The power went out early this morning.
Big winter storm.
There’s a light dusting of snow on everything.
It’s cold out there, there’s no heat, and it’s getting colder inside.
I’ve got candles. I’ve got blankets.
And I’ve got cats.
I should be good for the night, I think.
My phone barely gets any signal.
Some texts come in.
Some go out.
It’s mostly people worrying about me.
Which causes me to worry.
So I don’t answer them.
Instead, I open a paper notebook and write stories.
And play solitaire with real cards.
I should probably put on some gloves.
The warm winter
It doesn’t rain much these days.
And when it’s warm winter, there’s not much snow melting from the mountains.
The rivers run dry, and the lake retreats from the shore.
We drive the lake bed, throwing trash in the back of the truck.
Broken rowboats, old tires, car parts and other junk.
Scrap is scrap.
And that’s when we found the barrel with the body in it.
“He drowned,” said the coroner, ignoring the three bullets.
“But-”
“He drowned,” repeated the coroner.
He said that about every body we brought in.
And, eventually, us, when we wouldn’t stop asking questions.
Season for miracles
They say that it’s the season for miracles.
And after years of not believing, finally, I believe.
The greatest story ever told, they say.
Well, Frank Key of Hooting Yard told them all.
On Resonance Radio.
Brilliant nonsense, week after week.
Tales of the strange and bizarre.
After his death, his website vanished.
His books and pamphlets no longer in print.
And the archives at Resonance Radio unreliable at best.
Then, after so much silence, a voice from the dead.
A lost episode, published to his feed.
A Christmas miracle.
Thank God I’m too lazy to prune my podcast subscriptions.
Commitment for Christmas
I’ve seen some posts online that say a pet is a fifteen year responsibility.
I guess those people get a pet, mark their calendar fifteen years in advance, and if the pet is alive then, they dump it off at a shelter or by the side of the road.
Baby chicks for Easter, well, they’re just chickens.
Same goes for fish.
Sure, they have some intelligence and emotion to them, like any animal, but not that much.
But a dog or cat for Christmas…
They have emotions, and abandonment and rejection are cruel.
Oh, and chickens and fish taste good.
The holiday bonfire
What were my holidays like?
Well, being Jewish, we didn’t write letters for Santa or go to the mall to sit in his lap.
Still, we looked through the Sears catalog and picked out what we’d want for Hanukkah.
They’d buy some of it, wrap it, and hide it.
If we tried to find out where they hid it, or didn’t like our gifts, they’d give everything away to charity.
Or burn it in the driveway.
In a pile of all of our other things.
One year, I didn’t ask for anything.
They burned my stuff in the driveway anyway.
Weekly Challenge #867: Irresistible
RICHARD
Irresistible
You’d think that being identical twins, my brother and I would have equal chances with girls, but the truth of the matter was it was him the girls found completely irresistible.
Sure, we both had the good looks, but I never made the effort that he did.
He was the one who was always effortlessly stylish: Designer clothes, expensive aftershave, the works. He even got a monthly manicure.
No wonder the girls loved him.
But they were inevitably disappointed – he was gay!
I may have been second best.
But, thanks to him, it was me who got the girl!
LIZZIE
It was irresistible.
Tick tock, tick tock.
3am.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Let the hunt begin.
The silence of a heartbeat on the wall.
3am and here we go, three hours till dawn.
I have mapped it all out in my head. Left, left, right and left.
And there’ll be the gate.
Tick tock, tick tock.
I won’t run this time. I’ll zigzag from shadow to shadow. Quietly. Slowly.
Tick tock.
The door creaked a loud alarm.
Tick tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
And I ran. I just ran.
But… I was caught again.
Tick…
I was caught…
Tock.
SERENDIPIDY
I’m irresistible.
It’s certainly not my looks that the boys are drawn to. Rubbery, scaly skin tends to repel, rather than attract.
I’ve no need for expensive perfumes. No fragrance can hide the smell of fish and seaweed, brine and silt that accompany my presence. They are hardly inviting!
And yet, when I sing, men find me utterly irresistible.
My voice reaches out across the ocean, compelling and captivating. It seduces and cajoles, drawing the unwary to their doom, inviting the entranced to a cold and watery grave.
I am the Siren, and my song is calling to you.
Irresistible.
DUANE
Free fall is the ultimate trip. No sense of falling. No sense of the fear that was overwhelming standing at the cargo door. Just floating through space and the clouds.
Now the ground rush begins. The details of houses and cars come into view. It’s almost time to pull the handle and deploy the parachute. There is an irresistible urge to not pull it. What would the experience be like? Would there be pain? What would be the last thoughts? The feeling of control is as powerful as the free fall. Make a decision now. Action or inaction. Do it.
(Music: Shamanic Rain Dance by Conca Varol)
NORVAL JOE
With two large bullies in front of him and two girls behind, Billbert had the irresistible urge to run. Since irresistible means a person cannot resist such an urge, Billbert ran. Not back between Sabrina and Linoliamanda, but toward the bully blocking his path.
Using a slight boost of his flying power, he jumped over the boys, landing about ten feet beyond them.
He realized that running made him look like a total wimp and not wanting to look bad in front of the two girls, he shouted, “If you want to beat me up, you’ll have to catch me.”
PLANET Z
I stocked up on popsicles, unsweetened applesauce, yogurt, and pudding today.
They’re all soft foods, which I’ll need after the dental surgery scheduled for next week.
I’d have waited to buy all this the day before, but I don’t like to wait until the last minute.
It rolls around my mind until I give in and just do it.
The problem is, now the fridge and freezer is full of this stuff.
And i need to eat the things in there I won’t be able to eat and will go bad.
Nah, I say, as I open a pudding cup.
Eight thousand over
The day after Christmas, Uncle Billy sobered up and remembered what happened to the deposit.
“I think it was in the newspaper that Mr. Potter took from me,” he said.
George called Bert the policeman, and auditors went through Potter’s books and the contents of the bank’s vault.
“Eight thousand over,” said the bank examiner. He turned to Potter. “Can you explain this?”
Potter’s lawyers tried to, but they watched their client being rolled out of the bank into custody.
“Thank goodness that’s been solved,” said Billy.
“You’re fired,” said George, as the townspeople began to demand their money back.
Audrey
What were Audrey Hepburn’s last words.
“Think of me when you wear them,” she said.
She’d bought winter coats for her family.
Gifts for their last Christmas together.
There in Switzerland on a cold Winter’s day.
She was dying from cancer.
Cancer of the appendix.
She’d never had it taken out.
An organ that’s useless… and it becomes worse than useless.
It becomes deadly.
Could she have had it taken out when she was younger?
Not really.
World War 2. The Dutch Resistance.
And the terrible famines.
Hollywood stars get vanity facelifts and tummy tucks, and breast implants, not appendectomies.
Aisle for all seasons
There’s an aisle at the grocery store that changes with the seasons.
In the months before Halloween, it’s stocked from top to bottom with candy and decorations.
Then, a few days before Halloween, the last dregs of candy and the ugliest decorations nobody wants are put on clearance on one shelf, and the Christmas stuff is stocked.
A few days before Christmas, it’s down to the dregs of decorations, and the Valentines candy and stuffed bears are stocked.
Then it’s St. Patrick’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Fourth of July, and back to school supplies.
Until it’s time for Halloween.
Rain Thunder and His Voice
It’s been a while since I last played the piano.
I played it when my mother died.
I played it when my father died.
I played it when my wife died.
And all my brothers and sisters,
When my son died, I didn’t play it.
I sat down at the piano, opened the lid, stretched my fingers…
And then closed the lid.
I stood up, went to the wet bar, and made myself a drink.
I’ve been sitting out here on the back porch, watching the ripples on the lake.
Listening to the rain and thunder, and remembering his voice.