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February 2020 Challenge
SUNSETS AT THE JERSEY SHOREBy Mirta Oliva
Today is not a day like any other day. In a couple of hours, Jack will leave on a business trip for a country at war with neighbors. The company yacht will pick him up at the pier… the New Jersey shore where we have watched the sunset so many times.
It’s been almost an hour since Jack left and I will not leave the pier until I watch the sunset one more time. Tears rolled down my face thinking of the dangers my hubby of five years will encounter while negotiating a legal affair. The yacht has long disappeared on the horizon but there will be no sunset. The skies are dark and it began raining.
-0-
“Hello, sweetheart… We are reaching the port now. I miss you already. You will hear from me as often as I can. And don’t be sad, just pray that all goes well. I am kissing the faded picture inside the locket you gave me. I love you and will talk to you soon.”
After the brief chat with Jack, I went to the back patio. Trying to divert my thoughts from my husband’s wellbeing, I tended to the veggies and flowers we had planted in the spring. There was a beautiful red rose that needed a little separation from the others, which I took care of. When finished, I saw blood running down my fingers so I rushed back home to disinfect the cut. That’s when an eerie feeling came to mind--a premonition that something bad may be happening to Jack.
As I entered the house, I heard my cellphone… it had a message: “Honey, don’t panic but do this for me: Call the Executive offices and tell them our yacht has been hijacked near the port.”
The information was succinct but it was all I had so I reported it and left my cell phone number with one Executive that knew me well. Then I called our attorney and related the news and what I had done so far. Our attorney-friend was disgusted but said he would get involved and will keep me posted of any findings. The big question was who had hijacked the yacht, the country at war or sea-pirates?
Trying to be calm despite the ordeal, I turned on the TV to watch the news. The hijacking had made it to the media and that could be a good thing… or not? Apparently, they were the infamous sea-pirates demanding a ransom but would the government patrol get involved? With no more news, there was nothing I could do but to wait for updates or for the phone to ring. Minutes later, a call from Jack’s office revealed they were seeking a safe solution.
I was still glued to the TV when another report came in “The hijackers had commandeered the yacht and were leaving the area. Distant helicopters were keeping track of the maneuvers. Gunfire was heard and it appears one man is dead…”
Now I became desperate. What if it was my husband? It was bad news when they were so close to the country but now… If he is alive, what will the pirates think of doing to get their ransom? I’ll call our attorney and see what if anything has been accomplished. Did he contact the U.S. Consulate? Did he get any updates from John Winkley, the Executive in charge at Jack’s office? I was relieved to hear that the matter was in the hands of our government and that Navy ships were in the area.
A few hours went by and no more news from the media. Obviously, whatever our Navy operations had in mind would not be divulged outside of the pertinent authorities and I would have to wait for a safe rescue operation. All I could do was to meditate about my good fortune of having met an honest, loving man to share my life with… if only I could for the rest of our lives. I reached for his picture and held it close to my heart praying he was alive and well. After the ordeal started, I learned I was expecting and this could be the greatest news I would have for Jack upon his arrival.
The only media news was that helicopters were ordered further away from the area—a sign that the Navy was ready for action. I was nervous, thinking of the dangers of this whole ordeal. As I always do under pressure, I picked up my book of poems to read the one “Yearning for his return.” The last two paragraphs; in particular, the last two lines made me cry:
“…I feel the warmth of your thoughts,
How they subtly invade my soul.
They penetrate the core of my heart
They make me feel whole.
.
“Be well, sweetheart, be gone…
Then, think of me alone
And when the time is right,
I know you’ll be back, back in time…”
I know in my heart Jack is alive, thinking of us… of what we’ve had that may be lost forever. Suddenly, the phone rings and it is our attorney. The ordeal is over. The truth is Jack is alive, coming back home. The company has postponed the trip until further notice. The next call was from Jack disclosing the arrival time in our Jersey shores.
As I waited for the love of my life, I recited in my head the last lines of anther poem I had written:
“…But my doubts have now disappeared…
A guiding star brings his vessel so near
With flashing lights beaming in my eyes
Sending me a message of love so dear…
Night of nights, my love has arrived!
True to my poem, the yacht beamed the lights three times—my love was not lost at sea.
“My baby, I am so glad to see you…” Jack clamored for all to hear.
“Oh, Jack, from now on you’ll have two babies to love…”
A tense story Mirta. I am glad it ended well.
Me too, Terry. Thanks for your comments. Even though life is not full of happy endings, they come easily to my mind.
Mod
Mirta wrote: "SUNSETS AT THE JERSEY SHORE
By Mirta Oliva
Today is not a day like any other day. In a couple of hours, Jack will leave on a business trip for a country at war with neighbors. The company yacht wi..."
Thank you, Rejoice for your comments. Also, for hosting last month.
Mod
Mirta wrote: "Thank you, Rejoice for your comments. Also, for hosting last month."
Love Returns to AlhomaBy Chad Carroway
989 words
“I assumed it was going to be a quiet holiday on the beach...?"
Scanning the scene…a strangled victim; male-mid-30’s, discovered on the shore of Alhoma, a small island of the Stockholm Archipelagos. No definitive clues, just a faded photo in his trousers. Inspector Ebba Persson shares the picture of a newborn with staff at a nearby hospital concerning the blanket swaddling the child. The red rose embroidered on the corner of the blanket stirs memories…pink...donated by a local church during the winter of 2013. Noting the date stamp on the photo, Persson requests a list of all babies born around the date. Specifically the female children wrapped in those particular blankets.
The DNA confirms the deceased to be 34-year old Alex Nilsson - apparently strangled -time of death approximately 1230hrs local time. According to the lab, lung tissue revealed all salt water absorbed post-mortem. Note: Deceased was reported missing from Alhoma Island on December 3, 2013, but never found. Immediately Nilsson’s file is pulled, startling to say the least. Alexander Nilsson: Missing December 3, 2013, mother died mysteriously in 2015, COD: “Accidental fall” due to faulty porch rail at family home. In 2017, father was fatally injured on job site in Uppsala.
Only one official witness account concerning the night of Alex’s disappearance. A man Lars — a vagrant, no known address — the case notes reads as follows:
———
12/03/13 -- Alexander Nilsson was standing aside a skiff with a duffle, wearing a longshoreman, arguing nervously with Lennart Gustaffson. Once Nilsson boarded the skiff and left the harbor, Gustaffson walked to a vehicle waiting for him accompanied by another man in the back. The vehicle left the area.
———
Lennart Gustaffson, now 34 years old -- one of the youngest CEO's in Swedish history. Widower to the late Ann-Christin Hellstrom-Gustaffson; father to Lilly Gustaffson (age 17). His wife perished due to brake failure (automobile accident) midsummer 2014. He later assumed control of Hellstrom Holdings in 2019. Hellstrom Holdings is a global company, founded by Henning Hellstrom, father of the late Karl Hellstrom. Karl drowned while swimming the bay of Alhoma. The autopsy reports revealed cardiac arrest contributed to the drowning. Inspector Persson takes the ferry to the mainland, driving to the headquarters of Hellstrom’s in Stockholm. Intercepted by private security, she is encouraged to make an appointment in advance. While trying to reach Gustafsson’s office by phone, she reviews case files, jotting down a timeline...
*Body
*Photo
*Blanket
“The blanket…the babies! Number three on the list!”
*Lilly Hellstrom DOB 12/03/2013
*A. N. Disappeared 12/03/2013
*A. N. departs on skiff 12/03/2013
*Lennart Gustaffson departs in car after arguing with A.N.
*2nd person in car?
*Mrs. Nilsson dead (2013)
*Ann-Christin dead (2014)
*Mr. Nilsson dead (2015) Nilsson family is exterminated!
*Karl Hellstrom dead (2019)
*Lennart Gustaffson >>> the sitting CEO (2019)
She makes the connection, approaches the local judge and acquires the necessary search warrants. An army of Swedish law enforcement storms the Hellstrom's Corporation — CEO apprehended without incident. Once the evidence is gathered. Once all findings are passed to the litigators.
DNA quickly confirmed; Alexander is Lilly’s biological father, daughter of Ann-Christin Hellstrom. This confirmed the original motive. Karl Hellstrom despised Alex, called him “Island trash” —forbade his daughter to see him. When Ann-Christin revealed the secret to her father, Hellstrom went mad. Lilly’s grandfather conspired with Gustaffson and forced Nilsson to leave Alhoma. Alex was concerned that his entire family would face certain prolonged turmoil if he stayed. Being a young, vulnerable and loving soul, he allowed the compassion he possessed for his family, his sweetheart and newborn daughter to tear him away. Accepting an unjust ultimatum, Alex assume a low-ranking job on Hellstrom’s Foreign Shipping Lines.
After Alex was reported missing and never returned, Lennart Gustuffson swooped in and made his move on Ann-Christin with some coaxing by her father. Lilly Hellstrom became the legal child of Gustaffson, making him the de-facto heir to assume the role of CEO when Karl Hellstrom’s time was up.
Throughout the years, Alex attempted to reach his daughter and Ann-Christin. As the attempts increased, so did the deaths and cover-ups. Mrs. Nilsson received word about Lilly shortly after Alex’s disappearance and began asking questions around Hellstrom’s office. Likewise, Mr. Nilsson, Alex’s father approached Lennart Gustaffson in 2017. This threatened Gustaffson's future, being his General Forman at the time, Lennart was able to rig a crane accident, ultimately ending Mr. Nilsson’s life. Gustaffson was promoted to Corporate staff weeks later.
Just before the death of her grandfather, Lilly Hellstrom began to ask questions about Alex Nilsson. She never would say exactly why, only that her mother would talk about him from time-to-time. Mr. Hellstrom noted this fact in his journal, which he kept in his study. Gustaffson was aware of the journal. He would secretly read it as a way to “keep up with Dad”. Shortly after this discovery, Karl Hellstrom mysteriously faced his demise like the others in Gustafsson’s path. Under oath and prior to his sentencing, Gustaffson testified that Alexander Nilsson returned to Alhoma seeking only his daughter — this enraged Gustaffson. With much hubris, he admitted murdering Nilsson because couldn’t lose Hellstrom Holdings, HIS empire was too important. Ultimately, five deaths occurred…four of them abscent of malice.
As fate would have it, the founder, Henning Hellstrom added some unique stipulations in his will. Wise preparations that seemed almost prophetic.
Several weeks ago, back in Uppsala, Inspector Persson reached her desk after a long day in the field. She noticed an envelope addressed to “Ebba”. A business card was all that it contained...it was sleek and simple.
——————————————————————
Lilly Nilsson - CEO Nilsson Corp.
Corporate Headquarters — Stockholm, Sweden
——————————————————————
(On the reverse side, a handwritten note)
Thanks Ebba, please return to Alhoma!
https://write.as/your-chadcarroway/lo...
Chad - your story reads like it might be true. Enjoyed the read. Thanks for sharing. T................
Mod
Mod
By Mirta Oliva
Today is not a day like any other day. ..."
Nice touch, Mirta to use inspiration from your poems. I enjoyed your story.
Rejoice wrote: "Great theme for February."Thank you. I wanted to do something a little romantic but with a twist.
TERRY wrote: "Chad - your story reads like it might be true. Enjoyed the read. Thanks for sharing. T................"Thx Terry...I accidentally deleted my reply to you from earlier. I'm still learning this message board on GR --
Glenda wrote: "Chad, in this quote, "As fate would have it, the founder, Henning Hellstrom added some unique stipulations in his will. Wise preparations that seemed almost prophetic," does this have anything to d..."Glenda—-You are spot-on. The crime novels are bit detail-heavy, it’s difficult to pack a story like that into >1000 words. I thought I would leave the “stipulation” open-ended in order for it to connect with the business card left for Inspector Ebba Persson at the end.
Mirta wrote: "SUNSETS AT THE JERSEY SHOREBy Mirta Oliva
Today is not a day like any other day. In a couple of hours, Jack will leave on a business trip for a country at war with neighbors. The company yacht wi..."
Well done Mirta! You had me on the edge of my seat and reaching for the kleenix. What a beautiful combination of tension and enduring love.
Chad wrote: "Love Returns to AlhomaBy Chad Carroway
989 words
“I assumed it was going to be a quiet holiday on the beach...?"
Scanning the scene…a strangled victim; male-mid-30’s, discovered on the shore of ..."
What a tangled web we weave? well done, Chad.
It looks like we are off to a good start this month. I look forward to seeing more great stories. Glenda: is the rule still the same about the host/hostess? That they can not submit a story to be judged?
Romantics at heart, aren't we, Lynette? Your prompts were the guiding light and I just followed it. Thanks for your comments.
I agree Mirta...Thanks Lynette, your prompts have provided an outline full of great ideas. My short story is simmering in Scrivener, ready to blossom— maybe a novel—fingers crossed :)
Love Prevails—by Gene Hilgreen
Down in the dumps for more time than I cared to remember, I accepted an offer to attend a fund raiser for my good friend—the Mayor of my town.
“Come on, it’s time you get out, have fun, and start dating again.”
I said sure, and I tried my damnedest to have fun. The wine was good, but I just wasn’t into it.
The night of glad handing and promises of change was winding down. Less than twenty people from the beyond capacity crowd—at my favorite restaurant on the Great South Bay, were exchanging last minute pleasantries—the majority of them, on line for one more drink before the bar closed.
I was one of them, and so was the Mayor.
Without so much of a nod. I left with my glass of wine and headed for the rear deck—my night was almost over.
I followed the lighted path of the moon to the railing and watched as the high tide lapped against the sea wall. I removed the top from the small container I held hand in my left hand. I looked past the moon to the heavens and raised the glass in my right and toasted. “Good bye my love.”
It was time—
Three years had passed since my wife succumbed to cancer, and it was time to continue my life—for better or worse. I had pretty much decided it would be for the worse, and I would be alone the rest of my life.
I said my final goodbye and sprinkled her ashes into the sea she had loved. I took a sip of the wine and pointed the glass at the rising wave.
I was greeted with a spray of salty water that splashed my face, chest, and what was left of my wine. I took it as an omen, and decided to have one final drink.
I rejoined the dwindling line at the bar, and as I handed my glass to the bartender . . . a flash to light caught my attention, and I turned to look.
A woman, her angelic face silhouetted by the rays of the moon was walking in my direction—our eyes locked, and I saw nothing else.
I know we talked. I also know that I mumbled some incoherent words. I never heard her name when she said it—nor could I remember what she wore, but I would never forget her face. I was dumbfounded, infatuated, embarrassed, and at a loss for words—something that had never happened to me before that moment
.
I said, “Excuse me.” Turned toward the back door, stopped and said, “I needed a cigarette,” left and walked back to the railing.
I looked toward the Heavens and said, “thank you God, um . . . I mean Donna.” I dumped my glass of wine into the bay and left.
Half way home, I pulled to the curb and caught my breath. OMG, I thought—I don’t even know her name.
***
Two days later, I’m at Venetians Shores—my favorite beach, and working on my novel. I look to my right—where less than a quarter of a mile away, stood the Chateau La Mer, and I think about the night I met an angel.
I shook my head, closed my laptop and made my way toward the shore.
“Hey, aren’t you that smoker guy?” some woman asked, as I walked by. “From the other night,” she added.
I stopped and without turning and said. “Sorry . . . you some liberal I pissed off?”
“No—it’s me—LeeAnne.”
Now I turned around. And yes, it was the angel I met briefly a few nights before. I wasn’t going to blow it this time. Someone somewhere thought we needed to meet. I looked up to Heaven thinking I had the answer.
We talked for a bit. I met her two kids, and I ended our conversation saying I would be back later that night. One of the most popular bands on Long Island—The Legendary Murphy’s would be playing.
She said she would try to be there by 7pm.
***
A few hours later, I was enjoying the band with a few of my beach friends—when an unusual feeling engulf me. I turn around toward the beach, and standing less than twenty feet away was my angel. “Thank you God. Thank you Donna.”
I approached her and asked her to dance, and that we did. The next song was a slow song and she drew me in. The next song didn’t matter—we continued to hold each other and dance. When the music stopped—we kissed.
Right then and there—the heavens opened and the universe realigned. I met an angel and I know I have found the woman I will spend the rest of my life with.
Love prevails—
Nice story Gene. Thanks for sharing. T...........
Gene wrote: "Love Prevails—
Gene wrote: "Love Prevails—
Mod
Gene wrote: "Love Prevails—
by Gene Hilgreen
Down in the dumps for more time than I cared to remember, I accepted an offer to attend a fund raiser for my good friend—the Mayor of my town.
“Come on, it’s time..."
Mod
Chad wrote: "Love Returns to Alhoma
By Chad Carroway
989 words
“I assumed it was going to be a quiet holiday on the beach...?"
Scanning the scene…a strangled victim; male-mid-30’s, discovered on the shore of ..."
Gufstaffson was quite the scoundrel! -- thx!
Mod
by Gene Hilgreen
Down in the dumps for more time than I cared to remember, I accepted an offer to attend a fund raiser for my good friend—the Mayor of my town...
Gene, is this actually YOUR true story? I remember that your wife passed away from an illness and how you came back with renewed love in your life. And it turns out, no she wasn't a liberal that pissed you off :)
WITHERED ROSES AND FADED PICTURES
tturner 953 words
A queasy feeling swept through my body when I saw a moving van leaving Susie's driveway. I knew her family was moving to California but I didn't expect it to happen so soon. Running, I jumped the white picket fence of their front yard dodged the FOR SALE sign and arrived just as the Mercedes-Benz was about to leave. Susie was sitting in the back seat looking at me. Her face was a picture of sadness and I could tell she had been crying.
“You stay away from my daughter,” her father yelled at me as he rolled the window down. His angry eyes seemed to shoot daggers straight into my heart.
Susie and I were practically the same age. What was his problem? I just stood there in shock, not knowing how to respond. Susie cracked her passenger window enough to shove a small envelop through just as the Mercedes got to the end of the driveway.
All I could do was watch as their vehicle sped down the street and disappeared around the corner. I ran over and picked the envelope up off the ground. Inside was a note from Susie:
'Daniel, I love you. Do not worry, I will be 18 in two years and I will come back to you. Please wait, my love, Susie.'
The truth was her father didn't want a guy like me, from the poor side of the tracks, dating his daughter. What he didn't know, was that Susie and I had already planned to marry after high school and college. Of all the girls I knew in school, Susie was the only one I truly loved and with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life.
When I told my mother what her father had said, she told me to forget about Susie, that there would be many girls in my life before I found the right one. I looked at her unbelieving. All I cared about was Susie and I was missing her already.
As time ticked by, I graduated from high school. College was harder than I had imagined. I had to work to make ends meet which helped to kept my mind occupied. Then, during my last year, I met Bernice and eventually became engaged. However, Susie was never far from my mind.
Bernice was very different from any girl I had ever met. Her long dark hair and olive skin stood in sharp contrast to Susie's curly blonde hair and milky complexion. It was her dark fiery eyes that captivated my senses.
Bernice and I grew closer and closer and I could feel my love for Susie dwindling. I often wondered what I would do if Susie came back to me. After two years of dating and now in my mid-twenties, I felt guilty and decided that one day soon I would tell Bernice why I had not yet asked her hand in marriage. I felt I owed her that much.
Bernice came to my apartment on Valentine's Day with something special planned for us. She could tell I had something weighing heavily on my mind and I felt it was the right time to tell her about Susie. It was such a relief afterward but then I was worried that Bernice would walk out on me.
As it turned out, she had a similar situation going on in her life. We both sat on the sofa, without speaking, in deep thought for several minutes.
“Well, I am glad all of that is out in the open. I feel much better,” Bernice said smiling at me.
“I do too. I am glad we had this conversation.”
I stood up abruptly and paused, staring at the ceiling. Bernice looked at me quizzically.
“Please excuse me for one minute. There is something I need to take care of upstairs. I will only be a minute.”
I went to my bedroom closet and took down a box of things I treasured most from my childhood. It was a diary of mementos. Each item told a story about a part of my adolescent life. Anyone examining those things could never understand it because each item meant something only to me.
The first item in the box was my favorite marbles that occupied a lot of my time when I was seven years old.
Then there was a collar that belonged to my first dog, Miller. It is said, 'we never forget a dog that gave us so much to remember.' Miller taught me so much about life and responsibility. His passing was the darkest part of my childhood.
Next, there was a starfish from my first and only trip to the beach on the Gulf of Mexico.
I laid aside three Superman comic books and two red roses, dried and withered, that Susie had given me one Valentine's Day.
Finally came the last item in my diary. It was a strip of five pictures of me and Susie from a photo booth at the mall. We were so young and naive back then. The pictures were faded and as I looked again at the withered roses, I realized these two things depicted my future with Susie.
I heard Bernice call out. “You all right up there?”
I returned all the items to the box and as I walked out of the room, I dropped the box and everything in it into the waste paper basket.
At the bottom of the stairs, I took Bernice in my arms and kissed her gently on the lips.
“I think it is time to start a new chapter in our lives.”
"Oh, Daniel. I have been thinking about the same thing."
tturner 953 words
A queasy feeling swept through my body when I saw a moving van leaving Susie's driveway. I knew her family was moving to California but I didn't expect it to happen so soon. Running, I jumped the white picket fence of their front yard dodged the FOR SALE sign and arrived just as the Mercedes-Benz was about to leave. Susie was sitting in the back seat looking at me. Her face was a picture of sadness and I could tell she had been crying.
“You stay away from my daughter,” her father yelled at me as he rolled the window down. His angry eyes seemed to shoot daggers straight into my heart.
Susie and I were practically the same age. What was his problem? I just stood there in shock, not knowing how to respond. Susie cracked her passenger window enough to shove a small envelop through just as the Mercedes got to the end of the driveway.
All I could do was watch as their vehicle sped down the street and disappeared around the corner. I ran over and picked the envelope up off the ground. Inside was a note from Susie:
'Daniel, I love you. Do not worry, I will be 18 in two years and I will come back to you. Please wait, my love, Susie.'
The truth was her father didn't want a guy like me, from the poor side of the tracks, dating his daughter. What he didn't know, was that Susie and I had already planned to marry after high school and college. Of all the girls I knew in school, Susie was the only one I truly loved and with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life.
When I told my mother what her father had said, she told me to forget about Susie, that there would be many girls in my life before I found the right one. I looked at her unbelieving. All I cared about was Susie and I was missing her already.
As time ticked by, I graduated from high school. College was harder than I had imagined. I had to work to make ends meet which helped to kept my mind occupied. Then, during my last year, I met Bernice and eventually became engaged. However, Susie was never far from my mind.
Bernice was very different from any girl I had ever met. Her long dark hair and olive skin stood in sharp contrast to Susie's curly blonde hair and milky complexion. It was her dark fiery eyes that captivated my senses.
Bernice and I grew closer and closer and I could feel my love for Susie dwindling. I often wondered what I would do if Susie came back to me. After two years of dating and now in my mid-twenties, I felt guilty and decided that one day soon I would tell Bernice why I had not yet asked her hand in marriage. I felt I owed her that much.
Bernice came to my apartment on Valentine's Day with something special planned for us. She could tell I had something weighing heavily on my mind and I felt it was the right time to tell her about Susie. It was such a relief afterward but then I was worried that Bernice would walk out on me.
As it turned out, she had a similar situation going on in her life. We both sat on the sofa, without speaking, in deep thought for several minutes.
“Well, I am glad all of that is out in the open. I feel much better,” Bernice said smiling at me.
“I do too. I am glad we had this conversation.”
I stood up abruptly and paused, staring at the ceiling. Bernice looked at me quizzically.
“Please excuse me for one minute. There is something I need to take care of upstairs. I will only be a minute.”
I went to my bedroom closet and took down a box of things I treasured most from my childhood. It was a diary of mementos. Each item told a story about a part of my adolescent life. Anyone examining those things could never understand it because each item meant something only to me.
The first item in the box was my favorite marbles that occupied a lot of my time when I was seven years old.
Then there was a collar that belonged to my first dog, Miller. It is said, 'we never forget a dog that gave us so much to remember.' Miller taught me so much about life and responsibility. His passing was the darkest part of my childhood.
Next, there was a starfish from my first and only trip to the beach on the Gulf of Mexico.
I laid aside three Superman comic books and two red roses, dried and withered, that Susie had given me one Valentine's Day.
Finally came the last item in my diary. It was a strip of five pictures of me and Susie from a photo booth at the mall. We were so young and naive back then. The pictures were faded and as I looked again at the withered roses, I realized these two things depicted my future with Susie.
I heard Bernice call out. “You all right up there?”
I returned all the items to the box and as I walked out of the room, I dropped the box and everything in it into the waste paper basket.
At the bottom of the stairs, I took Bernice in my arms and kissed her gently on the lips.
“I think it is time to start a new chapter in our lives.”
"Oh, Daniel. I have been thinking about the same thing."
Mod
tturner 953 words
A queasy feeling swept through my body when I saw a moving van leaving Susie's driveway..."
When you wrote of the box of items, I immediately thought of my scrapbooks that I started in high school. I even put my first gray hair in there that I got at age 18 and winning ribbons from Field Day events. Nowadays it's more of anniversary, birthday and Valentine's cards.
Mod
TERRY wrote: "WITHERED ROSES AND FADED PICTURES
tturner 953 words
A queasy feeling swept through my body when I saw a moving van leaving Susie's driveway. I knew her family was moving to California but I did..."
Time to Change?The warmth of the day ebbed away as we stood by the lake. Amber, her arm looped in mine, rested her head against my shoulder. I felt her warmth against me, making bearable the chill of the evening breeze.
“I’m glad you found me,” I said.
“Great place to hide away,” she said, as we stepped onto the porch of my lakeside cabin.
“I’m not hiding. Just … being.”
“Being solitary.”
“I guess so.”
We went inside. As I put a couple of logs on the fire, the last embers of sunset cast an orange glow into the room. It reflected off the glass of the framed photos, into my eyes.
Smiling, I held up my hand to my brow, shielding my eyes. I looked at Amber now, sitting on the small sofa, nestled into the cushions with her feet tucked up under her. She cradled her glass of wine and smiled.
Just like old times, as if a day had not passed. Yet here I was …
“Happy birthday!” she toasted, raising her glass.
… 67 years old. And we hadn’t seen each other for 35 years.
“Cheers!” We clinked glasses.
My mind went back to how we used to be. Friends since primary school, inseparable as teens, doing each other’s homework, supporting each other through adolescent traumas. Never lovers. Just – inseparable.
Until …
“You don’t have any photos of Miranda on your wall?” said Amber, eyes rapidly scanning the room.
“You think I should? After everything …”
“It’s your history, Mark. She was a big part of it. Maybe the most significant part …?”
Amber opened her eyes wide, looking at me with warmth and disappointment. She raised her eyebrows a little to encourage a response.
“Why torture myself with it?”
“It still hurts?”
“Time’s a great healer.”
I realised there were also no photos of me with Amber. There were once so many.
“Don’t move,” I said with a smile, and went to fetch two large photo albums. I sat beside her on the couch. Our knees touched as we looked through the images of our faded past and reminisced.
“Ah, there we are at New Year with my parents,” Amber sighed. “They adored you.”
“They were such special people. Very kind to me.”
After a few moments silence, Amber said, “It would’ve been good if you’d come to see my father after the accident.”
“I regret that I didn’t.”
“You were in California then …”
“It was the worst time with Miranda. When I found out about her – ”
“ - infidelities. I know.”
We sat in silence a while, leafing through the albums. Amber tapped gently on a photo of her with some red roses I’d given her once on her birthday.
“Do you think,” said Amber, then paused as if thinking how to frame a difficult question. “Do you ever think we could have been together? Maybe, even, should have been together?”
“I have a lot of time to think, out here. And reflect,” I said.
“Go on.”
“You told me once I was always striving for what was out of reach. It’s true. I scraped into Oxford, but struggled there. Barely got halfway up the ladder in my career. Then my futile attempts to be a bestselling writer. Always falling short, always disappointing myself. And, of course …”
“Miranda. You had to win her. The brilliant, beautiful, supremely confident and ambitious Miranda.”
“Even in our marriage, I was still trying to win her. She ended up despising me for my weakness.”
“You once told me you couldn’t settle for less…”
“I said that?”
Amber nodded. “Kind of insensitive, when you think about it. Would being with me have been ‘settling for less’?”
I sighed deeply. “Oh, Amber. I’ve been wrong about so much. So many choices I could have made differently if I’d spent less time seeking the approval of others.”
“You never needed to win my approval, Mark. So – would you want to go back and start over?”
“If I could! But the thing is – I’d have to be a completely different person from who I am. Otherwise I’d just make the same choices again.”
Amber leaned forward, taking my hand in hers. “You don’t have to be completely different. Just different enough.”
“If only …”
“I’ve found a way to go back and make different choices. Really. And I’m asking you to take the journey too.”
With that she took out a small antique timepiece from her bag and set it on the table in front of us. I looked at her doubtfully. “You’re not serious?”
“Put your hand on it along with mine, and we’ll travel back to a point before all the wrong turnings we took. A point where you can make the choice to look into my eyes, and say to me, as I’d say to you: ‘You’ve always been the one. We’re soulmates, and always will be’. You’d say that, wouldn’t you?”
No sooner had I touched the timepiece than I was flying across the lake, surging upstream to the waterfall, and beyond to the source. The sun was no longer setting in the west but rising. Sensations of times past cascaded over me, fragments of journeys, workplaces, landscapes, drunkenness, nakedness, schools, toys, parents, friends, desire, failure, things I understood and things I never could – all these surged around me until at last I fell, exhausted, in a field near my home town.
Through my dizziness I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin. I could see, could feel, my younger self. I heard familiar voices, and someone calling me.
Then I heard my hopeful, treacherous voice say: “Miranda?”
* *
The last traces of the sunset were gone, and Amber too. The room was dark save for my desk lamp and the fading glow of the fire.
I began editing, once more, my unfinished stories about that other person, the person I never had the courage to be.
Interesting story Andy. The story of a great many of us; I believe, to go back and undo the wrong turns. Thanks for sharing. T.......
Gene: So good to see your story posted in this group once again.
I do want to apologize for seeming to vanish the last few days. I spent most of last week at a writer's conference. This week just seemed to pass in a blur.
Terry, great story about moving out of the past and boldly embracing the future.
Great story Andy, about second chances.
We are down to last couple of days to submit a story.
Love all the stories so far. Tough challenge. In fact, I'm not sure I can make my story fit less that 1000 words... AGH. May have to cut a character.
okay, I think I got it. Liked it with the background and details but this is much tighter for a single story.
Roses are Redby Shae Hamrick
Kiel put the small, faded painting of his mother on the stone shelf. He missed her. Now, he only had Thedric.
Thedric rumbled in the larger cave, his dragonous sleeping after hunting all night.
“Wyman is coming,” Thedric said in Kiel’s head.
“Thank you,” Kiel replied. He opened the cave door just as Wyman was about to knock.
Thedric rumbled a laugh.
Wyman nodded to Thedric. “Master Thedric. It is a pleasure to be of amusement today.”
Thedric returned the nod. “Thank you, e’Tyro Wyman. Come in and be welcome at our hearth, though it is not yet lit today.”
Wyman snickered and Kiel rolled his eyes.
“I am grateful for your welcome, Master Thedric. Let me assist with the hearth.”
Thedric rumbled, “See Master Kiel. You should strive to be more like e’Tyro Wyman.”
Kiel snorted as he joined Wyman in starting a fire. “You are more than enough warmth for me, great Master Dragon.”
Wyman elbowed him. “Why do you speak to him as such? Do you not fear his wrath?”
Shrugging, Kiel placed another log in the slowly growing flames. “I revered him for many years. And then one day he became stubborn and started correcting everything I did. So, I gave up. We have a sort of running feud now. He tells me how I should behave, and I tell him to stay out of my personal life.”
“Ah,” Wyman poked at Kiel. “You took an interest in someone of which your bond mate doesn’t approve.”
“No!” Kiel swatted at his friend and classmate.
A knock at the door echoed through the smaller cave.
When he opened the door, Ariana stood outside with a basket of fish. Kiel’s face warmed.
Ariana bowed and offered him the basket. “A gift for you, Master Kiel, and your dragon, Master Thedric. My family hopes you will be well and prosper.”
Who needed a fire with Ariana there?
Thedric harrumphed. “Don’t invite her in if you don’t want me eating her. She smells like food.”
“And Estreid didn’t?” Kiel thought back.
“No,” Thedric responded silently. “Her bread smelled good, but she smelled of flowers. And you didn’t even notice. I had to be polite and thank her for coming. You were too busy mourning.”
“You said you wouldn’t bring that up again.”
Ariana was looking past him. “Was your dragon speaking with you? He’s so magnificent. Could we ride him?”
Kiel quickly shook his head. “Master Thedric just hunted.”
“Oh.” Ariana glanced down and frowned. “I was hoping we could go to Sidric shores. Lovely red roses grow there and Kedricta, the end of winter celebration, is coming.”
“On the other side of the island?”
She nodded as she played with the string hanging off his sleeve. He should have changed.
“And had a bath,” Thedric rumbled in his head. “Red is the wrong color for the Kedricta feast. I know where some large white ones are. I will take you and Wyman. But not her.” The last word sounded like he had spit.
Kiel nearly laughed.
~
Kiel ran through the small fishing village, stumbling in the near darkness, Wyman at his heals. He knocked on Ariana’s door as Wyman slid to a stop behind him.
Ariana opened the door and stared. Her little brother, behind her, laughed.
“Those are white roses,” she mumbled.
Kiel smiled. “The color of the Kedricta.”
“But roses are red,” Ariana said, her eyes wide.
“Most are. But these are from a different side of the island.”
Ariana’s face hardened. She knocked the roses out of his arms. “You were supposed to take me. I was to ride the dragon. I told all my friends. I was popular. You ruined it all. I don’t ever want to see you again!”
The door slammed in Kiel’s face. He closed his mouth and walked away.
Thedrick spoke in his head. “Some gratitude. You should take the flowers to that Estreid girl.”
Kiel clamped his teeth together. “No, Ibella.”
“That old crone. You have strange tastes in women.”
Kiel turned around. Estreid was picking up the flowers and talking with Wyman.
Stomping back, Kiel stuck is fists on his hips. “I should have known you only went with me to get flowers for Estreid. You two hang around a lot. You just want to see Master Thedric.”
Estreid stood, stamped her foot, and shoved the flowers at Kiel. “You are both stupid. I was just trying to help.”
She then stomped away.
Wyman threw up his hands. “I was trying to help. I didn’t even want to go. You are on your own man. Don’t expect me around.”
As Kiel walked toward his cave, Thedric chuckled.
“What?”
“People are funny. We dragons mate and move on. Only the strongest dragon can catch a flying female. Though, sometimes, a female will reject a stronger male for a weaker male. Maybe that is why you like that Ariana girl. Personally, I think the Estreid girl that likes you is a much stronger female. She doesn’t care if I like her or not. She has spunk, as you call it.”
Kiel stopped and looked down at the flowers in his arms, trampled and dirty but still beautifully white. He turned back and saw Estreid picking up the rest of the roses into a basket. When had she gotten a basket and come back?
Kiel walked back. She looked up and he put his flowers in her basket that usually held bread. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect Ariana to be so… mean.”
Estreid looked at the door. “Yeah, she does that. She really wants to ride on a dragon.”
Kiel snorted. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Estreid picked up the basket and stood. “Not me. And a few others. I was surprised when you said Wyman had. He hates heights.”
Kiel stared. Wyman never told him about hating heights.
“That’s because you don’t listen,” Thedric rumbled in his head.
“You may be right, Master Dragon,” Kiel responded as he smiled at Estreid and took the basket from her. “Would you like to come with me to give the roses to the headwoman, Ibella?”
“Sure.”
Kiel took one of the roses and handed it to Estreid. “For you since you always smell so nice, like flowers.”
Thedric snorted.
Enjoyed reading your story, Shae. Thanks for sharing.
Mod
By Glenda Reynolds
507 Words
Love can be found in the strangest of places. Some love is long-lasting while other love is fleeting. These were my thoughts as I gazed at an old painting that hung above a vase of roses. The painting was of a lake surrounded by hills, trees, and a lone deer. I shivered when a breeze came in through the window. Spring still hadn’t fully arrived yet, although some would like to rush it along. What a strange mood I found myself in. Restless. Indecisive. Was it snack time? The songs of the birds did help to lighten my mood. Although the bratty neighboring kids delighted in kicking their ball against the metal fence which rocked me back to the present.
I digress.
Ah, yes. The painting. A happy memory played in my mind. What took place a very long time ago felt like only yesterday. In my memory, I strode on a beautiful nature trail during what seemed like the perfect day. It was a once in a lifetime type of day like no other. I was surrounded by God’s beauty. It was as if all of creation abode in perfect harmony under a canopy of green trees. I came to the edge of the woods which opened up to a beautiful lake. That is where I first saw him. I will call the mystery person Arturo; after all, this is associated with a piece of art.
It would be too easy to say he was beautiful. No, he was much more. He was graceful, sleek, and muscular. Once he noticed me, he came closer. His large, unblinking, golden eyes locked on mine. Like a young schoolboy, he pretended to be shy as he hid in the shadows. When he reappeared, he would tease me as he blew kisses in my direction. My heart beat with excitement. I would love to taste those lips, to embrace him, and to smell the essence of him. The words of the song came to mind, “Said I loved you, but I lied. ‘Cause this is more than love I feel inside.”
Yes, I had it bad.
Should I venture closer to him? I wondered to myself. But it didn’t matter how much I tried to close the distance; he didn’t have the courage to be near me.
I heard voices in the distance from others who were coming to enjoy the nature park and lake. Surely I should be able to meet Arturo before anyone interfered. In desperation, I sat at the edge of the lake. I was very still. Curiosity got the better of him. Finally he moved slowly toward me. The light glistened off his body. His movements were slow and cautious. Once again his golden eyes held mine. His lips moved as though he wanted to taste me too. There was a sudden splash in the water to my right. As quick as lightening Arturo vanished from sight.
*****
The bewildered cat looked on as the fisherman reeled in a seven-pound bass otherwise known as Arturo.
Mod
The warmth of the day ebbed away as we stood by the lake. Amber, her arm looped in mine, rested her head against my shoulder. I felt her warmth against me, making bearable..."
I loved your story, Andy. An unexpected ending for I thought he really did go back in time to make better life choices. It's hard to live with regret.
I enjoyed you writ, Glenda. Thanks for sharing. T.........
Mod
by Shae Hamrick
Kiel put the small, faded painting of his mother on the stone shelf. He missed her. Now, he only had Thedric.
Thedric rumbled in the larger cave, his dragonous..."
It's funny that I had been thinking the last day or two about how you love dragon stories and then I see that you posted one :) I enjoyed it!
Thanks Glenda. Liked the twist in yours as well. Everyone has had really great stories this month.I was hoping Andy's would turn out with him getting the other girl, but maybe it was meant to be. I like how he tied the sunset being gone with Amber being gone as well.
Well, I guess there is a few days left for a few more stories. Happy writing everyone
Mod
In the Rules Of This Group it states: **Writers who host for the month will not submit a story for the month that they host. If you want to share your story with your monthly prompts, please do so at the time that you announce the winners.
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
Emma: The VacationerAuthor: Patricia Fuqua Lovett
Word Count: 624
The bright yellow SUV hit multiple bumps on the concrete drawbridge before she drove onto the two-lane highway. I swear she mumbled, these are the worst roads in the country. Potholes, potholes, potholes. It's bad enough driving over a draw bridge and hitting metal steel beams, all the while calming my fears of the vast body of water below. Just then, the GPS cautioned her to make the next right turn onto Lake Shore Drive.
Finally, she could see the newly renovated condominium in the distance. The intermittent heavy rain impeded her from immediately reading the condominium number. Finally, she made out the black lettering of C-1342 on the bright pink building.
She loved roses, but she reasoned that whoever painted the red rose on the unwelcome truck had no talent. If some of her artist cop friends saw this poor impersonation of a red rose, the truck owner risked a traffic stop for a wrongful paint job violation. Maybe she was a bit too critical, but no one would disagree that the parking pad's condo decal number matched that of her condo. I wonder who is the thoughtless person to park in my driveway! So far, the quiet weekend that Emma had been planning was already drifting away from her.
"Hey!" She heard a man's voice yell from across the lawn. “My apologies. I left my truck on your parking pad." Without responding and with a swift push with her derrière, she pushed the front door close, signaling a not so thoughtful response.
She heard the truck's engine roar, and shortly afterward, a knock on the door sounded just as she opened the kitchen blinds. A glimpse of the ocean quickly quieted her mood. Finally, she asked, "who is it?" The voice on the other side of the door answered, "your neighbor and truck parking violator, Paul.”
Swinging the door open in a rush, Paul almost fell into the foyer but managed to hold his composure. "My apologies for tying up your driveway Ms.----?" He said, dragging out the Ms.
"Emma. Emma Thornbird." She said with a half-smile.
"Paul Heard." He said.
"Emma. Let me help you take in the rest of your belongings. That's the least I can do."
"Thanks. I'd like that. I'm a little tired, and a few of my things are a bit heavy."
Placing the last load of belongings on the floor, Emma offered Paul the last of her iced mineral water from her Igloo cooler.
"If this is your last cold one, we can share," he offered. The weather here is approaching 98 degrees.
"My space here is cooling off nicely, Paul. It's all yours. That's the least I can do for your much-appreciated help."
"Emma. Since retiring, I’ve become an expert in property management and part-owner of most of these condos. Let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks, Paul. You've more than redeemed yourself."
"Before I leave, may I ask you why the faded picture? By the looks of your expensive utility vehicle, buying a new picture is not a problem."
She sighed and gave a half-laugh. "It's been with me for many years. I call it my lucky piece, my freshman scholarship piece. As a newly retired art teacher, my first self-imposed assignment is to restore my beautiful red rose to its original prize-winning glory days.
"Art teacher? I guess you probably laughed at my rendition of a painted rose."
"She smiled. No. I didn't laugh. I assumed it was a piece done straight from the heart. Maybe I can add a few touches and make a few corrections."
"I'd like that, Emma."
The door closed and she smiled thinking, maybe having Mr. Parking Violator next door won’t be so bad after all.
Great story, Mirta. I love the infusion of poetry. Mirta wrote: "SUNSETS AT THE JERSEY SHOREBy Mirta Oliva
Today is not a day like any other day. In a couple of hours, Jack will leave on a business trip for a country at war with neighbors. The company yacht wi..."
Love your artistic style Patricia. nice story. Patricia wrote: "Emma: The Vacationer
Author: Patricia Fuqua Lovett
Word Count: 624
The bright yellow SUV hit multiple bumps on the concrete drawbridge before she drove onto the two-lane highway. I swear she mumbl..."
Everyone has had really great stories this month. No angels though. Maybe next month.
Great story, Chad. Chad wrote: "Love Returns to AlhomaBy Chad Carroway
989 words
“I assumed it was going to be a quiet holiday on the beach...?"
Scanning the scene…a strangled victim; male-mid-30’s, discovered on the shore of ..."
Highlights:
1. a lake or sea shore
2. a faded picture or painting
3. a red rose
Tidbits to get you started.
1. I always wondered why grandma got emotional when she talked about Harry. After her death I came across an old diary.
2. For ten years people have seen old man Matthews sitting alone on the beach. One day I decided to talk to him.
3. We finally bought the beach house of our dreams. One detail the real estate agent failed to tell us: someone already lived there.
4. We assumed it was going to be a quiet weekend on the lake. Well, that is what we get for assuming.
5. For five years I waited for her to keep her promise, but I never heard a word. That is until...
6.Something was never quite right about that story. Now the truth is out we understand why the facts were withheld.
Setting – any
Plot – your choice.
Length: 500 to 1000 Words
Deadline: 11:59 pm MST on Wednesday February 26.
Voting will start 12:01 am MST on February 27, 2020 and end 11:59 pm MST on Friday February 29 2020. Winners will be posted in this thread on Sunday March 1 2020.
Genre: Fantasy, Thriller, Sci-Fi, Mystery, Crime, Comedy, Romance, or a mixture (BASICALLY, anything but erotica)
Purpose -
Some fiction writers are looking to win a short story contest, keeping in touch with making deadlines, and/or simply sharpening the skill of writing fiction. The main purpose of this contest is to sharpen plot and character skills, collect your own short stories, receive good feedback, make a good connection with other writers, and take a short break from your current novel to get a fresh view when you return to it.
Rules and Directions -
* Type in English - a minimum of 500 words; a maximum of 1,000 words; no erotica, no profanity.
* Post your title, by line, and word count total in the first line of your story posting.
* Writers are responsible for their own copyright. Authors keep all rights. PRIVACY POLICY IS ENFORCED. COPYRIGHTS AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS BELONG TO INDIVIDUAL AUTHORS. THIS CONTEST DOES NOT GRANT ANY PERSON THE RIGHT OR LICENSE TO COPY OR USE OTHER STORIES. EACH STORY IS PROTECTED BY THE COPYRIGHT OF THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR.
* ONE entry per person, must be the writer's original work, a final revision, and a new piece of writing. Please do not delete and repost since this becomes confusing to the readers. Please post your FINAL revision.
Judging: The story will be judged on creativity, proper grammar, punctuation, and overall good quality of the story.
Voting: Please vote for first, second, and third place. You are not allowed to vote for yourself. If posting this month, you MUST vote, in order for your story to remain eligible.