Tag Archives: Fiction

Cage Area

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Story #10 for Story A Day Challenge May 2016

Where did they go? Who let them out?

Where did they go? Who let out the park staff?

Cage Area

“Sir, they’ve escaped.”

Captain Morgan could barely understand the message due to the static. “Again? Which enclosure this time?”

“3B, sir, the one near the hiking trail.”

Morgan groaned in despair. His ulcer was giving him fits. Morgan gritted his teeth, all three sets of them at the same time. “It’s those stupid park rangers. Every single time I round them up, someone lets them out. I’m going to get those hikers hiding in the bushes. Those camouflaged outfits can’t conceal them forever. Sooner or later I will find them. I will put them in the cage with the park rangers and I will personally transport every single one of them to the Mars base.”

But first Morgan needed his ulcer medication. “This ugly planet. I will be so glad when my tour of duty is up next month.” Morgan went to the freezer, stood in the open door just a moment, thinking of the long, beautiful, dark, freezing nights on Pluto.

It was an easy task for the Plutonian congress to approve the invasion once the earthlings dismissed Pluto as a planet. It was proof positive, in their minds, that the inhabitants of the water planet were far from being civilized. Earthlings needed to be dealt with before they could contaminate the rest of the solar system. It was a very popular military action.

While he was lost in his homesickness, what the captain thought were rose bushes turned into hikers with branches fastened to their helmets. They detached themselves from the hedge, scrambled over to the freezer, shoved him in, and padlocked the door.

Knowing that the other soldiers would think the freezer was ready for transport and would leave it alone, the hikers hurriedly attached the stolen sign to the freezer: “Cage Area For Park Staff Only.”
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Left Turn

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Story #09 for Story A Day Challenge May 2016.

Black-bellied whistling ducks

Black-bellied whistling ducks

Left Turn

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

“Um, this is where my GPS said to go.”

“Nothing looks familiar. Let’s check the map.”

“I didn’t bring a map, that’s what our internal GPS is for. You’ve got one, I’ve got one, all migrating birds have one. Besides, I don’t have any pockets. Where would I put a map?”

“Maybe there’s a pond nearby where we can get some help.”

“Look, there’s some Canada geese over there. Let’s ask them for directions.”

“Canada geese? Are you telling me we’re in Canada?!”

“I think we should have turned left at Albuquerque.”

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With thanks and apologies to Bugs Bunny.
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Head Shot: Black & White

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Story #07 for Story A Day Challenge May 2016 as well as Cee’s Black & White Challenge.

Head (Gull) B&Ws

Head Shot

“You’re packing? Where are you going?”

“Hollywood.” Stuart avoided looking at his father in the eye.

“Hollywood? What the heck is in Hollywood? So all of a sudden the fish in New York aren’t good enough for you?”

“It’s not that, Dad. I’m going to audition for a movie. A starring role. I’ll be famous.”

“What kind of movie has a seagull as a starring role? Are you sure this isn’t just some kind of trick someone is playing on you?”

“This isn’t a trick. The movie is based on the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull. A new wave of interest in the story grew after the publishers reissued the book in 2014. I’m going to audition for the role of Jonathan. Look, I got my portfolio ready.”

“Stuart, have you even read that book? Do you know the hardships Jonathan endured?”

“I can do this.” Stuart hopped up on the railing. “Dad, I gotta go. The wind is due to change any minute now and I have to catch the upper draft going west. Bye. I’ll call you when I get there.”

Stuart’s father stared in disbelief as his son took off, suitcase dangling from his feet. “Stuart! Stuart! You can’t be Jonathan Livingston Seagull. You’re afraid of heights!”
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Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Heads or Facial Features

Run for the Roses

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Story #07 for Story A Day Challenge May 2016
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06 On The Trail s

Run for the Roses

Laura adjusted her ear buds and set her mini player to ‘shuffle.’ It was Friday and she was so tired from the work week, she couldn’t make any more decisions, not even which songs to play.

She had worked late – again – and the joggers on the trail were starting to thin out by the time she arrived. “Still time for a 3-mile loop before sundown,” she decided. She put herself on autopilot: stretching just a little, walking some to warm up, then breaking into a slow jog. It was hot and humid, but the shadows provided a little bit of comfort as she passed under the tall, older trees.

Somewhere around the half-way mark, Laura stopped, walking over to the water fountain. After taking a drink, she turned towards the lake and saw the rose blooms hanging from the pergola.

“So pretty,” she thought, “I bet it looks gorgeous from on the water. Anyone in a canoe will get a great view.”

Someone came up beside her. Jerry, a guy she knew from the trail. Every once in a while they finished running at the same time and chatted a few minutes before getting in their cars to leave.

“Hey,” Jerry said, removing his ear buds.

Laura took hers out, too. “Hey. Aren’t you here a little late?”

“Yeah, well, sometimes that can’t be helped. Even if I have to cut my run short, I still feel better for making the effort.”

“I know what you mean.” Laura nodded her head. She reached to turn down her music. She’d had the volume up to help block out the office issues that plagued her.

“Is that Run for the Roses I hear?”

“Oh, um, yes,” Laura blushed at getting caught listening to an oldie. “It’s a song my parents played quite a lot.”

“Must have been the thing back then. My mother loved that song. I think she was not-so-secretly in love with Dan Fogelberg. ‘Course, we lived in Kentucky and it got played over and over at Derby time. She never got tired of it.”

“Did you dance with her?”

“You better believe it.” Jerry laughed. “No southern gentleman raised in her house was going to get out the door without learning how to waltz.”

Smiling, Laura said, “Well, we have roses and the whole pergola to ourselves. Would you care to dance?”

A second of silence, then two.

Reaching out his hand, Jerry said, “It would be my pleasure.”

A cool breeze drifted in from the lake, swirling the rose fragrance around the couple as they waltzed under the blooms, music softly escaping from Laura’s ear buds they held in their joined hands.

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Suffering: Fiction Friday

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Story #06 for the Story A Day Challenge May 2016 and doubling up, as well, for the Friday Fictioneer Challenge.

Photo copyright Roger Bultot

Photo copyright Roger Bultot

Suffering

The room was small and dark. The radiator clinked and clanked without emitting much heat.

“Good,” Sean thought, unpacking. (His real name was John but he thought it too prosaic. Easier to brood as Sean.) He was A Writer and was here To Work.

“I will suffer for my art, just like the great 19th century writers.” (His suffering was temporary and self-imposed. His parents were quite wealthy.) “When everything is perfect, I will start writing.”

Night fell. He’d never been anywhere so quiet, so secluded.

Sean looked at his phone. “I’m lonely. Maybe just a couple of phone calls …”
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To read other Friday Fictioneer stories based on this photo, select the smiley blue frog.