Wednesday, October 22, 2014


In the past, I have been invited to an annual masquerade party and my intense imagination has been released. For the most part, I have devised my own costumes. The most formidable was a crow. I made the beak and feet out of thin sheets of foam plastic/ rubber. I attached the beak to a plain mask that I spray painted black. I bought a black derby to which I glued a black feather boa in loops to cover my neck and hair. Black slacks, shoes and a sweater. I glued some black feathers on the cuffs of a pair of black gloves. I was magically transformed into a crow. I stapled some plastic bubble wrap onto a broom handle and painted it to look like an ear of corn, with brown yarn “silk” and green crepe paper leaves. It was hot inside.

Almost as hot was the time that I dressed as a Steeler, Troy Polamalu. I wore white knit pants, and a Polamalu jersey. In one hand was a football and in the other a bottle of dandruff shampoo. What made the outfit hot was that I had to wear three wigs to get the volume that neared his. I almost smothered in that.
I wised up to the point that I knew less was better, if I was to be cooler. Last year, I used my natural attributes as the center of my outfit. I wear dark rimmed glasses and have white chin whiskers and hair. I bought a white Fedora. I already had white pants, while lab coat, and shirt. I made a string bow tie to wear. All that I needed were a few other things. I stopped at a local KFC restaurant and asked for help. I needed something with the KFC logo on it to convert into a name tag. I already had a chicken bucket. They gave me a disposable cup.

At home, I cut out the logo with room to write, Col. Harlan Sanders. I ironed it flat and attached it to a safety pin. Carrying the KFC bucket in one hand and a rubber chicken in the other, I was the founder of KFC, Col. Sanders.

This year, I might be even more minimal. No, I am not going to streak. That would be wrong on so many levels. My body hasn’t been seen naked by anyone but myself, there will be children at the party, and it would be too cold. The most extravagant and warm will be the wig and the black moustache.

Monday, October 20, 2014

State of Undress

“I want to break out of my shell. I am tired of my life as a secretary. It’s so boring. I want to be free, even if it’s only for a week. I want to do something completely out of line for me. Do something unusual. For years, it’s been on my mind.”
As I sat in my gynecologist’s office, a travel advertisement for a cruise caught my attention. It read, “Feel free again. Shed your inhibitions. Join our cruise to a remote island paradise.”
More information followed in smaller lettering. “This cruise is for the young at heart. Clothing is optional.” I glanced around the waiting area. No one was paying any attention to me. I quietly tore the page from the magazine and tucked it into my pocket. “I’ll do it,” I vowed.
I jumped when the nurse called my name.
As soon I got home, I called to make reservations. I got my passport, made sure my inoculations were to date, and selected the clothing I wanted, just in case I couldn’t bare it all. By the day of departure, I had my toiletries and sun screen in a small bag and a slightly larger one for my clothing, “Just the bare essentials,” I thought smiling at my own pun.
I was growing more excited as the day drew near. Normally shy, I decided to pay for a single occupancy cabin.
“The cabin is beautiful,” I glanced out the porthole before unpacking, then changed into a pair of shorts and a halter top. A slight vibration in the ship and the creaking of the metal told her that the boat was underway.
“I’ll walk on deck. I’ll get to learn where things are and get some sun at the same time.”
Just having left the dock, the passengers on deck were still fully clothed and they were older. As the cruise progressed, most walked the promenade deck, nude and bare skins turned rosy. I became comfortable seeing the others sky clad and finally decided, “Tonight for the evening meal, I’m going to do it. I’m going to set myself free from the burden of my clothing.”
I felt a bit embarrassed as I slid my clothing off and tossed them onto the bed. I took a deep breath and thought, “This is it,” and boldly stepped into the passageway. I strode quickly and purposefully toward the dining rooms before I could change my mind.
I sauntered into the dining salon with my head held high. My chest was thrust out. My nipples were perky and erect.
Diners turned as I entered. Everyone was wearing formal attire. It was the Captain’s dinner.



Friday, October 17, 2014


“It’s almost midnight and my parents are still not home. Where can they be?”
“I can’t understand why I’m so nervous. I’ve been home alone before, but never for this long or so late. I jumped at noise in the kitchen. Spinning around at the sound, wide eyed I stared into the room. “It’s only the refrigerator,” I thought,” but in the quiet of the house it sounded ominous.
Moving from room to room, I turned on every light in the house. “My dad will throw a fit when about the cost of electricity when he gets home, but at this point, “I don’t care.” I picked up and loaded my dad’s 12 gauge and locked myself in my bedroom. I sat down on the bottom of my bed. I was afraid. My nerves were on edge.
The lights flickered once. Then they went out. The house plunged into darkness. I spun toward the loud tapping on the window. Pale moonlight eased through the glass. Seeing the silhouette of a moving hand, I lifted the gun and fired.
The loud blast in the small room nearly deafened me. I barely heard the crash of shattering glass.
My ears were still ringing when my parents came home. My dad reset the thrown breakers and lights came back on.
I was sitting and sobbing on my bed when my dad forced the door open. Thankfully the gun was empty. My mom gasped and my dad shook his head as he strode across the room to survey the damage.
He said, “You took care of the maple branch that I was planning to trim.” He turned to see my mom cradling me. He took two steps toward us and gently pried his shotgun from my hands. 

Several hours later, a man reported to a nearby hospital to seek treatment for wounds from a gun cleaning accident to his hand and forearm.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

From Bad to Worse

It wasn’t the evening that he planned. He brought her a small bouquet of flowers and took her to a moderately expensive restaurant for dinner. They walked along holding hands as the window shopped.  She wanted to stroll through the downtown and relax after the meal.
It wasn’t his fault that the heel of her shoe snapped off. No stores were still open to buy another pair. He couldn’t hail a taxi and her limping walk slowed them even more; shoe foot, bare foot, shoe foot.
He managed not to laugh when she stepped in some dog feces that an uncaring dog owner hadn’t collected. A nearby puddle of water on the walk beneath an air conditioner gave her some relief, then he gave her his handkerchief to wipe the worst of it away.
A sprinkle of rain began to intrude on their evening. He found shelter for them in a doorway with a sagging canvas awning, as the rain became a downpour. The awning filled, sagging more. A tearing sound, then a cascade of water as the awning gave way. His date was drenched. Water dripped from her hair and the hem of her dress.
He didn’t think his comment of “It may help to get rid of the doggie doo” made her feel any better. She gave me one of those “How dare you” looks. Her icy stare told me that the evening wasn’t going to end well.
Unable to hail a taxi, we caught a bus as it rolled by. We climbed aboard. Because of the rain, the bus was packed, with standing room only. All of the passengers stared at her as though she was an Apocalypse Zombie and moved to give her room. He had to admit that she didn’t look her best, but the crowd parted and gave them room. A puddle formed where we stood.
We exited the bus and it was still pouring. We were a block from her home. Silence reigned. I escorted her to her porch. She unlocked the door and went inside. There was no kiss, no hug, and not even a thank you. I said “Good night.” The bang of the door was my only answer.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Another short story of the flash fiction category. It will be a busy week and my posts may not be as long, which might make some readers happy, but I do hope that you enjoy what I've shared with you. If you desire to make comments you can always note me Thanks.
In the Spirit

Blood, a puddle, a pool of it, spreading from beneath the body; I could see it, smell it, watch it grow. The knife, a silent witness, said so much. I reached out. The body was still warm, sprawled, face down on the floor. The oak boards tried to resist the probing fingers of blood, but the worn spots sucked at the plasma hungrily.
Who was this victim? What was the name of this lifeless form? I recognized the shape of this being and the clothing, but how did it get here? Nothing was making sense. I had no memory, no recollection, and no understanding of what went on. I was confused, upset, angry, and didn’t know why.
On the table was a folded paper, a letter, a goodbye note. The signature was mine.
My spirit stiff was depressed. I still felt that there was no hope. I still wanted it to all end, but it hadn’t ended. Ife still goes on, but on another plane.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Her Beauty

She stepped onto the bus, her tresses cascaded over her shoulders in shimmering chestnut waves. Her smile immediately filled the bus with sunshine. That smile seemed directed at me. With amazing grace, she dropped her money into the change box and sauntered down the aisle. She stopped and turned to me.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked.
I glanced around. The bus was nearly empty and yet she chose the spot beside me.
“N-n-n-o-o,” I managed to stammer.
She slid into the seat. Her delicate scent filled my nostrils.
 “I’m on my way home,” she shared, glancing over at me.
I felt a lump in my throat and couldn’t speak. She was so beautiful.
“My husband isn’t home at present,” She murmured and placed a slender hand on my thigh.
My breath caught in my throat. My brain began to spin as her heady perfume captivated me and her suggestion sank in.
She slid her hand up and down my thigh, stirring a feeling in my loins.
The bus hissed to a stop. Taking my hand, she led me down the aisle and off the bus. I had to hold my newspaper in front of me to avoid embarrassment.
She closed and locked the apartment door behind her. Pulling me close,  she whispered in my ear, “What do you want for supper, dear?”
“Whatever you want, love, but it’s my turn to pick you up on the bus tomorrow.”


Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Because of my increasing number of senility episodes, I posted yesterday and it should have been posted today. I was so upset about the Walmart placing the star and crescent moon tree toppers with the Christmas decorations that I posted yesterday.
So, instead, I thought I'd post a flash fiction story. We were challenged to write a short story, one that is 00 words or less. mine is 245. I hope that you like it.
Long and Short

They walked into a bank close to downtown. Sam leaned close and said, “Gimme a bag, Dana.” Dana pulled a cloth bag from a larger one she carried. Each moved to stand in front of a teller. Sam pulled out a revolver and said, “Hand over the money. Put it on the counter. Empty your drawers, now. This is a robbery.”
Rifling through the bills, they made sure there were no dye packs, then shoved the cash into their sacks. Turning, the couple exited the bank. Slowly, they strolled away, mingling with the lunchtime crowd on the street.
The police swarmed the bank. They surveyed the banks recordings and began to search for the couple: a white male dressed in jeans, blue hoodie, and a ball cap pulled over his eyes and a white female wearing tight black spandex pants, a gray hoodie, and a pulled down ball cap. The descriptions matched several other local heists.
An APB was sent out. An intense search started.
An hour later, a couple checked out of a hotel, three blocks from the bank. The tall woman and her slender boyfriend walked to the bus station, right by the bank where the activity still swirled.
The large woman approached a policeman. Sitting her suitcase on the sidewalk, she asked, “What’s happening, officer?”
“A bank robbery, ma’am.”
“Goodness!” her reply.
Dana picked up his heavy suitcase and said, “We need to go, Samantha. We’ll miss our bus.”