tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57591709434041602012024-03-13T08:52:15.079-04:00Tailwinds & Time MachinesRandom Incoherent Brain Goop Sponsored By Caffeine, Cigarettes and Ring Dings. MmmmmTim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759170943404160201.post-64179576634367864982011-05-31T23:35:00.000-04:002011-05-31T23:35:36.448-04:00Flash Fiction: "The Unexpected Guest"Here I go again with another entry in Chuck Wendig's flash fiction challenge over at <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2011/05/27/flash-fiction-challenge-the-unexpected-guest/">Terribleminds.</a> This week's prompt is the unexpected guest, and whatever that conjurs in your mind. I have to say it conjured something pretty crude. But what can you do? I guess you can be less crude, or not crude at all. But that'd be no fun. I hope you can stomach what I wrote, and don't forget to check out the other stories posted over at <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2011/05/27/flash-fiction-challenge-the-unexpected-guest/">Terribleminds.</a> #BTFO<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">The Bogeyman’s Right Hand<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Ox, my friend, I sense a child is ripe for the taking tonight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes Sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“A doppelganger can’t be trusted. I want you to personally see to it I have the child.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes Sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Daddy!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Heavy footsteps echo up the hallway as a child looks up into his father’s eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What’s wrong Christopher? You should have been in bed ten minutes ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I can’t go to bed yet.” Chris said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why is that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I need you to protect me from the Bogeyman.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Chris clings to a sheet of paper as his father closes his eyes and rubs his forehead in exasperation. He takes a deep breath and focuses his attention back on his son with a sympathetic smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What can I do to help?” He asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Chris hands the paper to his father. “I need you to read this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It’s a prayer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“A prayer?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes. Please read it. If you don’t, the Bogeyman will get me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“And you’ll go straight to bed?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Okay, but off to bed right after.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh no, Bogeyman.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You cannot stay, you must go.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Because I say so.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Chris takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes. “Thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Your prayer is a haiku?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What’s a haiku?” Chris asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nevermind. Bed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Hours later, Christopher’s father is asleep in a recliner by the fireplace. A shadow passes over him and he is rudely awakened by a slap to the back of his head. He jumps out of his chair looking behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What the hell?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sit down Harold.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Harold spins around trying to find the source of the voice. “Who’s there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I am. Now sit down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Who? Where are you? Am I dreaming?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hmm, if I say yes will you stop rambling and sit down?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What’s going on?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A sigh circles Harold and a weight presses against his chest forcing him back down into the recliner.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s better. Now that you’re seated we can have a nice chat. But I warn you, patience is not something I have in abundance, and I’ve already run out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Harold tries to stand up again, but the weight on his chest continues to hold him in place. “Who are you? Why are you here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“My name is Ox, and I was here for the child. He ordered it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t you dare touch my son you son of a bitch.” Harold said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Please. I am the son of no one, and I’ve already dared. But you fouled up His plans. So, I want to know one thing. Where did you find the prayer?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What prayer?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The prayer you read to protect your child from Him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That? I didn’t get it from anywhere. What do you want with my son, and why can’t I get out of this fucking chair?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I thought I told you I had no patience left, but if a little exposition will convince you to provide the information I require then so be it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Another sigh circles Harold and a hulking shadow of a man appears before him with his foot clearly planted on Harold’s chest. Ox removes his foot and stands upright, barely clearing the ceiling. Harold, gripped by terror, is still unable to move.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It’s simple. We haunt children while they sleep, feeding on the unconditional terror in their eyes, their cries.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ox begins to pace around the room as he continues his tale.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Unfortunately, the prayer you read tonight has emblazoned itself across the threshold of your child’s room, preventing access, preventing sustenance.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Harold slowly builds up the courage to reach behind him toward the fireplace as Ox continues to speak with his backed turned.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“This is especially unacceptable this evening. He has ordered your child brought to Him, and this prayer makes that impossible. So, I must know where you got it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You were going to kidnap my son?” Harold asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Surely you’ve heard of the occasional child that disappears right out of their room in the middle of the night? No struggle. No trace.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why?” Harold asks as his hand closes around a fireplace poker.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s like a five star meal for days on end. There’s nothing better, and only He knows when it’s time. That is why I need to know where you got the prayer, so I can prevent this from ever happening again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ox turns back to face Harold, and as he does so, Harold lunges from the recliner driving the poker into Ox’s chest. “Fuck you!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ox briefly steps back in surprise and a sinister grin slowly creeps across his face as Harold gasps for breath, trying to swallow his fear.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Not the best idea.” Ox says as he grabs Harold by the jaw, lifting him off the ground and pinning him against the wall. “I see our chat hasn’t ended well. But at least we’ll be able to get something from the child when he gets up in the morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ox leans forward to whisper in Harold’s ear. “I am the shadow in the corner of your eye. I cannot be swayed.” He licks the side of Harold’s face and inhales with satisfaction.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Harold’s eyes bulge out of his head and his screams are stopped by the hand pressing against his head as Ox reaches down with his free hand and rips Harold’s genitals off and feeds on them as blood freely pools beneath the two of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ox releases his grip on Harold’s lifeless body and licks his fingers clean as he finishes his meal. “Oh my, it was a jungle down there.” Ox says and he disappears as quickly as he appeared leaving the poker to fall to the floor next to the corpse.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ox stands in meditation in the shadows as the screams of a child explode from the house and carries throughout the neighborhood.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He takes a deep breath and frowns. “I guess He will have to be satisfied with just an appetizer."</span></div>Tim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759170943404160201.post-87236994339797153572011-04-10T17:05:00.000-04:002011-04-10T17:05:43.671-04:00Flash Fiction: The CocktailThe challenge from Chuck Wendig over at <a href="http://www.terribleminds.com/ramble/">terribleminds</a> this week was to pick a cocktail and name our story after it. The twist this time is the story is limited to just 500 words. And I'm going for the bonus points too, so the recipe follows. Enjoy your drink.<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Primal Scream</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The longer he paced along the rooftop, the more despondent he got, pausing every so often to peer down into the blackness below.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Where is he?” Johnny asked. He crushed a half smoked cigarette beneath his feet, immediately lit up a fresh one and began pacing again. He walked to the corner of the rooftop and slowly turned around to retrace his steps.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You look a bit nervous J. Are you nervous?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Johnny started and instinctively took a step back. His feet hit the brick line and he started to flail his arms to regain the balance he just lost.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A hand shot out and grabbed hold of his coat. The grip was strong and held him in place.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Now, now J. This is no way to deal with your problems.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh. Shit. Not. Cool.” Johnny took a deep breath. “I could have died, Styles.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s the only logical conclusion if you throw yourself off of a twenty story building.” Styles said. “Did you get the key?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes.” Styles pulled Johnny upright and released his hold. “Why did you have to pick a place like this for the meet?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, we don’t want a Rear Window on our hands.” Styles said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Styles’ statement was returned with a blank stare.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Forget it. It’s before your time. Does anybody know you’re here?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of course not,” Johnny said. “I know how this works.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Okay then, hand over the key.” Styles said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What about my sister and her kid?” Johnny asked. “How do I know they’re still safe?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Styles sighed. “You clearly don’t know how this works J. The only way this ends happily is if you do what you are told. You don’t have any choice but to trust me. Or bad shit happens.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Okay, okay.” Johnny pulled the key out of his coat pocket and handed it to Styles. “What does it go to?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“A door,” Styles said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What does the door lead to?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Possibilities”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Fine, I get it. It’s none of my business.” Johnny said. “I won’t ask about it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Now you’re catching on J.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“So, now can you tell me about my sister?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t know anything about her.” Styles said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Johnny looked crestfallen. “But I thought you said everything would be fine once I did what you asked?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It is fine.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I got nothing against women and children. I’m not a sociopath.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“So they aren’t in any danger?” Johnny asked. “I don’t understand.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Clearly,” Styles said. “It’s all about motivation J. You can get a lot accomplished with the proper motivation.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You lied to me?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Now don’t go filling yourself up with righteous indignation.” Styles straightened the wrinkles in Johnny’s coat and placed his palm flat against his chest. “Everybody wins in the end.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Styles shoved forcefully, sending Johnny toppling over the edge of the rooftop, a primal scream echoing across the skyline as he sped to earth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Styles turned to leave with a satisfied grin on his face. “Now that deserves a drink.”</span></div><br />
<br />
Primal Scream Cocktail<br />
1/2 shot Kahlua<br />
1/2 shot Tequila<br />
Soda Water Splash<br />
<br />
Pour the Kahlua and Tequila into a tall shot glass. Add the soda. Place your hand over the glass and bang it on the table so it fizzes. Down it and scream!Tim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759170943404160201.post-43070801115468428262011-03-27T18:36:00.000-04:002011-03-27T18:36:36.639-04:00Flash Fiction: "The Portrait"Once again I have reached into the darkness of my imagination to serve up more flash fiction for Chuck Wendig at <a href="http://www.terribleminds.com/ramble/">terribleminds</a>. The prompt this week is "The Portrait".<br />
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Guilty Filthy Soul</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Okay folks, we’ve arrived at the climactic conclusion of our journey.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The guide led the group into the den at the rear of the house. He closed the door behind them and dimmed the lights before taking his place up front.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The scene before you is exactly as the room appeared on the morning of the Dearman Family Massacre.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The room was almost entirely bare but for a hard back chair set against the back wall and an old Sanderson plate and stand camera set up three feet away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Not much of a climax,” a boy at the front of the group said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The guide smiled. “Well, the situation does call for a bit of back story.”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Age:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>7 Minutes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The doctor knew there was something amiss. The child appeared healthy enough, he was calm, breathing was normal. But the fever was so bad he didn’t think the child would survive the night. And his hair would stand on end when listening to his heartbeat. It sounded like two hearts beating simultaneously. He had never experienced anything like it, and though best not to mention it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The clincher was when he turned to attend to the child’s mother, and the cord had already been severed. It appeared to have been gnawed through by an animal. The mother was cooing to her newborn, wiping the corner of his mouth with the blanket. Was that blood?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The child then turned his head toward the doctor and stared directly into his eyes. His mouth turned upward into a malicious grin, daring him to question what he just saw.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Age:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>4 Years</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The groundskeeper launched himself into the kitchen. “They’re all dead!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mrs. Dearman dropped her laundry in surprise. “What are you talking about, Mr. Blythe?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Every hound in the kennel is dead. Their heads have been crushed and the bellies chewed out.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well that’s just nonsense.” Mrs. Dearman said. “Why Aiden had a visit with the dogs this morning. I’m sure if something that disgusting had happened he would have come back in a horrible state.” She glanced down at her son seated at the kitchen table.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Maybe you should ask him, if he was the last one to see them alive.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Please.” Mrs. Dearman said. “Even if Aiden did see something, what four year old could possibly put that into words? Isn’t that right sweetie?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hungry.” Aiden said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“See? How could he possibly have an appetite if he saw something like that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“There’s something going on around here.” Mr. Blythe said. “And I mean to find out.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mr. Blythe stormed out of the kitchen. Mrs. Dearman picked up her son and said, “That man gets stranger and stranger every day. We might have to let him go if this keeps up.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hungry.” He said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The next day Mr. Blythe was found hanging from a tree outside the kennel. His head had been crushed and his midsection opened up for the world to see. His intestines used as the killing rope.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Age:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>12 Years</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t want my picture taken,” Aiden cried.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t have time to argue about this Aiden.” Mrs. Dearman said. “The appointment with the photographer has been set for weeks. And we have to hurry if we’re to make it to Mrs. Downing’s funeral in time.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t want to go to the funeral either,” Aiden said. “Dirty Downing was horrible. She yelled at me every time she saw me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mr. Dearman stormed into the room and grabbed Aiden by the arm and flung him into the chair. “Don’t you ever speak like that in my house, and stop talking back to your mother.” Mr. Dearman nodded to the photographer who was standing uncomfortably beside his camera.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“This won’t end well.” Aiden said as the photographer looked through his viewfinder.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The photographer said something about cheese and held the flash above his head.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If anyone had been outside, they would have seen a bright flash and sudden darkness from within the Dearman home. They would have heard the gasps and the screams and the sound of bodies being thrown about. And they would have heard the faintest whisper in the air.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Hungry</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What the authorities found was too disturbing to recount.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Everybody in the house was killed. There were no witnesses.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“How do you know,” asked the boy in front. “How do you know what happened inside if everyone was killed?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The guide smiled. “Because I was there.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The bottom of his jaw lowered as if attached with hinges. A blackened hand with razor sharp fingers jettisoned from the opening and clamped firmly onto the boy’s head.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Hungry</span></i></div>Tim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759170943404160201.post-60076212140466418802011-03-20T13:18:00.000-04:002011-03-20T13:18:46.503-04:00Flash Fiction - "Baby Pulp"Okay. Here is my latest entry in Chuck Wendig's flash fiction challenge posted over at <a href="http://www.terribleminds.com/">Terribleminds</a>. The prompt this week is "Baby Pulp". Now, I'm not entirely sure if I got this right. I had to wiki pulp. But here goes nothing.<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">A Dame in Distress</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I knew the instant she walked into my life that this one was going to be different. In a big way. You see, the dame didn’t crawl to me on her hands and knees. She walked with confidence, with only the occasional balance check. God, how I loved an independent woman. She had me sucked in immediately. The tears in her eyes were only the cherry on top.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She was so despondent she could barely speak. Mostly sobs and hand gestures. But I got the gist. Her binky was missing. Gone without a trace. I know what you must be thinking. Big deal, right? She can get a new one. But you shouldn’t discount the sentimental value of the first binky. She’s had it her whole life and her life is in tatters now that it’s gone. Sure, she has dependency issues, but only long term therapy can fix that. What I can do is address the here and now. Find that binky and bring some normalcy back to her life. And I had a pretty good idea where to find it. But I didn’t tell her this. Best let her think I had to work to locate it. That way I could reasonably ensure repeat business.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I led her over to the corner with the squeaky toys so she could keep herself occupied while I set my plan in motion. The first step was always the trickiest. I needed to get out of the room without the Mommy taking notice. I could do it with ease, but if caught in the act, additional security measures may be put in place. And then I’d never get any work done. I took my blanky and flung it over the top of the gate. I learned fast that I’m pretty impressionable. The blanky was for my protection. Without it the marks would last for days rather than minutes. Authorities would be brought in to investigate, and the jig would be up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I climbed over the top of the gate resting on top of my blanky and lifted the catch. The gate swung open and I was once again free of my prison. I pulled off the blanky and tossed it back into the room. Closing the gate behind me to hide my tracks, I began the long slow walk to the end of the hall. I quickened my pace. Nap time was approaching fast. I thought I was home free when without reason I fell to my hands, stifling a cry. And that’s when She spotted me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“How in the world do you keep getting out of that room?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Mommy picked me up and carried me into the feeding room. She wasn’t alone. There were mommies all around the table. But I didn’t care. The Mommy had me in Her arms and I was in heaven. The smell of Her hair. The rhythm of Her heartbeat. I was trapped in Her spell and I wanted nothing more than to hold onto Her with all of my might.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Too soon I was torn from Her grasp. Passed around the room like a hot bottle. A pinched cheek here. A kiss there. The sensory overload was almost too much to endure. Free of the Mommy’s spell, I realized I only had one last resort if I was going to get back on task. It wouldn’t be pretty. I had no choice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Whew, I think the little one has a gift for his mother.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes! Back in Her arms, I was carried to the changing room. The spell didn’t have any effect on me now. What with the load in my pants and all. I know it’s dirty, but sometimes you need to play hardball to succeed. And I’m all about success. The Mommy quickly undid the damage I caused and placed me on the floor while she disposed of the waste. And that’s when I eyed the prize.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There in the dame’s transport was the binky I was working so hard to locate. Quick as a gas bubble I took possession and stuffed it in my catch all. What? I was sanitized. Don’t judge. I do what I have to, to get the job done. And this job was all but done.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Mommy led me back to the toy depository. By the looks of things, the dame was preparing to leave. I made it just in time. I sidled up beside her, making sure the Mommy’s view was obstructed and produced the found binky. The look on her face was priceless. I get the same way every time I discover an empty box. Her next action was less than satisfactory. She put the binky in her mouth and proceeded to hug me like no tomorrow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Aww, that is soooo adorable.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“To be young again.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Looks like we might have a wedding to plan.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She couldn’t leave fast enough. Cooties, you know?</span></div>Tim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759170943404160201.post-64274714622699307202011-03-13T19:40:00.000-04:002011-03-13T19:40:47.609-04:00Flash Fiction: "The Hotel"I realized I neglected to provide a proper introduction to my previous post. So I shall rectify that post haste. What follows is my flash fiction entry in Chuck Wendig's latest challenge over at <a href="http://www.terribleminds.com/">Terribleminds</a>. One week. 1000 words. And a suitably eerie photo of a hotel for inspiration. Dive in and check out what everyone has to offer. Good times.<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Sisters in Melancholy</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The warm spring afternoon quickly turned into a brisk and windy evening. Ominous shadows crept away from the façade of the abandoned hotel, leaving intermittent patches of darkness all the way to the girls standing by the gate. The air was thick with gasps of air coming from the hotel. Gusts of wind blowing through the broken windows left the impression that it was alive.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t like it here Cheryl.” Theresa said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Cheryl asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“There’s a reason nobody comes out here.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why is that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m not about to say any of that out loud. Besides, you know all the stories too Cheryl.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Your spine leaves a lot to be desired Theresa.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m just saying there are less hazardous things on the list. I know where we can find a glow in the dark Frisbee. And I know of at least three different cats that’ll let us put a tutu on ‘em.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“And how many points would that get us?” Cheryl asked. “No way, I’m going for the big guns right up front. This will net us two hundred points and all we need is video of one of us walking up to the front steps. We’ll be out of here in no time.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A hunched figure moving into the moonlight by the gate went unnoticed by the bickering duo until he brought a shovel crashing against the gate latch, causing it to swing outward. The girls screamed in unison and scurried backwards in each other’s arms.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Heh heh heh,” the stranger laughed. “That gets ‘em every time.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Cheryl recovered first. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Who the fuck do you think you are motherfucker?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I think I’m Nelson, and I’m completely inside my mind.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Those questions were rhetorical asshole.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nelson put up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. A guy’s gotta find a way to break the monotony when he can. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to get your video if I hadn’t opened the gate. It only opens from the inside.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Theresa took a hesitant step forward. “You don’t mind us trespassing on your property?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Not my property. I just try to keep the weeds at bay.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What about the owners then?” Theresa asked. “Won’t they mind?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Somehow I doubt the bank will really care” Nelson said. “Besides, the hotel isn’t anything to worry about. Just a bunch of bricks and broken glass. Nope, the hotel’s harmless. What you should really be wary of is the gazebo around the south side.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why?” Cheryl asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s where Mr. Baker, the original owner, had his daughters killed.” Nelson said.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mr. Baker led the procession out of the hotel and towards the south side of the property. The twins fought against the bindings on their wrists to no avail. Upon their arrival at the gazebo, Mr. Baker instructed the servants to tie his daughters to the beam spanning the length of the small building.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I forgave your mother when she dared teach the two of you how to read.” Mr. Baker said. “But that was on the condition it be limited to the Good Book. I am a respected business man in this community, and I will not have that filth poison your minds and in turn my hotel. You know the rules.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mr. Baker nodded to the servants and they walked back to the hotel. The girls’ screams were carried off with the wind, to be heard by no one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The lifeless bodies of the sisters were discovered by their mother the next morning. After the funeral an inquiry was conducted and Mr. Baker was charged with their murder. He died in prison awaiting the death penalty. Mrs. Baker abandoned the hotel shortly after her husband’s trial, and was never seen again.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Wow.” Cheryl said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yep, it was a horrible tragedy,” Nelson said. “Thing like that leaves a mark, you know? How could anybody rest in peace after going through that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“You think it’s haunted?” Theresa asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I know so.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Alright, I call bullshit.” Cheryl said. “A couple of chicks die of frostbite and now their spirits creep about looking for payback?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Believe what you want.” Nelson said. “But you best hurry, or you two will miss the last bus back to town.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He turned away and walked back into the shadows towards the back of the hotel. Cheryl stepped towards the gate, but Theresa didn’t move.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m not doing this Cheryl.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Cheryl turned back. “Fine. Just fine. Why don’t you run off to find your kittens? I can shoot the video myself. I’ll meet you back at the auditorium later.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Cheryl spun on her heel and purposely walked through the gate. Theresa hesitated briefly then turned to walk towards the bus stop. She didn’t see Cheryl take a turn to the south.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Cheryl slowed her pace as the gazebo came into view. Its appearance surprised her. In stark contrast to the rest of the property, the gazebo was in pristine condition. It looked brand new and smelled of fresh paint.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Weird.” Cheryl said as she stepped under the gazebo’s roof.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A torrent of air suddenly swarmed Cheryl. She became disoriented and fell to the freshly sanded floor. She slowly rolled over onto her back and looking down on her were two sets of blue eyes. Those eyes descended on her in a flash and before Cheryl could scream, she was devoured. Nothing was left but pools of blood which began seeping through the floorboards of the gazebo.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I just sanded that floor.” Nelson said as he stepped up and leaned on the railing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There were supposed to be two.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes two.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I know, I know.” Nelson said. “I had two, but the other took off at the last minute.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Just as Nelson finished speaking a sharp pain pierced his left cheek. He raised his fingers and they returned with blood from a cut that appeared out of thin air.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You must bring another.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes another.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You know the rules.</span></i></div>Tim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759170943404160201.post-58395641742728225562011-03-06T17:05:00.000-05:002011-03-06T17:05:16.211-05:00Flash Fiction: "Irregular Creature"<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Snowbirds</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The two co-workers begrudgingly made their way to the parking lot. The work day was over but neither was looking forward to the task ahead. Such is the case when winter arrives in Florida, and the snowbirds descend upon the land like a scourge. The evening commute was sure to be a nightmare. It always was.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“God, this really is the worst part of the day,” Trevor said.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sammy didn’t respond, he just kept his head down willing one foot to step in front of the other. Beads of sweat had already begun to form on his forehead.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Trevor sighed. “Oh well, nothing to it but to do it, right? Rip it off fast like a band aid and it’ll be over before you know it.” He broke away, heading for his car. “Drive safe Sammy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sammy slowed his pace and began fumbling with his keys. All too soon he was beside his car, opening the door, and gingerly positioning himself in the driver’s seat. Sammy started the ignition and began to ease out of the parking lot.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Twenty-five miles, Sammy” he whispered. “You can make it.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">***</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sammy pulled up to the stop light, waiting to make a left turn when he spotted the first one. There on the corner stood a most irregular creature. A snowbird. His floral print shirt clashed horrifically with his black socks and sandals. But most striking of all was his hair. So white, so pure. The power emanating from his locks could light up a sunless sky. And he was looking in Sammy’s direction, daring him to make the first move.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Go.” Sammy panted. “You’re safe</span> as long as you get moving before he steps off the curb.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But his pep talk took too long. The snowbird stepped into the intersection and began shuffling his way across the street. Trying not to look at him directly in the eyes, Sammy began to nudge his car into the intersection in anticipation of getting away as soon as the coast was clear, when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The snowbird paused in the middle of the road and turned to face Sammy’s car. All of a sudden a surge of electricity travelled up from the snowbird’s sandals and out the top of its head and rocked Sammy’s car with such force that he surely would have been thrown into the passenger seat if not for his seatbelt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Where are you going in such a hurry?” it growled and began making its way to the other side of the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“A little patience would do you good.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sammy just sat holding his breath with his foot mashing the brake pedal through the floorboard until he was brought to his senses by the honking of a horn. He glanced into his rearview mirror, saw no sign of the creature, and completed his turn just as the light turned red.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next few miles passed without incident. Sammy started to relax, steadily driving with the flow of traffic.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Maybe the worst is over,” he said to himself, “Only twenty miles to go.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Up ahead, traffic in his lane began slowing to a crawl. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find a gap open long enough to change lanes and was soon stuck behind a UPS truck going fifteen below the speed limit. But his spirits were lifted when the truck turned into a nearby parking lot, only to have them dashed again when he came onto the cause of his malaise.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh no,” Sammy whimpered, “Oh no, no, no, no.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ahead of him was a thoroughly common four door sedan. Only this one appeared to be driving itself. The place usually reserved for the back of one’s head was just empty space. Sammy then glanced at the rear of the vehicle and was immediately hypnotized by what he saw. The blinker was flashing. Like the Pied Piper and his flute, Sammy was drawn into the power of the orange light. Soon the procession of cars increased to ten, then fifteen, twenty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Orange really is a pretty color,” Sammy cooed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just as suddenly, Sammy was snapped out of his stupor by another blaring horn. Someone had broken free of the line of cars and was speeding by in the other lane.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sammy gasped, “I can’t do this now.” He quickly pulled off the main road and into a gas station parking lot. “A drink, that’s what I need; something to help me relax.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sammy walked into the gas station, grabbed an energy drink and walked up to the cash register. That’s when he saw another one. This one was heavy set and wearing a sun dress. She was bent over the counter pondering over which scratch-off ticket to purchase. The veins. There were so many veins it looked like a road map that would make Rand McNally envious. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sammy sucked in his breath and began nervously tapping his foot. Then, like a bullet from a gun, the veins came loose from the snowbird’s legs and began lashing out at him. Sammy felt his stomach do a somersault as they wrapped themselves around his legs. He lost his balance and with nothing to grab onto, he fell to the floor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He opened his eyes and what he saw caused his heart to skip mid beat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Cankles!” he bellowed, “Oh Holy Christ, not the Cankles!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sammy slowly opened his eyes and saw Trevor knocking on his car window. He was still in the parking lot at work.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So, how far did you make it this time?” Trevor asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sammy rolled down his window, “The gas station.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ooh, only ten miles in.” Trevor barbed. “That is definitely not a good way to end the day.” He lightly punched Sammy in the shoulder and headed back for his car. “Chop chop Sammy. That car isn’t going to drive itself home.”</span></div><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Sammy thought for a second and huffed, “I think I’d rather wait till summer.”</span>Tim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759170943404160201.post-8128042562992697512011-03-06T11:00:00.001-05:002011-03-06T11:00:14.899-05:00OofHungry Howie's is hazardous to my health....Heh, alliteration.Tim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759170943404160201.post-81860790612214324672011-02-25T12:38:00.000-05:002011-02-25T12:38:25.012-05:00Welcome to the FutureSo, I just picked up a laser printer. I know, I know. Can you say where the fuck nuggets have you been? But it's a step to the edge of a really steep hill I'm trying to grow the gonads to throw myself down.<br />
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I spend a lot of time thinking about doing something yet not doing it. The reasons for which would probably require therapy. Really good, really expensive therapy. So I'm left with working shit out on my own. The printer is a symbol of my destination. I'm at the starting line and I know there is a finish line somewhere. My next step is plunging down the hill and seeing what it's gonna take to find it. I'm probably gonna need a helmet.Tim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5759170943404160201.post-62214980609654434822011-02-17T12:52:00.002-05:002011-02-17T13:13:29.558-05:00An IntroductionI am an average guy. I have an average job. And just like most average people, I make excuses for not doing anything about changing the averageness of my life. Pfft, well, that ain't gonna change. And it's not because I'm satisfied with average. Nope. I'm just lazy.<br />
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But enough about me..........<br />
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Wait a second..........<br />
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Wait just a second..........<br />
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This is my blog, so it's going to be all about me. Or maybe not about me, but whatever innards seep from my eye sockets, splatter across the screen and I fail to wipe away.<br />
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Not likely to be too many folks stumbling across this thing, so at the very least, it'll serve as a way for me to talk to myself without the fear of being committed.Tim Kelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13565845414403857646noreply@blogger.com1