“But It’s a Dry Heat” By Raymond Roy #fiction #shortstory

“But It’s a Dry Heat” By Raymond Roy

Dylan’s face had turned a pale shade of an old sock.

3 hours earlier as the aircraft door opened in Yuma Az, Dylan thought he had steppedinto an oven. He was blinded by the reflection off the tarmac and could feel his eyes dry out as if they were being blasted by a hair dryer. “It’s a dry heat alright,” he thought “but son uva bitch! It’s one hot Mutha! Thoughts wandered to his favorite movie “Cool Hand Luke” “Wiping it off here boss., Yeah wipe it off there Dragline”. 

Cool Hand Luke:1967

Exiting baggage claim he caught sight of an overweight balding man holding a sign reading “Mr. Dylan.”

Dylan gave an assuring nod. “Mr. Dylan?” the man said.

Dylan said “That’s me! “I am Arturo your driver. Welcome to Arizona. “Arturo replied. 

Dylan said “Glad to know you Arturo, Vamos! “

One hour later passing through the compound gates, the trailing cloud of dust blanketed the car as it came to a halt. Dylan stepped out. “Fine day to make a cool 20 grand,” he thought to himself.

As the dust cleared what appeared to be a 60 ft tall triangle-shaped spaceship stood gleaming in the desert sun. In shock, under his breath, Dylan whispered “What the holy hell?” 

A galvanized ramp dropped from the spacecraft. Dylan hesitated for a moment thinking “Let’s get nuts” and walked up.

Seinfeld: Costanza mode

“Welcome aboard Mr. Dylan” a message over the PA system announced. We’ve been waiting for you”. “Hold on there Klingon-boy or whatever you are. Marrying an illegal alien for citizenship is one thing but holy sheep dip”! said Dylan. “I am Kubrick, the matchmaker “the voice replied.

“Well, Captain Kirk, the price of poker just went up to 100k.”. “No need to be patronizing. The name is Kubrick, and agreed Mr. Dylan, consider it done. “

 

Present day:

“Dylan, are you alright”?  the Pastor asked. Standing at the altar with his knees locked had reduced the blood flow to his now clammy brow.  “Never better padreeeeayyy”!  Dylan squeamishly said. And down he went. 

Dylan felt a cool rag on his forehead. The cocktail of cheap cologne and hair product mitigated the need for smelling salts as he came to. “Easy son, just take it easy for a minute”.. the pastor reassured. “Man, what a nightmare, I dreamt I was getting marriedto a space creature, you were there padre, and oh shit!” Locking eyes with his shotgun wedding bride-to-be for two seconds his gaze was interrupted by the blur of her clenched “The Hulk”-sized fist… and down he went. 

 

Dylan felt a cool rag on his forehead and smelt the familiar cocktail of cheap cologne and hair products. Licking his swollen lip, he could taste the iron of his blood… “Hey Padre, what are you doing here? Man, I had such a nightmare… “

-Goroyboy

Had some fun with this one. Thank you to my WordPress mentor and muse Carol, for suggesting participation in this short story competition..

Peace

“Warriors Never Die” by Raymond Roy 100 word fiction

PHOTO PROMPT © Krista Strutz

DING DONG!

2am. The headlights of a dark sedan illuminated the honeysuckle hedge by the front walkway. Looking through the side window, the porch light reflected off the Marine officers silver insignia. Oh God NO!

We laid him to rest at Arlington.

6 months before he deployed, we laid the foundation of a cabin by the water. “This will be our family’s legacy cabin Pops”! “For generations”!

It’s been a year. I eased up to the shore on my paddle board. Whoosh Whoosh, a bald eagle landed on a log right in front of me. Overwhelmed, I began to weep.

Word count -100

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wiscoff Write a complete story in 100 words or less based on the photo prompt. Click here for additional takes on the prompt.

-Goroyboy

“Just Like Old Times”

PHOTO PROMPT © Penny Gadd

The hunted winced as he tried to remove the blood crusted brick red gauze from his gunshot foot. Easing his foot into the cool creek water, the current softened the dried blood, allowing the removal of the bandage. Some of the pain subsided. Minnows darted at the suspended cotton fibers and coagulated blood particles in the water.

“I’m gunna get you Wabbit”!!!

“This guy is serious” thought Bugs as he hunkered down.

Word Count-70

Written for Rochelle Wisoff Fields Friday Fictonners challenge to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt thanks . You can find other stories here.

Glow

The night is quiet less the shuffled sound of sandal turned desert rocks and labored breathing.

My hands grow increasingly numb with every step, backpack straps from the heavy pack full of all our worldly possessions restrict the blood flow to my arms, but we must keep going.

From the darkness an innocent voice asks, “What is that father?”

Vapor from our warm breath momentarily glows like a cloud, illuminated by the distant bright lights of the Kabul airport.

Without looking down, nor losing a step I respond, that’s hope my son, that’s hope”.

Word Count=94

Residential Farm by Raymond Roy #sundayphotofiction

“Residential” Farm By Raymond Roy

As the priest drove away, painted smiles on my new guardians, transformed into distorted scowls akin to grotesque masks in a Twilight zone episode.

The Mister, seethed,“Well Mrs., looks like we have that summer labor we’ve been prayin fer.” Mister was a scrawny crotchety person. Shoulders bare, void faded blue straps of baggy overalls.

The Mrs., although equal in height to Mister, was at least three times his girth.Belching loudly,she walked, protruding rib fat caused her arms to orbit around her body, similar to Randy from “A Christmas Story”never actually being able put them down.

The Mister, spewed an ebony stream of tobacco-laden spit, landing squarely on a saw legged grasshopper, What’s your name“Injun,? It wasn’t the word Injun, but how it was said. The tone inferred dominance. A wave of Familiar Rage sets in.

Grasshopper recovered, burst forth, ricocheting off a scrap sheet of tin roofing. The ping carried. Grinning internally, I too would have my escape, after dark.

“My given name, Binesi. It means…”

“Enough chatter Injun!”

(…”Thunderbird” I thought to myself)

“Get to work! Start by hauling that wheelbarrow to the compost pile. Earn your keep? You can sleep in the loft with the chickens.”

Word Count-200

Update:When I wrote this back in 2018, I had no idea what was to come. Mass grave of 215 residential school children We learn from history, lest we repeat it.

Written for Sunday Photo Fiction a 200 word limit fictional story based on the provided photo prompt. Thanks Dawn Miller for this weeks photo.

Fictional yes but many beyond the boundaries of Canada are not aware of North America’s Residential school system which was a a cultural genocide of our continent’s indigenous people. A great novel which I enjoyed was When the Legends Die addresses the destruction of a little Indian Boys heritage while bonding with an unlikely father figure.

Peace to you all.

-Goroyboy

Time To Go- A short story By Raymond Roy #Friday Fictioneers

The airbrushed retirement cake read, “Happy Retirement Barry”.
Barrie felt the misspelling was a Crisco laden representation of how irrelevant his position had become.

Swing top trash cans overflowing with solo cups and paper plates, conveyed an end to the festivities.

Back at his desk, it was laden with outdated office supplies. The office hummed with impersonal clicking on laptop keyboards, a cold replacement for face-to-face conversations.

Barrie felt a hand on his shoulder.
“You ready Dad?”
He looked up at his Son, “Time to pass the torch I guess Son”.
I’ll take care of it Pops!

100 words

Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff to write a 100-word story based on photo prompt. You can find other stories based on this prompt here

-Goroyboy

Chapter 2

“The Rescue”

The shock from the fox regeneration, (from Chapter 1)sent an intense spasm through Bella’s body. It started at the base of her neck, traveled down her spine and snapped her curly tail straight like the whip of a muleskinner. 

Traffic whirred by.  

A string of orange barrels dotted the rural state road,

Click clock,

click clock.  

The clacking rhythm of a flashing arrow sign provided a moderate tempo as Bella trotted along the road shoulder. As the mechanized cadence faded , plumes of carbon diesel exhaust clouded the turquoise blue sky, rumblings reminiscent of the junkyard, reminded Bella of her mother.  

Further down the road, Bella came upon a road construction  truck parked on the pavement shoulder, “sniff-sniff”…something smelled heavenly. Bella cautiously cleared the truck’s undercarriage in pursuit of the deliciousness.  A construction worker named Maria Lopez sat in the truck’s passenger side seat. Her boot laden foot propped the door open as she enjoyed the beautiful weather. Unwrapping the foil from her lunch, an egg, potato, and chorizo burrito, she took her first bite and a morsel tumbled out the door, onto the ground. Bellas wet ebony nostrils  flared wide open drawing in the scent to full effect. 

 

Unable to contain herself, she darted to the food scrap, flawlessly picking it up like a ballboy retrieves faulted balls at Wimbledon. 

Taking refuge back under the truck. Bella waited for subsequent mana from heaven. Another morsel dropped, as she retrieved it, her tender paws shuffled the roadside gravel. As Bella retreated under the truck, Maria caught sight of her. Grinning to herself, Maria threw another piece of potato out the door. The playful dance continued for a few minutes then Maria placed some egg just out of Bella’s reach, atop the truck doorstep.  

Letting out an involuntary  whimper, Bella’s  hunger got the best of her.  She creeped cautiously under the step. Wet nose positioned against the cold tube steel of the step and like a gecko catching a cricket, Bella darted out her pink tongue, snatching up the egg. Maria burst out laughing! 

Stepping down to the pavement, sitting on her haunches, Maria beamed with pleasure at the sight of the adorable scavenger. Longing for the  kindness of her mother, Bella sensed tenderness  in Maria’s face. Taking on a submissive posture with her curly tail wagging, she tinkled a bit on the pavement as she drew closer to Maria. 

Sitting down fully on the ground, Maria’s hand extended, “come on Perrito” “I won’t hurt you”, almost at a belly crawl, the weary pup could no longer be contained as she leapt into Maria’s lap, almost knocking her over. Nuzzling and whining, Bella frantically licked Maria’s neck, her needle teeth gently nibbling and whiskers tickling. 

“ Easy  Easy Perrito! “ Maria giggled. “Oh and you stink!” she said laughing. She shared the rest of her Lunch with Bella. With a full melon shaped tummy, Bella fell asleep in the shade under the work truck. 

5 o’clock came, Maria, returning to the truck, the gravel shuffling underfoot woke Bella. Excited to see Maria, Bella whined and wagged up to her. “So Perrito , what am I to do with you?”she said. Bella whimpered and nuzzled in. “It looks like you have already decided for me.” she said, “Vamos Perrito , I am taking you home.”

Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog and read my first chaptered short story. Today is the real-life Bella’s birthday. She brings so much joy to our home, we love her.

-goroyboy

Bella’s Elixir by Raymond Roy #fiction #shortstory

Chapter 1

“The Gift”

Mid August-The Perseids (meteor showers) were in full swing. Named The Perseids from the constellation Perseus (A Great Greek hero), slayer of monsters and most notably, the Gorgon Medusa.

High winds made for a clear night. 100 miles above Earth, a gamma ray infused meteor, ignited as it entered the the atmosphere. Evaporating layers of ice, rock and carbon, left a vapor trail streaming across the night sky. With a loud bubbling thud, the glowing meteor landed in a small pond located next to a scrap metal junkyard in rural US of A.

The impact of the space rock stirred a little dust in the makeshift den in the nearby scrapyard, a scrapped 69 Chevelle. A cob web broke free, shimmering in the sliver of white linen moonlight, floating for a moment, then landing onto the nose of a soft fluffy fur ball named Bella. Bella was solid black from head to toe. In dim light it was hard to make her out from a shadow. She found herself alone as her mother had left earlier that evening in search of food. She had been gone for what seemed an eternity.

Determined wind gusts swept through the junk yard, making Bella’s petaled ears perk up. As the night wore on, the wind calmed and with a deep sigh, she drifted off to sleep.

A loud roar of a front end loader’s diesel engine startled Bella awake. The rusted lime green shelter began to heave and vibrate, Bella bolted into the blinding morning sunlight and  sprinted  toward a gap in the chain link fence., CRASH!! Her den was no more. In a flash, Bella raced through the fence leaving behind the smell of used oil and radiator fluid. Her large puppy head gave her a teetering stride as she ran into an open field. It was the first time she had felt grass beneath her tender paws. She ran until she was out of earshot of the clanking junkyard.

Bell’s long tongue darted in and out of her open mouth while saliva bubbles foamed along her burgundy gum line. Closing her mouth between breaths, she drew in the scent of nearby water. Near exhaustion, she willed her bow-legs forward in the direction of the yet unseen oasis.

Approaching the pond, Bella walked into the shallows. The cool water felt good on her delicate paws. Lapping up the cool water, her mind cleared. The meteor laced pond water was like nectar. She felt invigorated. As she walked onto the bank, she noticed that wherever her fire had gotten wet, her paws and down her chest, had changed from black to white, looking as if she had walked through a pan of white paint. Not thinking much about it, Bella followed the dirt road moving away from the junkyard and pond towards town..

The dirt road met a paved road where traffic was buzzing by. Suddenly through the blur of cars, she saw a bright red fox trapped on the median of the busy road, unexpectedly it darted across, towards her. Unsure what to do, Bella froze. BAM! A speeding car plowed into the fox. Time suddenly slowed down, as she watched the fox’s body vaulted into the air as if from a circus cannon. The crimson canine landed squarely in front of her paws.

Almost standing on her back paws, Bella’s back tightened, body twisted, as she tried to get away. Bella’s senses were overwhelmed by the scent was of musk and dog urine. The foxes’ body convulsed as if it were choking on a chicken bone, their eyes met.  The foxes amber eyes froze, not blinking, it’s body convulsed and lay still.

Bella’s stood over the dead fox, her ears were ringing as if in a sound tunnel. As she closed her mouth to take in a curiosity driven whiff of her fellow canine, a drop of drool fell from her tongue landing squarely on the fox’s nose. Immediately the foxes’ pupils dilated, It blinked, began to breathe, pounced to its feet, took one look at Bella and jetted off in the direction of the junkyard.

This is my first attempt at a chapter book. I hope you enjoy it and come back for the next installment. Thank you for reading and your comments are much appreciated.

Peace-Goroyboy

Straw-man by Raymond Roy #FFfaw #fiction

He is a Liar!! A liar, a fornicator and I can’t stand it any longer! Mitzie had conviction in her voice as she addressed the Church board. Squeezing out a few tears completed the effect. The accused, Pastor Rigby, stunned, waiting for the church board to react. Rigby had perhaps squeezed a little out of his Church personal expenses, but what in the hell was she talking about?

Earlier that day, as the Church-administrator, Mitzie was denied vacation time by Rigby. By God he was going to pay. It started with texts to the church district office. Next lunch with the assistant pastor.

“Look Jeffery, you want that top spot don’t you? ” Jeffrey was puzzled until he saw the devious look in Mitzie’s eye. Give us a kiss Jeff, and leave the rest to me.

There was no wrong doing by Rigby but like any good strawman fallacy, her lies lit the straw-man on fire, Rigby couldn’t put it out.

Margarita glasses, “clink”in Cabo. Cheers Señor! Or should I say Senior Pastor Jeff!

Word Count-175

As a former Church Board member, Nothing could be truer than the idea of “truth being stranger than fiction”. Just as the Strawman mentioned in this story, the repeating of rumors,(even in denial of the rumors) only cultivate them toward being believed.

Written for Flash fiction for Aspiring Writers thanks to our gracious host Priceless Joy and thanks to Ellespeth for the photo prompt. To read other stories based on the photo prompt click here

Peace.

Taking the “Senses” by Raymond Roy #fiction

Taking Census, approaching the building

Glare of the sun reflecting off the abandoned hotel, pierced my eyes .. stench of a body filled my nostrils, sharp gravel on bare feet kept me shifting from one foot to the other.

Looking through open window

Blanket of blowflies over the corpse imprinted on my brain. A crack of a twig, The hardness of a gun on the back of my head. Dropping down turning and then with an upward thrust of the heel of my hand, forcing my assailant’s septum into his brain.

Walking away from the building.

Writing: Nobody home.

Word Count- 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers Thanks for hosting Rochelle and thanks to Yarnspinner for the photo prompt.

Peace.