“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

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

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Back at his desk, it was laden with outdated office supplies.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. Photo Credit: butisitart 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

“Vision-quest” By Raymond Roy. #poetry #flashfiction

So distant, is a stand of trees, a secret place, my mind at ease.

Forest’s edge, winter apples grow, increase my pace, zephyrs show impending snow.

Curled up ferns, visual pleasure, pine needle carpet, walk of leisure.

I’m not alone, chipmunk squawks, takeoff my shoes and itchy socks.

Frosty air, hot springs steam, ease in my feet and begin to dream.

Native boy on vision-quest, by the pool to have a rest.

Sacred forest clean and pure, my quest is it’s protection , I must secure.

Leaving my refuge keenly aware, it’s not only I but, trees need care.

Word Count-99

Written for 99-Word Flash Fiction hosted by Charli at the Carrot Ranch Thanks Charli!

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.

“Spam” by Raymond Roy

Scrolling through my email..click down button and then look away. Why is it so hard to concentrate. My boss’s eyes burning on the back of my head. “Jacob”. he sidled to my left. “Oh, hey Boss,”I blurted out. He had a warm smile, “Just saying good morning”, “Ga-go-good morning Mr. Springer.”

What the hell is wrong with me? Micro-electric shocks shoot from the base of my cerebellum up to my cortex. Ringing in my ears.

Deep breaths..walking out the side entrance. The breeze felt good. I leaned my cheek against the cool ceramic tile.

Lighting a smoke, drawing so hard, a rogue tobacco shred sparked through the paper.

Back in the office .

“Bing bong” chimes the intercom.

“Time for meds gentlemen.””Please line up”.

In line.

Mr. Springer walking out, stopped to talk with Mark the security guard.

“How you doing Mark?”

“Pretty good Dr. Springer, You?”

“Not bad. “Would you keep an eye on Jacob? “He’s been sitting at a desk staring blankly at the wall, going on about Spam emails.”

“Sure Thing Doc!”

Word Count-175

I have heard the expression perhaps for songwriting, “you write what you know”. I feel this holds true in story writing, fiction or non-fiction. I cannot think of too many people, including myself, that haven’t been somehow touched by mental health issues. Perhaps not full blown paranoia but, stress, anxiety/panic attacks, With information overload, 24 hour feeds…..just as our bodies need a healthy diet, so do our minds. For me, an escape is writing which challenges me on “what I know” and “where I stand”, rather than switching to a zombie scrolling mode copying and pasting the opinions of others.

Be well my Friends

Peace.

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers host by our gracious host, Priceless Joy thanks Joy.

Photo Credit to Enisa. Thank you!

20$ on pump two (the vengeful soul patch) by Raymond Roy #Fffaw Flash fiction

Hypnotic embers, a lavanous symphony culminating with a gaseous crackling POP!

Tiny meteor, a glowing spark shoots toward my face, landing just under my lower lip. I snap out of my dream state. I think nothing of it.

Back home, yawning, Monday morning mirror, Oddly, a soul patch had grown in overnight where the ember had landed.

Late for work, stopping by the local gas station for a cup, I ran into former “friend” Mike, that I had just as soon avoid.

In front of me, I could see Mike’s smirking reflection in the mirror behind the register. Suddenly, the hairs of my soul patch, grew as if they were a web being cast by Spider-Man. The knarly hairs wrapped around Mike’s throat drawing me so close I could smell the rancid neck sweat trapped in the rolls on the back of his bulbous head.

Just as quickly as it began, the vengeful strands retracted.

Mike stunned, smirk-free.

“Just the coffee sir?”

“Yes, Oh, and 20$ on pump two please?

Word Count-171 words

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to our gracious host Priceless Joy for more information click here

Photo Credit: Enisa (thank you)

To read other stories based on this photo click here.

Peace.

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

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. Truth and reconciliation of Canada 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