tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-869775500061253642024-03-05T21:35:02.990+07:00The Transformed Non-ConformistRomans 12:2Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.comBlogger523125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-58273334484378716482023-01-01T11:52:00.002+07:002023-01-01T14:57:32.130+07:00New Year, Same Me<p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Happy New Year 2023 Stock Vector | Adobe Stock" class="n3VNCb KAlRDb" data-noaft="1" height="200" src="https://t4.ftcdn.net/jpg/05/31/05/43/360_F_531054341_n7uSxcK85NvHxQT9jzypD3r9WAC6UN2m.jpg" style="height: 287px; margin: 0px; width: 400px;" width="400" /> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> It's a New Year. At least, it is where I am (in Vietnam).</p><p style="text-align: left;">For my family, it is still 2022 for the next few hours. I don't have the heart to tell them that I have seen 2023 and it is, at most, <i>meh</i>.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Yesterday, I popped my blog open (that's <i>this</i> blog for those of you reading along at home) and discovered that I only posted <i><b>ONE TIME</b></i> last year. It was on January 3<sup>rd</sup>. It has almost been an entire year since my last post. That doesn't really mean anything and this is not a post to claim I will do better this year. It just made me realize that a lot has happened this year.</p><p style="text-align: left;">First, my wife I have started a new business. We opened an English center here in H<span>ộ</span>i An. We are partnered with a wonderful local woman and we opened the school in June.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8jQLiy4et1zxCdhq4Cd6bu409B2M0riKDxDTIoLQu4Gh4-iXtXQew00SPdR_VZrGfaqWAMtpHmzJ7U39SOysxJjNktb-9mS620GiZIS9byq8B05Nb2FH8ksL8pjb9kFfoMpyzH6dGdjM4oqSmzDgSlOTGbd6W-P6pQxB8WNl2T5VFPU9mPLTzsF4Yw/s1794/280492304_118114560887567_6346638366826704001_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1172" data-original-width="1794" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8jQLiy4et1zxCdhq4Cd6bu409B2M0riKDxDTIoLQu4Gh4-iXtXQew00SPdR_VZrGfaqWAMtpHmzJ7U39SOysxJjNktb-9mS620GiZIS9byq8B05Nb2FH8ksL8pjb9kFfoMpyzH6dGdjM4oqSmzDgSlOTGbd6W-P6pQxB8WNl2T5VFPU9mPLTzsF4Yw/w429-h280/280492304_118114560887567_6346638366826704001_n.jpg" width="429" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Grand opening</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdey5aTuRR9YkhZ_GR5yX15AQQmQWiDIqi1vg9YkckiNOtqjXuOpMqs2yOQJ3_F7ZIjvmMtJcTHbwoEi-F5JaC_3m7ha8oGxL9KZrVc3dU7BZiD-NspLg_tZ2cC4Q31tEux8YhK7p8o7U4g_yxqAwbSQsYwksHwMy49E_1PRvLwLqPPrVZOMrXCo63ww/s1097/280380401_118133994218957_6911621678243613139_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="996" data-original-width="1097" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdey5aTuRR9YkhZ_GR5yX15AQQmQWiDIqi1vg9YkckiNOtqjXuOpMqs2yOQJ3_F7ZIjvmMtJcTHbwoEi-F5JaC_3m7ha8oGxL9KZrVc3dU7BZiD-NspLg_tZ2cC4Q31tEux8YhK7p8o7U4g_yxqAwbSQsYwksHwMy49E_1PRvLwLqPPrVZOMrXCo63ww/w408-h371/280380401_118133994218957_6911621678243613139_n.jpg" width="408" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Some of our first students</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNMgEWxKP4wb-hdqb6X975DgW41pRMnq4MUpr0pG41823qwtnuAnsC6x2InGfNiWaCWYcNJH-4JrFl4VIBBNA53BrTAWqVeLfPx9jyOPCI8-ETkYL96Q7lSKRS9Fx4MlSD7Wqezeh_-Gv3rFaQrQqoacHXtJf5W4LcI6HEUk7juoWLXS6b6jqViGL5Cg/s2048/280504019_118115177554172_883620083807124001_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNMgEWxKP4wb-hdqb6X975DgW41pRMnq4MUpr0pG41823qwtnuAnsC6x2InGfNiWaCWYcNJH-4JrFl4VIBBNA53BrTAWqVeLfPx9jyOPCI8-ETkYL96Q7lSKRS9Fx4MlSD7Wqezeh_-Gv3rFaQrQqoacHXtJf5W4LcI6HEUk7juoWLXS6b6jqViGL5Cg/w376-h282/280504019_118115177554172_883620083807124001_n.jpg" width="376" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Classroom for the small kids</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxN9KqHerS3pHhzGwpNQUnHGTlSzvLdjY9HKj3NZ8QiQAAp1Xhhg6Nv8h-cJTd9fxhYK2Kt9g8PvWZDdIv5hvFllShRibui0DLfN6KajEZHOcD8W0Hl9QIUluxep8Krm0yqeeBBjfnVoyyhh3QIukMBD-reOZmFFEy_X1SG-H3RIrCf9Uh-Iva6C9Gg/s900/287152250_130914666274223_7140538939662462548_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxN9KqHerS3pHhzGwpNQUnHGTlSzvLdjY9HKj3NZ8QiQAAp1Xhhg6Nv8h-cJTd9fxhYK2Kt9g8PvWZDdIv5hvFllShRibui0DLfN6KajEZHOcD8W0Hl9QIUluxep8Krm0yqeeBBjfnVoyyhh3QIukMBD-reOZmFFEy_X1SG-H3RIrCf9Uh-Iva6C9Gg/w383-h383/287152250_130914666274223_7140538939662462548_n.jpg" width="383" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Little bit older</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFL5tGhWgHsLVxYnpV2FWvfo2NK5RUyjUo2TFxd5CVs7S6OoWopZ1sozsyI-E7CpTKX-lnMX_SE2g_7V2yFjn9ND3EQItj1Y4Eb4oAI1dWterDFj4M4-ohQQuVoIUU4FdsHxBhtYPN8JCsV48BolQFbRXR2asx2x84djkQZzh5yfxhep_mBVBnKgcrCA/s1276/296022649_147021857996837_3040936339974564079_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1276" data-original-width="956" height="453" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFL5tGhWgHsLVxYnpV2FWvfo2NK5RUyjUo2TFxd5CVs7S6OoWopZ1sozsyI-E7CpTKX-lnMX_SE2g_7V2yFjn9ND3EQItj1Y4Eb4oAI1dWterDFj4M4-ohQQuVoIUU4FdsHxBhtYPN8JCsV48BolQFbRXR2asx2x84djkQZzh5yfxhep_mBVBnKgcrCA/w340-h453/296022649_147021857996837_3040936339974564079_n.jpg" width="340" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Field trip to a folk museum</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTJmyYe0kkJ2s4_MYjHpEm0Fd-eqX0IJYZZ_xkbBGst5y_8zXHPMbq0f53pNYeurIVrXa6LeL5km25qDhA3vmcetgIe5hEUXWFFnezOwjfjP_l77UsYAK5IpVQ_HJumKDif_nYh1y_6EYS9K8PzJmqQxfCdW3yQptU1PO4oea5aTXRBAJ9OQrpmlazA/s1280/305617029_158930180139338_5806270163117981457_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTJmyYe0kkJ2s4_MYjHpEm0Fd-eqX0IJYZZ_xkbBGst5y_8zXHPMbq0f53pNYeurIVrXa6LeL5km25qDhA3vmcetgIe5hEUXWFFnezOwjfjP_l77UsYAK5IpVQ_HJumKDif_nYh1y_6EYS9K8PzJmqQxfCdW3yQptU1PO4oea5aTXRBAJ9OQrpmlazA/w442-h248/305617029_158930180139338_5806270163117981457_n.jpg" width="442" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>We partnered with a local school for a day</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikxPurOTzQvAec366yqrlv090jv03uO_c5FxJHWalfP9uFv8bDWbCTILrnxlX-yti9wfZ7xzijCUUFv3StqmIZZ-C0U4lr0Uoc71MZ82VTRZgDYealdM12Shy2aPk9kDQU04xE1zhnh5I3EPmN9Ruz4HaiX2W9fmVLqJFS8xheZIDDICKjVPB1j0Dr2A/s1080/288478796_133371322695224_5460827593996782500_n.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikxPurOTzQvAec366yqrlv090jv03uO_c5FxJHWalfP9uFv8bDWbCTILrnxlX-yti9wfZ7xzijCUUFv3StqmIZZ-C0U4lr0Uoc71MZ82VTRZgDYealdM12Shy2aPk9kDQU04xE1zhnh5I3EPmN9Ruz4HaiX2W9fmVLqJFS8xheZIDDICKjVPB1j0Dr2A/w400-h400/288478796_133371322695224_5460827593996782500_n.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Me giving a student her admissions test</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkDus5SLc_GZNg5rbTF66epUFRhlIMAAHSNpK3LAqz3_iLUS3-f8zvN6KDhNJ-rmXBVTprTe7_AemYS_ImSWGznrpsfMakKXZVH0BfaXMIqj2dANgOXNRwDaQUM3YwXnRsZzzg0cUKWEQhg8ib1RUHcu8JW_Ta4k8qI1xlbeiHbiiWLs3pn9A7udQ5g/s900/303165861_156856327013390_2294328865865360486_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkDus5SLc_GZNg5rbTF66epUFRhlIMAAHSNpK3LAqz3_iLUS3-f8zvN6KDhNJ-rmXBVTprTe7_AemYS_ImSWGznrpsfMakKXZVH0BfaXMIqj2dANgOXNRwDaQUM3YwXnRsZzzg0cUKWEQhg8ib1RUHcu8JW_Ta4k8qI1xlbeiHbiiWLs3pn9A7udQ5g/w400-h400/303165861_156856327013390_2294328865865360486_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Having Fun<br /></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ha1S2h1qIijh1uhmEHWWom_iSR-dJ5HloTEIxMDfEmB50Ux8-eujRnJIDyjiQWSSSNT0rwyxgvR2UM-SgzQIi00ErPyOyLKKLafAMTTMBabIq1X_fJrFHtt6x4tag6uQk83c8PdYGzinJneoICthaI-MGdkpK2TZTlBQ7BjOjJ2a6TwG9Uyy4WjRqg/s901/304437196_156856443680045_8135783466808545403_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="901" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ha1S2h1qIijh1uhmEHWWom_iSR-dJ5HloTEIxMDfEmB50Ux8-eujRnJIDyjiQWSSSNT0rwyxgvR2UM-SgzQIi00ErPyOyLKKLafAMTTMBabIq1X_fJrFHtt6x4tag6uQk83c8PdYGzinJneoICthaI-MGdkpK2TZTlBQ7BjOjJ2a6TwG9Uyy4WjRqg/w400-h400/304437196_156856443680045_8135783466808545403_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Learning the basics<br /></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p>We opened with a little over a hundred students on the first day. Over the course of the next month, the novelty of the new school in town wore off and we lost a few, but the number has been steadily growing ever since. The students we have now are here because they like us and our methods. It's a lot of work, but it is <strike>scary</strike> fun 🤡 also. </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXEe81tEJ67R5j9ruwRNoC4mXRIRNZdRsDDZTs6bTaTbxA9qF2-dQEUdKag-CPoPFDDl1NoN1j3fwvEPhfNWCgsS7ZawggBNyWTPqICzv3Q5MleTr1RMMfKgMpRP5WczKlSR_D0kTxnlBgfU0Prs_kLjmLESyk5FltFaAVFAQW-zvQmX9dR1Z5VPdRg/s987/Syringe.jpg"><img data-original-height="110" data-original-width="987" height="49" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXEe81tEJ67R5j9ruwRNoC4mXRIRNZdRsDDZTs6bTaTbxA9qF2-dQEUdKag-CPoPFDDl1NoN1j3fwvEPhfNWCgsS7ZawggBNyWTPqICzv3Q5MleTr1RMMfKgMpRP5WczKlSR_D0kTxnlBgfU0Prs_kLjmLESyk5FltFaAVFAQW-zvQmX9dR1Z5VPdRg/w432-h49/Syringe.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="432" /></a></b></div><p><b> </b><b> </b></p><p><b>NOT SO FUN:</b> We've had COVID twice. <b>TWICE!</b> It sucked. The second time wasn't too bad. It was just a bad cold, but the first one was terrible. However, being sick at home is still safer than braving the Vietnam traffic. We take our lives in our hands every time we leave the house.</p><p><br />Driving here is like playing Russian Roulette, but with highly-caffeinated squirrels.</p>Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com455, Lê Thánh Tông, Phường Cẩm Châu, Thành Phố Hội An, Tỉnh Quảng Nam, Cẩm Châu, Hội An, Quảng Nam, Vietnam15.8863406 108.34805515.886082622853003 108.34778677909851 15.886598577146998 108.34832322090149tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-60146076940160350582022-01-03T13:25:00.000+07:002022-01-04T14:42:58.024+07:00I Am DrainedWe have lived in Vietnam for three years now. We spent two years in China before that. You would think that in that amount of time, we would have things figured out. However, we still get surprised now and then.<p>One of the things I <strike>love</strike> "am amused by" about living on this side of the world is the lack of concern for rules or safety. If something needs to be done--just do it. My neighbor once drilled a hole in the curb in front of his house to access the drainage system under the sidewalk. His street was flooding, so he fixed it. He didn't call the city planning commission, notify a zoning board or get any kind of permit. He just drilled a hole. In the States, my dad once got hit with a fine for tearing down an old shed on his own property.<br></p><p>Driving down the road, you might see a hole big enough to swallow a bus. Someone will put tape around it until the city gets around to fixing it. No signage is placed to warn of the upcoming hazard. The tape is sufficient.</p><p>In the States, we need a heads-up two miles ahead of time for a lane merge in the highway. Here, they just have the crazy expectation that drivers should be paying attention. It's the same reason there are virtually no traffic lights anywhere despite the amount of traffic.</p><p>Power lines sag low enough you could grab them, but people don't. And there is a reason for that. You know what they are, stay clear. If you happen to die, well…you must not have been very smart. </p><p>These lack of regulations apply to household products as well. A product I have used here many times is a drain cleaner. This is some serious stuff. If your shower stops draining, you buy a bottle of this stuff to pour in the drain. It is instantaneous. The moment you break the seal on the bottle, you can feel your lungs beginning to collapse and burn. I have a method for using this stuff.</p><p></p><blockquote><i><span style="background-color: #ffe599;">I have learned to be standing directly over the drain, hold my breath and break the seal. Empty the contents quickly and exit the bathroom before you run out of breath. Go back in a few days to dispose of the empty bottle.</span></i></blockquote><p></p><p>The water starts to drain almost before you even pour anything in. The fumes are that strong. The moment that stuff hits the drain, the excess water is sucked out of the house. That bottle essentially contains concentrated molten acid. I'm not even sure <i>the water</i> exists anymore.<br></p><p>So, when my kitchen sink failed to drain one day, I grabbed my lucky bottle of liquid hell and dumped it in. It took less than a second for the sink to drain and flooded my kitchen with very "bitey" dirty water. Apparently, the pipes in the kitchen are not lava-proof like the bathroom pipes are.<br></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgy9WytyI5etavsjFRJrCFRg6uprqV27-jTieBuUYa99Fm-5teaQvRNLet7hmP8Je-UHoh0ViNOMMHzT3FHSKf5lvzaA_N_KTOW77B8oxvqN4yV7J64-I-Cb-_A0lckvZxXFq4KNMZdbgAqd-maFsBaeLNCfoVScFcugd8MRpYbh7U8l3w0s8P2wHkXhg=w293-h391" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Acid-Washed Pipes" width="293"></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The inside of the pipes are now spotless</b><br></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p>The pipe was obliterated as well as everything that was stored under the sink. All of our cleaning products leaked everywhere when the bottles they were stored in disintegrated. The brushes and scrubbing implements no longer exist and the various mops we used <i>very carefully</i> to clean up our acid eco-disaster had to be blessed and ritually destroyed by a priest.</p><p>Luckily, we have marble floors. It did not eat through the marble, but it did go right through the grouting between the tiles and stained every marble surface into a unrecognizable color.<br></p><p></p><p> I managed to get it all cleaned up and only lost two and a half toes in the process. I now wonder if the pipes under the bathroom are more sturdy or just underground so I don't know what damage I have done. I do know there can't possibly be any ants or rats under our house.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-15731253180895893422021-06-10T10:11:00.005+07:002021-06-10T11:21:38.663+07:00Men Waiting for a Shave Is a Barber Queue<p>I hate shaving.</p><p>Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhhoTNr0xOTeCTcmvyys1Nbb3OdpfwtP2CqkFAzkea6CTdFZDGhsFx07NCpZQosbMa7TpVf0s_n0CRHiDMQZqU6SrpwZVc1CeDSj8vEoFMutSMO51GITXHQzAsuU2BBenQMJos7XeJOdk/s558/Shave.jpeg"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="369" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhhoTNr0xOTeCTcmvyys1Nbb3OdpfwtP2CqkFAzkea6CTdFZDGhsFx07NCpZQosbMa7TpVf0s_n0CRHiDMQZqU6SrpwZVc1CeDSj8vEoFMutSMO51GITXHQzAsuU2BBenQMJos7XeJOdk/s320/Shave.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Because I would often go two weeks (or sometimes even longer) between shaves, the crappy little disposable razors just didn't do the trick.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xhAVSfjZQahimKBwx1EuOOw6idOFznn31viP8n_5FF_ipoa5EF4wuKhTi0r4af4nz1GhS1n020k7ezFZGde9AwyQchzyPzOIBIZT6wm44XJsMK_w_ZUzA_XX61V47r3vkhHyt6bsBxPV/s400/Predator.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="226" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-xhAVSfjZQahimKBwx1EuOOw6idOFznn31viP8n_5FF_ipoa5EF4wuKhTi0r4af4nz1GhS1n020k7ezFZGde9AwyQchzyPzOIBIZT6wm44XJsMK_w_ZUzA_XX61V47r3vkhHyt6bsBxPV/s16000/Predator.gif" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I didn't break them like Bill Duke did in <i>Predator</i>, 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.</p><p>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.</p><p>Eventually, I decided to upgrade and purchased my first big boy razor.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOx6S5TgVP4KHoRiPJJgawwFrszhadPdXqVjWy1TJ0TFc9Wyk-W741ZmbRirdEYveYPlWyXngJWA-LR6cBRvxG_xFDw4slbKvuAClAXpNvKZoiLPvtdtyj2NYaHMc6TX-oa8ad6HeELj3/s540/Gillette-Mach-3-Turbo-Razor-Blades-4-Pack.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOx6S5TgVP4KHoRiPJJgawwFrszhadPdXqVjWy1TJ0TFc9Wyk-W741ZmbRirdEYveYPlWyXngJWA-LR6cBRvxG_xFDw4slbKvuAClAXpNvKZoiLPvtdtyj2NYaHMc6TX-oa8ad6HeELj3/s320/Gillette-Mach-3-Turbo-Razor-Blades-4-Pack.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Woohoo! Four blades.</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">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. <u><i><b>IF</b></i></u> 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.<br /></p><p>Puberty still sucks even years later. I've seriously considered getting electrolysis on my face. Have I said I hate shaving?</p><p>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 <a href="https://www.redsclassicbarbershop.com/" target="_blank">Red's Classic Barbershop</a> in Indianapolis (where I lived at the time). Which, coincidentally, was probably why I saw the ad.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2koIIKBdmopGuOidM45wXT_SpeuWMrpKenTZa52KxVYHSphj3fNkWUQ4py__tOdgX-HvCzAxX5rkuvAACsU3QD_celVTspvp4YWSb8vvnc7rZCwJpOcsMpbAM2eRm2hobY0z-XOSFSSKg/s1237/Screenshot+%2528100%2529.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="581" data-original-width="1237" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2koIIKBdmopGuOidM45wXT_SpeuWMrpKenTZa52KxVYHSphj3fNkWUQ4py__tOdgX-HvCzAxX5rkuvAACsU3QD_celVTspvp4YWSb8vvnc7rZCwJpOcsMpbAM2eRm2hobY0z-XOSFSSKg/w400-h188/Screenshot+%2528100%2529.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Someone else shaving me?<br />Yes, please.</b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>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. </p><blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p dir="ltr" lang="en">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?<br /><br />I just did that.</p>— GigaBrett (@brettminor) <a href="https://twitter.com/brettminor/status/601889545647448064?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">May 22, 2015</a></blockquote> <script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <p>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.</p><p>Until I went to use it for the first time a week later.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_2pxGy2Rul8RuIqJrnpDl7yo3eCvI9YHf5Q0XUSY06FXIFdWdIeQ_Ws7HMNNscV91h8Ho4DilyIpBrBMkPMax8FGZmmm8TujOijD0l-2q9PuQ_yuMz-5kY6f-VRS2GFZzAOIjC3gDZ4Q/s588/Shaving.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="588" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_2pxGy2Rul8RuIqJrnpDl7yo3eCvI9YHf5Q0XUSY06FXIFdWdIeQ_Ws7HMNNscV91h8Ho4DilyIpBrBMkPMax8FGZmmm8TujOijD0l-2q9PuQ_yuMz-5kY6f-VRS2GFZzAOIjC3gDZ4Q/s320/Shaving.jpg" /></a></div><p>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.</p><p>With time, I got better. However, after several near-fatal mishaps I learned to <b><i>always</i></b> inform my wife I was shaving so she wouldn't suddenly yell out "THE PIZZA'S HERE!" </p><p>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.</p><p>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.<br /></p><p>Since then, we have moved to Vietnam. The land of the discount <i>everything</i>. </p><p>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.<br /></p><p>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'.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9_08zJq-Q6RoedFALKXRQiL7gWTm_M3v6eNHPkHmF0y1DrBg8fz2kV-bp330PgKmITBV0iRwFmvJ4x7fxD_cLGOZ5pRrO9Hppm-7WCTiPWVq0vB95SwqDIGrsn6ISagxB_6e1gWklm2J/s500/ST.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9_08zJq-Q6RoedFALKXRQiL7gWTm_M3v6eNHPkHmF0y1DrBg8fz2kV-bp330PgKmITBV0iRwFmvJ4x7fxD_cLGOZ5pRrO9Hppm-7WCTiPWVq0vB95SwqDIGrsn6ISagxB_6e1gWklm2J/w388-h218/ST.jpg" width="388" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p>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 <i>none</i> 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.</p><p>For the last few weeks, my favorite barber has had a teenage kid <i>(he looks about 14)</i> 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.</p><p>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>I'm wrong a lot.</i>) 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.</p><p>My mind started racing. Did I want this child shaving me? Those straight razors are deadly. I barely trust <i>myself</i> with those death blades at my throat and I love me more than anyone. But the father(?) soon came back in and took over.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>It all worked out. I didn't get a single nick.</p><p>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."</p><p>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 <b><i>him</i></b> 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.</p><p>I think I made that kid's day.</p><p>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.</p>Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-14175103492967392432021-06-03T11:31:00.000+07:002021-06-03T11:31:25.573+07:00You Have the Right to Remain Offended (But That Doesn't Mean I Have to Care)<p>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.</p><p>A few years ago, I had a Facebook friend attack me when I made an ADHD joke.</p><p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><b>"I think I have ADHD, doc"<br /><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>Why?</i></span><br />"I keep forgetting where I parked my Ford"<br /><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>That's not-</i></span><br />"Yeah, I keep losing my Focus"<br /><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>Get out of my office.</i></span></b></p>
<p> </p><p>This joke does not make fun of people with ADHD in any way. It is really just a play on words.<br /></p><p>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 <i>those</i> jokes and sent them to her.</p><p>Luckily, she actually is a decent person and she responded appropriately. She apologized <i>(not what I was fishing for)</i> and admitted that she was overly sensitive about this topic <i>(what I <b><u>was</u></b> fishing for)</i>. 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.</p><p>I do understand that you cannot always control what offends you. But you <i>can and should</i> control your reaction to it. Here are some tirades I have witnessed personally:</p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>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.</li><li>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.<br /></li></ul><p>There is a real difference between something being offensive and someone being offended. <br /></p><p>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.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAm4x913SFimK9m5YcpRRH4_6n7saXs0jMrlWv6p0GpvBi8fzYLlZ9WTrTGfvk1FCpSkdQ4dQWUnWpJop7quNskNmGd2-BpygBq0tSDVHxg05sK3X5_Vd0hg9WorvJwVp3br_zYzbTUwfg/s955/100061355_1113436775699896_3424772862739742720_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="955" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAm4x913SFimK9m5YcpRRH4_6n7saXs0jMrlWv6p0GpvBi8fzYLlZ9WTrTGfvk1FCpSkdQ4dQWUnWpJop7quNskNmGd2-BpygBq0tSDVHxg05sK3X5_Vd0hg9WorvJwVp3br_zYzbTUwfg/s320/100061355_1113436775699896_3424772862739742720_n.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>This is one of those ridiculous arguments I was talking about. She doesn't point out <b><i>anything</i></b> bad about Father's Day other than some people are not in the same situation. <b>That's it.</b> That is her entire argument.</p><p>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.</p><p>Let's start with <b>Secretary's Day</b>. 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.</p><p><b>Veteran's Day</b> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>Memorial Day</b> - There are people who have not experienced a loss by death. I've met them. I know a couple of adults who have <i>never</i> been to a funeral in their entire lives. They shouldn't have their day ruined by all the talk of such a depressing nature. </p><p><b>Valentine's Day</b> - A slap in the face to every single person. <br /></p><p><b>National Pancake Day (Feb 16)</b> - Some of us prefer waffles. Why honor this lesser breakfast? <br /></p><p><b>Inauguration Day</b> - A sad reminder to a large LARGE <span style="font-size: medium;">LARGE</span> number of people that their candidate did not win. </p><p><b>Black History Month (Feb)</b> - Some people aren't black </p><p><b>Women's History Month (Mar)</b> - Some people aren't women </p><p><b>Asian Pacific American Month (May)</b> - Some people aren't Asian Pacific American. Or even just Asian. Or from the Pacific. Or even American. <br /></p><p><b>Doctor's Day (Mar 30)</b> - 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).<br /></p><p><b>Take Your Daughter to Work Day</b> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>Arbor Day</b> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>St Patrick's Day (Mar 17)</b> - Everyone is allowed to pretend they are Irish, but some people don't drink. What are they supposed to do? </p><p><b>Cinco de Mayo (May 5)</b> - Those people still don't drink, but now it's May. </p><p><b>Tax Day</b> - Poor people </p><p><b>National Missing Children Day (May 25)</b> - This day is a blasphemy to those of us who actually kept track of our kids.</p><p><b>Bastille Day (July 14)</b> - Incredibly degrading for those of us who do not know what a bastille is </p><p><b>Labor Day</b> - Depressing for the unemployed </p><p><b>Leif Erikson Day (Oct 9)</b> - Rage-inducing for those people who were taught in school that Columbus discovered America </p><p><b>Columbus Day (Oct 11)</b> - Nearly impossible to enjoy for the Columbus supporters still reeling from the fake holiday two days previous </p><p><b>Sweetest Day (Oct 16)</b> - My brother is diabetic. How is he supposed to feel on this day? </p><p><b>Halloween</b> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>Thanksgiving</b> - What are people without families supposed to do? Or people with families but are vegetarians?<br /></p><p><b>Cyber Monday</b> - Discourtesy to Luddites </p><p><b>Military Spouse Appreciation Day (May 7)</b> - I don't understand. Is <i>every</i> 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.<br /></p><p><b>New Year's Day</b> - What about people who celebrate the Lunar New Year? </p><p><b>Groundhog Day</b> - This entire day is a mockery of the many people who have rodent-related phobias.</p><p><b>President's Day</b> - A not-so-subtle slight against the "NOT MY PRESIDENT"-type people </p><p><b>Read Across America Day (Mar 2)</b> - A day of scorn for the illiterate. An outright affront to authors whose manuscripts have been rejected by publishers.</p><p></p><p>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 <i>in any way</i> 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.<br /></p><p>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.</p><p>Maybe, just maybe, if we do all this <a href="https://twitter.com/daniellaherzog" target="_blank">Daniella Herzog</a> will be happy. But I doubt it.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTMu6GpiI5kXlKa_j1_RHEUPFLmNqtdQLapKlOTH346VgSfJvL-PaEAa6wtf3ksh2765yyYDa98vaTKe58ae0yVI999Us7Qu0ZfygQUlElxoU1ostZkr_f5pxHP_OBYnFYuskWoUoDHqI/s480/Rant+over.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTMu6GpiI5kXlKa_j1_RHEUPFLmNqtdQLapKlOTH346VgSfJvL-PaEAa6wtf3ksh2765yyYDa98vaTKe58ae0yVI999Us7Qu0ZfygQUlElxoU1ostZkr_f5pxHP_OBYnFYuskWoUoDHqI/s320/Rant+over.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-90977072336764336742021-05-02T09:38:00.003+07:002021-05-04T04:55:51.828+07:00The #AtoZChallenge is Over<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Reflections 2021 #atozchallenge" border="0" data-original-height="442" data-original-width="930" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiYhPc4AX55jHTn6IpNMqWMWY7fE7P4oqUXMQaEObC-SwmbqsraiCUalDWngXGWaAe6aXgTn3tdk346AKqInFUwLBpb9rX2gi-5bn-J-Xgs5f8HOWaElggVcP7YudTaszjeGaFgkMb5LU/s400/Reflection2021.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>The <i>A to Z Challenge</i> 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.</p><p>I was really not looking forward to Romance. I did it, but it was not great. For <b>E</b>, 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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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 <b>X</b> in the box. (<b>⛝</b>)<br /></p><hr /><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/a-adventure-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>A - Adventure</b></a> - A brother and sister outing does not go as planned.</p><p><b>⛝ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/b-bizarro-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>B - Bizarro</b></a> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>⛝ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/c-childrens-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>C - Children's</b></a> - I LOVE THIS STORY! It was fun and came out really cute.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/d-dystopian-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>D - Dystopian</b></a> - After I finished, I am not sure I would call this one dystopian.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/e-era-driven-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>E - Era-Driven</b></a> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>⛝ <a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/f-fairy-tale-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank">F - Fairy Tale</a> </b> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>⛝ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/g-ghost-story-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>G - Ghost Story</b></a> - My very first ghost story. And I think it came out quite well. I like this one.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/h-horror-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>H - Horror</b></a> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>⛝ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/i-imaginary-voyage-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>I - Imaginary Voyage</b></a> - <span itemprop="author" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><span itemprop="name">Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra</span>'s <i>Don Quixote</i> 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.<br /></span></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/j-juxtaposition-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>J - Juxtaposition</b></a> - I did not know of any genres that began with J. So, I retold the <i>A is for Adventure</i> story, but from the other's character's perspective.<br /></p><p><b>⛝ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/k-karen-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>K - Karen</b></a> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>⛝ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/l-legends-atozchallenge-just-tip.html" target="_blank"><b>L - Legend</b> </a>- 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.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/m-mystery-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>M - Mystery</b></a> - A dysfunctional family's reading of the will.<br /></p><p><b>⛝ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/n-noir-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>N - Noir</b></a> - 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.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/o-oral-literature-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>O - Oral History</b></a> - More of an explanation of oral history than anything, but told as a story.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/p-paranormal-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>P - Paranormal</b></a> - this was based upon something that actually happened in our home.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/q-quest-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>Q - Quest</b></a> - Some quests are more epic than others.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/r-romance-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>R - Romance</b></a> - I am NOT a romance writer, but I gave it a shot.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/s-science-fiction-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>S - Science Fiction</b> </a>- I think I could do science fiction, but was struggling for a story idea this day.<br /></p><p><b>⛝ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/t-time-travel-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>T - Time Travel</b></a> - <b>THIS ONE IS MY FAVORITE!!!</b> I loved this story. I may need to expand it further. It was the most fun to write.<br /><b></b></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/u-urban-legend-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>U - Urban Legend</b></a> - I took some of the "supposedly true" stories from my childhood and decided to run with it.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/v-vampire-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>V - Vampire</b></a> - Not typical vampire fair, but there <i>is</i> a vampire in it.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/w-western-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>W - Western</b> </a>- 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.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/x-crossover-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>X - Crossover</b></a> - Not a genre, but it was fun to write. Not great stuff, but I enjoyed it.<br /></p><p><b>☐ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/y-young-adult-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>Y - Young Adult</b></a> - Meh. I used the story to explain my thoughts on this.<br /></p><p><b>⛝ </b><a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/05/z-zombies-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank"><b>Z - Zombies</b></a> - I did not write this one for <i>A to Z</i>. 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.<br /></p><p></p>Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-7287526403791801622021-05-01T10:08:00.000+07:002021-05-01T10:08:40.262+07:00Z - Zombies - #AtoZChallenge<p>My last post for this month is Z, obviously. <b>Z is for Zombies.</b> </p><p>And I was feeling lazy today. So, I didn't write anything, but I <i>did </i>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.</p><p>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.</p><p><br /></p><hr /><p></p><p> </p><p>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. </p><p style="text-align: center;">FTERLING COMMUNITY HIGH FCHOOL<br />BAFKETBALL TRYOUTS TODAY</p><p>“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.</p><p>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?”</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.”</p><p>“We
only graduated three years ago. Did you expect trees to be growing in here
now?”</p><p>Pops scoffed, “No, but I wonder if Mr. Hausen is still watering that pot plant I
stuck in with his other herbs.”</p><p>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.</p><p>“To
the cafeteria,” said Pops and lowered his voice, “but keep it quiet. Ralph said
the principal wants us to keep a low profile.”</p><p>“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.”</p><p>“Hey,”
Pops snapped. “I hear your sarcasm and raise you a sense of adventure. Isn’t
this fun?”</p><p>“I
believe we have very different ideas of what makes something fun. I didn’t care
for this place for the four years <i>I had</i>
to be here.”</p><p>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.”</p><p>“Let’s
just do what we’re here to do. Okay?”</p><p>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.</p><p>“I
think I’m going to be sick. That’s a lot of blood.”</p><p>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.”</p><p>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.”</p><p>John,
still a little green from his first impression, asked “Who’s Birget?”</p><p>Pops
eyes lit up, “It’s Ms. Braun. Surprise!”</p><p>“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?”</p><p>“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?”</p><p>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.”</p><p>The
other cook shouted, “Have some respect for the dead!”</p><p>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?”</p><p>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.”</p><p>The
cook with the sponge scoffed, “Oh, please. You never ate here because you
always spent your lunch smoking pot in the locker room.”</p><p>John
immediately jumped to Pops’ defense. “That is not true. It was usually in the
parking lot.”</p><p>The
first cook paused as she looked at John, “Ain’t you Hank’s boy?”</p><p>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. </p><p>“Yeah. Hank was my dad.”</p><p>“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.”</p><p>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? </p><p>
Pops grabbed the handle to the walk-in cooler and winked at John. “You ready, JB. Let’s do this.” <br /><br /> “Wait a second. What’s the plan? What exactly do you want me to do?” <br /><br /> 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.” <br /><br /> “Put the loop over her head?” <br /><br /> “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?” <br /><br /> “Yeah, I got it.” <br /><br /> Pops grabbed the handle again and flung the door open. “Go get her.” <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> “I don’t see her,” John quietly said to Pops. <br /><br /> Pops whispered back, “Why are we whispering?” <br /><br /> 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.” <br /><br /> 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.” <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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?” <br /><br /> 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.” <br /><br /> 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?” <br /><br /> “Oh, right. Sorry.” <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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.” <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> “Okay, what have we learned?” <br /><br /> John, still winded and sputtering through the pudding dripping off his face answered, “I learned that you suck as a trainer.” <br /><br /> “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.” <br /><br /> “Why not just do it right here? You already have her under control.” <br /><br /> “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.” <br /><br /> John stepped forward pulling a Salisbury steak from his underwear. “What do you suggest?” <br /><br /> “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.” <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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.” <br /><br /> 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.” <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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.” <br /><br /> 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.”<br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> “Just get her taken care of inside. You can’t do it outside.” <br /><br /> “Whatever you say.” Pops took a quick puff of his cigarette and added another “Billy.” <br /><br /> “And is that a cigarette? Put that out immediately!” <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> “You can’t be in here if you’re smoking!” <br /><br /> Pops motioned toward the pole being used to hold Birget down. “Sure thing. Come hold this and we’ll be on our way, Billy.” <br /><br /> Exasperated, Mr. Werner stormed out of the kitchen. “Just get her out without anyone seeing you.” <br /><br /> 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.”</p><p><br /></p><hr /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter Z" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyICS7Sz7m1MrmVH4lohEiP9YAvmyZaNh47arVTFo1Y30n4Ij-S8B4J8_wPfRcdl_1IciSYjhWjTlZFVibYeSbDGpfyfzOkHvCi8_-5v7rHw8kv13gRFEbYQU6CVG8o8HV0iChqaLoNw/s200/ZZ.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>Z for Zombies</b>.<br /></div>
<p></p>Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-63930101489405829142021-04-30T12:09:00.005+07:002021-04-30T14:06:22.918+07:00Y - Young Adult - #AtoZChallenge
<p>"I just can't get going on this assignment," complained Carl.</p><p>Carl's dad, always supportive, asked, "What's the trouble, champ?"</p><p>"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."</p><p>His dad leaned in close. "What were you assigned this time?"</p><p>Carl threw his hands up in the air, "Young Adult."</p><p>"What's the problem? YA is one of the most popular genres out there right now. <i>Harry Potter</i>, <i>Hunger Games</i>, <i>Ready Player One</i>, <i>Maze Runner</i>, <i>Divergent</i>, <i>Ender's Game</i>, <i>A Fault in Our Stars</i>, <i>Percy Jackson</i>. There is no end to Young Adult literature."</p><p>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."</p><p>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.</p><p>"I guess."</p><p>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."</p><p>"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."</p><hr /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter Y" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8bBiE0TRL4RCJIqlxCjdYcx8mhv_Eh6E3-Rfv67nhUo04dXVaJTbPrJJVox42jZuphlFWxO7b1or79-JCbKsRGG6unSLqiX7GiUYZ9B245Dm9t8KlAL8w9l7BvIFjw4tLZ9kWn-Wtzo/s200/YY.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>Y for Young Adult</b>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">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.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-38077371453100804232021-04-29T09:29:00.004+07:002021-04-29T09:59:01.013+07:00X - Crossover - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p>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 <i>Saturday Night Fever</i>, 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 <i>Christmas Vacation</i> who takes him to meet the creepy scientist from <i>The Fly</i>,<i> </i>Seth Brundle. Brundle takes her back to this crazy dinosaur park where Newman from <i>Seinfeld</i> 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.</p><p>I love that movie. The wrong movies get Oscars.<br /></p><hr /><p></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter X" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcwPDba_quyETFhs09Lc5caJMLEulWwR3rZdjzLDfEh-xY-5pg6WmelWNe9K8PV_OGorEenGw72N5Fei73VSAjQhpFGSDqFj8app_zmq-rnZxr2zS5KibjZ5lRdPZ3NN7P2iwSmXoOeZ0/s200/XX.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>X for Crossover</b>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I know that's not really a genre, but can you come up with one?<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-8192670803360211032021-04-28T10:51:00.001+07:002021-04-28T10:51:18.983+07:00W - Western - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Rk7dYKX66gDX1I1bBfbjfbnmcLg20lRzzRRQEaldSa4s2Py6pGGDXuZduizHjHoLbZUsKYpZM-FiMMTCr5GWg8vplKV7gMixY-yDvu8FUcrOtU-HiJ7liIh0fzt9egVAyP6sOk5o24_m/s500/country-western-riding-cowboy-and-sunset-stephanie-laird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="393" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Rk7dYKX66gDX1I1bBfbjfbnmcLg20lRzzRRQEaldSa4s2Py6pGGDXuZduizHjHoLbZUsKYpZM-FiMMTCr5GWg8vplKV7gMixY-yDvu8FUcrOtU-HiJ7liIh0fzt9egVAyP6sOk5o24_m/s320/country-western-riding-cowboy-and-sunset-stephanie-laird.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p> 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.</p><p>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.<br /></p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.<br /></p><hr /><p></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter W" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXBNIclqgAaN7nqPozGgzKIY1j7izCgmtXnc1NzqkLnpjJ4lEmej1aTnKlmkjuK8pnesl-mxS0jf67dgZk4KA0heRH9ym0VkGIi93oFW2X_jh2n0GKSmcyhIYPu9HKPyG6fy35DjTmXcc/s200/WW.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>W for Western</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-69925792555492087222021-04-28T05:18:00.004+07:002021-04-28T10:30:44.568+07:00V - Vampire - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p>The doorbell rang and Brad dove under the weighted blanket on the couch.</p><p>"Okay," he yelled.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.<br /></p><p>Brad came out from under his blanket. She kissed him and smiled. </p><p>Brad stepped into the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table, "What'd you bring me?"</p><p>"I got over a liter of beef blood from the butcher today…and I got you surprise." <br /></p><p>Brad's eyes got big. "Really, let's see it."</p><p>Carla pulled out a small package wrapped in aluminum foil and set it in front of Brad.</p><p>Brad looked up at her, "Is this from Frankie's?"</p><p>Carla nodded with excitement.</p><p>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."</p><p>Carla laughed, "It's not mean. I'm going to eat it and I brought it home so you could smell it first."</p><p>Brad pushed it to her side of the table, "That's almost worse."</p><p>"Hey, don't give me a hard time. I already gave up garlic for you. I've sacrificed enough."<br /></p><hr /><p></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter V" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgu6uPSzERQhyphenhyphenGqdP6zr3JpbicVYfVGxH9nYEyB6eVEFa6DXM9HBFiHe0xHb2zCcQtf4NgOHRFwypPXlM9mXDhfiQ9olWDHDapiVMhsnNhA2A5c_KGjNutbvB52X7ToGm-WmHzPk_yyZw/s200/VV.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>V for Vampire</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-71606733096947387502021-04-27T11:30:00.001+07:002021-04-27T12:01:15.751+07:00U - Urban Legend - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI58YNv7__7pT68UGLgU7N4-O7dkpBX0KvN55QbSSScaHMNgBZVmj9VW5523jvKfSQnAqokco_2MwS33jqeO1886bmlCOl_jLvsy6b2mexnS41uAVmEoBCxskgpZwgyfaiJqUlV_ZwVhhN/s626/Please.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="417" data-original-width="626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI58YNv7__7pT68UGLgU7N4-O7dkpBX0KvN55QbSSScaHMNgBZVmj9VW5523jvKfSQnAqokco_2MwS33jqeO1886bmlCOl_jLvsy6b2mexnS41uAVmEoBCxskgpZwgyfaiJqUlV_ZwVhhN/s320/Please.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p> 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.</p><p>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.</p><p>The beggar, undeterred, continued to ask.</p><p>"Just a few dollars. I've almost got enough for a cheap room tonight."</p><p>She tried to maneuver around him, but he blocked their path.</p><p>"Come on. What's a few dollars to someone who lives in a nice house like this."</p><p>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."</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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."</p><p>She downed the rest of her glass and went to bed.</p><p>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.<br /></p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>She opened the door and Carol grabbed her arms. "Are you okay? What happened?"</p><p>She looked at Carol in confusion. "What…Yeah, we're fine. What are you talking about?"</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>She ran to the bathroom, but it was empty. She ran back to the bed and noticed a note on her pillow.</p><p>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."<br /></p><hr /><p></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter U" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZM5gOp58TEYizdTPcS_T_I3-jR9rHov0aUzYnXkRuGIlV9gA8m49hSuLTsFaDuerBPOeCGF-lCSlYvvH3hN0oT2S2AWiKOt3Hxq67l1MvjND4CrVXMkKkqIDifoi7H2Mwo3ioEClhh8/s200/UU.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>U for Urban Legend</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-59256931703421299852021-04-26T12:58:00.005+07:002021-04-29T10:07:22.801+07:00T - Time Travel - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLq1fdwYQsu35n8gEIH1eb24db_ff-nd-smtpta_jrRXxE3bC-2I8Nf8kglkvRGS4K1TZvvQwzFY7Zi4LJmuH4qNshqp768rQmmoW6j6yabfxbjjL-aJDSkrHCikL1i-178ogQFsXYcwob/s612/gettyimages-157195432-612x612.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLq1fdwYQsu35n8gEIH1eb24db_ff-nd-smtpta_jrRXxE3bC-2I8Nf8kglkvRGS4K1TZvvQwzFY7Zi4LJmuH4qNshqp768rQmmoW6j6yabfxbjjL-aJDSkrHCikL1i-178ogQFsXYcwob/w380-h253/gettyimages-157195432-612x612.jpg" width="380" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p>I had never been a good test taker.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>I said, "Sorry, no. I have to prepare."</p><p>Mr. Grayson snapped at Brian. "Turn around. Face the wall." <br /></p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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."</p><p>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."</p><p>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. </p><p>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.<br /></p><p>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."</p><p>I could already feel my heartbeat accelerating. The teacher saying it was simple preemptively made me feel stupid for when I inevitably failed.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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 <i>one minute</i> after you left. Any questions?"</p><p>John raised his hand, "How do we know which ball to grab?"</p><p>Mr. Grayson answered, "What number did you draw?"</p><p>"Seven," John showed his slip of paper.</p><p>Mr. Grayson took the chart off the wall. "There was only <i><b>one</b></i> 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."</p><p>Another student spoke up, "So, you already know who jumped correctly. Right?"</p><p>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."</p><p>Suddenly John appeared in front of Mr. Grayson's desk holding a tennis ball with a large number 7 on it.</p><p>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?"</p><p>My buddy Brian from the corner shouted to John, "You did better than me. I didn't even land in the right day."</p><p>Mr. Grayson followed up Brian's statement. "I'm surprised you even found your way back."</p><p>The class laughed. Mr. Grayson could be fun at times.</p><p>"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 <i>one minute</i> 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?"</p><p>THREE…TWO…ONE…JUMP!!!<br /></p><p></p><hr /><p></p>
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<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter T" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8a7ROjgJUOx_GbWUdhDq8kgUguh_5MYdOE5kZ3dCiTydFELJd8oDRGlxt_2kjcO7-TjXbBn6iSpQAIh_mvvnGO7NMpETvttygxbpOBdMvqxUbMVmqtgAaaX_VxA1WvXFGef6u1Qkl4A/s200/TT.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>T for Time Travel</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-5610485678986292792021-04-25T09:05:00.001+07:002021-04-28T08:15:59.744+07:00S - Science Fiction - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikw5uxFx3SJ9jw7PTBgo9hMRUkGgMC0NitM7ZREDLBjdeJudhMb34MVdWAdLFrWybE_gn5Z8yO23YVcPTgL3-Y7Q7o9wYaWulQT29t_Z_-DCDSX1uoleOVNQ4rd_lCyxxLMOu53n1clvZ-/s1600/1+6McwTIxIKD470mUSJSXqmw.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1600" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikw5uxFx3SJ9jw7PTBgo9hMRUkGgMC0NitM7ZREDLBjdeJudhMb34MVdWAdLFrWybE_gn5Z8yO23YVcPTgL3-Y7Q7o9wYaWulQT29t_Z_-DCDSX1uoleOVNQ4rd_lCyxxLMOu53n1clvZ-/w391-h244/1+6McwTIxIKD470mUSJSXqmw.jpeg" width="391" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p>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.<br /></p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.<br /></p><hr /><p></p>
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<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter S" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODM5k1JRtyaPGySQPVHHwlqwkY7TCQ3wfXCc7Ikf5JIuMjdgRtGDSGtb6-DOtlnr91dYB9FD5tyTPaqtGB8WwGhrhYi0DHHq2-mzqjNRTvYlevmzKgOMdiAhJjDl-TtvX5l8aLSj5zTY/s200/SS.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>S for Science Fiction</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-1042038775713622722021-04-22T09:57:00.002+07:002021-04-22T10:58:21.495+07:00R - Romance - #AtoZChallenge<p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>"She'll be here soon," he insisted to the waitress. "I'll have a <i>Stella Artois</i> while I wait."</p><p>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.</p><p>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?<br /></p><hr /><p></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter R" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrV3_2A3DM0YypNggBk2dNag_v8muzppul1A1Y2APVHVG4aFcebJkkY8zUvVOo9OcE5gGQSAdvr9SFYDS_v4pV-wbjDKhqXmrzv_kwTKZUJo9xAW2DBRU2r8B_VrfaqOdWnj-4iibM1kU/s200/RR.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>A for Adventure</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-55110515605591392182021-04-21T12:32:00.003+07:002021-04-21T13:31:02.974+07:00Q - Quest - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p>Before stepping into the hot sun, Alec surveyed the scene before him. The key could be anywhere here, but he had no more specifics.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.<br /><br />Alec ran to the wall to declare his victory.</p><p>"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."<br /></p><hr /><p></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter Q" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAk9WHeLsW8IYK_iXuG_twAu4hIeRddfcNDVeR4AcS9liL40qwPzCyv7D5qlWD7qS4XSneiT2Bb-MDb7Eeb0QZSIel2UVvHU4NZH9TaxgOhIG75neUqwI6ryGWlmKu1k7ETY7emq0-Ryg/s200/QQ.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>Q for Quest</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-31543163582648501362021-04-20T13:17:00.000+07:002021-04-20T13:17:57.547+07:00P - Paranormal - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p>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.</p><p>"Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?" Brian asked.</p><p>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.</p><p>Brian slid his arm around her waist. "It's going to be okay. They'll love you. Especially Mom."</p><p>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.</p><p>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.<br /></p><p>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.</p><p>"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.<br /></p><p>"What's wrong, dear?" asked his mother.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>When he caught her, she was trembling and pulled away every time he tried to touch her.</p><p>"Hey. Talk to me What is going on?"</p><p>Between sobs, she struggled to get out the words, "I want to go home."</p><p>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.</p><p>She screamed, "No! Go get the car and come get me."</p><p>"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.</p><p>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. </p><p>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.<br /></p><p>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.</p><p>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. </p><p>"That doesn't explain what happened last week," said Brian.</p><p>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."</p><p>Brian's mom spoke up, "Oh, the poor thing," and squeezed her husband's hand.</p><p>Brian asked, "When can I see her?"</p><p>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."</p><p><br /></p><hr /><p></p><p>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.<br /></p><p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter P" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSVlFkh1TdcpF_w-4vIdCMV2RVmibhmRB6KwJH6z6JvX6Eo2C6OCLubzTdsPlBOube2-58kwOfASjD3eoxKwUtoLkfSAq-N9Ld1wWjtknQ82fwAb51IP2sfolg-dZD4F4wshQ3i5sG24/s200/PP.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>P for Paranormal</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-51016331580333703902021-04-20T09:02:00.006+07:002021-04-20T09:08:33.250+07:00O - Oral History - #AtoZChallenge<p>"…and then they built their first house. Right over in the corner there by the trees."</p><p>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.”</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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."</p><p>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."<br /><br />His mom smiled, "No, Jamie. Those are stories about his parents and grandparents. They would be <i>your</i> great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents. Those stories explain where you and I come from."</p><p>Jamie knew this one. "We come from Elgin, Illinois."<br /><br />"Before that, dear."</p><p>Jamie was confused. "I was born in Elgin. That's where we've always lived."</p><p>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."</p><p>Jamie remembered something from tonight's campfire. "So, that story about the teenager protecting his sister from mountain lions? That was <i>our</i> family?"</p><p>His mom was relieved that some of her words had gotten through, "Yes. That happened to Thomas, your grandfather's father. He was <i>my</i> grandfather! If that story had ended differently, we wouldn't be here right now to have this conversation."</p><p>"Cool," said Jamie. He looked over at one of his cousins. "Now, I want to hear that story again."</p><p>Mom got comfortable on the bed. "Lucky for you, I've heard it many times and can tell it almost as well as Grandpa."<br /></p><p></p><hr /><p></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter O" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ObVBUhnvAt6FpK7Rg16uORQWZ5lBPBpB46XbaXxjhIC9fFc9Bhh4DcYd4vJtBGKesMFxeR46YuJHSsinmBoNKOVsHzbjzaQf9-FLTraUY7UqoYpSvaTh_XYRJ5VBXJ67SKzwxw8_oJ0/s200/OO.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>O for Oral Literature</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-14077343932459313572021-04-19T14:19:00.001+07:002021-04-19T14:29:34.464+07:00N - Noir - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p>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.</p><p>He stepped to his office door and bellowed, "Sheila, run out and get a carton of <i>Pall Mall</i>, would'ja?<br /><i></i></p><p>His secretary yelled back, "I'm gonna need money this time. Mr. Stone. Petty cash is getting pretty low."</p><p>"Just get a couple of packs then."</p><p>Sheila answered, "It's <i>really</i> low."</p><p>"One pack?"</p><p>Sheila kept typing, "Nope."</p><p>"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. <br /></p><p>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. </p><p>"Stone Sleuthing. I can crack it. What can I do for you?"</p><p>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.</p><p>He slugged back the first glass and poured another two fingers when Sheila called out, "Someone here to see you, Stone."</p><p>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.</p><p>She gasped, "Excuse me, Mr. Stone, but if you have more pour me another."</p><p>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…?"<br /></p><p>She tensed, "DuRane…Bobbi DuRane."</p><p>Stone smirked, "DuRane, huh? Well, Miss DuRane, you have any smokes on you?"</p><p>Bobbi DuRane fished half a pack out of her purse and tossed them on the desk.</p><p>Stone picked up the pack and winked, "<i>Virginia Slims</i>? These are girly cigarettes."</p><p>Bobbi collapsed into the chair in front of the desk and pouted. "Well, I <i>am</i> a woman. Or didn't you notice?"</p><p>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?"</p><p>She leaned in close over the desk reaching for the cigarettes and whispered, "I need your help."</p><p>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?"</p><p>She leaned in closer, "I think a crime has been committed."</p><p>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?"<br /></p><p><br /></p><hr /><p></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter N" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaYS9qBvslzH1Naa5tBrCfNHaigMPrjK5fnBFvUrdgYwQIxFH2VM4WNGZoN8evqcnK_FtFx9k7pQRgW2uuNcqTp7aVF9FpYFCxUPuw3UaJ1lM1YLuozV-i-mdpqvuEkpNQ0k3R6DFnqk/s200/NN.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>N for Noir</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-70134027913506830062021-04-18T11:51:00.001+07:002021-04-18T13:43:06.260+07:00M - Mystery - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p>Jenna took a deep breath before she walked into the room. She hadn't spoken with her family in over 15 years. She hadn't even made attempts to keep up with what they were doing. When she stormed out of the house that night, she never looked back. </p><p>A few weeks ago, she had been living her own life completely separated from her interfering family when the private investigator found her and made it very clear it would be in her best interest to be here today. She only came because she was given the impression that she had to. She was not looking to catch up with anyone or have conversation.</p><p>When she stepped in, the conversation in the room waned for a moment as all heads turned in her direction. Both her brother Darren and sister Alicia shot daggers out of their eyes. Her mother ignored her completely. Her father gave her a slight nod and resumed conversation with his son.</p><p>Jenna didn't know everyone in the room. Of course, she knew her parents and siblings. Her mother's brother Alan was here as well. There were a couple of kids running around, so one of her siblings must have squirted out some offspring. At least one of the kids belonged to the unknown woman speaking to Alicia. The child asked her to take him to the bathroom and she motioned to Darren. Darren took the child out, so Jenna assumed it was his kid and the woman was his wife.</p><p>The only other unknown person was a man perusing the bookshelf. Although, it became apparent pretty quickly he wasn't really interested in the books. Jenna noticed him sneaking nervous glances at her several times. She assumed it was Alicia's husband or boyfriend wanting to get a look at the family pariah.</p><p>As grateful as she was no one was talking to her, she knew this was not natural. A person does not walk into a room full of people without even an acknowledgement. They had to know she was coming. One of them hired that private investigator to find her. So, it's probably reasonable to assume that only one person wants her to be here. And it's also safe to assume, the extra people who have joined the family were warned not to interact with her. The guy at the bookshelf must be terrified of Alicia's wrath. Jenna could almost smell the anxiety dripping off him.<br /></p><p>Jenna could sense the tension in the room and the hatred directed at her. She was well aware of how much she was disliked by her family and she understood why. They hated her because it's the way they are. It was to be expected. However, they really had no reason to. The worst she had ever done to any of them was leave to live her own life, but that was enough. She would never be forgiven.<br /></p><p>Her brother returned with the child and was followed by a man Jenna knew she had seen before. He was the first to speak to her. The man clapped his hands together and said, "Oh, good. You're here. We can get started."</p><p>Jenna heard a "pfft" from her sister at the acknowledgement of her presence, but ignored it. The man who spoke to her stepped to the other end of the room and opened a briefcase to remove a several-page document. Jenna remembered him now. He had been her father's lawyer since she was a girl.<br /></p><p>The lawyer started, "Now that we are all accounted for, we shall begin. I hold in my hands the Last Will and Testament of James Creuble to be read today."</p><p>The adults looked at each other in confusion and looked to their father for confirmation. James Creuble nodded slowly. Darren blurted out, "The man is standing right there. What is this?" He looked to his father and asked, "What is going on?"</p><p>Mr. Creuble cleared his throat. "Did that Ivy League education teach you nothing. He just said what it was."</p><p>Darren fell back at the words of his father, but Alicia pushed for an answer. "Father, are you dying? This is very unusual."</p><p>The patriarch rolled his eyes with impatience. "We are all dying. Everyone one of you. Now listen up. No more stupid questions."</p><p>Jenna smirked in the back of the room. She hadn't missed these conversations. This was how most of them went in this family. Everyone just spewing their disgust at each other. <br /></p><p>Darren got his courage back, "So, we came all the way here for this? When you're not even close to dead? It makes no sense."</p><p>James Creuble stood and stabbed his finger into Darren's face. "Did you just say, 'ALL THE WAY HERE?' You and your whiny family live two blocks from here in the house <b><i>I</i></b> bought you. Your sister and…<b><i>HIM *</i></b><i>pointing with his thumb over his shoulder at the nervous bookcase guy</i>…only had to walk down the stairs to get here. The only person who actually had to put in any effort to be here is Jenna. She, and only she, can honestly use the phrase "all the way here."<br /></p><p>James Creuble looked around the room and met Jenna's eyes for a moment. He gave her another slight nod and turned to sit down. "My will is being read today. No, I am not dying. I wanted to write out my wishes while I still have complete use of my mind. And we are here <i>today</i>, instead of after my death, because I want to be here to answer all your questions about why you got what you got or didn't get. There will be no squabbling or fighting over my reasons because you're going to find out today."</p><p>He turned to his lawyer, "Let's get this going."<br /></p><p><br /></p><hr /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter M" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3L4Qy9CrsAL6SROvm_gSgLC34KN_6jlyqt2ns3ctzk0K5D4jCkApFXM75I4O2g5sDzuvLsD-bfBIiSW3OY1BivEZZ2-FW0gFw2QUVZ6SprmrSvZNnpk22OIS0Bw54BHyL7zqKn-3uKpE/s200/MM.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"><br />All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>M for Mystery</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-84692695874008240122021-04-16T15:00:00.001+07:002021-04-17T14:58:15.573+07:00L - Legends - #AtoZChallenge - "Just the Tip"
<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlnxAI96E2EXrVKmthTZj0HQoKZx4aNZD7oIXEv1b0PYZ4o6nESk9lKHeg8UFUaIqg9Q6H_KY5CmyUVez7OsfNWm4J74bm2e1o86oflcDdcemGlbkxA1inYnOxlT85iqpT5MJkZ8XRr55/s752/Tavern.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="752" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlnxAI96E2EXrVKmthTZj0HQoKZx4aNZD7oIXEv1b0PYZ4o6nESk9lKHeg8UFUaIqg9Q6H_KY5CmyUVez7OsfNWm4J74bm2e1o86oflcDdcemGlbkxA1inYnOxlT85iqpT5MJkZ8XRr55/s320/Tavern.png" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>It had been a journey of many leagues. Magni had been traveling on foot for over a week. Almost halfway to his destination, he knew the end was in sight. He had caught a ride a few times on farmers' carts, but most people were not very trusting of people they did not know. That trust had only decreased since he left the land of his own realm, but he had not met any violence.</p><p>Magni had enough coin to buy food when he could find it, but little extra for accommodation. He had slept in stables, under trees, and under a bridge once during a storm. A few days ago, a washerwoman had taken pity on him and allowed him into her family's home for the night, but he knew he could not expect this to be common.</p><p>Tonight, trudging along the road as the sun was going down, Magni took notice of the increase in foot and horse traffic. This always meant he was coming close to a town or village. His spirits rose in hopes of being able to find a hot meal before finding a place to lay his head. He inquired of a passerby who informed him there was a tavern further up the road.</p><p>Magni looked forward to a hot soup or maybe some roasted boar. He decided he would even splurge on a flagon of ale or mulled wine. It was a nice night. After a full belly, any tree would do for shelter. He picked up the pace to get his hot meal.</p><p>Within an hour he came across the tavern. The paint was peeling on the sign above the door, but it could still be read. <i>The Broken Traveler</i> had a depiction of a man sleeping under several sets of watchful eyes. Magni was not sure if that logo was meant to be comforting to strangers, but it implied they were welcomed. He made his way inside and was surprised at the number of people spread about the room. This was a popular place for a tavern on the edge of town.</p><p>There were about a dozen tables in the middle that could have seated six people comfortably, but comfort didn't seem to be a concern here. There were ten to fifteen people crowded around each of the tables. More if you counted the girls in men's laps. The beer was flowing, conversation was lively, and the songs were cheerful. The place seemed friendly enough. Magni found an empty seat at one of the smaller tables near a wall as a cheer went up from one of the big tables.<br /></p><p>Across the table from him sat a man who seemed to be having a quiet conversation with his drink. He only raised his head enough to take another sip and went right back to muttering into his cup. Magni offered a greeting, but the man gave little more than a nod as he continued to concentrate on his beverage.</p><p>Magni managed to flag down a serving girl and learned the cook had made his specialty tonight, a hearty stew that he only makes twice a year. She told him everyone was here for the stew. Magni asked for the stew and an ale. He leaned against the wall and stretched his arms above his head. It felt good to sit down. He wanted to stretch out his legs, but there were too many people milling about. It would have been rude to take up too much space.</p><p>Magni heard a loud cheer go up across the room. Several people moved to a small table on the other side of the tavern and patted the back of one of the men seated there. The serving woman from earlier pushed through the crowd and set a large beer before the man. The crowd cheered again as the man held up his new drink. Magni didn't know what everyone was celebrating, but was happy to get to be in the middle of it. This was a very lively crowd.</p><p>Magni's stew and ale arrived and he quickly realized how hungry he was. He downed the ale quickly and asked the server for another before she got away.</p><p>He tasted the stew and was immediately pleased with his decision. It was delicious. It had onions, garlic, and hard-boiled quails eggs with chucks of bitter gourd. The broth was spiced perfectly. He lifted the stew to take a long sip right from the bowl. He loved it.</p><p>A loud cheer erupted from the table next to him and so many people came crowding around, the bowl was almost knocked from his grasp. He saw a man seated being slapped on the back and people rubbing his head and he smiled from ear to ear. The serving girl showed up with Magni's ale and quickly apologized to Magni as she handed the beer to the happy man. She quickly ran off and was back a moment later with another for Magni.</p><p>Magni gulped down some of his ale and asked the man sharing his table what everyone was so happy about. The man didn't look up, but said "Lucky. Lucky man" to his cup. Magni shrugged his shoulders and popped an egg from the stew into his mouth.</p><p>He kept eating and enjoying the revelry around him. He soon ordered a third drink and was feeling very good.</p><p>The bowl was almost empty, so Magni raised it to his lips and used his spoon to shovel what was left into his mouth. He had over-filled his mouth and was having trouble chewing without dropping food back out. He was slowly getting it down when he felt something hard against the top of his mouth. Still chewing and moving things around, the hard part found its way to his teeth. It was too hard to chew. He managed to swallow everything but the hard piece and spit it out.</p><p>It was the top portion of one of the bitter gourds. It even had part of the stem still on it and was about the size of a large coin. He was looking at it as he washed out his mouth with another drink of ale.</p><p>Suddenly, the quiet man at the table with him burst out. "Lucky. Stew lucky. Lucky man!"</p><p>The crowds turned and looked at him with excitement in their eyes. He flashed a bewildered smile. People started rushing toward him and cheering. He tossed the chunk of gourd on the floor and cheerfully asked "What?"</p><p>The crowd stopped and looked at the chunk on the floor. A few people gasped and pointed. The man at his table, still looking into his glass started chattering, "no no no no no no no."</p><p>The serving woman showed up with a huge smile and a beer for Magni that he hadn't ordered and looked at the people staring at him. "What's going on?"</p><p>The closest man, red in face, shouted, "He threw down the tip. Just threw it on the dirty floor." The crowd nodded their agreement as they moved closer. Magni could sense the change in the crowd as they closed in. Several were throwing insults and comments at him.</p><p><i>"Do you think you're better than us?"<br />"Who turns down good luck?"<br />"Who are you to throw us to the dirt?"<br />"This town doesn't need your kind."<br /></i></p><p>The serving woman leaned in close and yelled over the noise of the crowd. "You need to leave now."</p><p>"I haven't paid yet."</p><p>She answered quickly, "Just go if you know what's good for you."</p><p>Magni got up and slowly forced his way through the angry crowd. They hurled insults at him and a few spit in his face. He feared for his safety and had no idea why. As he approached the exit, he was pushed from behind and fell out the door. </p><p>Half the tavern followed him out and continued shouting at him. He hurried to get away from these people, but several chased him down and blocked his path.</p><p>"You're a bad omen. You're not going into our town."</p><p>Magni tried to object. "But I'm headed south. I have to go that way."</p><p>One of the men pulled out a dagger. "Find another way."</p><p>Magni turned back up the path he had just traveled from and started back. Half a dozen men followed to be sure he was leaving town before they returned to the tavern.</p><p>He knew he would probably lose a day cutting through the woods to avoid the town when he turned south again, but he didn't understand why. </p><p>Magni smiled as he walked, "Well, at least I ate for free."<br /></p><p><br /></p><hr /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter L" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZU8f-1DY5ujYPVt55JEPlCcq4yzphy-t5aEt0NBY1JXq3R0oJac8pYDSELYlWWF388RxksfPk1I_kcTzKJ1dePKnRpdtNArTMmk1y6U5MsPkWhL0iXmQ2c6J1OewTdIV0A-k9zF-unRs/s200/LL.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>L for Legend</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-49497366803822946382021-04-14T12:07:00.001+07:002021-04-14T13:29:45.543+07:00K - Karen - #AtoZChallenge
<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQQ9rMLFTErVJp7GKWF67DZUQaaepYz6A82XnH1QF7vxdkmtWdsTbtSaOM4iGa4ClMAfAUNh47TtaG1b-MwBEinR497RO4LJBNzryDFjjTdR1BQCgsaZC-P_rPt27WHZ0TuEXRpT6wZpd/s400/Karen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQQ9rMLFTErVJp7GKWF67DZUQaaepYz6A82XnH1QF7vxdkmtWdsTbtSaOM4iGa4ClMAfAUNh47TtaG1b-MwBEinR497RO4LJBNzryDFjjTdR1BQCgsaZC-P_rPt27WHZ0TuEXRpT6wZpd/s320/Karen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Mrs. Ballard swiped her debit card again and the gas pump still wouldn't read it. She had tried three times and even started the whole process over with the pump and it wasn't working. She didn't like using her credit card for daily purchases, but pulled it out of her purse anyway. It didn't work either.</p><p>She hit the HELP button, but wasn't getting a response. Looking inside the station, it appeared the cashier was engaged with a woman at the counter.</p><p>Frustrated, she pulled to another pump since the card machine was broken
on the first one. Unfortunately, she had the same problem at the new
one. And she still got no response when she pressed the HELP button. It appeared the customer inside was upset about something and had the cashier's attention. That's why he hadn't responded to the HELP call.<br /> <br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1nch3ziyxcQ3AznzfNNLX_ZNt-53Q4dT4muLBkG1N5oXGZdIvHw9vDn61dVe2XXlRIMNVdglrxKzQOAseDbygcZX_x1c0oNIHGf-RbkevG2-yeHNqOpGKcvdIRwwTvrXadfRkIfKCSyq/s800/Gas+Pump.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1nch3ziyxcQ3AznzfNNLX_ZNt-53Q4dT4muLBkG1N5oXGZdIvHw9vDn61dVe2XXlRIMNVdglrxKzQOAseDbygcZX_x1c0oNIHGf-RbkevG2-yeHNqOpGKcvdIRwwTvrXadfRkIfKCSyq/s320/Gas+Pump.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p>Mrs. Ballard was about to storm into the station when she noticed the PAY INSIDE button. She had forgotten about that option. She had paid at the pump for so many years, paying inside was a distant memory. She filled up her tank and headed for the front doors.</p><p>As soon as the automatic doors slid open, Mrs. Ballard could hear the woman in full rant screaming at the cashier.</p><p>"ARE YOU STUPID? HOW HARD IS IT TO MAKE A DAMN CUP OF COFFEE?"</p><p>Mrs. Ballard stood far back to not attract attention to herself. She was in no hurry. She could wait until this ugly scene played out.</p><p>The cashier motioned toward the drink area and calmly stated, "As I told you, miss, the coffee station is right over there. We have three kinds of coffee including decaf and several flavored creamers. You can make it to your taste."</p><p>The customer seemed to be enraged by this and stuck her finger in the cashier's face as the spittle flew from her mouth. "AND AS I TOLD <b>YOU</b>, IF I WANTED TO MAKE MY OWN COFFEE I WOULD HAVE DONE SO AT HOME!"</p><p>"You are more than welcome to go do that." Mrs. Ballard was amazed at how well the cashier was keeping his cool and a giggle slipped out at that response.</p><p>The angry woman shot a look at her, but directed her hate back to the poor employee. "Are you going to make that coffee or not?"</p><p>The cashier stated definitively, "I am not supposed to leave the counter when I am the only employee in the store."</p><p>Mrs. Ballard decided to try to help. She spoke up as she moved toward the drink station, "I'll get your coffee. What would you like?"</p><p>She glared at Mrs. Ballard, "I would like some <i>damn customer service </i>and a little human decency."</p><p>"So, no coffee then?" and she went back to her place.</p><p>The front doors slid open and a woman walked in wearing the same uniform as the cashier. The customer immediately confronted the newcomer. "I guess now that there's a second person here, one of you can tackle the incredibly complicated task of getting my coffee." </p><p>Since her path was basically blocked by a seething woman, she looked around her to the cashier and asked, "What's happening here?"</p><p>The cashier started to explain, but the customer cut him off." He refused to make my coffee."</p><p>"Well, I am sorry about that. I am the manager and I have instructed him to not leave the counter when he is the only employee in the store."</p><p>The manager edged her way sideways around the customer and walked to the coffee station. She started filling a large cup. "Would you like sugar or creamer?"</p><p>The customer was not finished. "So, is it your stupid policy to keep customers from getting served while you are out running around town?"</p><p>The manager stopped filling the cup and poured it in the sink. She stepped up to the customer and answered, "Customer service does not stop for the people who are smart enough to recognize that this is a self-serve station and not a restaurant. If you want someone to wait on you, go to a place that does that." </p><p>The customer was aghast. "Well, I've never had such treatment. Do you know who I am? My husband is a well-respected man in this town."</p><p>The manager grew louder, "Well, it's a shame he couldn't marry someone who was the same. Get out of my store. We don't tolerate you crazy Karens here."</p><p>The customer stomped out with a few more words about her perceived treatment and sped out of the parking lot. The manager let her employee know how well he had done to keep his cool and sent him on break.</p><p>"I am sorry you had to witness that. How can I help you?"</p><p>Mrs. Ballard smiled, "It's okay. Not your fault. The card machine outside wasn't working, so I came inside to pay." She slid her card to the manager.</p><p>The manager grabbed the card and jumped when she looked at it, "Oh, I am so sorry. <u>Karen</u> Ballard. Your name is Karen."</p><p>Karen Ballard patted the managers hand, "It's okay, dear. There's good Karens and bad Karens. Just try not to judge us all by the bad ones. I don't think she was one of us any way."<br /></p><p></p><p><br /></p><hr /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter K" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBg1tTXkuLEokmO0JRnKTuiAaU2346jU00m2ivvsO0HxBdxOhpzqJJSw7bCcYFjWaxUvzT1LK64y8LpOX4RJak2yQEf3JVgz5TLw1FDbx-IvjG2iMCK835drZUIY74HkhMHdCq27xe5M/s200/KK.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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. I don't know any genres that start with K and couldn't find any online, so today's letter is <b>K for Karen</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-35539233379894401882021-04-13T15:11:00.002+07:002021-04-14T10:48:39.756+07:00J - Juxtaposition - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p>I searched all over the internet for the name of a literary genre that started with the letter J and I could not find one that made sense for a Western audience. So, I chose the word <i>Juxtaposition</i>. </p><p>For this post, I will take the post I started this challenge with and tell it from the other person's perspective. The original post was <a href="https://transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/2021/04/a-adventure-atozchallenge.html">A - Adventure</a>. You can read that post to see the way I originally wrote it. It only had two characters. The original was written from Trina's perspective. This one will be the same story, but told from Terry's side.</p><hr /><p>"Why do I keep letting you talk me into this crap?" wailed Terry.</p><p>Terry's sister Trina seemed to be ignoring him as she wrapped his ankle. It figured. She dragged him all the way out here in the middle of nowhere and then got quiet when the inevitable happened.<br /></p><p>"I
didn't talk you into tripping over that branch. That happened because
you were looking at your phone instead of where you were going. That's
why I left mine in the car. No distractions. Just try to enjoy it out
here."</p><p>Terry winced as he tried to stand up. "But I <i>don't</i> enjoy it out here. This is your thing, not mine."</p><p>He had been trying to tell her this all morning, but she chose not to listen. She'd been on this nature kick ever since she went off to college. He knew it had something to do with her major, but never expected it to turn her into a drag to be around.<br /></p><p>Trina shot back, "I asked you this morning what you wanted to do together and you had nothing. So, I came up with something."</p><p>Terry swatted at the bugs around his face and tried to let her know that hurt, "That's not true. I asked you to play <i>Halo</i> with me. You weren't interested."</p><p>Trina sighed, "That's the opposite of doing something."</p><p>Terry wiped at the sweat on his neck. "All I know is that I never sprained an ankle running through the jungle with Lara Croft. A couple of hours with you and I'm a cripple."</p><p>Terry knew he was laying it on thick, but she rarely listened to him anymore. They used to have so much fun together. They shared a love of movies, great food, and raunchy stand-up comics their parents didn't like them to watch. They had stayed up all night playing <i>Guitar Hero</i> and other games hundreds of times…until she went off to school. Now all she wanted to do was go camping and fishing and hiking and other stupid things.</p><p>Terry had actually been excited the first weekend she came home from school. He had missed his <i>Mario Kart</i> buddy. He had rented the newest <i>Final Fantasy </i>for her weekend visit, but all she could talk about was her new friends and the classes she was taking. Every visit had been the same since. It was like she was a different person.</p><p>Trina didn't seem to be treating Terry's injury very seriously. "It's just a sprained ankle. Let's make our way back to the car."</p><p>Terry
pushed away from the tree and collapsed as soon as he put weight on his
injured foot. He tried to make a joke, "I don't think I can walk. Call an Uber."</p><p>Trina just laughed at him as the pain shot through his leg all the way up to his knee. He couldn't believe she was getting pleasure out of this. He reluctantly accepted her help getting to his feet. He didn't really have much of a choice. Plus, they were so far from the car, getting back was going to take a while. Especially at this new, slow pace.<br /></p><p></p><p>As Terry slowly
moved each foot, even with Trina's help, she kept pestering him with questions. It took a few before she landed on something he actually had an opinion about. "Have you gotten any new games since my last visit?"</p><p>He mumbled out a short answer, but she prodded further. Soon Terry was excitedly telling her the plot points of <i>Hitman 3</i> and recalling his latest adventures in <i>Red Dead Redemption II</i>
now that he had the latest expansion pack. Trina was even asking a few good questions. After a few minutes, he was in a better mood and, despite the pain, sometimes forgot about his injury. He was just talking games with his sister like they used to. <br /></p><p></p><p>With about half a mile left to go, they came to the
log that had fallen across a dried creek bed. The creek was only about
five feet deep, but had very steep sides. The bridge provided by the
fallen tree was perfect. On the way in, they just walked across the log,
but with Terry's injured ankle it was proving to be much more difficult
this time. Trina and Terry couldn't cross hanging onto each other. He knew he was going to have to do it alone.</p><p>He still couldn't walk well, so they tried a couple of different ways. "Get in front of me and give me your hand," Terry said.</p><p>Trina did as instructed and it seemed to work. She had to walk backward and go very slow, but that little bit of support was all Terry needed to start working his way across. Terry was a little shaky without her supporting him, but if he took small steps he could slowly manage.<br /></p><p></p><p>About halfway
across, Terry heard a sudden crack and loud grunting-type noise. Terry was startled and almost went down as he saw an awakened deer scrambling away from under the
tree. He heard a shriek from Trina and lost sight of her as she fell off the log and into the creek.<br /></p><p> Terry laid himself down on the log to peer down into the brush. "Trina are
you alright?"</p><p>He could hear the pain in her voice. "I don't know yet. I've
hurt my knee. Give me a minute."</p><p>"What do you want me to do?"</p><p>He couldn't see her face, but he could see her hand as she waved him to keep moving to the other end of the tree. Terry edged his way to the other
side of the creek and eased himself down on the edge of the creek. He could see her now. He extended his hand as he laid on his stomach.<br /></p><p>"Come on. I got you." </p><p>Trina tried to stand, but
she was not moving well. When she hit the ground again, she pulled herself to the edge of the creek where Terry's hand was. He saw that she was dragging her leg behind her trying not to move it. As mad as he was at his sister, he felt bad for her. She looked like she was in worse pain than he was. That made two cripples in the woods.</p><p></p><p>She drug herself
to the bank of the creek where Terry was and could not reach his
outstretched hand and she was in too much pain to get higher. He tried to stretch further, but she told him to stop.</p><p>"Even if I could reach you, I would just pull you in. There's no way you can lift me."</p><p>Terry was a little insulted, but knew she was right. "I bet you wish we were playing <i>XBOX</i> right now."</p><p>He could hear her choking back a sob as she yelled, "Shut up. You're not helping."</p><p>He smiled a little at that one. "Sorry. What do we do?"</p><p>Through broken breaths, Trina explained, "I know I gave you a hard time for bringing your phone, but now
would be a good time to use it. I can't get out of this creek and you
can barely walk. Call Dad and let him know where we are. Him and Daryl
will need to come rescue us."</p><p>"Um, Trina. My phone died about 20 minutes ago."</p><p>Terry didn't like their situation, but enjoyed hearing the little laugh that escaped from Trina. "We have
ourselves in a fix don't we? Terry, suck it up
and limp yourself back to the car? My phone will be fully charged. Got
it?"<br /><br />"Yeah, but…I have no idea where I am. I've been following you the whole time. How do I find the car? I don't even know what direction to go."</p><p>Terry knew Trina had been excited to show this place to him, but even she had only been here once. And her preference for getting off the trail meant he had nothing to guide him back. "So tell me what to do, Mountain Man Trina."</p><p>"Crap! That's right. OK, listen, you still
move better than I do. Find a section of creek that is not as
steep or deep. At a shorter bank or less steep incline, maybe I can crawl out."</p><p>"OK. I'll try."</p><p>Terry heard Trina starting to cry as he limped along the side of the creek. He knew she had waited until he got far enough away to not hear here, but she hadn't waited long enough. She had always liked to be seen as the strong, responsible
older sister. He thought she was full of it, but wouldn't call her out on this one.<br /></p><p>Terry had only moved about 50 feet along the side of the creek when it started to rain. Terry shouted, "SERIOUSLY? I hate it out here."</p><p>He worked his way back to Trina and leaned over the edge. "When this is all over, I hope you know I'm never going outside again." </p><p>Trina gave him a thumbs up and waved him away.<br /></p><br /><hr /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter J" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPy1kHwG2HYeveRvGwsdtwu0cbxzs-HB9n-q7zmKoaPIL3GWBASbrVRe3_9KeRFVQyc7_upBa-Dp4gqrFpKWCksC3xf59bG5dYsffJvk2WzxvlAudjMYTiPXOMBKv3CRkJ8m47pdc0Jk/s200/JJ.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"><br />All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>J for Juxtaposition</b>.<br /></div>Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-33676782526371678082021-04-13T07:34:00.001+07:002021-04-13T10:12:51.145+07:00I - Imaginary Voyage - #AtoZChallenge<p></p><p>Brayden woke up to the sound of his dad yelling up the stairs. "Let's go, kid. Bus will be here in an hour."</p><p>Brayden rubbed his eyes and heard his dad's voice again, "Did you hear me? Get a move on." Brayden answered back, "I'm up." He then lowered his head and closed his eyes.</p><p><i>The fire alarm screamed to life waking everyone in the station. Firefighter Brayden launches himself out of his cot and flies to his dresser. Every second counts in a fire. He must move fast. Fresh underwear and socks are on in less than a second. He spins to the closet as he gets his second sock on. He pulls out his shirt, removes the hanger and has the shirt on in one practiced, fluid motion. He is pulling on his pants as he heads out the door, scooping up his gear as he leaves. Firefighter Brayden slides effortlessly down the pole to the truck in less than 45 seconds from the time he got out of bed. A new record.</i></p><p>"Brayden Michael," his mom said sternly. "How many times have you been told to stay off the banister? It's starting to come loose from all your abuse."</p><p>"Sorry, Mom."</p><p>"Sit down and eat. I made pancakes today." His mom set the butter and syrup on the table as Brayden pulled his plate toward him. He slid a generous slab of butter between the pancakes and slowly dripped syrup on the top to watch it spread.</p><p><i>The volcano eruption wasn't much of an explosion, but the lava is unstoppable. It is slowly creeping down the hills toward the town devouring everything in its path. The people are evacuating, but are unsure of where to go on this island. The lava is spreading further and has started hitting people's homes causing them to immediately burst into flames. Many townspeople are fleeing to the docks and getting on their boats to watch their town burn from the safety of the water. The lava is spilling off all sides of the island leaving no place safe for anyone. It will be a long time before this island is inhabitable again.</i></p><p>"Hey, hey hey," Brayden's dad snatched the syrup out of his hands. "How much syrup do you need? That's more than all of us together should use this morning. Get your head out of the clouds."</p><p>Brayden ate his breakfast and got an extra pancake, but was not allowed any more syrup. There was still a lake of maple on his plate. He ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth, but his mom caught him on the way out. </p><p>"How can you not see the condition your hair is in? It looks like there are squirrels living on your head." She grabbed a brush and…</p><p><i>"Try your worst," First Lieutenant Brayden jeers. "I'll never talk."</i></p><p><i>The interrogator sneers at him as he picks up his instrument of torture. "Everyone says that, but they all talk eventually." He approaches slowly, but First Lieutenant Brayden never drops his gaze. He shows no fear as the pincers begin to open and move toward his eye.</i></p><p>"Hold still. I can't get this tangle out if you keep jumping around," complained Brayden mom. Brayden tried not to squirm until his mom finished her mission.</p><p>Coming out of the bathroom, Brayden was met my his dad. Dad took him outside and they sat on the front steps. Brayden saw the dogs across the street watching traffic go by.</p><p><i>A guard dog has an important job. He is to be the eyes and ears for the people who can't see and hear (or even smell) as good. If anyone tries to get into this lab, it just might be the dog who stops him first. There's important stuff here the other labs want to know about. Security is here to stop that and it can't be done without some good guard dogs. The most important job is to protect the perimeter. Even approaching the fence will…</i></p><p>"Hey, are you hearing me?" Brayden's dad snapped his fingers in Brayden's face. "We can't have any more of this. Your teacher says you don't stay focused. You have got to pay attention. Got it?"</p><p>"I always pay attention."</p><p>His dad sighed, "Well, try to make the teacher see that. Maybe look at the blackboard instead of out the window. Okay?"</p><p>"Yes, Dad." Brayden got up to meet the school bus on the next block. As he turned the corner, he saw that a few of the kids were already there waiting.</p><p>One of his friends turned and waved. Brayden immediately dove into the bushes.</p><p><i>Private Brayden knew that was too close. He was almost seen. If he lets his position be known, he won't be able to blow the convoy when it comes through. He crawls along the hedge to get closer to the target, but careful to be silent to not alert the others to his presence.</i></p><p>Brayden's dad watched from an upstairs window and shook his head.<i> </i><br /></p><p><br /></p><hr /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter I" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgceObQDs1I4AoQ-WpOevskW4Gqjy1BlcFKJhqxSSxtDZcOy52vlGj0p2Sw6QemlrIAQOHmYBCgxlD6_VXrYrMs7FQL-KInnRjV9wwYRh-3IMesxhRpIxHr_UDKbPr3Kazk_WEuRYl9kvU/s200/II.jpg" width="200" /></a></p><div style="text-align: left;">All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>I for Imaginary Journey</b>.</div><br />Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-42552085438697382222021-04-13T06:13:00.001+07:002021-04-13T06:13:32.488+07:00500 Blog Posts<p><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"> Back in October of 2010, I wrote my first post and it has been quite a ride. Today, I am writing my 500<sup>th</sup> post.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicN0iR5IcgPLarH5O2W1CfDZkYE6OJetimmT1pobODJACnBRA3OMZqXc7tYQHMyo1D14Sk3VQlGAPzD7ZhXInuwSAhpxQRnse5yDXcpz61BwoUcpvima-iYgvecC50XLaiXDlnNHMXkIHA/s588/500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="588" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicN0iR5IcgPLarH5O2W1CfDZkYE6OJetimmT1pobODJACnBRA3OMZqXc7tYQHMyo1D14Sk3VQlGAPzD7ZhXInuwSAhpxQRnse5yDXcpz61BwoUcpvima-iYgvecC50XLaiXDlnNHMXkIHA/s320/500.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;">I started this blog because my daughter was dating a boy who had to do a blog for a high school project. He was telling me how much he enjoyed and that I should try it. So, I did.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XDeaj60R5uavf6b8eLHiyW_1nsHR-hcr5ccGaxbhxz3O4yCfy0tb10CQRDzqp6I0LwN-4tFGXUIVofZhs6jTxxRPKlCxRSEmTsa01gdfMaxDBAPtw8GLlbEuqP533DqzfvbYdlukPUJl/s2048/5OO.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1183" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XDeaj60R5uavf6b8eLHiyW_1nsHR-hcr5ccGaxbhxz3O4yCfy0tb10CQRDzqp6I0LwN-4tFGXUIVofZhs6jTxxRPKlCxRSEmTsa01gdfMaxDBAPtw8GLlbEuqP533DqzfvbYdlukPUJl/s320/5OO.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"> I quickly learned that I loved writing and had a bit of a knack for it. Since then, I have been published (sort of), and gotten married <span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>because</b></i></span></span> of this blog. I've lived in <u>seven</u> different places in <u>three</u> different countries since my first post. I've had close to half a million visits to this page. It's been a huge blessing to me and I am so glad I started.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-1FHW-KDkC6oMfNIziIfEI5rwai3Aq-_3jozTzWfUBWZ0aUc1XaFKHzXT8aWf8mBly4kkUD_DQzcqwj7DdKmG6iJiFJfRjmE-d9eMhidfNMabubIX_IOoxJant6T0e4wb7yI863XUUC9/s1250/50O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="1250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-1FHW-KDkC6oMfNIziIfEI5rwai3Aq-_3jozTzWfUBWZ0aUc1XaFKHzXT8aWf8mBly4kkUD_DQzcqwj7DdKmG6iJiFJfRjmE-d9eMhidfNMabubIX_IOoxJant6T0e4wb7yI863XUUC9/s320/50O.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"> Thank you to all of you who have read and participated.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGV4HmXRe6fESpn-VbnMqZACAFzGE_eO0xtoU-Fr73Z50u9JNSvVdkPxGG6jYcnPKBBkhomN7tHp9SmO8s_wzZUxMUXOdQPlfYZ6bkFr1GlQPDIUG9d_hGigSU3mKBPju3Z4Iv7NZDa-PK/s800/500+gif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGV4HmXRe6fESpn-VbnMqZACAFzGE_eO0xtoU-Fr73Z50u9JNSvVdkPxGG6jYcnPKBBkhomN7tHp9SmO8s_wzZUxMUXOdQPlfYZ6bkFr1GlQPDIUG9d_hGigSU3mKBPju3Z4Iv7NZDa-PK/s320/500+gif.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Luckiest Guy;"><br /></span>Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86977550006125364.post-68029451584627784872021-04-12T14:41:00.005+07:002021-04-12T15:17:14.740+07:00H - Horror - #AtoZChallenge<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiYwbGnQEOukXzDOUuV_p59EpupTEYruUx6T26ZLYG83iwhvAKTggeCJJtHpnQALhY0mVLbk9q0Xir4gTb3MyGzAhXIqKg6xLrJ_1u1LW6Itk1xQVwWJLophjCmIYxDq24vWQujeE_-bs/s1000/Grandparents.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiYwbGnQEOukXzDOUuV_p59EpupTEYruUx6T26ZLYG83iwhvAKTggeCJJtHpnQALhY0mVLbk9q0Xir4gTb3MyGzAhXIqKg6xLrJ_1u1LW6Itk1xQVwWJLophjCmIYxDq24vWQujeE_-bs/s320/Grandparents.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p>"Janie, dear, you know this is not allowed. You have to find another way."</p><p>"Sorry, Mom. I don't have time to sort it out. It'll be alright. I'll be back first thing in the morning. Sorry. Bye."</p><p>Jake's grandma growled as his mom pulled away. She was pissed, but she would never say anything against his parents. Not to him, at least.</p><p>Jake's grandparents lived in a small retirement village on the edge of town. He had been there a few times, but was never allowed to spend the night. Apparently, the management of the village had some very strict rules about overnight guests. And children were not allowed to be there at all after dark. It was supposed to be a quiet place for the old people to enjoy retirement with no disturbances.</p><p>Or pets.<br />Or noise.<br />Or bright colors.<br />Or "inappropriate" clothes.<br />Or fun.</p><p>Jake had never really liked going there. He loved his grandparents, but not going to their house There was nothing to do there and anything that began to resemble fun got shut down quickly. Usually, all it took was for him or his brother Chip to laugh and they would get dirty looks. His grandma and grandpa always seemed really nervous when he or his brother were there and Grandma always worried they would get them in trouble.</p><p>"It's supposed to be a peaceful place," Grandpa would remind them.<br /></p><p>They were fun when they came to Jake's house. When his mom got stuck with unexpected night shifts, one or both of the grandparents would come to their house to stay with them. Those nights were great. They stayed up later than Mom usually let them and Grandma always baked a big cake. Grandpa would make them laugh with his jokes and they had a lot of fun.</p><p>But Jake was dreading tonight. Chip was lucky. He was out camping on a Boy Scout trip. Jake was in a hotel with his Mom when this shift got dropped on her. With no time to find a solution, she threw some clothes in a bag and they raced to the grandparent's house. She dropped him off and was gone before Grandma could object too much.</p><p>Jake and his grandparents couldn't just go back to Jake's house because it was being fumigated. He probably had a dozen friends who he could have stayed with, but his mom said she didn't have time to make the phone calls to find a place. He was going to have to stay with Grandma and Grandpa.</p><p>When his grandpa got home, he was very surprised to see Jake. When his grandma explained, she said "we should all go to a hotel for the night." The village was very serious about people violating the rules.</p><p>Grandpa said, "We can't tonight. Remember? We have to be here."<br /></p><p>Grandma looked over at Jake and apologized.</p><p>It was already getting dark. Grandpa wheeled the TV into their bedroom and told Jake he would be sleeping in there tonight. "Go brush your teeth," he said.</p><p>"What? It's barely 7 o' clock."</p><p>Grandpa shot Jake a stern look he had rarely seen before. Grandpa reminded him that they were not at Jake's house. They were at Grandma and Grandpa's house and violating the rules of their housing complex. They would not take any chances on anyone knowing he was there. So, he was to go to their bedroom and watch TV. He could watch as late as he wanted (with the volume so low he couldn't hear it), but he was to stay in there. Grandma said they would make it up to him next week.</p><p>Grandpa started making a pallet on the floor of their living room for them to sleep on. Jake felt bad for them to sleep on the floor and offered to do it, but Grandma ushered him in to the bedroom. She gave him a bottle of water and a kiss on the forehead and reminded him how important it was to be very quiet and not get them in trouble. They liked their little community and did not want to lose it.<br /></p><p>Jake watched TV for a while, but Grandpa said he was not to turn it up which meant he couldn't really hear it. He laid with his head at the foot of the bed to be closer. That helped a little, but not enough. Just staying in a dark room with nothing to do got boring and Jake fell asleep.</p><p>A few hours later, he woke up and used their bathroom, but was really thirsty. He had already drunk all the water Grandma gave him. He needed more, but knew they couldn't drink the tap water here. He needed a new bottle out of the fridge. Jake knew he wasn't supposed to leave the room, but was sure he could be quiet.</p><p>Jake left the room on his hands and knees because he didn't want anyone outside to see him there and get his grandparents in trouble. He crawled into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. The light lit up the whole room and he could see into the living room. The pallet Grandpa had made was empty. Jake crawled into the living room and quietly called out their names. There was no answer. They weren't here. It was almost 1 a.m. Where would they be?<br /></p><p>He peeked out the window and could see their car, so he went to the front of the house to see if they were sitting on the porch like they sometimes do. Looking out the front window, he saw several of their neighbors walking toward the community center in the middle of the village. They seemed to be going to the center from each direction. Jake knew his grandparents village was strict about the rules, but did they call meetings in the middle of the night?</p><p>It frightened him to think that maybe they got in trouble because someone found out he was there. He knew getting kicked out of this village they loved so much was one of their biggest concerns. He hoped he wouldn't be the cause of them having to leave their home. Jake knew he didn't like it there, but they seemed to.</p><p>Jake decided to investigate and slipped on his shoes. Once there seemed to be no one else on the street, he crept from house to house toward the community center building. It was very late at night, but he noticed that he did not hear <i>any</i> noise coming from any of the houses he passed. Everyone must have gone to the building. </p><p>Jake crawled up to one of the windows on the opposite side of the building people had been entering. He was trying to be smart. He didn't want to be seen by someone coming or going from the building.</p><p>Jake slowly raised his head to peek inside and immediately jumped back down. Everyone inside was wearing black robes. His heart was beating quickly, but he tried to listen through the noise of his pounding chest. Everyone inside seemed to be talking at the same time. He could not understand the words, but they were talking together. In unison.</p><p>Jake took a few deep breaths and stood up to peek in again. Everyone was looking toward the front of the room and not near the window he was looking in. He felt safe he would not be seen, but did not know what he was looking at.</p><p>When everyone stopped talking, a person at the front stood up facing the crowd. He had the hood up on his robe so Jake could not see his face. He was behind a small table that was covered with a red cloth. This man spoke very loudly and when he did everyone in the entire room repeated what he said.</p><p>Jake decided that the words were not in English. That was why he could not understand them. He didn't know what he was seeing, but knew he had seen enough. It was time to sneak back to the house This was not a meeting about him.</p><p>Jake was slowly lowering to make his escape when he saw his grandpa's face. His grandpa had stepped up to the table at the front of the room and turned around to address the crowd. Jake watched as he bent down to pick up a small sleeping girl and placed her on the table. Jake was shocked to see another kid here. Children were not allowed. And that girl looked to be only about 4 years old. She would definitely not be good at keeping herself quiet.</p><p>Jake watched as his grandpa reached again for the girl and lifted one of her arms. Grandpa then pulled a short rope from a pocket and tied the girl's arm to one of the table legs. What was he doing? Grandpa produced another rope just as the girl started to wake. She looked up and started crying immediately. Jake's grandpa secured the other arm while another person got up to restrain her legs and then his grandpa fished out two more ropes.</p><p>Jake watched in horror trying to make sense of what he was seeing. This was terrible! What were they doing?</p><p>Grandpa then produced a large knife and handed it to the hooded man before sitting back down. Jake couldn't believe his eyes. No. It must be a nightmare.</p><p>The hooded man bellowed out words from that foreign language and everyone in the room stood. They raised their hoods over their heads and the hooded man raised the knife high in the air.</p><p>Jake screamed in terror. He couldn't take it anymore.</p><p>Every head in the room snapped to look at the window where he was standing. Jake was frozen in terror, but the people in the room started moving from their places. He saw some hurrying out the doors on the other side of the building. He was beginning to hyperventilate when he heard shouts coming up beside him. They were rushing toward him. Jake ran as fast as he could back to his grandparent's house. He got far away from them quickly. The senior citizens who lived there were not very fast.</p><p>Jake fell when he got to the street and skinned his knee badly, but he was still able to get up and run into the house almost a full minute before anyone else got there.</p><p>He locked the door behind him and started crying in the corner. People were banging on the door and peeking in the windows. They were pointing at him and some were screaming, "You saw!"</p><p>Jake heard the voice of his grandpa booming over the shouts and the crowd began to quiet some. He heard a key turn in the lock and his grandma rushed in. She looked terrified and was crying. Grandpa came in right after her and locked the door.<br /><br />"Grandma, what did they do to you?"</p><p>It took her a moment to choke back her tears. She responded, "Jake, baby. Why didn't you stay in your room?"</p><p>Jake threw his arms around her and cried. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where you were. I didn't mean to."</p><p>His grandma kissed him on his head and held him tight. Grandpa stepped up and patted his head. "We love you, Jake."</p><p>Someone outside shouted again. "Enough of this. He saw. You know he saw." The crowd started to get loud again.</p><p>Grandpa took a step away and Grandma began crying harder. Grandma kissed Jake and ambled back to her bedroom. Grandpa turned his back on Jake and shuddered as he unlocked the front door.<br /></p><p><br /></p><hr /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">
<img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter H" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" data-pin-description="#AtoZChallenge April 2021 letter #blogging #blog" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9HQT_fWA4CsIarcgQJOq0z2cYWXrMXp0eJg97nh-Hv_qgWBeOL29ZAo6f6UdwrYebsnvr53qt8vlCkXV4N0geldDCBLWOkiOOzHST3OorwFuiq4t00oM3NslT4FY11xTHDOX6KZtknI/s200/HH.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"><br />All this month, I am participating in the <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">A to Z Challenge</a>. 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 <b>H for Horror</b>.<br /></div>
Brett Minorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13181569922751252054noreply@blogger.com2