Fred stood at the sink once again. The dishes were stacked high. He sighed loudly. "Why were Friday nights always like this?" he mused. Pushing his earbuds into his ears, Fred selected the music for tonight's chores, he wanted something light and upbeat. "Yes," he thought, "Reggae was the way to go." A few touches of his phone and the melodies of Bob Marley begin pouring into his brain.
Starting to wash the dishes, Fred lost himself in the music. As his body took over the repetitive task of washing, rinsing, and sanitizing the dishes, his mind wondered along with the music.....
He stood beside the boat, watching the waves pound the shore. He knew the Gods were mad, they were tossing the sea about in their anger. Fred paused with a wry chuckle. Annie would have had his hide for talking about the old Gods like that. She never understood his "heathen" ways. And he could never explain it more than that is what his people were taught. No amount of civilization or culture were ever going to change the ancient beliefs. It was a way of life, the way they were taught as children. Even though he didn't really subscribe to the old ways, it was a fool that disregarded the wisdom in the teachings. Superstitious, he might have been, but he always felt it was justified.
Annie would have given him some scientific explanation for what was going on, followed by that special smile she reserved just for him. Even after all these years since she passed, he still found himself missing her presence. In fact, the island had gotten so lonesome to him that he decided to build this boat. To sail off into the sunset, heading for the main island, he meant to start fresh. Well as fresh as a sixty-plus old man could.
There was no electricity on the island, so he bent back to his lathe and continued planing out the inside of the boat. it needed to be smooth and straight as this was where he was going to spend all of his time at sea.
Annie never cared for his voyages out into the surrounding ocean. She always feared that he would get hurt and never be able to return. He always scoffed at that idea until a few years ago when he lost track of where he was going and smashed his boat to bits on the rocks in a thick fog. That had scared him bad, if not for his quick thinking and quick reactions, he could have very easily been seriously hurt. But he could thank Luck for that. Good ole Lady Luck was always looking after him.
Fred always thought it was pure luck that he ended up with Annie in the first place. He remembered how many times she told him no, and he kept finding new ways to ask her out. Eventually she caved, and they begin a long happy life together. He had such fond memories of her, playing in the surf, sailing around the bay, the picnic they had taken on the beach - the day Fred asked her to marry him. He can still remember the way she played in the sand, digging her toes in and out.
Fred found himself staring off into the distance, the lathe laying next to his feet. Exactly where he had dropped it staring off into space thinking about his love Annie. Straightening up, Fred felt his back creak all achingly, Fred straightened. He knew it would soon be time to leave. To sail off into the sunset and into her waiting arms. His two loves re-united to show him the ultimate gesture of love, Annie and the sea.
Fred straightened from the sink. His back was aching, he had been standing in the same spot too long. His back was killing him. It was time for a chair massage and then sleep. His dreams were so puzzling, full of lives once lived with the same woman. Always with the same woman. Every night a different life, but always with the same woman. Stretching slightly, he wondered if tonight would be any different......?
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Monday, April 15, 2013
Dreams, reality, is there a difference?
Work sucks.
That was the only thought in his head. He loved his job until he got to this part. Chores. Fred hated chores. They were the bane of his existence. The job was great, he made good money, but the downside was the chores. Fred's brother worked in an office. He had to sit at a desk all day, staring at the same drab four walls. He couldn't decorate anything, no personalization. Stuck in a cubicle, but he didn't have to do chores.
Fred spent most of his day delivering pizza. This meant he got to listen to the radio, and be outside. It was great, the scenery always changed and there was plenty to see. He didn't have to spend much time with people, the process of delivery was quick. "Here's the pizza, this is the total, here's your change, thank you, have a good day." Boom, gone, back in your car, music washing away any thought, just cruising. A dream job. Until he got to the end. The chores. The bullshit you had to go through to leave.
Fred stared at the water in front of him. The dishes weren't going to wash themselves. He stuck his hands in the water. Sigh.
As he washed the dishes, his mind started to wander. Thoughts of hiking in the woods, her laughter, smoke. Soon his mind was lost in the fog of memory and desire.
The woods were misty. It was the cool of the morning, air thick with humidity, yet cool and clammy. It made you shiver and be glad you had a jacket. It was the perfect kind of morning for camping in the mountains. Fred smiled, he loved being outdoors.
Stretching, he started moving around his camp. It was time to get going, he had another ten miles to hike today before he could camp again. It wasn't going to take a long time, but he didn't want to lolly-gag around all day. The camp was pretty, but not that pretty.
In short order, Fred was ready to leave. One last look around the clearing to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and then shouldering his gear, Fred headed out into the misty morning. Soon the fog would burn off and the sunshine would beat down upon him. But for now, Fred was enjoying the quiet stillness of the woods around him. Nature was such a magical place. Peaceful, serene. He was an intruder into this place, but a quiet intruder. Fred moved as quietly as he could, camera in hand, hoping he might get some good shots of wildlife. Being a nature photographer, Fred spent a lot of time alone in the woods. It was the way he wanted. It was the only way he could escape her. By being completely out of touch, he couldn't contact her, couldn't hear her voice, couldn't taste her lips. It was an self-induced solitude, one that she hadn't wanted. But Fred knew that she couldn't commit, and he couldn't accept anything less. So he left, disappeared. It was the only way he could have left, goodbyes would have been prolonged, and he would have stayed in her sweet embrace. She was his drug.
The hike was arduous this morning, but not overwhelming. Fred had to climb a lot early this morning to get to his next camp, by the mountain lake that was his destination. A week of camping there, and thousands more pictures, and Fred knew that he would have all the pictures his editor wanted for the next book. People loved his pictures, mostly because he went so deep into the remote wildernesses that they couldn't. If you wanted to disappear, you had to leave society behind and find the places where Mother Nature had complete reign.
Pausing only for a quick trail lunch of granola bars and water, Fred made the lake around mid-afternoon. With the ease of a practiced hand, he soon had camp set. Making sure all his food was tied up, and everything stored away, Fred decided to explore a little and see what pictures awaited him. As he wandered around the lake shore, Fred saw many wildflowers in bloom, spring was in full swing here even though the rest of the country was in the beginnings of summer. However, it wouldn't be long before it was summer here and then fall. Winter was a long season at this altitude.
Seeing all the vibrant colors of nature, he couldn't help but think of her. She loved flowers, loved taking picnics in fields of wildflowers. Coming to a rock that resemble a high-back chair, Fred sat down to take in his surroundings. The memories were coming hard and heavy. He thought about the time when they had taken a picnic in a field just like this. Fred smiled remembering that day, how she had spread the blanket, her butt in the air. He remembered running his hand up her leg to her buttocks. The way she arched her back in desire, the burning lust he had in his loins, he could smell her pussy. She needed him. With no more thought, he pulled up her skirt and pushed his fingers into her pussy. She moaned and pushed her head into the blanket, shoving her ass into the air. She was begging to be fucked. Fred had no problems obliging. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, freeing his hard cock. Taking only a moment to position himself, he soon was plunging his hard cock into her over and over. Her juices were running down her leg and she was moaning and crying out with every other thrust. Reaching climax, Fred pushed hard into her and released his load deep into her pussy. She came and came and came, pulling him deeper into her with each climax. Spent, they both slumped to the ground. As natural as breathing, they soon were spooning watching the flowers wave gently in the slight breeze.
Fred was smiling broadly as he sat on the rock remembering that day. In his daze, he heard her voice call his name. Fred looked up and around, sure she was here. He heard a splash from the water and turned his head to look. A flash of white and a giggle and he was sure she was in the water. Without any thought, he stripped off his clothes and took off towards the water. Skinny-dipping with her was always fun. A few more steps and he plunged into the water. The shock of the cold shook him up.
The cold water startled Fred. He looked around. The dishes were done, he could now leave. Work sucked, but at least he could dream.....
That was the only thought in his head. He loved his job until he got to this part. Chores. Fred hated chores. They were the bane of his existence. The job was great, he made good money, but the downside was the chores. Fred's brother worked in an office. He had to sit at a desk all day, staring at the same drab four walls. He couldn't decorate anything, no personalization. Stuck in a cubicle, but he didn't have to do chores.
Fred spent most of his day delivering pizza. This meant he got to listen to the radio, and be outside. It was great, the scenery always changed and there was plenty to see. He didn't have to spend much time with people, the process of delivery was quick. "Here's the pizza, this is the total, here's your change, thank you, have a good day." Boom, gone, back in your car, music washing away any thought, just cruising. A dream job. Until he got to the end. The chores. The bullshit you had to go through to leave.
Fred stared at the water in front of him. The dishes weren't going to wash themselves. He stuck his hands in the water. Sigh.
As he washed the dishes, his mind started to wander. Thoughts of hiking in the woods, her laughter, smoke. Soon his mind was lost in the fog of memory and desire.
The woods were misty. It was the cool of the morning, air thick with humidity, yet cool and clammy. It made you shiver and be glad you had a jacket. It was the perfect kind of morning for camping in the mountains. Fred smiled, he loved being outdoors.
Stretching, he started moving around his camp. It was time to get going, he had another ten miles to hike today before he could camp again. It wasn't going to take a long time, but he didn't want to lolly-gag around all day. The camp was pretty, but not that pretty.
In short order, Fred was ready to leave. One last look around the clearing to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and then shouldering his gear, Fred headed out into the misty morning. Soon the fog would burn off and the sunshine would beat down upon him. But for now, Fred was enjoying the quiet stillness of the woods around him. Nature was such a magical place. Peaceful, serene. He was an intruder into this place, but a quiet intruder. Fred moved as quietly as he could, camera in hand, hoping he might get some good shots of wildlife. Being a nature photographer, Fred spent a lot of time alone in the woods. It was the way he wanted. It was the only way he could escape her. By being completely out of touch, he couldn't contact her, couldn't hear her voice, couldn't taste her lips. It was an self-induced solitude, one that she hadn't wanted. But Fred knew that she couldn't commit, and he couldn't accept anything less. So he left, disappeared. It was the only way he could have left, goodbyes would have been prolonged, and he would have stayed in her sweet embrace. She was his drug.
The hike was arduous this morning, but not overwhelming. Fred had to climb a lot early this morning to get to his next camp, by the mountain lake that was his destination. A week of camping there, and thousands more pictures, and Fred knew that he would have all the pictures his editor wanted for the next book. People loved his pictures, mostly because he went so deep into the remote wildernesses that they couldn't. If you wanted to disappear, you had to leave society behind and find the places where Mother Nature had complete reign.
Pausing only for a quick trail lunch of granola bars and water, Fred made the lake around mid-afternoon. With the ease of a practiced hand, he soon had camp set. Making sure all his food was tied up, and everything stored away, Fred decided to explore a little and see what pictures awaited him. As he wandered around the lake shore, Fred saw many wildflowers in bloom, spring was in full swing here even though the rest of the country was in the beginnings of summer. However, it wouldn't be long before it was summer here and then fall. Winter was a long season at this altitude.
Seeing all the vibrant colors of nature, he couldn't help but think of her. She loved flowers, loved taking picnics in fields of wildflowers. Coming to a rock that resemble a high-back chair, Fred sat down to take in his surroundings. The memories were coming hard and heavy. He thought about the time when they had taken a picnic in a field just like this. Fred smiled remembering that day, how she had spread the blanket, her butt in the air. He remembered running his hand up her leg to her buttocks. The way she arched her back in desire, the burning lust he had in his loins, he could smell her pussy. She needed him. With no more thought, he pulled up her skirt and pushed his fingers into her pussy. She moaned and pushed her head into the blanket, shoving her ass into the air. She was begging to be fucked. Fred had no problems obliging. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, freeing his hard cock. Taking only a moment to position himself, he soon was plunging his hard cock into her over and over. Her juices were running down her leg and she was moaning and crying out with every other thrust. Reaching climax, Fred pushed hard into her and released his load deep into her pussy. She came and came and came, pulling him deeper into her with each climax. Spent, they both slumped to the ground. As natural as breathing, they soon were spooning watching the flowers wave gently in the slight breeze.
Fred was smiling broadly as he sat on the rock remembering that day. In his daze, he heard her voice call his name. Fred looked up and around, sure she was here. He heard a splash from the water and turned his head to look. A flash of white and a giggle and he was sure she was in the water. Without any thought, he stripped off his clothes and took off towards the water. Skinny-dipping with her was always fun. A few more steps and he plunged into the water. The shock of the cold shook him up.
The cold water startled Fred. He looked around. The dishes were done, he could now leave. Work sucked, but at least he could dream.....
Thursday, April 11, 2013
The echo of a gunshot
His life seemed a contradiction at times. If he needed to stay awake, he would get sleepy. If he needed to go somewhere, he ended up stuck. And when he needed to concentrate, he got distracted. Like right now.
It was the myriad sounds that captivated his attention at this crucial moment. He needed to have his attention focused, instead he could hear electricity pop from the nearby transformer. The sound was like lightning in the air, a sizzle then pop. Repeated. Over and over and over.
He had been sitting there so long that he didn't really fear the transformer blowing, his assumption after examining the pole was that this was a common occurrence and nothing to be concerned about. But in reality it didn't matter. The resulting explosion would provide him with the opportunity he was waiting on. Which is one of the reasons why he had been sitting here so long in the first place. "In fact," he reasoned, "the transformer exploding would actually work in my favor." But without the transformer exploding on its own, he didn't risk shooting it for fear that he would give away his position. Which was the other major reason why he had been sitting here motionless for so long. He needed this shot.
Most clients were vague on how they wanted their problems dealt with. They wanted someone discreet, thorough and effective. Of which he was all of and more. This desire for lack of information allowed him to be more persuasive and non-lethal in his methods. Sometimes, though, non-lethal methods didn't solve the problem. "And sometimes, the client is very specific in how they want the situation handled." He muttered softly aloud.
There he was again, distracted. Luckily for him, the target hadn't emerged from his hide-out yet. Andrew didn't really know what the target had done, or why he was supposed to dispatch the target in this specific manner. And Andrew didn't want to know. He didn't get paid to ask questions. He was paid to provide solutions that conventional methods couldn't. Questions weren't encouraged by his clients.
Bzzzzzzz
The sound was getting louder from the transformer, perhaps Andrew would get lucky after all. He raised the rifle to his shoulder, peering down the scope. The range was good, he was on the mark he had picked out earlier, based upon the target's height. The target wasn't a tall man, and his bodyguards made up for that lack. They were behemoths. But they left gaps that a bullet could find its way to. You just had to aim correctly.
While Andrew was checking the wind and weather, he heard the door open. The creak of the hinges carried across the distance between them. Andrew slowly lifted the rifle to his shoulder and peered down the scope once again. This time, there was much to look at, as Andrew scanned the people coming out of the door, looking for the target.
Seconds passed, but they felt like hours to Andrew as he searched for the target. Soon, he found the opening he sought. With an exhale of breath, Andrew squeezed the trigger. The recoil of the rifle jarred him to the bone, Andrew knew it was going to leave a nasty bruise. The bullet, meanwhile, found it's mark. Even surrounded by bodyguards, Andrew had found his mark.
With a motion smooth from many hours of practice, Andrew was chambering another round even as he exhaled from the first shot. He watched and waited. Sometimes in an operation like this, you had shoot twice. The gun held steady, waiting, watching. The target lay on the ground in an ever-widening pool of blood.
Satisfied that he had fulfilled the contract, Andrew stood up and begin to gather his things. It would take police 30 to 40 minutes to even realize that the shot had come from this distance. That was a lifetime to someone with Andrew's skill sets.
As Andrew started down the stairs, the transformer continued its eery noise.
It was the myriad sounds that captivated his attention at this crucial moment. He needed to have his attention focused, instead he could hear electricity pop from the nearby transformer. The sound was like lightning in the air, a sizzle then pop. Repeated. Over and over and over.
He had been sitting there so long that he didn't really fear the transformer blowing, his assumption after examining the pole was that this was a common occurrence and nothing to be concerned about. But in reality it didn't matter. The resulting explosion would provide him with the opportunity he was waiting on. Which is one of the reasons why he had been sitting here so long in the first place. "In fact," he reasoned, "the transformer exploding would actually work in my favor." But without the transformer exploding on its own, he didn't risk shooting it for fear that he would give away his position. Which was the other major reason why he had been sitting here motionless for so long. He needed this shot.
Most clients were vague on how they wanted their problems dealt with. They wanted someone discreet, thorough and effective. Of which he was all of and more. This desire for lack of information allowed him to be more persuasive and non-lethal in his methods. Sometimes, though, non-lethal methods didn't solve the problem. "And sometimes, the client is very specific in how they want the situation handled." He muttered softly aloud.
There he was again, distracted. Luckily for him, the target hadn't emerged from his hide-out yet. Andrew didn't really know what the target had done, or why he was supposed to dispatch the target in this specific manner. And Andrew didn't want to know. He didn't get paid to ask questions. He was paid to provide solutions that conventional methods couldn't. Questions weren't encouraged by his clients.
Bzzzzzzz
The sound was getting louder from the transformer, perhaps Andrew would get lucky after all. He raised the rifle to his shoulder, peering down the scope. The range was good, he was on the mark he had picked out earlier, based upon the target's height. The target wasn't a tall man, and his bodyguards made up for that lack. They were behemoths. But they left gaps that a bullet could find its way to. You just had to aim correctly.
While Andrew was checking the wind and weather, he heard the door open. The creak of the hinges carried across the distance between them. Andrew slowly lifted the rifle to his shoulder and peered down the scope once again. This time, there was much to look at, as Andrew scanned the people coming out of the door, looking for the target.
Seconds passed, but they felt like hours to Andrew as he searched for the target. Soon, he found the opening he sought. With an exhale of breath, Andrew squeezed the trigger. The recoil of the rifle jarred him to the bone, Andrew knew it was going to leave a nasty bruise. The bullet, meanwhile, found it's mark. Even surrounded by bodyguards, Andrew had found his mark.
With a motion smooth from many hours of practice, Andrew was chambering another round even as he exhaled from the first shot. He watched and waited. Sometimes in an operation like this, you had shoot twice. The gun held steady, waiting, watching. The target lay on the ground in an ever-widening pool of blood.
Satisfied that he had fulfilled the contract, Andrew stood up and begin to gather his things. It would take police 30 to 40 minutes to even realize that the shot had come from this distance. That was a lifetime to someone with Andrew's skill sets.
As Andrew started down the stairs, the transformer continued its eery noise.
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