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

“Newspaper” Relationships

As I understand, Hemingway said that writing for a newspaper meant you needed to forget everything you learned from the previous day on the job and wipe the slate clean because there is a new story to be had for the next days headline.

In contrast, Hemingway said writing a story or a novel was to celebrate and apply what you know and learned in life..

I think relationships are the same way. Some are like newspapers and some are like a well written story or novel.

“Newspaper” relationships are all about the headline of the day. Slights, hurts or even joys for that matter experienced from the previous days story, mean little. Newspaper relationships are the days big headline with not allot of substance. At times you may wonder why you keep the subscription. If a newspaper relationship is to work, you must accept it for what it is and not rain on it with expectations lest it stop showing up on your front porch.

“Novel” relationships are like a favorite book that speaks to you. It is based on trust, commitment and mutual respect in which you allow yourself to be vulnerable, open to the story’s point of view and potentially grow as a person.

Peace-Goroyboy

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Professor on drums” (A Tribute) #Fridayfictioneers

1979: Protest folk music was dying down and Disco had reached its peak.

“Begin the day with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive” blasted through the vibrating buzz alarm of the 1960s turquoise clock radio. (Time for school)
“Spirit of Radio”by Progressive Rock band Rush
Lyrics by Peart
Neil Peart that is, aKa The Professor

Photo Source Pinterest

“If you choose not to decide, you still have me a choice”
“And the meek shall inherit the earth”
“Conform or be cast out”
Prophetic words to pubescent outcast teens, proclaiming Peart understood.
It’s been a year since Neil’s passing,
RIP Professor Sept1952-Jan 2020

100 Words

Photo credit Rolling Stone magazine

Thank you Professor🤘🏼-Goroyboy

This was written for the photo prompt for Rochelle Wiscoff’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge . Although not a traditional short story. Given the photo prompt of an empty drum set along with the appreciation I have for the artist/poet/lyricist, Neil Peart I found a tribute was in order. additional stories based on the photo prompt can be found here

The Yard Sign

I often walk or bicycle around our small town’s neighborhoods with my wife. As the upcoming election nears, front yards are adorned with candidates names displayed on yard signs, banners, and even up flag poles at times in place of the American flag.

Perhaps 50+ %of the yards in town are garnished with political collateral and not inconspicuously, 99% of the endorsements represented one party.

As life would have it, I happen to NOT support the highly visible party on popular display.

So…I ordered my yard sign.. when we returned home today, there it was in the front yard.

As I pushed the sign’s wire supports deeper into the dry clay soil, I swear I heard it say something, “What am I doing here?” “Are you sure this is the correct address?”

“ I heard your last sign got stolen”

As the day faded toward dusk, I was on the my front porch with my back to the street, painting my front door.

“I like your sign a voice called out”, I turned to see a lady walking her two dogs stopped on the sidewalk in front of my yard. “Thank you. Kinda stands out from all the others in town, doesn’t it? “ I replied.

“Yes it does” she chuckled nervously..

I responded, “ there is probably more opposition support in our town than people want to let on to.”

“I totally agree, I was actually afraid to put out a sign” she nervously shared.

“If you are afraid to put out a sign in your own front yard, perhaps that says allot doesn’t it? “ I said.

“Yes it does, but I feel better now after talking to you. Thank you.” she said as she lead her two fluffy companions onward..

“I feel better as well, Thank You, have a good evening”

I returned to my painting but not before looking at my yard sign, Which seemed to stand up just a little straighter.

-Goroyboy

A sign can also be a “symptom” which conveys meaning. Vote!

The Garden A poem By Raymond Roy

Down the step and through the gate,

My sanctuary, my escape, my garden awaits.

Brushing against mint, a fragrant clean, sunlight on basil illuminates a warm wrinkled sheen.

Earthy sage, for a cleansing smudge, bright tart strawberries best served with ice cream or dipped in hot fudge.

If you are quiet you can hear, Pumpkin leaves and Cucumber vine grow, hiding the walkway, disrupting the row.

The majestic Russian Mammoth Sunflower pays them no mind with round, welcoming face, she’s hosting the honeybees brunch time. .

Beefsteak and Roma leaves droop in the midday heat like waxy umbrellas. A slight breeze carries a geranium-like fragrance.

The warmth on my back, melts away the weight of the world.

Cicadas buzzing as if they were nature’s tea kettle boiling and whistling from the summer heat

-Goroyboy

“I will rise (2020)”, a poem by Raymond Roy

Photo Credit: Candy Staton Gammoh

I will rise….

Distant sunrise, cool morning breeze,

above the clouds, I rise with ease.

Like Ironman flying, I rise above,

Seeing those that have passed, my heart fills with love.

Gone is the weight of daily drama,

Which one is better, Trump, Biden or Obama?

Photo Credit: Denise Fullner Kittleson

I will rise,here souls have no gender, doctrine , origin, or race,

no conflict, hatred, color of face.

Time as we know it, does not exist, social media likes, or media twists.

I will rise, becoming stardust, from whence I came, free of life’s burdens, only love, no shame.

I will rise….

Revamped from an earlier version which I felt was timely. The peaceful pictures generously shared by friends reminded me that we will return to the stardust from whence we came.

Stay Well. https://dversepoets.com/

-Goroyboy

“When The Morning Comes” A poem by Raymond Roy #poetry

A deafening stillness…

A scattering of stubborn stars shimmer, resembling sequins on a cocktail dress that should have been home, hours before.

As dawn arrives, like ice crystals, the stars relent, slowly melting away for a days rest.

A Cardinal’s silhouette appears in the sherbet orange daybreak.

Boldly he bounds to the treetop and gives his first trill of the day, announcing the gift of a new day.

I heard the first Spring Cardinal the other day. After a bleak winter, it reminded me of vibrant colors and fragrances to come. Peace.

-Goroyboy

Harmony (Dealing with Conflict)

I cannot speak for others but, I admit it, I want to be liked, and accepted.

I can feel anxious thinking of unresolved personal conflict with others when the relationship emotional bank account with that person is overdrawn, depleted.

What about reconciliation?

That takes commitment from both parties.

Admittedly, I have fooled myself into thinking otherwise, sometimes you CANNOT reconcile.

Unfortunately our polarized society would suggest a short sighted mindset that someone always has to lose.

What is left?

Breathe deeply and slow down for a moment…..

What is the alternative?

Harmony…. If there is power in kindness, harmony is the fuel that feeds it.

In my humble opinion, Living in harmony is quite simple:

Step 1. Recognize the others humanity

Step 2. Commit to living a harmonious life with or without them.

Step 3. Accept the possibility that you may never reconcile with that person.

Step 4. Accept the fact that others(even those you despise) have the same right to the pursuit of happiness as you.

Peace

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