Saturday, September 6, 2014

It's a new mother nature taking over WQ52

The tone for today is melancholy. Firstly, because it is a rainy day here in Indy. Secondly, this is the end of a run for friend and fellow writer, the lovely Mamie Pound. You may find her at

Mamie has run the Weekend Quickie series for the past 52 weeks, taking her time each Saturday to supply us with an image, an emotion, and an element in which to base our 200 word quickies. Next week, another will take over. With that being said, pardon me, but I quite simply had to do a quickie around one of my favorite sad songs for the occasion:

I am indifferent to the falling rain as it pastes the clothes to my pallid skin. My eyes see the rain pelted puddles on the ground as my feet pass over and through, but my mind sees nothing but her. Ambling down this dreary street, my lips betray my thoughts as I mumble the lyrics to the bittersweet soundtrack of my heart.
“Lonely feeling, deep inside. Find a corner, where I can hide…”
Where it not for the low, sullen clouds crowding over this wretched town, I might lift my head enough to wish upon a star and in the process find myself, at the very least, looking up. Instead I trudge on, looking for a suitable port of call for this listless ship in the night.
“No sugar tonight in my coffee. No sugar tonight in my tea. No sugar to stand beside me. No sugar to run with me.”
I loved her once, and maybe even she loved me. But as the songs goes, she wouldn't leave him, and I lost a friend. Now here I am looking for that smoky basement, bag of goodies, and bottle of wine so that I too can get along right tonight.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Wish wisely in WQ51

Most stories have a message to relay in addition to the ins and outs of the plot. Sometimes it is subtle and takes some thought. Other times it is blatant and in your face. I went with a classic message with this weekend quickie. Ever read that story about the monkey's paw? Yeah, it's like that, but with boobs. 

Three girls sat in a circle, hands joined. Scented candles in the center burned low. “Buro kata heha heha,” they chanted, until at last their swaying stopped and they opened their eyes. They looked around at each other.
“What did you wish for Carla?” Sharon asked.
Carla snickered. “Bigger boobs.”
They laughed.
“Nice,” Pauline chuckled. “What about you Sharon?”
Sharon blushed.
“I wished to travel back in time and meet Rick before he met that tramp Vicky. Ever since their break-up, Rick has sworn off girls. Like he has philophobia or something.”
Pauline laughed. “Oh my God, Rick Mathews? Seriously?”
“What? He’s cute.”
“You've lost your marbles. Rick is so not worth time travel.”
Carla nodded in agreement, eyeing Sharon. “Philophobia?” she asked.
Sharon furrowed her brow. “Alright smart-ass, what did you wish for?”
Pauline smirked. “I wished this was real and not just some BS we came up with at a sleep-over.”
With that, Carla’s chest heaved, her breasts ballooning outward, causing her to fall backwards. Sharon gasped, eyes bugging before she popped out of existence.
Pauline stared blankly and then her face screwed up in disbelief.
“You mean I wasted a real wish!? Oh. My. God,” she screamed.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Coyote grins in WQ50.

This weekend quickie, I took the opportunity to research the great Hopi tribe of Native Americans. They were of the Pueblo tribes and held very complex religious beliefs. They were also the most peaceful of the tribes and did not favor war. I read up on mythos, clothing, and onomastics of this proud people. I had fun. Anyway, I present my tale. 

Long ago, in a place we now call Arizona, there lived the Hopi people. Among the Pueblo tribes, they were the most peaceful and superstitious.
“A star blazed down from Tokpella, the Great Endless Space,” cried young Sekatawa pointing up in terror. He stood naked in the river that ran by his village taking part in ceremony. “Did you see it elder?”
“I did not,” spoke the elder.
“Was it a message from the Hard Woman of the East?”
The elder considered and then said, “Sekatawa, you have seen the message of the Skeleton Man, Masauwu. He urges you to avoid the river, for there you might drown.”
For twenty nights, Sekatawa avoided the river. He did not take part in ceremony, he did not fish, but he was terrified most to bathe.
“You must bathe. You stink of the dead,” said Sekatawa’s mother.
“But Elder said to avoid the river.”
“Elder has fooled you Sekatawa. Yesterday he lamented his words to you after you walked by. Now go to the river and bathe,” bade Sekatawa’s mother with a grin.
The young Hopi went to the river. On the opposite bank, he looked and saw Coyote the Trickster, wearing his mother’s manta.
From the reeds, a coral snake came and bit Sekatawa. Paralyzed, he fell into the water and drowned.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

TRIPLE-HEADER: WQ 47, 48, & 49 are up!

So I have spent the last several weeks trying to get my son into liking baseball. He hasn't needed much coercion. He genuinely seems to like it. However, this has taken time, treasure, and attention. The side effect? I missed two quickies in a row. 

In keeping with the spirit of baseball, I bring you a triple-header! It is a rare thing indeed. In the MLB there have only been 3 triple-headers in the existence of the organization. I have managed to do this once before though, so it can't really be that hard...

WQ 47
“Didn’t we already do this one?”
“Which one?”
“The one with a bunch of Irons, doing a convention.”
“Ah yes, the sea plane, 29.”
“Yeah, didn’t it also involve a tropical place?”
“Think so.”
“I recall bungalows.”
“Oh, and the scruffy one stuffed in the butt of the plane.”
“Right, right. Wait…”
“Anyway, why do you mention it?”
“Mention what?”
“Having already done this.”
“Well, because here it is again and we already did it.”
“We didn’t do exactly this. There was no snorkeling. I also don’t recall any irony.”
“That’s ironic.”
“How is that ironic?”
“That you would not find any irony in having already done this.”
“No-no, I mean there was no irony in the first one. So this one is different.”
“Not really.”
“But this one has snorkeling and irony. Not seaplanes and redheads.”
“How do you know this one doesn’t have any redheads?”
“Well, does it?”
“I don’t know, we haven’t written it yet.”
“Then why are you complaining about having already done it?”
“Because, we have.”
“Have what?”
“Have already done it! Jesus.”
“You lost me.”
“Not hard.”
“So anyway, are we going to write this one or not?”
‘We already have.”
“Just now.”


Each night, the same dream comes to me. This gives it a strange prescience. I don’t really understand it. I have patched it together as best I can, though the details when awake are fleeting.
Bluebird bus #6 sits on the curb, under the splash of a nearby street lamp, waiting for me. There are children on board but I can’t see their faces. Their bodies are a blur, as though I am seeing them through teary eyes. Long shadows cross the lawn towards me as I walk towards the bus. I feel uneasy. The only sounds are a faint engine idle, my foot-falls, and the sound of the night.
Inky black shapes appear at the front and rear of the bus. They float in space, as if in another dimension in reality. They make no sound, but vibrate and distort the air around them. They seem more real than anything around them. My eyes are drawn to them as I progress.
As always, I sense something approaching from behind. I turn, and there stands a doe.
Each night, she looks at me and says, “you forgot the third rule” in my mother’s voice.
I awaken sweaty and gasping.

No one pays attention to the kid buffing the scuffs off the roller skates. But here I am anyway, spending my Saturday afternoon behind the Formica, chasing the almighty dollar.
People of all sorts walk up, ask for skates in their size, and pass me their shoes. I put them into cubbies and return to getting all those white leather skates looking fresh and new again. Who wants to put on skates that look like crap?
I have been working at the roller-rink for approximately three months. In this time I have overheard many conversations and seen many curiosities.
The intrigue keeps me going.
For instance, Mary-Sue and Bobby Gent –the young couple flying around holding hands and looking like a million bucks– are going to be breaking up soon. Wanna know why? Bobby is a player and was in here with Gina-Marie last Tuesday. Gina has been telling everyone at Morris High that Bobby is taking her the prom. Yep. Trouble brews.
But that’s chump stuff. Trust me.
See the DJ? He deals Blow. Half the crowd on the rink is high on his junk.
Wanna know something else?
Then pay up. I don’t make bank scrubbing skates.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

It posts. It counts, 46 times.

All too often we waste time and treasure on that which we know deep down will never be. Wishing a thing to be so, will not make it so. As the lame joke goes, Denial is more than just a river in Egypt. In WQ46 it is a mantra. 

Others, please help, It needs help. FALLING!
Fallen, pain, light –terrible light. Others, help It. Others are? LEAVING! Leaving, no, no. Help It, help It now. Others…
Where is It? Where is, here? Pain and light. It knows. The Islands Planet. Others must know. It fell. It fell into light. Others will come. Come back for It. It must survive. It must.
It hunts. And seeks. It finds.
Now It has shelter. Good shelter. Place to hide. And Food. It has food. Such NOISY food. It doesn’t hunger. It feeds. Islanders stupid. Leave food in dark. Good food. Noisy food.
Others will return. It must survive. Ghost planet crosses sky. Thousand times, It counts.
Home. It misses home. It, misses Others. Only does It survive. Eat. Hide from light. Hide from Islanders. Others will return. Others will, yes.
Noisy food, risky. Islanders saw It. Hide away, HIDE away. Others will come. Others must. It will survive.
So hungry. It is hungry. Islanders hunt It. No more food. Islanders protect food. It fears fire. Fire burns It. It must hide. It must RUN.
It counts AND counts. Ghost planet crosses. Almost thousand, more.
So weak. It is dying.
Others, coming…