Gram promised

It was always just Gram and me.

One afternoon I told her Billy took my sandwich. She said, “Be nice, he’ll change.” He didn’t.

Told her high school boys, from around the corner, stole my bike. Gram said, “They’ll bring it back.” I found a twisted frame and slashed tires.

Boss accused me of taking money to cover his own thieving. She said, “You can always get another job.” I couldn’t.

Got arrested for being in the wrong place, at the wrong time with the wrong people. Gram said, “I’ll visit you every week.”

She can’t. Cancer, last month.

Fiction 101 - The goal is to tell a story in 101 words or less.

What else could I do? (the Corona Chronicles)

I’ve been trapped in that apartment. Living on the first floor I hear everything.

Next door either that baby’s crying or the parents are arguing over whose turn it is to change diapers. Above me it’s always video games and movies at full volume. Maybe I should offer to buy them headphones.

But A-9 was always so quiet. No toilet flush. No slammed doors. No whisper of conversation. Sad that she got so sick and died so alone. I’m sorry, wish I’d known. I would have done something. You’re sure it was the virus, right, Officer?

Fiction 101: The goal is to tell a story in 101 words or less.

I'm dealing with it, I promise (the Corona Chronicles)

Denial

Time, time, time, getting time back as commitments and obligations evaporate. My proverbial dreams coming true.

Anger

Barrage of internet jokes and memes are becoming too cute, too hollow and too real.

Bargaining 

Daily, like I know what day it is, I vacillate between, “This isn't bad, I have everything I need.” and “This is crazy, when will it end?

Depression

Family, friend, neighbor, co-worker… me? When and how close will it hit?

Acceptance

Do I have any choice, power or control? Providence, fate, karma, coincidence, or divine plan? You tell me.

* With thanks to Kuebler-Ross & Kessler
Fiction 101 - The goal is to tell a story in 101 words or less.

August Family Outing

It’s the Oregon Coast, the water is freezing. Biting wind stings my freckled skin, which will be neglected and burn, guaranteeing pain for days.

Dad starts playfully leapfrogging waves and digging in the sand. He’ll soon progress to drinking and we’ll soon progress to ignoring him. Mom will sit, her eyes, and life, hidden behind over-sized sunglasses.

We’ll hunt shells, chase the tide and make driftwood forts. Eventually devouring whatever we can find for lunch then rushing back to fun and freedom.

For us, this is as close to family and summer as we can hope for.

Fiction 101 - the goal is to tell a story in 101 words or less

not what we expected

So glad you came home, Sis, I’m going crazy.

What do you think’s happening?

They’ve been bossy and bitchy for weeks. Nobody remembers I’m graduating and need help with college plans.

Yeah, I’m getting married and Mom doesn’t return my calls. It’s got to be divorce. They think because we’re grown we can take it. I’m guessing that’s why we’re going out to dinner. They want to tell us together, all adult and proper.

Kids, things have been stressful lately. Sorry, we’re overwhelmed with reorganizing our lives… because we’re having a baby.

Fiction 101 - The goal is to tell a story in 101 words or less.

The Last Encore

They crowded the auditorium to see their hero one last time. The former vanguards of radicalism were now retired from corporations and bureaucracies, bodies failing faster than idealism. This night they were alive again, swaying to music and memories. 

Standing onstage was the lone survivor of the ’60s band that infused their youthful rebellion. His skills were diminished, voice strained and disdain barely veiled. 

The encore was near perfect as the crowd pulsed forward. Sound overwhelmed the moment and almost no one heard the gunshot crack, while everyone saw their god drop to the stage.

From Fiction 101, Editors' Pick, Cascadia Weekly March 17, 2020
http://www.cascadiaweekly.com/cw/features/category/fiction101

The goal is to tell a complete story in 101 words or less. 

last thoughts on the last night of the year about last things after I’m gone

will anyone scour my devices, drives and clouds

            discovering convoluted stories,

            half-assed poems and sparse excuses for books

            as well as angsty ramblings certain to be

            confusing to some and offensive to others

will people still watch Law & Order SUV

                        saying haven’t we seen this before

only to realize the answer is “sort of,“

but, hey, there are new cast members

so it changes the story, “sort of”

will anyone remember one-eight-oh-one-oh

my childhood home with memories

peacefully soul-warming and fearfully terrorizing

depending how and when you tell the story,

but always home, my home

who will continue to make corny jokes

about the Mariners winning a World Series,

hell just getting there might help generations

of Northwesterners

get a little of that long sought after rest on the other side

who will sustain

my grudges, petty though they may be, and the list

of those, who according to my standards,

have forfeited any substantive right to grace in this

world or the next

            who will find the shoes, still in the box, on the upper shelf

in my bedroom closet

and will they

know that such stockpiling

is a direct link from me to my Dad

will “my” saved money

fund the disposal of my (precious) remains or will Connie

finally take the kids and grandkids on that trip to Disneyland

all because I never took the trips

that I long dreamed of and (only) planned for