Men Waiting for a Shave Is a Barber Queue

I hate shaving.

Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.

And I don't know why. It's not like it is that difficult, but I put off doing it as long as I can.

I've done this for many years. Once I shaved, I would not shave again until the itching on my face was driving me crazy and I just couldn't stand it anymore. Then, I would shave. But only because I had to for my sanity.

Because I would often go two weeks (or sometimes even longer) between shaves, the crappy little disposable razors just didn't do the trick.

 

I didn't break them like Bill Duke did in Predator, but I did destroy them very quickly. When you are harboring two weeks worth of uncontrolled undergrowth on your face, that tiny little cheap blade can't handle it. After pulling it barely a quarter-inch down your face shag, the underside is already clogged and it just slides across the top of your cheek growth.

To make any progress, I had to take tiny little swipes and thoroughly rinse after every two or three attempts. The difference on my face would be barely noticeable and it could take 20 minutes to do just one cheek. Plus, by then, the blade was shot and it was time to change razors. I would go through two to four razors every time.

Eventually, I decided to upgrade and purchased my first big boy razor.

Woohoo! Four blades.

I saw an immediate improvement. I could shave a little faster, but I still had to be careful to not shave too much before cleaning out the blades. Once the spaces between the blades get packed with stubble, they were useless. IF I took care to protect the blades, I was sometimes able to shave three separate days before I had to put a new blade cartridge in. This was a much better experience, but those cartridges were four to six dollars apiece. So, quite often, (as much as I hated it) I tried to shave more often. Twice a week seemed to greatly extend the life of my blades. But I complained loudly every time I had to do it.

Puberty still sucks even years later. I've seriously considered getting electrolysis on my face. Have I said I hate shaving?

One day six years ago, I saw an ad for a barbershop that does shaves. I don't know why this had never occurred to me before. Let someone else do it! It was for Red's Classic Barbershop in Indianapolis (where I lived at the time). Which, coincidentally, was probably why I saw the ad.

Someone else shaving me?
Yes, please.

I jumped at this opportunity. I raced over and got a professional shave for the first time in my life. It was awesome, but it was not cheap. I was not going to pay for this service every couple of weeks. However, I was sold on the concept of a straight razor after this and went a little crazy. I bought a razor, shaving brush, special shaving lather gel and a few other accessories. My trip downtown to get a shave turned into a $300 expense. 

You know when you go to the barbershop to get a shave and get all caught up in the hype and spend a couple hundred bucks?

I just did that.

— GigaBrett (@brettminor) May 22, 2015

The best part was the quality and function of the blade. An unencumbered straight razor is typically pretty laid-back about how long it has been since your last shave. And with no crevices around the blade for little hairs to clog up, it shaves much faster. One long swipe down the cheek removes hair from the entire area. No more little pecks with an inferior blade for me. I was set for life.

Until I went to use it for the first time a week later.

As it turns out, the totally exposed, uber-honed blade with the sharpened end tapered down to barely the width of a single atom must be used quite delicately. And with a very steady hand.

With time, I got better. However, after several near-fatal mishaps I learned to always inform my wife I was shaving so she wouldn't suddenly yell out "THE PIZZA'S HERE!" 

Sudden and unexpected outbursts tend to make people jump. And when I am already understandably nervous about having the miniature, home-version of a samurai sword at my jugular, these outbursts would cause significantly more than a flinch from me.

So, shaving time became household quiet time. We silenced the phones, muted the TV and she would sit in a comfortable chair until I give the all-clear. The routine worked for us for several years.

Since then, we have moved to Vietnam. The land of the discount everything. 

The high prices in Indianapolis that kept me from letting someone else shave me don't exist here. Now, I head out to a barbershop every Wednesday morning to get a shave. I will happily let someone else do it when it only costs 20,000 đồng ($0.90). But it is a bit of a different experience. Correction. A radically different experience.

Here, there is no hot towel and face cream treatment like at the fancy shop I visited in the States. It's also not a nice retro place downtown with drinks and a waiting area. It's a dry shave in a dimly-lit building similar to what Americans might call a 'backyard murder-shack'.

Of the four places I frequent for my weekly treatment, two of them have dirt floors. One has no electricity. Three of them have no running water on site and none of them have a professionally-trained, certified barber. Here, if you want to open a business, you just do it. To be a barber, you need a pair of scissors and something for your customer to sit on. That's it.

For the last few weeks, my favorite barber has had a teenage kid (he looks about 14) hanging around in his little murder-shack barber shed. Often when I am in there, the kid (the barber's son, I assume) is sitting in the corner taking apart a set of clippers and putting it back together. He pulls out plastic chairs for waiting customers to sit in despite there being room for no more than three people in the tiny shack. He also makes sure the front door stays shut to prevent wandering water buffalo from trying to push their way in.

Last week, I figured out that the boy is apparently in training to do what his father does. Learn the trade and start cutting hair. (I have to assume everything since we speak different languages. I can't ask any questions, so I just have to observe and guess. I'm wrong a lot.) I sat in the chair as the barber stepped outside with his previous customer to collect money and have a cigarette. Once I was seated, the boy rested my seat back and started putting the foam on my face.

My mind started racing. Did I want this child shaving me? Those straight razors are deadly. I barely trust myself with those death blades at my throat and I love me more than anyone. But the father(?) soon came back in and took over.

This week, the same thing happened. I was much more relaxed, but dad(?) did not come back in this time. The boy whipped out the blade and started to work in front of my right ear.

I understand that an apprentice has to start doing the real thing eventually. That's how he's going to learn. And from a business and local-credibility standpoint, it probably makes sense to have him practice on the foreigner in case of a mishap. I just wish it wasn't me.

The boy moved very slowly. He didn't take any long swipes and he did the same area a few times. I assume to be sure to get all the hair. After he finished one cheek, he moved to the other. By now, dad(?) was standing over me and watching. He gave a few words now and then. After he finished my left cheek, he handed the razor over to his father (I am still not sure of their relationship). Dad ran his fingers over my cheeks and gave a nod of approval to the boy. Then, Dad went to work on the more complicated contours of my face. Under the nose. Around the lips. The curves of the jawline and chin.

It all worked out. I didn't get a single nick.

When it was finished, the boy jumped back in with a towel to clean me up. I got up and paid the barber his 20,000 đồng and then turned back to the kid and held out another 20,000. He looked confused and shook his head while pointing to his father. I assume he was saying, "No, no. Pay him."

I pushed the money closer to him and he looked around me to his father. Dad gave a quick nod which allowed the boy to take the money. I ran my fingers over the sides of my face and gave him a thumbs up. He now understood. I was actually paying him for his service. A huge smile broke out on his face. He jumped up and gave the polite bow that is common in this part of the world. I turned around to leave and his father was beaming. He gave me a subtle wink as I left.

I think I made that kid's day.

When I go back next time, I think I'll try to swallow my fear and convince Dad to let the kid do it all.

You Have the Right to Remain Offended (But That Doesn't Mean I Have to Care)

In today's world, you just never know when someone is going to get butt-hurt about something. And it could be anything. The smallest things set people off onto their personal righteous crusade.

A few years ago, I had a Facebook friend attack me when I made an ADHD joke.

 

"I think I have ADHD, doc"
Why?
"I keep forgetting where I parked my Ford"
That's not-
"Yeah, I keep losing my Focus"
Get out of my office.

 

This joke does not make fun of people with ADHD in any way. It is really just a play on words.

However, she tore into me because her son has ADHD and I should be more sensitive to families dealing with serious issues. I totally understand why that topic is a trigger for her, but I do not excuse her response. And I let her know this by going back through all the comments and likes on my Facebook posts when I had made various other jokes about other things and she laughed. I took screen shots of her responses to those jokes and sent them to her.

Luckily, she actually is a decent person and she responded appropriately. She apologized (not what I was fishing for) and admitted that she was overly sensitive about this topic (what I was fishing for). Basically, I do not think it is fair to laugh at one joke aimed a group, but take offense when it is aimed at a different group.

I do understand that you cannot always control what offends you. But you can and should control your reaction to it. Here are some tirades I have witnessed personally:

• A girl refused to attended her high school class reunion because it was broken into two events. The typical dinner and dance was the main part, but it was preceded by an afternoon excursion for entire families. Bring your families. Since she had never had children, she felt personally insulted that this event was included and she voiced her anger loudly. Basically, since she had never had children, no one else should be allowed to be proud of theirs.
• A man whose father had died in a car accident stormed out of a movie theater months later when a car accident happened in the movie. I completely understand why this was a painful thing for him to see, but I do not understand why he berated the cinema staff and almost punched the theater manager for not personally warning him about this scene. He would not have thrown the same tantrum if the death was from a gunshot or a drug overdose. He was only upset because it was sensitive to him.
  

There is a real difference between something being offensive and someone being offended.

People get all up in arms over all sorts of things. Christmas is always under fire simply because not all people celebrate Christmas. People are attacked over hairstyles and clothing choices they like because it might be cultural-appropriation. Some schools have been attacked for the food in their cafeteria because some of the students are of a religion or philosophy that prohibits them from eating certain foods, so they want the food banned for everyone. It's ridiculous. All of this came to mind today when I saw this on my brother-in-law's Facebook page today.

 

This is one of those ridiculous arguments I was talking about. She doesn't point out anything bad about Father's Day other than some people are not in the same situation. That's it. That is her entire argument.

If she honestly feels this, to be consistent with her argument, I am suggesting to her some other holidays to eliminate so as not to upset people.

Let's start with Secretary's Day. People who don't have a secretary should not be disrespected on this day. The shame they will feel every year from not having a job worthy of needing a secretary is unnecessary and cruel.

Veteran's Day - There are people who do not come from military families. I personally come from a Navy family, but was rejected for health reasons when I tried to sign up. Myself and hundreds of thousands of others are shamed every year when this holiday shows its ugly head. Non-military families or people who object to the military are forced to have an awful day with all the patriotic idiots running around.

Memorial Day - There are people who have not experienced a loss by death. I've met them. I know a couple of adults who have never been to a funeral in their entire lives. They shouldn't have their day ruined by all the talk of such a depressing nature. 

Valentine's Day - A slap in the face to every single person.

National Pancake Day (Feb 16) - Some of us prefer waffles. Why honor this lesser breakfast?

Inauguration Day - A sad reminder to a large LARGE LARGE number of people that their candidate did not win. 

Black History Month (Feb) - Some people aren't black 

Women's History Month (Mar) - Some people aren't women 

Asian Pacific American Month (May) - Some people aren't Asian Pacific American. Or even just Asian. Or from the Pacific. Or even American.

Doctor's Day (Mar 30) - With the state of the US health care system, many people can't afford a doctor. This entire day is spent in hiding knowing the more affluent in the country are laughing at their poverty (and undetected cancerous tumors).

Take Your Daughter to Work Day - A major indignity to the parents of all boys. It is incredibly painful for the people who are wanting to have children. Excruciating to someone who has lost a child or suffered a miscarriage.

Arbor Day - If a tree fell on and killed your father, you should not be unfairly subjected to this day. Families of lumberjacks often boycott this day.

St Patrick's Day (Mar 17) - Everyone is allowed to pretend they are Irish, but some people don't drink. What are they supposed to do? 

Cinco de Mayo (May 5) - Those people still don't drink, but now it's May. 

Tax Day - Poor people 

National Missing Children Day (May 25) - This day is a blasphemy to those of us who actually kept track of our kids.

Bastille Day (July 14) - Incredibly degrading for those of us who do not know what a bastille is 

Labor Day - Depressing for the unemployed 

Leif Erikson Day (Oct 9) - Rage-inducing for those people who were taught in school that Columbus discovered America 

Columbus Day (Oct 11) - Nearly impossible to enjoy for the Columbus supporters still reeling from the fake holiday two days previous 

Sweetest Day (Oct 16) - My brother is diabetic. How is he supposed to feel on this day? 

Halloween - Downright slanderous for those who have relatives who are actual ghosts now. Incredibly insensitive and thrown right in people's faces. Children actually come knock on your door to make sure you know this hurtful celebration is happening.

Thanksgiving - What are people without families supposed to do? Or people with families but are vegetarians?

Cyber Monday - Discourtesy to Luddites 

Military Spouse Appreciation Day (May 7) - I don't understand. Is every person in the military married? In addition, I suppose all the wonderful spouses out there who don't happen to be married to a person in the military should just be shunned. It is shameful.

New Year's Day - What about people who celebrate the Lunar New Year? 

Groundhog Day - This entire day is a mockery of the many people who have rodent-related phobias.

President's Day - A not-so-subtle slight against the "NOT MY PRESIDENT"-type people 

Read Across America Day (Mar 2) - A day of scorn for the illiterate. An outright affront to authors whose manuscripts have been rejected by publishers.

Let's get rid of them all so no one will be offended. And if anyone can actually come up with a holiday that legitimately is not offensive in any way we still need to ban it because some family out there will have to face it for the first time this year since a loved one died. The rest of the world going on with their lives is the definition of cruelty.

And anyone who might be offended by the removal of one of their beloved holidays is selfish and does not care about the feelings of others.

Maybe, just maybe, if we do all this Daniella Herzog will be happy.  But I doubt it.

 

The #AtoZChallenge is Over

The A to Z Challenge is over. This was my sixth year participating and this year I really challenged myself. I did Flash Fiction all month, but I had to do a different literary genre every day. Some days it was quite difficult.

I was really not looking forward to Romance. I did it, but it was not great. For E, people kept recommending Erotica. I refused from the beginning. Wasn't even going to attempt it. That would have been a disaster. But I did have some posts I was very proud of.

One of the rules I kept for myself all month was to not pre-plan any posts. Every post was written that day. I very rarely had any idea what I was going to write when I sat down, so it just had to flow. The hardest part was capturing the mood of the genre for the day. On some, I think I nailed it. On many more, not so much.

Following is a list of every post I did for the month. There is one for each letter. There is a brief description of each one. The ones that I am particularly proud of have an X in the box. (⛝)

---

☐  A - Adventure - A brother and sister outing does not go as planned.

⛝  B - Bizarro - I am not a sports guy, but I had fun with this one. And as a genre, this is probably Bizarro Light. There is some crazy bizarro fiction out there.

⛝  C - Children's - I LOVE THIS STORY! It was fun and came out really cute.

☐  D - Dystopian - After I finished, I am not sure I would call this one dystopian.

☐  E - Era-Driven - This one takes place about 100 years ago. It is based upon a short story I wrote a few years ago about my grandmother as a child.

⛝  F - Fairy Tale  - When I knew I was writing a fairy tale, I had the ending immediately. I just needed a story to get me there. This is what I came up with. I'm proud of this one.

⛝  G - Ghost Story - My very first ghost story. And I think it came out quite well. I like this one.

☐  H - Horror  - I am a huge horror fan, but don't really think I pulled it off well. I got the idea from a Shirley Jackson short story, but mine went in a radically different direction.

⛝  I - Imaginary Voyage - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra's Don Quixote is probably the most famous work of this genre. He was on a stupendous adventure in his head, when in reality he was simply wandering the countryside acting like a lunatic. I decided to tame it a bit. I was quite proud of how it came out.

☐  J - Juxtaposition - I did not know of any genres that began with J. So, I retold the A is for Adventure story, but from the other's character's perspective.

⛝  K - Karen - I did not know of any genres that began with K. There was a crazy Karen story in the news that morning, so I used that as my topic. I liked it.

⛝    L - Legend - This was a short story idea I had a couple of years ago. The idea was jotted down in my notebook and forgotten about until I thumbed through it for story ideas. I love this story, but I am not sure I did it justice.

☐  M - Mystery - A dysfunctional family's reading of the will.

⛝   N - Noir - One of my favorites for the month. I tried to capture the feeling of detective noir mystery thrillers. I think it came out well. And it was so much fun to write.

☐   O - Oral History - More of an explanation of oral history than anything, but told as a story.

☐   P - Paranormal - this was based upon something that actually happened in our home.

☐   Q - Quest - Some quests are more epic than others.

☐   R - Romance - I am NOT a romance writer, but I gave it a shot.

☐   S - Science Fiction - I think I could do science fiction, but was struggling for a story idea this day.

⛝   T - Time Travel - THIS ONE IS MY FAVORITE!!! I loved this story. I may need to expand it further. It was the most fun to write.

☐   U - Urban Legend - I took some of the "supposedly true" stories from my childhood and decided to run with it.

☐   V - Vampire - Not typical vampire fair, but there is a vampire in it.

☐   W - Western - I did too much research on this for as short as it is. There may be a story there if I wanted to spend more time on it.

☐   X - Crossover - Not a genre, but it was fun to write. Not great stuff, but I enjoyed it.

☐   Y - Young Adult - Meh. I used the story to explain my thoughts on this.

⛝   Z - Zombies - I did not write this one for A to Z. I wrote this a couple of years ago. It is an excerpt from a book I am writing. I need to pick it up again and get the book finished.

Z - Zombies - #AtoZChallenge

My last post for this month is Z, obviously. Z is for Zombies. 

And I was feeling lazy today. So, I didn't write anything, but I did write what is here. This is a chapter from my book (still unfinished). There are a couple of running gags in the story that I am not going to explain here, but shouldn't not distract from this short section. It is about 3,100 words, so it is significantly longer than my usual posts.

All you need to know is that in this world, due to reasons it would take too long to explain, when some people die, they don't completely die. They become zombies. But not violent, brain-eating zombies. They are basically a public nuisance. The two main characters work for the city dispatch crew. They respond when a zombie needs to be taken care of. It is John's (JB's) first day on the job. I hope you enjoy it.

---

 

There were hundreds of kids in the parking lot as parents and buses were dropping students off to start the school day. Due to the traffic, Pops had to park the truck by the street in front of the school sign. 

FTERLING COMMUNITY HIGH FCHOOL
BAFKETBALL TRYOUTS TODAY

“Damn it, Pops. Tell me why we’re here.” Pops had refused to tell John about the call. He wanted it to be a surprise. “You’ll see” was all he would say as he wiggled his eyebrows and clenched the cigarette in his teeth.

Pops jumped out of the truck and waved at the students and teachers who had stopped to look at them. The arrival of the FRT truck was rarely good news. Undeterred, Pops dropped the tailgate. “JB, gimme a hand, will ya?”

Pops pulled out a four-foot pole that had a cable noose at one end and tossed it to John. “Is this one of those dogcatcher poles?” Pops smile widened as he said “Yep. And you’re on pole duty for this one, so check it out. Hit the release knob on the end there to make it snap tight and be damn sure you have a good hold on those rubber grips so it doesn’t slip away from you. This is gonna to be a big one. Let’s go.” Pops spun on his heel and headed toward the entrance.

John followed in resignation. He had several more questions, but knew Pops well enough that he understood no more information was coming. Pops loved his surprises and badgering him for more details would only make him more excited that he knew something John didn’t.

As they stepped through the crowd to get inside Pops whistled, “Wow, JB. This place hasn’t changed at all since we ravaged these halls.”

“We only graduated three years ago. Did you expect trees to be growing in here now?”

Pops scoffed, “No, but I wonder if Mr. Hausen is still watering that pot plant I stuck in with his other herbs.”

The crowd of staring students parted for them as they made their way down the hall. “Where we headed?” John still had no idea where they were going.

“To the cafeteria,” said Pops and lowered his voice, “but keep it quiet. Ralph said the principal wants us to keep a low profile.”

“Low profile as we park in the middle of a crowd and walk through the hallways with a dog catching pole. Maybe we should have just sat low in the seats and driven the truck through here so no one could see us.”

“Hey,” Pops snapped. “I hear your sarcasm and raise you a sense of adventure. Isn’t this fun?”

“I believe we have very different ideas of what makes something fun. I didn’t care for this place for the four years I had to be here.”

Pops retorted, “I think you and I can both agree you had fun with Sara Lange in that janitors’ closet right there and you appreciated being here that day.”

“Let’s just do what we’re here to do. Okay?”

The bell signaling the first class rang just as they approached the cafeteria and the crowd reluctantly dispersed. John and Pops stepped into the kitchen and witnessed a disheveled woman mopping a large pool of thick red liquid up off the floor. The crimson stains were splattered all over the room. The bottom of her pants was soaked with it and it looked like she may have rolled in it before cleaning. It even appeared to be dripping from her scraggly hair. One of the metal countertops was turned over. Pots and pans were scattered everywhere. Another woman was in a corner scrubbing a table with a sponge. John immediately gagged.

“I think I’m going to be sick. That’s a lot of blood.”

Pops signature grin never faltered. “I don’t smell any blood. Smells just like it always smelled in high school. Bleach and janitor puke dust.”

The cook with the sponge looked up. “It’s tomato soup. Birget was cooking it when she had her heart attack. Think it was a heart attack. She’s always popping those heart pills. When she fell, she pulled it down on top of her. Spilled it everywhere.”

John, still a little green from his first impression, asked “Who’s Birget?”

Pops eyes lit up, “It’s Ms. Braun. Surprise!”

“What? Ms. Braun, the horrible lunch lady with the sideburns and the hairy mole that stuck out the top of her shirt? She’s still here?”

“For the next ten minutes or so. We’re here to pick her up.” Turning to the cook mopping the floor, Pops asked, “So, where is she?”

The cook leaned against her mop and explained, “None of us saw Birget go down ‘cuz we was bringin’ in a delivery in the back. When she woke up, she got to spreadin’ the mess she made all over the kitchen. Slippin’ and slidin’ everywhere. Makin’ all kinds of racket. She contaminated this whole room and was gearin’ for the pantry. We tried to corral her outside, but they’re not much for followin’ directions, you know. She’s a big girl. We couldn’t keep her down. In all the commotion, she fell into the walk-in, so we just closed her in. Bitch is in there now messin’ up all yesterday’s prep work.”

The other cook shouted, “Have some respect for the dead!”

She shot back, “Neither one of us respected her when she was alive. You especially. Why start now? Plus, all that banana pudding you made for today is in that cooler. What do you plan to do for dessert now?”

Pops eyes opened wide, “You were going to serve banana pudding with tomato soup. And you guys always questioned why I never ate in the cafeteria.”

The cook with the sponge scoffed, “Oh, please. You never ate here because you always spent your lunch smoking pot in the locker room.”

John immediately jumped to Pops’ defense. “That is not true. It was usually in the parking lot.”

The first cook paused as she looked at John, “Ain’t you Hank’s boy?”

John’s eyes dropped to the floor. Being recognized as the son of the late great Hank Millner always made him feel like a failure in comparison, especially since returning home from college in defeat. 

“Yeah. Hank was my dad.”

“Really? Me and him went to school together. He went out with my sister a few times. Always liked him. He was a good man. Even back in high school.” She shook her thumb toward the walk-in, “Anyway, all the ruckus in the cooler died down about half an hour ago.”

Pops turned to John with his eyes wide with excitement. “Grab your pole. This is why we’re here. Pretty awesome for your first clean up, huh? 

Pops grabbed the handle to the walk-in cooler and winked at John. “You ready, JB. Let’s do this.”

“Wait a second. What’s the plan? What exactly do you want me to do?”

Pops released the handle and cocked his head in confusion, but it only seemed to make his smile bigger. “Dude, that’s what the dog pole is for. Just get a hold of her and I’ll do the rest. You’ll get the hang of this pretty quick.”

“Put the loop over her head?”

“No, dipshit. Use it to grab her boob…YEAH, put it over her head. Just get a hold of her and hold her still so I can get in there. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Pops grabbed the handle again and flung the door open. “Go get her.”

John took a breath and stepped toward the cooler. The place was a mess. A five-gallon bucket of sliced pickles had been toppled. The pickles had spilled all over the floor and mixed with the contents from the containers of mayonnaise and mustard that had burst when they dropped. One of the shelves was knocked over splattering all the prep work from the previous day onto the wall and floor.

“I don’t see her,” John quietly said to Pops.

Pops whispered back, “Why are we whispering?”

The cook with the mop spoke up, “The cooler doesn’t have a back door. She’s in there and we need her out. We have less than three hours before we have to start feeding 400 kids. Let’s go.”

Pops banged on the cooler door with a spatula and explained, “Let’s get her attention. Sometimes they slow down a bit if they’ve had plenty to eat and I’ll bet you a carton of smokes she stuffed herself in there. They’re like babies. They put anything in their mouths and all that’s in there is food. Well, what the school calls food anyway. I could never eat it.” He banged louder, “Let’s go, Braun. JB wants to show you something.”

John heard a groan from inside the cooler and willed himself to step inside. To his right, behind one of the metal shelves, he could see the end of Birget’s foot. He moved a few items for a better look and saw her lying on her back on the floor. Her clothes were covered in the tomato soup from the kitchen and various other sauces and gravies. Both her and the cooler were such a mess, she was almost camouflaged into her surroundings.

John stepped around the shelf trying to keep his footing on the slippery floor while checking to see that he had the loop at the end of the pole fully loosened to easily get it over her head. There wasn’t much room between the shelves and Birget’s head was facing away from him. She didn’t appear to care that he was there. She just stared up at the ceiling and occasionally at John as he positioned himself at her feet.

John draped the cord over the back of her head and tried to pull it back toward him. With her head resting on the floor, the cord didn’t slip over her head to her neck. He adjusted the cord length once again and made a second attempt. As he was positioning the pole, Pops banged on the door again. “Come on, JB. What’s taking so long?”

The sudden noise startled John and made Birget jump. She raised her head to look toward Pops voice and John jerked the cord onto her neck like he was hooking a fish. He snapped the release and the cord immediately tightened. Triumphant, John yelled, “I got her.”

His loud voice in that small cooler seemed to agitate Birget and she flipped over to get to her feet. The sudden unexpected motion pulled the pole from John’s grip. Frozen, he just stood there watching Birget thrashing around and slipping as she tried to stand on the slick metal surface of the cooler floor. Pops appeared in the door and laughed, “You gonna grab her or what?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

John struggled to grab the pole as she continued slipping around, but even the rubber grips had gotten slick from the condiments and sauces they had accumulated from the floor of the cooler. Eventually, Birget was standing and suddenly slowed as she spied a large square pan of banana pudding. John seized this opportunity to grab the pole and get a steady grip as she plunged her meaty paw into the yellow goo to put into her mouth.

Pops shouted out his brand of encouragement, “You picked her up. Now, close the deal. Get her over here out of that corner.” John tightened his grip and gave a little tug on the pole. She didn’t budge from the pudding. He pulled again with the same non-result.

Pops took a step closer and with his rarely serious expression explained, “Look, she’s already dead. She can’t be hurt any more than being dead. Now stop being so polite and get her out here. You got this, JB.”

John nodded in agreement. He wiped his hands on his pants to remove some of the mess and got a good grip on the pole. He leaned forward and jerked back with a strong pull to get her moving. The sudden motion combined with the slick floor pulled his feet out from under him and he crashed to the floor pulling her down on top of him.

John struggled to get free, but the confined space between the shelves and the weight of Birget’s massive frame had him trapped. Plus, her cleavage was pressed against his face and he could feel what he imagined was that half dollar-sized furry mole tickling his upper lip. He wanted to scream for Pops to help, but was terrified some of the pudding oozing out of her mouth might land in his.

Birget was gurgling through the pudding and pawing at John’s face when he felt Pops grab him around the shoulders. Pops put his foot against Birget’s shoulder and pulled John free. Before John could get up, Pops stepped over Birget and held her to the floor with the pole as she thrashed around still trying to stand.

“Okay, what have we learned?”

John, still winded and sputtering through the pudding dripping off his face answered, “I learned that you suck as a trainer.”

“Well, this is my first slip n’ slide situation, but we learn as we go, don’t we. Let’s get her outside and put her down.”

“Why not just do it right here? You already have her under control.”

“Think, JB. We’re in a food storage area. There’s usually a lot of blood. We gotta get her outside or the Board of Health’ll bitch at us.”

John stepped forward pulling a Salisbury steak from his underwear. “What do you suggest?”

“She’s a big girl. I don’t reckon we should let her back up. Keep her pinned down with the pole. I’ll try to coax her forward.”

Pops held what was left of the pan of pudding in front of Birget’s face. Once it got her attention, she lurched for it. John released the pressure enough to allow her to move, but not enough to let her get her legs under her. She moved slowly, but they were getting closer to the exit.

After a few minutes, they reached the door of the cooler. Pops fired up a cigarette and offered to switch places with John. “Just steer her toward that back door. We can finish her when we get to the grass.”

A loud voice bellowed, “You’ll do no such thing, Leslie. This is a school with kids running around everywhere. I will not risk one of them seeing you killing Ms. Braun.”

John and Pops recognized the voice of their old principal immediately. John had never liked the man, but he was much better at hiding it than Pops was. Of course, Pops wasn’t much for hiding his emotions anyway.

Pops answered with no attempt to conceal his loathing, “Hey, Billy.” Pops gave the ‘Billy’ extra emphasis. “Technically, she’s already dead. We can’t kill her.”

The man straightened his back and held his head higher as he scolded, “Leslie Poplawski! I am still the principal here. You will address me as Mr. Werner.”

Pops motioned for John to hold the pole again as he stepped up to meet the principal chest to chest. “Well, Billy. As I told you every week of my freshman year, ‘As long as you insist on calling me Leslie, I will call you Billy.’ Remember, Billy. And…I don’t go to school here anymore, Billy.” Pops paused at the end of each sentence before giving the “Billy” extra punch to drive it home.

“Just get her taken care of inside. You can’t do it outside.”

“Whatever you say.” Pops took a quick puff of his cigarette and added another “Billy.”

“And is that a cigarette? Put that out immediately!”

John saw the twinkle in Pops eyes as he answered, “Why? Will you give me a detention?” Pops was loving this exchange and John certainly enjoyed watching it.

“You can’t be in here if you’re smoking!”

Pops motioned toward the pole being used to hold Birget down. “Sure thing. Come hold this and we’ll be on our way, Billy.”

Exasperated, Mr. Werner stormed out of the kitchen. “Just get her out without anyone seeing you.”

Pops was grinning ear to ear when he turned back to John. “Damn, that was fun. I’ve missed that.” He clapped and rubbed his hands together as he glanced around the room. “Okay. Let’s lead her over to the drain under the sink. I guess we could do it there.” Turning back to the cooks, Pops asked, “Could one of you lovely ladies grab me a knife? I think I left my tools in the truck.”

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is Z for Zombies.

Y - Young Adult - #AtoZChallenge

"I just can't get going on this assignment," complained Carl.

Carl's dad, always supportive, asked, "What's the trouble, champ?"

"In my Creative Writing class, we are often challenged to try to write in a particular genre. And I've had some fun writing horror stories, children's stories, fables and others. This one I just can't wrap my mind around."

His dad leaned in close. "What were you assigned this time?"

Carl threw his hands up in the air, "Young Adult."

"What's the problem? YA is one of the most popular genres out there right now. Harry Potter, Hunger Games, Ready Player One, Maze Runner, Divergent, Ender's Game, A Fault in Our Stars, Percy Jackson. There is no end to Young Adult literature."

Carl shook his head. "I'm a fan of almost all of those, but this is a 'genre' challenge. Those stories you listed are of the genres fantasy, science fiction, mythology, dystopian, and romance. Those are genres. Young adult is simply the audience the stories are intended for. It is not a genre. So, when the teacher says she wants a Young Adult story, what does she want? YA thriller? YA romance? YA horror? YA dystopian? YA supernatural dystopian romance? I need more direction."

Carl's dad stood up to leave the room. "I understand. I bet you could just pick one and run with it. Your teacher gave you a lot of freedom here.

"I guess."

Carl's dad patted him on the back, "Either way, it's going to have to wait until we get back. We need more supplies and we need to clear the security gate for your mom. She's on her way home and I saw a couple of radiated hounds lurking around. You take the gunner and I'll handle the flamethrower. Gear up."

"I'll be right there, dad. And don't forget, on the way back I'll need to swing by the compound to rescue my girlfriend from that techno cult."

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is Y for Young Adult.

I could not come up with any genres that started with Y. Every person I talked to said Young Adult. I just couldn't do it for the reason Carl complained about in the story. Young Adult changes the tone to match the intended audience, but I can't condone it being a genre all by itself. So, this is what we got.

X - Crossover - #AtoZChallenge

Remember that movie where John Travolta plays a 1950's greaser and he has to sing in almost every scene. He wasn't much of a singer, but coming off of Saturday Night Fever, we knew he could dance. So, he gets the girl he's trying to woo to go to prom with him and things go well for a while until he starts dancing with Beatrix Kiddo at Jack Rabbit Slims. It was a good night, but he learns she is an addict, stabs her in the chest and puts her in the car. Then Susan Sarandon jumps in the car and they drive off into the desert for a lesbian fantasy life of no regrets until the car plummets into a ravine in the Grand Canyon. Maverick and Goose (flying inverted) see the car fly past their jet and mistake it for enemy aircraft. Maverick (played by Will Smith) spins the jet around accidentally ejecting and killing Goose in the process. In anguish from losing his best friend, he shoots the already falling car and then jumps out to attack it physically. When he gets to the wreckage, one of the women with a long ugly face (disfigured from the crash) comes out and he punches her in the face. Only to discover she was not disfigured, it was only Sarah Jessica Parker. He throws her in a sleeping bag and drags her across the desert until he runs into Uncle Eddie from Christmas Vacation who takes him to meet the creepy scientist from The Fly, Seth Brundle. Brundle takes her back to this crazy dinosaur park where Newman from Seinfeld works as a mailman and they nurse her back to health before Starlord uses her as bait to train velociraptors to steal the Infinity Stone.

I love that movie. The wrong movies get Oscars.

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is X for Crossover.

I know that's not really a genre, but can you come up with one?

W - Western - #AtoZChallenge

 The trip home was always Bully's favorite part of each year. After a nearly 700-mile, two-month long drive getting his cattle to market, he could now relax and enjoy the beauty of this land he crossed every spring.

Every year, he paid the men who helped him get the cattle from Texas to Kansas (where they were worth five to eight times the Texas price) and released them to go find work elsewhere. He would make the long trip back home alone. He could make it back in a couple of weeks when he didn't have over 2,000 head of cattle to worry about and men to keep in line.

The obstacles he encountered on the way north to Kansas were barely an inconvenience when tackled alone on the way back. The Native Americans didn't even charge him to cross their land when he wasn't coming through with a large crowd disrupting their planting seasons.

Bully spotted a tree with a wide spread of branches right next to a creek. He didn't usually like camping out so close to creeks. Nocturnal animals coming out to drink would sometimes get too close when he was sleeping. However, there was no shortage of wood for a fire here. Keeping a good flame going throughout the night generally kept them away.

He set up his simple camp and fried some skillet camp bread to go with his dried beef. He prepped his coffee for brewing in the morning and gathered some more wood to keep the fire going all night.

Once satisfied, he laid back on his pack against the tree and listened to the evening sounds of Oklahoma as he drifted off to sleep. He loved this time of year.

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is W for Western.

V - Vampire - #AtoZChallenge

The doorbell rang and Brad dove under the weighted blanket on the couch.

"Okay," he yelled.

The front door opened and sunlight flooded the room as his wife bounced in. Carla closed the door behind her shrouding the room in darkness again.

Brad had been a vampire for just under six months, but they had their routine down. He basically kept the same sleeping schedule as his wife and, due to the pandemic, he already had an online job. They just kept all the curtains and blinds shut tight and Carla had to do all their daytime running.

Brad came out from under his blanket. She kissed him and smiled. 

Brad stepped into the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table, "What'd you bring me?"

"I got over a liter of beef blood from the butcher today…and I got you surprise."

Brad's eyes got big. "Really, let's see it."

Carla pulled out a small package wrapped in aluminum foil and set it in front of Brad.

Brad looked up at her, "Is this from Frankie's?"

Carla nodded with excitement.

He opened it quickly to find a chili cheese dog covered in onions. He leaned over the food and inhaled deeply. "You know, it's kind of mean when you do this to me. I love the smell, but I can't eat it."

Carla laughed, "It's not mean. I'm going to eat it and I brought it home so you could smell it first."

Brad pushed it to her side of the table, "That's almost worse."

"Hey, don't give me a hard time. I already gave up garlic for you. I've sacrificed enough."

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is V for Vampire.

U - Urban Legend - #AtoZChallenge

 About 25 years ago in the next town over, a woman was helping her husband home from the hospital. He had throat cancer surgery and was very weak, but was released to continue his rest in the comfort of his own home.

As they parked in their driveway, a man in filthy clothes approached their car to ask for money. She waved the beggar off as she went around to the passenger side to assist her husband.

The beggar, undeterred, continued to ask.

"Just a few dollars. I've almost got enough for a cheap room tonight."

She tried to maneuver around him, but he blocked their path.

"Come on. What's a few dollars to someone who lives in a nice house like this."

She could feel the heat rising in her face. "Can't you see I'm tied up with something right now. I said no. Go away."

The man stepped forward. "I can help you get him inside." He reached out to take her husband's arm. Her husband raised his cane and poked the beggar in the chest. Due to the surgery he couldn't talk, but he made an angry grunt as he pointed his cane to the street.

The beggar threw his hands up. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint. A few dollars from your wallet to help someone wouldn't even be noticed, but I see you're not that kind of people." He turned and continued down the street.

The woman got her husband comfortable in the house and made a call to the police to report the pushy beggar in her yard. They told her they already had someone in the area because they had received several calls about him.

She spent the afternoon preparing the living room for her husband's comfort and getting dinner ready. She had an easy microwave meal, but he could only drink a protein and vitamin mixture since his throat could not handle solid foods yet.

After dinner, she helped him up the stairs to bed. She got him settled in and went back down stairs to relax a little and get some alone time. It had been a stressful week. She poured herself a glass of wine and turned on a reality show.

After a few minutes, she heard a knock at the door. However, there was no one there. She was sure she had heard it, but dismissed it as imagination since she was so tired. Soon, she heard it again. As before, no one was there. She yelled into the darkness, "I'm not in the mood for this tonight."

She downed the rest of her glass and went to bed.

She crept quietly into the dark room and felt her way to the bed. She did not want to wake her husband. She got comfortable and then noticed the window was wide open. She knew her husband had a tendency to get hot, but he usually turned on the fan. She got up to close the window and switch the fan on, but it wouldn't work. She discovered that the plug had come loose and it was behind the dresser. In his tired state, he probably didn't want to mess with it. She reached behind the dresser and plugged it back in.

She crawled back into bed and gave her husband a gentle kiss on the back of his head. He gave a quiet grunt of approval. She was soon asleep.

A few hours later, she awoke to the sound of someone pounding on her front door. In her exhausted state, she shook her husband in fright and he made a few questioning grunts. She suddenly remembered his condition and said, "Never mind. Sorry. I got this." She grabbed her bathrobe and ran downstairs. She could see her neighbor Carol peeking in through the door as she frantically knocked.

She opened the door and Carol grabbed her arms. "Are you okay? What happened?"

She looked at Carol in confusion. "What…Yeah, we're fine. What are you talking about?"

Carol started to answer when two police cars and an ambulance pulled up. Carol ran out to meet them yelling "He's lying over here" and pointed around to the side of the house. The officers went around as the paramedics grabbed their gear.

She started to step outside to find out what was happening, but decided to explain the excitement to her husband first. She ran up the stairs and turned on the bedroom light. She screamed when she saw all the blood on the floor next to her husband's side of the bed. And her husband was gone.

She ran to the bathroom, but it was empty. She ran back to the bed and noticed a note on her pillow.

She picked it up as two policemen came bursting into the room. It read, "Thank you for the good night kiss, but a couple of dollars would have been better for everyone."

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is U for Urban Legend.

T - Time Travel - #AtoZChallenge

I had never been a good test taker.

I didn't have a learning disability or anything, but it never failed. No matter how well I knew the material or how prepared I was, my anxiety would get the best of me and I would screw everything up. I knew today would be no different.

I arrived early to allow myself to get seated and try to soothe my nerves before class. It always seemed to work better than just walking in and starting. When I stepped into the classroom, I saw three of my classmates huddled in the corner of the room. My best friend Brian waved and called me over.

I said, "Sorry, no. I have to prepare."

Mr. Grayson snapped at Brian. "Turn around. Face the wall."

I guessed Brian was in trouble. Not really surprising. I looked forward to hearing the story later. I sat at my desk, closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.

As I concentrated on being calm, students filled the room and took their seats. I ignored the chatter and stayed in my quiet mental state.

I was so relaxed, I thought I might drift off to sleep, but I was jolted back to reality when I heard a desk topple over and a couple of people screamed. I spun around to see what happened and Sara was sprawled across her desk scrambling to get up. Mr. Grayson shouted at her above the commotion of the laughing students, "Miss Nussbaum, join the others in the corner."

Sara was obviously embarrassed and quietly crossed the room to the corner. She placed a tennis ball on Mr. Grayson's desk as she passed. My buddy Brian tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "I guess Sara and I didn't do so good."

I spun around to look at him. He had a big smile on his face, but lifted his hands with shrugged shoulders. Brian never cared much about his GPA. I looked over in the corner again and Brian was still there. If he was in both places, then he was right. He didn't do so well. 

Just then, Sara walked in to class. A few people pointed her out to herself over in the corner. Her shoulders slumped and she shuffled to her still overturned desk and started cleaning up.

Mr. Grayson quieted the class. "Alright, let's begin. You have all worked hard this semester and should be well-versed on time-travel dynamics. Now it's time to see how well you can apply those principles to practical use. Today's task is pretty simple."

I could already feel my heartbeat accelerating. The teacher saying it was simple preemptively made me feel stupid for when I inevitably failed.

Mr. Grayson continued, "Last week during the school assembly, I was in this room implementing the test you are about to take. I had 16 tennis balls. One for each of you in this class. Every five minutes, I placed a ball on this desk. If the previous ball was still there I removed it and placed the next numbered ball.

In a few minutes, each of you will come forward and draw a number from the box. The number you draw is listed on the chart I have on the board. That chart will tell you what time your ball was on my desk last week. Remember, each ball was only on the desk for five minutes. The ball is your target.

After you draw your number and check the chart for your target time, return to your seat. Do not jump until you are instructed. Everyone will jump together once the entire class has their assigned ball number. For full marks on this test, you will jump back to last week landing in this classroom during your assigned five-minute window. You will pick up the ball from my desk with your designated number and you will jump back seated at your desk precisely one minute after you left. Any questions?"

John raised his hand, "How do we know which ball to grab?"

Mr. Grayson answered, "What number did you draw?"

"Seven," John showed his slip of paper.

Mr. Grayson took the chart off the wall. "There was only one ball on my desk at a time. John, number seven was on my desk from precisely 2:15 to 2:20 last Friday afternoon. If you arrived at the correct time, that ball was there. If there is a different numbered ball on the desk, then you arrived at the wrong time and I will not permit you to take it. I was seated at my desk throughout the entire test, so expect to see me there."

Another student spoke up, "So, you already know who jumped correctly. Right?"

Mr Grayson smiled, "I know the first part. Jumping to last week. But I don't know who jumped back to today correctly. This test involves two jumps and it is the jump back where the most mistakes are made."

Suddenly John appeared in front of Mr. Grayson's desk holding a tennis ball with a large number 7 on it.

Mr. Grayson took the ball and thanked John. "Now, go stand in the corner with the others." He then looked at the John who was still seated. "Well, we know you got the first half correct, don't we?"

My buddy Brian from the corner shouted to John, "You did better than me. I didn't even land in the right day."

Mr. Grayson followed up Brian's statement. "I'm surprised you even found your way back."

The class laughed. Mr. Grayson could be fun at times.

"Alright, class. Set your chronometers. For your coordinates, I want you to jump to the same chair you are sitting in now. You are going back to last Friday afternoon at your assigned time. After your jump, step to my desk, retrieve the ball if it has the correct number. Then, return to your desk and jump back to today. Jump to exactly one minute after you left. Every seat in this classroom should be empty for one minute. You will be graded on this. For your return jump, remember what you have learned. You have to account for temporal displacement, how long you have been gone, and the Coriolis effect. All of these have to be considered for your calculations to be correct. Are we ready?"

THREE…TWO…ONE…JUMP!!!

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is T for Time Travel.

S - Science Fiction - #AtoZChallenge

Sambor was still groggy from his reawakening. He had been in cryostasis for 73 years and wasn't entirely convinced he hadn't aged during that time. He knew the effects would wear off in the next 24 hours, but it didn't make the present any more pleasant. Coffee didn't seem to be helping.

Sambor was one of about a dozen maintenance engineers aboard the ship. The ship ran on autopilot and the entire crew was in cryostasis for the 639-year voyage. However, general maintenance still needed to be done occasionally. Approximately, every 25 years one of the engineers would be awakened for systems checks and routine maintenance if needed. If there were no problems, it would take ten to twelve days to complete all the tasks required before going back into cryostasis to sleep until your turn came up again in another couple of centuries.

One person awake at a time was protocol unless a problem was detected. The severity of the problem determined how many others should be awakened to address it. This was Sambor's first rotation for this trip and he prayed for a minor complication. Ten days alone was a long time. Having another person or two to talk to would be welcome.

As he poured himself a second cup of coffee, he pulled up the display to go over the ship's diagnostics. Everything seemed to be running smoothly. And the reports from the two engineers in rotation before him showed no problems for either of them. It looked like it was going to be a long and lonely awakening.

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is S for Science Fiction.

R - Romance - #AtoZChallenge

Logan removed his suit jacket. He was burning up. He started to loosen his tie, but changed his mind. There was no point in getting getting dressed up to look nice, if he wore his clothes sloppily. Plus, he knew it was just nerves. He took a long sip of cold water to try to calm and cool himself.

Amy had called to let him know she would be late and the waitress kept coming by to see if he wanted to order anything. It was a busy night and they seemed to want to clear the table if no food was being ordered.

"She'll be here soon," he insisted to the waitress. "I'll have a Stella Artois while I wait."

Logan figured ordering something other than water would satisfy the wait staff for a while. He had wanted to avoid alcohol tonight to keep his wits together. Tonight had to go perfectly. He reached to pat his jacket pocket to double-check the ring was still there. He had a moment of panic before he remembered he had removed his jacket, but that pat did show him that he was sweating through his shirt. He put the jacket back on to hide his nervous sweat stains.

He and Amy had been talking about marriage and their future for the last year. He had no doubt she would say yes, but making it official was a big step. Tonight was a big night. He hoped she would arrive before he melted into the floor. Where was she?

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is A for Adventure.

Q - Quest - #AtoZChallenge

Before stepping into the hot sun, Alec surveyed the scene before him. The key could be anywhere here, but he had no more specifics.

Alec checked under every rock that appeared to have disturbed soil around it. He frantically checked around every tree and scanned the ground before him. He knew time was running out and he tried not to panic. All would be lost if he could not complete his mission quickly.

He could hear the grumbling growing on the other side of the wall. He knew holding off their wrath meant securing the key before all was ruined.

Feeling the heat beating down on his head, Alec dropped to his knees and cursed the sky. Lowering his head, he saw a slight glint of sunlight reflect off the floor of a structure before him. He dove after it and gave a cry of triumph. It was the lost key. All was saved.

Alec ran to the wall to declare his victory.

"Hey, guys. I found the key to the freezer. Bruno had taken it to his doghouse, but looks like he chewed your bacon strip key chain off. I'm tossing it over the wall. Someone get those beers on ice before more of them get warm. I'll be right over."

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is Q for Quest.

P - Paranormal - #AtoZChallenge

Crystal nervously got out of her boyfriend's car. She couldn't take her eyes off his house and the fear was growing as she pictured herself going inside.

"Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?" Brian asked.

It must have been showing how scared she was, but she also felt silly. She chose not to tell him what was going on inside her head. Plus, she knew this was an important night. She couldn't blow it because of her paranoia.

Brian slid his arm around her waist. "It's going to be okay. They'll love you. Especially Mom."

He bounced up the stairs and opened the door for her. He reached for Crystal's hand and gave her a warm smile. She felt a bit embarrassed and took his hand. He led her into the living room and she froze as soon as she stepped inside.

She was panicked as her eyes darted around the room. The brown-green shag carpet, the painting of the dead tree hanging on the wall, the old green recliner, the console TV, and the bookshelf filled with plants. It was all the same. This couldn't be happening.

Her eyes snapped to the other end of the living room as Brian's smiling mother appeared with her arms spread wide. "Oh, good. You're here. It is so nice to finally meet you." She came in close for a hug, but Crystal jumped back, her eyes wide with fear.

"No. No. No. No. This can't be happening. This can't be real," she said quietly as she dropped her head and closed her eyes tight. Brian and his mother looked from each other to Crystal and back again.

"What's wrong, dear?" asked his mother.

Crystal tried to stifle tears as she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I have to go." She turned and ran out of the house down the street.

Brian's mother looked at him and he shrugged his shoulders before he ran out after her. She had gotten a block away before he caught up to her.

When he caught her, she was trembling and pulled away every time he tried to touch her.

"Hey. Talk to me What is going on?"

Between sobs, she struggled to get out the words, "I want to go home."

Brian had never seen her like this, but didn't question it. "Okay. Let's go back to the car. I'll take you right now." He reached for her hand.

She screamed, "No! Go get the car and come get me."

"Okay. Okay. Stay right here. Don't move. You're scaring me." He ran back to the house and shouted an apology to his mother before hopping in the car to pick her up.

Crystal didn't speak all the way home. He got her to the door and had to defend himself to Crystal's father that he hadn't done anything to her and didn't know what was wrong. He drove home very confused. 

After trying to convince his parents that he hadn't been dating a crazy person, he called Crystal's house. Her mother answered and said she was fine, but he could not speak to her yet. The following Monday, Crystal was not at school. Brian continued to try to connect with her over the next few days, but he was always thwarted by her parents. She didn't come back to school all week.

On Friday night, Crystal's father came to Brian's house to explain to the family what had happened. He told them that Crystal had just been admitted to the hospital for a possible nervous breakdown. It had been caused by coming to their house. Her father explained that when Crystal was about 6 years old, she had started having night terrors. It involved terrible nightmares where horrendous things happened to her. Sometimes she was tortured, her family was murdered in front her, and often there were hideous monsters. She had these nightmares for over four years. They were so bad, she had to see a psychiatrist and be admitted for a period of time to get therapy. It had taken some time, but the nightmares came to an end.

It had now been over six years since the last time she had one of those dreams. They were just an unpleasant part of her past. She was fully recovered and seemed to not have any lingering psychological effects from it. 

"That doesn't explain what happened last week," said Brian.

Crystal's dad sighed. "I know this will sound strange, but it explains everything. While a variety of things happened to her in those dreams, they all happened in the same location. When you pulled in the driveway last week, one look at your house scared her because she thought it was the house from her dreams. She told me that she knew it couldn't be true, so she came in. And then seeing this room pushed her over the edge. The swears that this house is the setting for those nightmares."

Brian's mom spoke up, "Oh, the poor thing," and squeezed her husband's hand.

Brian asked, "When can I see her?"

Crystal's dad shook his head. "You're not going to. Sorry. She is having the nightmares again and they are worse than they ever were before. Even if we get them back under control, you are now a possible trigger to bring them back. Right now, even the mention of your name starts a cycle that ends in hysterics. My wife is accepting a job transfer and we are moving to get Crystal out of this town. We're sorry."

---

I don't know if this story is really Paranormal, but it was the story I had to write. While this story is fiction, it is based upon something that actually happened at our house. The girl who came to our house lasted lass than a minute before she was back outside trying to catch her breath. She told us her story about our house and demanded to leave immediately. She never came back.

 

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is P for Paranormal.

O - Oral History - #AtoZChallenge

"…and then they built their first house. Right over in the corner there by the trees."

Grandpa's story was finished. Jamie's mother stood up and exclaimed, "Grab your stuff everyone. Time to get cleaned up and off to bed.”

Grandpa sat back and smiled as he lit his pipe while Jamie and his cousins, aunts and uncles started gathering their roasting sticks, empty plates, leftover bottles and various trash that was around the fire.

Jamie enjoyed the time his family spent at Grandpa's place each summer. It was the only time he got to see his cousins other than Christmas and Grandpa's big yard was much better suited for fun than their apartment complex back home.

However, Jamie and his cousins had agreed that the nightly practice of the family listening to Grandpa ramble about a bunch of old people they didn't know had grown tiresome. When Jamie's mom stepped into the bedroom to tuck Jamie in, she overheard this topic being discussed.

She sat on the side of the bed and said to Jamie, although it was obvious this was meant for the entire room, "Jamie, Grandpa is not rambling. He is telling you the story of you."

Jamie looked at his cousins like his mom was crazy. "Grandpa doesn't tell stories about me. He tells old stories about people who died a long, long, long time ago."

His mom smiled, "No, Jamie. Those are stories about his parents and grandparents. They would be your great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents. Those stories explain where you and I come from."

Jamie knew this one. "We come from Elgin, Illinois."

"Before that, dear."

Jamie was confused. "I was born in Elgin. That's where we've always lived."

Mom laughed, "That's where you live, but who you are was being defined decades before I ever moved to Elgin with your father. The stories your grandfather tells of the young man who came to America are your stories as well. The hardships that man went through sharply defined how he looked at the world and shaped his values and work ethic. Much of that was ingrained deeply in him by his parents before he came here. Then those experiences and the people he met shaped him even more. Every decision he made, despite it being over a hundred years ago, has had an impact on the life you are living today. My dad doesn't tell these stories just because he likes to hear himself talk. These stories are for you. They are your stories. They are your family history. And believe it or not, one day you will be telling these stories to your grandchildren. And you will have more stories to add as you get older."

Jamie remembered something from tonight's campfire. "So, that story about the teenager protecting his sister from mountain lions? That was our family?"

His mom was relieved that some of her words had gotten through, "Yes. That happened to Thomas, your grandfather's father. He was my grandfather! If that story had ended differently, we wouldn't be here right now to have this conversation."

"Cool," said Jamie. He looked over at one of his cousins. "Now, I want to hear that story again."

Mom got comfortable on the bed. "Lucky for you, I've heard it many times and can tell it almost as well as Grandpa."

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is O for Oral Literature.

N - Noir - #AtoZChallenge

Drake Stone fumbled around in his desk looking for another pack of cigarettes. Smoke still hung in the air of his cramped office from his last one. Had he known he was out he would have slowed to enjoy it more.

He stepped to his office door and bellowed, "Sheila, run out and get a carton of Pall Mall, would'ja?

His secretary yelled back, "I'm gonna need money this time. Mr. Stone. Petty cash is getting pretty low."

"Just get a couple of packs then."

Sheila answered, "It's really low."

"One pack?"

Sheila kept typing, "Nope."

"Damn it." Drake plopped back into his chair. Business had dried up like a drunk at an AA meeting. No business meant no money. No money meant he had to dry up too. He still had half a bottle of scotch in the bottom drawer of his desk, but no ice. The mini-fridge had to be unplugged to save power until the money started flowing again. He needed a client quick. No smokes was bad enough. Warm scotch would be even worse.

The phone on his desk split the silence like a scalpel starting a vasectomy. Drake lunged for the phone not waiting for Sheila to get it first. A case. 

"Stone Sleuthing. I can crack it. What can I do for you?"

Another bill collector. Drake slammed the phone down and spun around to cut the A/C. "Gotta start cutting back or we're sunk," he admitted. He reached into the lower drawer on his desk to retrieve the scotch. Ice or no ice, it was time for drink.

He slugged back the first glass and poured another two fingers when Sheila called out, "Someone here to see you, Stone."

Before he could answer, a tall blond with killer legs and "kiss me" lips charged into his office. She walked like she owned the place and Drake figured she was used to getting her way. He noticed the red, puffy eyes immediately and started to greet her when she reached out and took the scotch glass from his hand and downed it in one shot.

She gasped, "Excuse me, Mr. Stone, but if you have more pour me another."

Drake Stone fished out a second glass as he looked her in the eye. She never broke eye contact. Not common for a woman, but he liked it. He started to pour, but paused. "Before I do that, I need to know something, Miss…?"

She tensed, "DuRane…Bobbi DuRane."

Stone smirked, "DuRane, huh? Well, Miss DuRane, you have any smokes on you?"

Bobbi DuRane fished half a pack out of her purse and tossed them on the desk.

Stone picked up the pack and winked, "Virginia Slims? These are girly cigarettes."

Bobbi collapsed into the chair in front of the desk and pouted. "Well, I am a woman. Or didn't you notice?"

Stone lit up one of the tiny cigarettes and leaned back in his chair, "I don't think anyone has ever mistaken you for anything else. So, what can I do to please you, Miss DuRane? Or is it Mrs?"

She leaned in close over the desk reaching for the cigarettes and whispered, "I need your help."

Stone leaned in to match her intensity, "I may not be Sherlock Holmes, but I figured as much. How 'bout a little more detail, darling?"

She leaned in closer, "I think a crime has been committed."

Stone couldn't help but smile. She was going to be fun. "Well, I'm not here to hand out baking recipes. You're at the right place. Why don't you tell me what's troubling you?"

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is N for Noir.