not very good at this. In fact, I’ve never talked to a girl this intimately before,” confessed Leif.
Mika cut him off by putting her finger to his lips and saying, “Leif…I want you to know…it’s okay for you to love me.” She proceeded to take his hand and place it on her heart shaped face. She moved his hand up and down so that he could feel the full effect of her smooth skin. For a short moment, he was happy. He finally made it to the other side just by being his sweet self.
And then Leif Chadwick pulled his hand away and said, “No, no, this is wrong. You’re not real. You’re not the real Mika Johnston. You’re just a ghost of some kind. In fact, what am I even doing in this stupid tub of water anyways?”
“You’re here because you want to find answers and I’m giving them to you on a silver platter. I’m not a ghost, Leif. I’m a part of your mind. I can tell you things that you won’t admit to yourself. That is the purpose of a sensory deprivation chamber,” said Mika.
“I know exactly what’s going to happen. I’m going to make kissy-kissy with you and then once I get out of this stupid chamber, I’m going to approach you in real life and you’re going to turn me down like any other sensible woman would,” said Leif.
“I wouldn’t be a part of your subconscious if you didn’t know anything about me. I may be a hallucination, but I’m more real than every other girl who turned away from you. Take a chance, Leif. You’re a nice person and a creative soul. There are lots of women out there who would be lucky to have a man like you,” said Mika.
“Lucky? Your idea of luck is having a man with no job and no place of his own, whose only source of money comes from social security checks because he’s too fucked up for anybody to hire him?!”
“A real woman wouldn’t care about those shallow things. She would see right through them and see you for the beautiful human being you are. How do you know if you don’t try, Leif? Do you just assume you’re a one out of ten every time? You have to believe in yourself,” said Mika.
“There’s nothing to believe in. Not anymore. When I was in high school, I had an excuse for not being rich and sexy. Now that I’m in the real world, I have nothing,” said Leif as a singular tear rolled down his cheek and dripped into the salt water.
Mika smiled at him and wrapped her yoga-toned arms around his quivering body. “I’m the woman of your dreams, Leif. And everybody has the right to dream. You may not be a shallow millionaire, but even you have the means to make your dreams come true,” she said.
The lovely instructor kissed Leif on the forehead and held him tightly. This “ghost” had fed him all the truthful affection he could handle and it was his time to breakdown and be honest with himself. He needed to try and it needed to happen as soon as the door to this chamber opened.
The next morning, the sky was filled with a brilliant fiery orange glow, which meant the “real” Mika Johnston would be teaching her yoga class outside the Green Dragon Spa in the park. She had about ten female students doing various twists and poses on their rubber mats, all of them in a peaceful state of mind.
Mika was doing a “child’s pose” when she picked her head up and saw the auburn-haired, casually-dressed Leif Chadwick off in the distance carrying a bouquet of flowers. They were red roses, just like she said in the isolation tank. Mika excused herself from the class and pranced her way to Leif to see what he was up to.
“Hi there! Are you interested in signing up for one of my classes?” asked the perky yoga instructor.
“Sure, why not,” said Leif. He cleared his throat before handing the bouquet of red roses to her. “Take them. They’re yours. I heard you liked red roses.”
“I sure do! My whole house is filled with them. These will go great with my collection. Thank you so much, Mister…”
“Chadwick. Leif Chadwick. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you as well,” said Mika. The two of them had huge grins on their faces, but Leif’s quickly disappeared when he saw a man in exercise clothes wrap his huge arm around Mika and kiss her on the lips. It wasn’t much of a secret what was going on here.
“Steve, this is my latest student Leif, Leif, this is my boyfriend Steve,” said Mika. Judging from the disappointed and heartbroken frown on Leif’s face, she knew not to rub it in any further than she already had. Leif nodded at her and walked away before Mika stopped him and said, “I’m sorry.”
Leif stopped in his tracks, turned around, and said, “I’m sure you’ll be sorry the next time it happens too. Sensory deprivation is a joke. It only works in prisons and Tales From the Hood.”
The heartbroken stud muffin continued walking at a brisk pace and took his glasses off to wipe the small tears from his eyes. He felt like he had been betrayed by his own subconscious. Everybody has the right to dream? What kind of foolish rhetoric was that?
During his brisk walk, he bumped arms with a woman running along the trail for exercise. “Oh, I’m sorry! Are you okay?” asked the woman.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that. I’m just…I should have watched where I was going,” Leif sheepishly said. The two of them looked in each other’s eyes and smiled at the happy accident before the woman waved at him and continued running.
Leif took a moment to reflect on that little meeting. He remembered what the hallucination said about introductions not being a golden ticket. But it had to start somewhere. Maybe not with that woman. Certainly not with Mika Johnston. But somewhere. Leif was too brokenhearted to believe anything positive, but he would at least take it into consideration. His tears have all but dried up and his walking was considerably slower.
Here is my short story submission for the topic: Wake up call. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!
NEVER AGAIN by Melissa Andres
Word Count: 931
Winne Callahan had become suspicious. She knew what he was doing. She just felt it, but she needed proof. Running her fingers through her short blonde hair she grimaced as she heard the front door open and close. He said he was going to work but she wasn't so sure that was the truth.
Jumping from the disheveled bed, Winnie threw on a pair of gray sweatpants, shoved her feet into a pair of tennis shoes and grabbed her car keys from the night stand.
"I can't believe he's doing this to me," she said to the cracks in the sidewalk. "To us; to our marriage." They were still newlyweds, well, they had just celebrated their first anniversary a few weeks before.
Glancing down the street, Winnie barely saw the back of his white Corvette as it rounded the corner. She still had time to catch up and follow him. Winnie knew she had to be careful though. Two cars behind and to the left. She had watched enough detective shows and read enough true crime books to know that.
"I will catch you, Greg Callahan," Winnie announced as she pulled her silver Honda out of the driveway. Her green eyes flashed red.
She held back on the accelerator but kept those eyes on the white Corvette that led her to the outskirts of town. Grabbing her cell phone off the passenger seat she dialed her best friend, Callie Wasson.
"Callie," she began to sob. "I think I'm going to catch him this morning."
"What do you mean? Catch who?" Callie's voice seemed high and she cleared her throat.
"Greg, stupid," Winnie rolled her eyes. She let the steering wheel slide through her fingers as she made another turn. "I told you I thought he was seeing another woman. How could you forget something like that?" Annoyance flushed her cheeks.
"Calm down, Winnie," the woman on the other end of the line urged. "I remember. It's just that I'm already at work and dealing with a situation. I just forgot for a second is all. What's going on?"
"I'm following him right now." She was trying to focus on the Corvette, her own driving and speaking coherently into the phone. She was afraid to fail; afraid to succeed.
"You're following him right now? Oh, Winnie, that could be dangerous." Callie was concerned.
"How could it be dangerous? He hasn't seen me." Winnie adjusted her rear view mirror and quickly changed lanes as her husband pulled into a motel parking lot. Her heart sank.
"What if he does see you? What if he gets mad? Do you think he's capable of hurting you?" Callie's words came out in a rush.
"Hey, I gotta go. I'm not sure what's about to happen but I'll call you later." Hitting the OFF button on the cell phone, Winnie hung up before her friend could protest.
She parked the Honda in front of a vacant bookstore across the street and stepped out onto the pavement, watching closely as Greg Callahan knocked on a motel room door.
Shading her eyes from the early morning sun with one hand and pointing her finger with the other, she counted. "Third door from the left."
Locking her car, Winnie marched across the busy street and directly to the motel office. "I need to know who is occupying Room 103, please," she said gruffly to the man crouched behind the counter.
"Hold on." The clerk was tying his shoe; his voice muffled. As he stood to his full height, a grin showed off straight pearly whites.
"Hey, Winnie." Surprise twinkled in his eyes. "What're you doing here?"
"Donnie?" Winnie's surprise matched the clerk's. "Aunt Paula told me you were moving back. I didn't know you worked here though."
"Well, it'll pay the bills until I get finished with school." Donnie walked around the corner and hugged his cousin tightly. "I would describe this place as fleabag but it's pretty clean."
"So can you tell me who is in Room 103?" Winnie repeated.
"I'm not really supposed to do that, privacy laws and all. Why do you ask?" Donnie had moved back behind the counter and began tapping on the computer keyboard.
Tears welled in Winnie's eyes as she told her cousin about her suspicions of Greg's infidelity.
Donnie handed her a tissue as she recounted her tale of following her husband to the motel.
"My best friend Callie thinks it was dangerous to follow him. She's afraid he could hurt me." Winnie let out a snicker at her friend's wild thoughts.
Donnie gasped. "I have an idea. We'll fudge on the rules just a bit." He picked up the lobby telephone and handed over the receiver. "Why don't you give Room 103 a wake up call?"
Winnie looked confused and then smiled evilly. Donnie dialed the number.
"Hello? Room 103? This is the Sunset Motel lobby and we are providing your nine a.m. wake up call. We trust your accommodations are satisfactory?" Winnie mustered every ounce of courage to muddle through the phone call cheerily.
"We didn't request a wake up call," Greg's voice echoed through the phone line. "Did you ask for a wake up call, honey?"
Winnie heard a woman's voice.
"Everything's okay here but you must have the wrong room. We didn't request a wake up call."
Winnie heard a woman giggle.
"Callie, stop it." Greg laughed. "I know you're eager but wait a minute." He hung up the phone.
Slamming down the receiver, Winnie Callahan ran out the lobby door and straight to Room 103.
Cousin Donnie called 9-1-1.
NEVER AGAIN by Melissa Andres
Word Count: 931
Winne Callahan had become suspicious. She knew what he was doing. She just felt it, but she needed proof. Running her fingers through her short blonde hair she grimaced as she heard the front door open and close. He said he was going to work but she wasn't so sure that was the truth.
Jumping from the disheveled bed, Winnie threw on a pair of gray sweatpants, shoved her feet into a pair of tennis shoes and grabbed her car keys from the night stand.
"I can't believe he's doing this to me," she said to the cracks in the sidewalk. "To us; to our marriage." They were still newlyweds, well, they had just celebrated their first anniversary a few weeks before.
Glancing down the street, Winnie barely saw the back of his white Corvette as it rounded the corner. She still had time to catch up and follow him. Winnie knew she had to be careful though. Two cars behind and to the left. She had watched enough detective shows and read enough true crime books to know that.
"I will catch you, Greg Callahan," Winnie announced as she pulled her silver Honda out of the driveway. Her green eyes flashed red.
She held back on the accelerator but kept those eyes on the white Corvette that led her to the outskirts of town. Grabbing her cell phone off the passenger seat she dialed her best friend, Callie Wasson.
"Callie," she began to sob. "I think I'm going to catch him this morning."
"What do you mean? Catch who?" Callie's voice seemed high and she cleared her throat.
"Greg, stupid," Winnie rolled her eyes. She let the steering wheel slide through her fingers as she made another turn. "I told you I thought he was seeing another woman. How could you forget something like that?" Annoyance flushed her cheeks.
"Calm down, Winnie," the woman on the other end of the line urged. "I remember. It's just that I'm already at work and dealing with a situation. I just forgot for a second is all. What's going on?"
"I'm following him right now." She was trying to focus on the Corvette, her own driving and speaking coherently into the phone. She was afraid to fail; afraid to succeed.
"You're following him right now? Oh, Winnie, that could be dangerous." Callie was concerned.
"How could it be dangerous? He hasn't seen me." Winnie adjusted her rear view mirror and quickly changed lanes as her husband pulled into a motel parking lot. Her heart sank.
"What if he does see you? What if he gets mad? Do you think he's capable of hurting you?" Callie's words came out in a rush.
"Hey, I gotta go. I'm not sure what's about to happen but I'll call you later." Hitting the OFF button on the cell phone, Winnie hung up before her friend could protest.
She parked the Honda in front of a vacant bookstore across the street and stepped out onto the pavement, watching closely as Greg Callahan knocked on a motel room door.
Shading her eyes from the early morning sun with one hand and pointing her finger with the other, she counted. "Third door from the left."
Locking her car, Winnie marched across the busy street and directly to the motel office. "I need to know who is occupying Room 103, please," she said gruffly to the man crouched behind the counter.
"Hold on." The clerk was tying his shoe; his voice muffled. As he stood to his full height, a grin showed off straight pearly whites.
"Hey, Winnie." Surprise twinkled in his eyes. "What're you doing here?"
"Donnie?" Winnie's surprise matched the clerk's. "Aunt Paula told me you were moving back. I didn't know you worked here though."
"Well, it'll pay the bills until I get finished with school." Donnie walked around the corner and hugged his cousin tightly. "I would describe this place as fleabag but it's pretty clean."
"So can you tell me who is in Room 103?" Winnie repeated.
"I'm not really supposed to do that, privacy laws and all. Why do you ask?" Donnie had moved back behind the counter and began tapping on the computer keyboard.
Tears welled in Winnie's eyes as she told her cousin about her suspicions of Greg's infidelity.
Donnie handed her a tissue as she recounted her tale of following her husband to the motel.
"My best friend Callie thinks it was dangerous to follow him. She's afraid he could hurt me." Winnie let out a snicker at her friend's wild thoughts.
Donnie gasped. "I have an idea. We'll fudge on the rules just a bit." He picked up the lobby telephone and handed over the receiver. "Why don't you give Room 103 a wake up call?"
Winnie looked confused and then smiled evilly. Donnie dialed the number.
"Hello? Room 103? This is the Sunset Motel lobby and we are providing your nine a.m. wake up call. We trust your accommodations are satisfactory?" Winnie mustered every ounce of courage to muddle through the phone call cheerily.
"We didn't request a wake up call," Greg's voice echoed through the phone line. "Did you ask for a wake up call, honey?"
Winnie heard a woman's voice.
"Everything's okay here but you must have the wrong room. We didn't request a wake up call."
Winnie heard a woman giggle.
"Callie, stop it." Greg laughed. "I know you're eager but wait a minute." He hung up the phone.
Slamming down the receiver, Winnie Callahan ran out the lobby door and straight to Room 103.
Cousin Donnie called 9-1-1.
Garrison, Very nice! I am not a fan of the f-word so I personally would change that to "messed up" but in a way, it also seemed to fit because of Leif's frustration. Other than that, a very nice story. You have really portray frustration and grief and a sense of failure here. Even though Leif is heartbroken in the end he still clings to hope instead of wallowing further in the muck. Good job!
Garrison wrote: "AUTHOR: Garrison KellyTITLE: It's Okay For You To Love Me
WORD COUNT: 1,500 exactly
GENRE: Post-Teen Romance
RATING: PG for mild swearing
At the advice of his therapist, the autistic shy guy kn..."
What a sweet, emotionally packed story. I was really gunning for Leif. Nice ending-- the power of hope.
Melissa wrote: "Here is my short story submission for the topic: Wake up call. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!NEVER AGAIN by Melissa Andres
Word Count: 931
Winne Callahan had become suspicious. She knew what he..."
Wow! Now there's a wake up call! Good story. Great ending. My mind's conjuring up all sorts of scenarios for what happens next!
Alex (Al) wrote: "Wakey, Wakeyby Al
He was binge watching Quentin Taratino movies to the fullest. It started with Pulp Fiction and ended with Kill Bill vol II. He skipped Sin City. He didn’t have that one availabl..."
A very strong story! I like the way you played it out. Good job!
Alex (Al) wrote: "Wakey, Wakeyby Al
He was binge watching Quentin Taratino movies to the fullest. It started with Pulp Fiction and ended with Kill Bill vol II. He skipped Sin City. He didn’t have that one availabl..."
how you wrote it at first i thought the other guy was dexter. lol. but then he slashed the wrists and all. well written. good job.
Alex (Al) wrote: "Wakey, Wakeyby Al
Al, this was a very well-written story. Because you slowly unveiled the scene, it added to the creep and the grit that you wanted. When you talked about him peeing, however, I thought that he was peeing on the body. It might just be the way I interpreted it, but maybe you could clarify the wording a little there?
Melissa wrote: "Here is my short story submission for the topic: Wake up call. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!
NEVER AGAIN by Melissa Andres
I really enjoyed this story. My only critique would be that maybe Callie could sound more panicked on the phone call? You wouldn't want it to be too obvious, but as it is while I'm reading the conversation seems a little pointless (until the end, obviously). I loved the cliffhanger ending, it left me wanting more.
Garrison wrote: "AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: It's Okay For You To Love Me."
I enjoyed seeing the soft side of your writing, Garrison. This was a cute story that is definitely something different for you, but your characteristic incorporation of characters that are flawed kept this story within your style. Good job!
I can't think of a better way to wake up in the morning than to see awesome feedback from my wonderful Good Reads friends. Thanks, guys! I'm glad you all enjoyed reading my story this week! :)
Thanks, Anne and Melanie! I am glad you both liked my story and the cliffhanger ending. I wasn't sure if I should keep writing but I thought it would be cool to leave the rest to the writer's imagination!
Alex, it may be tomorrow before I can get to read your story. I've had a busy day! But, I will read and comment when I can! I know it will be great!
Alex, it may be tomorrow before I can get to read your story. I've had a busy day! But, I will read and comment when I can! I know it will be great!
Melissa, a plot twist and a cliffhanger all in one 900-word story? How awesome is that! If there was a continuation of this story, I’d definitely want to read it. You’ve obviously done this genre of writing before and your experience shows in leaps and bounds. Thanks for sharing it with us!Al, Quentin Tarantino would be proud of you if he saw the masterful pacing and brutal twists you’ve shown in this story. You actually managed to make this story disturbing without breaking the PG-13 limit, which is an art form in and of itself. I have to agree with Melanie when she was confused about the urination scene. I too thought the preacher was peeing on the dead woman’s body. Other than that, you’ve got literary gold here! Wait a minute, did I just say “gold” in a conversation about peeing? I swear that’s only a coincidence. Hehe!
Garrison, it seems as though dyslexia had gotten the best of you last night when you wrote your story at 10:30, which is two and a half hours before your bedtime. In your synopsis, you promised us a yoga teacher named Maki Johnston. And yet, when you were talking about her in the story, you switched the I and A in her first name and she was referred to as Mika. But that’s okay, because you didn’t use both names in the story at the same time…I think? Did you? You’ll find out eventually, because I’m talking to myself yet again.
Anything for a fellow writer, Al. :)
Alex -- Oh my goodness! You make me want to run out and get some colored contacts so my eyes will no longer be blue!! Eeekkk!!!
Garrison -- Thank you for such nice compliments! I really appreciate them. I have dabbled in all kinds of different genres but I really don't know which type of story is my strength. I'm still trying to discover that! :)
I'll be happy with calling you a multi-genre writer. That's what I use for myself. :)
Cool beans, Garrison. I kind of wish though that someone would give me their opinion on what they feel I do best. I don't know if I want to hinder myself by just writing one type of thing but if someone sees me leaning one way or the other (i.e. mystery, poetry, funny, etc.) I think it would be cool to find that out. :)
I think that'd be cool too, Melissa. I've been switching between contemporary dramas and sci-fi fantasy myself. :)
Robyn wrote: "Title - ? (Suggestions welcome)639 words
Feedback appreciated.
I fidgeted in my seat while Principal Xing placed the silver thought projector helmet on his head, then turned some knobs on the si..."
Wow. What an eloquent tale! A very creative take on this week's theme and well written. I especially like the way you interjected the speech with the thoughts.
Possible title suggestions (maybe too obvious -- don't feel you have to accept any): Mind over matter; Toxic dump; Thinking a-head (sorry, bad pun, but I couldn't resist. :)) I better quit while I'm ahead (oops).
I'm reaching out to anyone with any army knowledge. Please let me know if anything doesn't ring true in my story. ALSO, I don't know exactly how to write as a guy -- if I use words that don't seem typical, please point that out to me. Thanks!Title: Reveille
Word Count: 1921
Genre: Fiction
“Atten-HUT!” My brother, Mike, burst out laughing as usual. His greeting had long ceased to get a rise out of me. As the youngest in this army family, I had to put up with a lot of crap from all 3 of my older brothers. He was the first guest to arrive at my college graduation party. I prepared myself for the relentless ribbing that would ensue.
He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed me against him. Hard. His typical brotherly hug.
“You know, Mike, I’ll never get broader shoulders if you keep doing that.”
“Ha Ha, just checking to see if you got any muscles yet, Joe.”
Not likely. Being the only one to take after our short, small-boned mother, I long ago stopped believing I’d get anywhere close to the brawny build my brothers shared with my father. Dad started me on a body-building regimen when I was 10. By 16 I was strong as a horse, but still able to pass for mom at 20 yards. I put the weights away.
“So, Joe, what are you going to do with yourself, now that you got your fancy degree? Going to make maps for Google?” He hooted.
I tried not to act irritated. “Why not? Someone has to do it.”
Actually, it sounded kind of fun to me. My interest in geo-spatial imagery was light-years beyond their understanding. My brothers didn’t need college. They were Army all the way. Put a rifle in their hands and they were in their glory. As a drill sergeant at dad’s base, Mike was the only one of my brothers able to make it to the party. The other two, Jeff and Brad, were in Afghanistan. Both on their second tour of duty. Mom was insane with fear. Why was anyone surprised that I scorned all things Army?
I walked away to shake hands with a new guest talking to my dad. He was army, of course. “Hey, Mr. Kennedy, thanks for coming.”
“Congratulations, Joe. Your dad was telling me about your interests. Got a job yet?”
“No.” My voice was a little sharper than I intended.
“Would you be interested in analyzing imagery for our intelligence community?”
My eyebrows shot to heaven. He had to be kidding me. Analyzing satellite views, maps from outer space? A dream job. Impossible for a newbie like me to get right out of college. What strings had my dad pulled? What was the catch?
“You mean, like looking for terrorist camps? Stuff like that?” I won’t deny it – I almost started drooling.
“Absolutely.” He rocked back on his heels, keeping a steady gaze on me. He knew he had me hooked.
That was how I joined the army.
Of course, that was the catch.
Basic training was as much fun as I expected. The first Reveille, I literally fell out of my cot. That made everyone’s day.
My size drew plenty of remarks, too, some of which I had to fight my way out of. Like my brothers, these guys were all brawn, with steel punches that could send my jaw through the back of my head. IF they could get the right angle and momentum. As lightweight boxing champ in my senior year, I was pretty nimble on my feet and had my own moves. I got plenty of practice those first weeks.
Ironically, my shooting earned me the most respect.
“You got the makings of a sniper.” My instructor clearly wanted to score some brownie points with someone.
“Forget it. I hate shooting.”
“But you’re @#$% good at it, ” he protested.
Of course I was. My father put a rifle in my hands as soon as I could hold one. I hated it -- hated hunting. Maybe skeet traps were kind of fun, though not very challenging. But shooting animals was against everything I believed. Even as a kid. In all the family hunting trips, I never shot an animal. Not once. I never dared to admit I LIKED watching the deer run through the forest – alive and free. Yeah. Way too much like my mother. They finally gave up on me and stopped making me go. Probably because I shot my rifle ½ inch over Mike’s head and said, “Oops. I missed.” I was 14 years old.
“You’re the right size, too. And you know how to move. Like a ghost.” My instructor was nearly choking at the waste of it.
No #$%&& way.
I did make a few friends. Mostly other shooters. Like Bingo. He’d shake me just before Reveille so I wouldn’t keep falling out of the cot.
They called him Bingo because that was his favorite expression. He used it when he hit the bulls-eye on the target range. Or won at poker. And always, when he’d talk about one of his many girlfriends waiting for him back home. He’d get to the best part, point his trigger finger at us and say with a big smile, “Bingo!” He was easy to be with -- a big black guy with no meanness in him.
He was only 18 and almost as good a shooter as me. And cared for it about as much as I did. He would have gotten along real well with Martin Luther King, Jr. Hoping to get trained at something, he joined the army because he didn’t know what else to do with himself.
I talked with Mr. Kennedy, my dad’s friend, to see what strings he could pull to get me and Bingo sent to the same place after Basic Training. I expected to go on to get more training as an Imagery Analyst, presumably in Arizona. At least there wouldn’t be any shooting.
I should have known better than to trust that SOB.
We got sent to South Korea.
We were based just a few miles from the demilitarized zone that bordered North Korea. They were acting up over there, sneaking across the border to harass us, getting off a few shots, sometimes even hurting one of our guys. Our brass weren’t sure what was up. Were they planning something bigger? Were they trying to distract us? Or just getting their kicks?
“Joe, what we do here is risk assessment. We look at the data coming in to find patterns that will tell us what they’re going to do. We got aerial maps of their positions and movements. See what you can do with this.” My lieutenant threw an armload of crap at me and walked out.
I was no fool. Being at the bottom of the pecking order, I knew what he really meant was: “Put this in some kind of order so the rest of us can figure it out at a glance and look good.”
So I spent my days poring over documents more boring than I expected and Bingo was sent to patrol the front lines.
I rarely saw Bingo anymore. About three weeks after we got there, we met in the mess tent on a Sunday that he was off duty.
“It’s brutal, man.” He shook his head. We both stared at the hands tightly gripping his coffee cup. He looked so different when he wasn’t smiling.
“We never know where they gonna come at us from. Day or night. We don’ see ‘em, we don’ hear ‘em. We just hear the shot and one of our guys goes down.” He paused.
“It didn’ use to be so bad. Before I got here, they tol’ me, ‘these guys got bad aim, they never hit nuthin’. But this past week they comin’ from different places and…” His voice petered out.
He shook his head. “They good. Like phantoms. I’m pretty sure I got one or two, though.”
This is why his face looked so drawn, eyes empty and lifeless.
We went to the deserted office and I started pulling out my maps.
“Tell me where you’re at, exactly.”
I had attached reports, e-mails, narratives, transcripts of phone conversations to the associated maps and I quickly found the ones covering his patrol area. There were several maps at different points in time, showing North Korean activity repeatedly at one place, about a mile from where Bingo was patrolling with his team. I checked several different types of reconnaissance photos.
“You know what I think, Bingo?” I slowly drew out my words, not quite daring to believe what I was about to say.
“What, man?” His hopeful tone would soon change.
“I think they’re building new tunnels.”
We knew about the four tunnels previously built in the early 70’s to invade the south. That threat had been effectively removed. So they were up to their old tricks again.
I reported this to my lieutenant who brought in the captain. He glanced at the photos, and listened to my analysis. My captain was studying a file in his hand and spoke to the LT.
“We need Blue Team out there to support our guys in the field. Get them out now. Joe will go with them.”
My jaw dropped and my stomach lurched. The safest thing I could think to say was, “Sir?”
“You’re the only one who can. You’ve identified the location; you know the area almost as well as someone who’s actually been there. You know what to look for. And you’re an outstanding sharpshooter. They won’t have to coddle you.” He pointed my personnel file at me as he spoke and now handed it to the LT, who looked at it with a stone face.
“Get moving.”
__________________________________
It was deceptively quiet. Not even the birds were chirping. I moved slowly, silently with the others, my trusty rifle at my back, map in hand. We were all in camouflage. I didn’t recognize anyone, not even Bingo. Tension was high. The captain and LT in charge had copies of the maps, knew what we were about. The plan was to try to ambush the North Koreans as they came out of the tunnel. We started to spread out.
Less than 20 meters away now, we could see it. A small entrance, well hidden, but we knew what to look for. We didn’t have to wait long.
A shot rang out from the treetops, probably no more than 100 meters away. The LT next to me went down.
Another shot from a different direction. I heard the body fall. My experienced ear placed it at about 400 meters. By now we all had our rifles out. It was obvious they were protecting the entrance to the tunnel. I moved around, away from the others.
I scanned the trees, slowly, carefully, thoroughly.
Nothing. I kept moving. Further back, away from my team.
No one saw me, heard me leave.
I heard some more shooting from lower down. Our guys. Trying to get some of their own back.
More sniper fire. More of our guys down.
I looked up at the tree. This seemed like a good one.
I started to climb.
Halfway up there was another shot. Closer to me. Another one of ours. I grimaced.
I was in a good position to take a look, well hidden by branches and foliage. I risked a quick glance with my binoculars.
Looking down, I saw about 10 of ours down, possibly 2 of theirs.
Looking up, I could make out three in the trees, spread out in strategic positions.
I was a glacier. I was a volcano.
The sound of Reveille in my head, I took aim.
Bingo.
Anne, one word for you - MORE!Fantastic on every level. I love your portrayal of the sensitive, intelligent soldier who can still take action when the need arises, provided his morals aren't compromised. Your writing is tight. Your pace is terrific. Your story is gripping. Your conclusion is breath-taking. I served as a soldier for three years and everything about your tale rings true. Specifically the relationships with 1. Bingo - this felt spot on to me; and 2. his family.
While this certainly qualifies as a short, it also reads to me as a brilliant intro to a longer story. PLEASE write it, it is begging to be told and I am dying to read it. You've used great restraint in the telling and your characters demand empathy.
Blown away!
Ryan wrote: "Anne, one word for you - MORE!Fantastic on every level. I love your portrayal of the sensitive, intelligent soldier who can still take action when the need arises, provided his morals aren't comp..."
Ryan -- I'm blown away by your comments! Thank you from the bottom of my heart! You've really made my day! You've given me a lot to think about...
Robyn, Your story was excellent! As Anne said, it was a great spin on the topic! Well written, futuristic and a good message as well. We do direct our thoughts at others - if only they came back to "stick" to us we might learn a lot of lessons! I would probably title it just simply, "Glump".
And, thank yo SO very much for your kind comments about my story. I kind of wondered if anyone would pick up on the green eyes flashing red. It signifies a traffic signal but also in Winnie's thoughts. She wanted to go full speed and find out what her husband was doing but at the same time she wanted to stop and sweep it all under the rug so to speak. Her anger and curiosity won out. I left it as a cliffhanger so the reader could use imagination to determine the ending of their choice.
And, thank yo SO very much for your kind comments about my story. I kind of wondered if anyone would pick up on the green eyes flashing red. It signifies a traffic signal but also in Winnie's thoughts. She wanted to go full speed and find out what her husband was doing but at the same time she wanted to stop and sweep it all under the rug so to speak. Her anger and curiosity won out. I left it as a cliffhanger so the reader could use imagination to determine the ending of their choice.
Anne, Oh my GOSH! That is excellent! I can't say that I am normally into military-type stories but I started reading and just couldn't stop. My son was in the Air Force for six years so I could identify a little bit with fear and seeing my once skinny child go off to become a man. He went to Iraq, Afghanistan and Haiti. Anyway, it was wonderfully written and I just kept reading to find out what was going to happen. I hope this is not a sexist comment (not meant to be that way at all) but, for a woman writing this, I think you did such an excellent job writing in the point of view of an Army man and the feelings he had about his brothers. I also agree with Ryan when he said, MORE! He wasn't saying this was incomplete, I believe he was saying that if you ever decided to write a novel you could turn this idea into a great one! You could elaborate on background before he goes into the Army, more about his experiences, etc., etc. You SO intimidate me with your superb writing! Keep it up!
Melissa wrote: "Anne, Oh my GOSH! That is excellent! I can't say that I am normally into military-type stories but I started reading and just couldn't stop. My son was in the Air Force for six years so I could ..."Thanks so much Melissa! You're making my head swell up! You have some great ideas for further elaboration. Maybe I'll see if I can bring Joe and Bingo back for next week's story.
Please don't be intimidated -- you're an excellent writer, never think you're not! I'm sure there's lots of stuff in this piece that needs polishing.
Title: LingerWord Count: 406
Feedback and criticism is very much welcome/heavily encouraged; editing is my one true love.
It starts simply enough: there is a girl, somewhere, who tells you that she loves you.
Not in so many words, of course. She teeters constantly along the edge of honesty, not quite sure what sort of abyss a strong breeze might topple her into. However, she knows the majority of your secrets, and enough about how you work to guess at the few that remain hidden away. She has seen the way the stars shiver when you tread beneath them, and spoken to those who remember the woman she used to be: defiant, crudely built, and whole, and yet night after night she sits with her back to the fire, standing guard over your tiny band of runaways and outlaws. It isn’t difficult to decipher the message slipped in between the plaintive looks and quiet words sent your way; particularly not when someone has had as much practice at it as you have.
You found her ages back, although you have a hard time grasping just how long exactly it’s been whenever you try. Time has gone a bit fuzzy as of late, and after all, your memory is no longer what it was. Still, when you concentrate hard enough you can see the ghost of what she was once, string thin and cigarette-stained, and so you are able to graft yourself onto the edges of that time and hold on to this world for a bit longer. She is somehow both less and more of a person in the back of your mind, keeping her head down and her tongue sharp just to keep hold of the few people she had left. You were good for her, once; these days she’s more likely to yell her way out of trouble or throw herself onto the fire directly if no other options present themselves; anything to buy your makeshift family an extra few minutes. You have the sneaking suspicion you were once the sort of person who knew enough about how people worked within this system to break it, at least a little. You might still be that person again, given time.
But she seems to think you are already there and there’s so little time left to worry about it. So, she fights the battles you ask her to, locks away the memories you don’t, and she stays and stays and stays, until the day you wake to find that she has gone.
Anne, Sorry I have not replied sooner. I was extremely busy with my little in-home business stuff! Really, I thought your story was excellent and I can see it turning into a novel! Many times us "regular folk" don't think about our military having family and friends and thoughts and feelings. We just know they are there to protect us. Each member, male or female have their own stories. You touched on a part of that in your short story. Expand, please! :)
And, also, thank you for the self-esteem boost!
And, also, thank you for the self-esteem boost!
Erie, Very interesting! I like the phrase you have in your first paragraph, "the stars shiver". That conjures up a sort of romantic image that is sweet and tender. Good job!
Thank you, Melissa! Oh wow, really? Sweet wasn't quite what I was going for with that line, but that is the nature of releasing work into the hands of the world after all. It's fascinating! Do you feel that line softens the intent too much? I really love it, but I could absolutely find it a more appropriate place.
Well, in the very first line you talk about a girl who "tells you that she loves you" ... I guess I was feeding off that line. Of course, it is your work and you can do with it as you wish. Don't let my interpretation cause you to change anything. Someone else could read it and perceive something differently.
Erie wrote: "Title: LingerWord Count: 406
Feedback and criticism is very much welcome/heavily encouraged; editing is my one true love.
It starts simply enough: there is a girl, somewhere, who tells you that ..."
A very touching story that vividly portrays a complex relationship. It's a good story & I especially liked the ending.
Now, you asked for it, so here's my 2 cents worth & feel free to disregard: First, I would lose the word "somewhere" in the 1st sentence. It implies an unknown, far off location since it's in the present tense, which doesn't fit with the rest of the story. If you're trying to imply she's already gone, maybe switch to past in that sentence. 2nd: the use of 2nd POV can be very effective when you can correctly assume that the reader is likely to relate to the situation you're presenting. However, as a heterosexual female...Get my point? So I switched genders in my mind, but it's probably not something every reader wants to do, so it's a matter of considering who you're writing for. :)
Please don't change your story just on my comments; only if it feels right to you.
Oh not to worry, that isn't a negative thing at all; the subjective nature of the audience's response is the greatest thing of all, it gives the story a life of its own. I was just interested in your opinion. ^-^
Thank you so much, Anne! I'm out right now, so I'll have to wait until later to give you an in-depth response, but I really appreciate the feedback. It gives me life
Erie wrote: "Thank you, Melissa! Oh wow, really? Sweet wasn't quite what I was going for with that line, but that is the nature of releasing work into the hands of the world after all. It's fascinating! Do yo..."
Re: "the stars shiver". Shivering can have many different connotations, so reader interpretation can vary. So I can see how it could suggest romance. At first I took it to mean he evoked strong feelings in others, but after re-reading I think you meant to imply he was intimidating.
It's great that you can interpret it in so many different ways. Really well done, Erie! Love it :D
CHARACTERS:
Leif Chadwick, Autism Patient
Maki Johnston, Yoga Teacher
PROMPT CONFORMITY: Leif gets his figurative wakeup call by the story’s end.
SYNOPSIS: On the advice of his therapist, Leif undergoes sensory deprivation in order to find out more about himself. While he’s in the isolation tank, he hallucinates that Maki, his crush, is telling him it’s okay to be in love with her. Leif doesn’t know whether this is a legitimate vision or just a sick joke played on the disabled.