Tag: fiction

Fiction: Community

Posted on by bryon

A birdbath sat in the middle of the little park in the center of the upscale housing complex. It was a popular attraction.

Mrs. Williams watched it to see the birds that came to use it.

Mr. Fiore watched it to gauge the amount of extra bird droppings that would fall in the area had it not been there.

Ms. Saito watched as the groundskeeper dumped out the previous day’s water and refilled it. Surely this was a nonessential use of a precious resource.

An ordinary gray tiger cat that answered to several names watched it with the thought of catching a meal.

Mr. Loess watched it to see if Viking — his name for the cat — would catch a bird, as called for by the feline’s place in the food chain.

Mrs. Pantini watched it with a BB rifle at hand to shoot the cat if it killed a bird.

Mr. Pantakis watched it with a hunting rifle at hand; he knew of Mrs. Pantini’s BB gun, and if she shot Cuddles — his name for the cat — it would be the last thing she ever did.

On four weekends during the summer, the homeowners association sponsored a picnic and everyone gathered in the little park and talked and laughed and ate. The cat made the rounds of his friends to pick up some choice treats. The birds went elsewhere because of all the people and their noise.

After the gatherings, the birds returned to the birdbath, the cat to his favorite stalking place nearby, and the humans to their individual stations to keep their vigils: to enjoy, to worry, to watch the hunt, to prepare to attack, and to be ready to retaliate.

Fiction: The Coming Revolution

Posted on by bryon

He was getting reports about this place, and there were stirrings in his own office that lent those reports credibility. Something looming this large demanded his personal attention.

He donned a disguise for his task, making himself appear to be a white male of average height with dark hair and a Van Dyke beard.

It was late in the afternoon when he walked in the door. The office held all the charm of  a medieval sanitarium, only with overhead fluorescent lighting and Lysol. He took a ticket from the dispenser and waited in the shortest line. It also was the slowest line. Just as he was about to become annoyed, he recalled having instituted that perversity himself. He reined in his attitude; he was supposed to be the author of annoyance, not a victim.

“Six six six,” a flat female voice called, and he stepped up to the counter.

“Last name,” the woman demanded in the same monotone.

“Satan.”

Continue reading “Fiction: The Coming Revolution” →

Fiction: Unmistaken Identity

Posted on by bryon

“Trisha!” the man called.

The woman, on the verge of entering the coffee shop, looked up and there he was, embracing her and kissing her.

“Trisha! I haven’t seen you since oh my God you’re not Trisha.”

She shook her head a little, still caught in the surprise. “Gwen.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I thought … well, obviously I thought you were my friend from college.”

“Trisha.”

“Yeah.”

“You must have been close to her.”

“We were pretty good friends.”

“Like you’re still close to me.”

He let go of her and took a step back. “Sorry, sorry.” He looked at the ground a moment in embarrassment. Then he looked at Gwen again. “I’m Travis, by the way.”

“I’m still Gwen.”

“Now that I get a better look at you, it’s not like you’re Trisha’s twin or anything. Something about your hairstyle and the way you were carrying yourself, I guess.” He paused. “Actually, you’re prettier than Trisha. But don’t tell her I said that.”

Gwen smiled slightly. “I won’t. If we ever meet.”

“Um, yeah. Which you probably won’t. Part of why I was so surprised to see you, I mean her, I mean…”

“I’m with you.”

“Well, she lives on the other coast. I wouldn’t expect to see her here.”

“OK, then I won’t expect to meet someone who kind of looks like me but I’m prettier than her.”

Travis laughed. “Um … I’m sorry. I must seem six kinds of idiot.” He looked at the door of the coffee shop. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Make it up to you? And, just maybe prove I’m not ready for a straitjacket?”

Gwen regarded him for a moment. “I’ll take that coffee. But you’re going to have to talk fast to avoid that straitjacket.”

He smiled through his embarrassment and she found it charming. He opened the door and she preceded him into the coffee shop.

Forty minutes later, he had her full name and phone number and an agreement to go out to dinner Friday night.

And, he thought, if things continued to go so well, on their honeymoon he could tell her the story of a shy young man who invented a college friend named Trisha to give himself a flimsy excuse to hug and kiss a particular young woman at least once.

Fiction: Pioneer Stock

Posted on by bryon

Lara was held spellbound by the young man who was spinning visions of wide-open spaces and new opportunities. Her eyes were lit with a fervor Stephen hadn’t seen in a long while, and it grated on his nerves.

“Friends,” the fellow said, “I’m sure you agree the price to buy into this particular wagon train is perfectly reasonable. It includes your transportation, all the necessary equipment for homesteading, and the deeds to your parcels. Now let’s hear it: Who wants to go settle this new land?”

“I do!” overlapped with “We do!” as the individuals and couples cried out their eagerness to go.

Stephen heard Lara shout, “We do!” and then she looked to her husband for confirmation. His sullen glare shocked her.

Continue reading “Fiction: Pioneer Stock” →

Fiction: Substitute Muse

Posted on by bryon

Acevedo checked Park’s office, just in case the man was ignoring his telephone. But no; he wasn’t there. Acevedo sighed and picked up the phone himself and made a call to building security.

“The atrium. Thank you.”

He shook his head as he walked down the hall to the elevator. He got out on the 70th floor and walked down another hall; it broadened into a large, open public space enclosed in glass. Various employees were taking their break there, looking out at the city or enjoying the numerous plants and trees that made the area a garden spot.

Acevedo quickly found Park; he was the only one not wearing correct business attire. Instead, he wore a black T-shirt with a wide red stripe across the chest, blue jeans, and yellow tennis shoes. He faced the center of the room and leaned back comfortably against the glass wall. Acevedo suppressed a shudder.

Continue reading “Fiction: Substitute Muse” →

Fiction: Jewelry Box

Posted on by bryon

“Oh, look at the cute little jewelry box I picked up at a yard sale. Isn’t it darling?”

“It certainly is. And it looks wonderful on your dresser.”

“That’s why I got it. It matches beautifully. I put all my earrings in it yesterday.”

“Very nice. Well, grab a pair and let’s go.”

“All right. Wait. It’s empty! How can it be empty? I put every earring I own in here.”

“They’re certainly not on the floor. Is there a hole in the box?”

“No. It sure got dusty under there in a hurry, though. What could possibly have happened to my earrings?”

*     *     *

Scientists tell us that, fiction aside, extraterrestrial life will not have a head, two arms and two legs. Eating and digesting are assumed to be universal, however.

Fiction: Bridging the Years

Posted on by bryon

Felisha walked out to the middle of the bridge’s pedestrian sidewalk. She looked over the edge into the blackness far below. There wasn’t much to see of the river at a quarter to midnight, but she could hear it.

As she threw one leg over the railing, a single car lit her briefly as it crossed. She paid no attention to it and didn’t notice that the car came to a stop at the first opportunity on the other side. Nor did she notice the man who got out of the car and began walking toward her.

She swung her other leg over the railing. She faced the bridge with her feet still on the walkway and her hands on the cold metal but her entire body on the wrong side of safety.

Continue reading “Fiction: Bridging the Years” →

Fiction: Fallen Gods

Posted on by bryon

“Omari, you promised that this year you would explain the human Christmas to me.”

“So I did, Naji. Come, then; let’s take a little walk.”

Omari stretched, curving his back high, and ended up on all four paws. He led the other cat out of the warm shed and down the alley.

“Tell me, young Naji, about Egypt.”

“In Egypt we were worshipped as gods,” Naji replied brightly, “because we were the ones who killed both the rodents that infested the granaries and the fearsome cobras. This knowledge is part of every cat and is every cat’s birthright.”

“Very good,” the older cat said. “But later?”

Continue reading “Fiction: Fallen Gods” →

Fiction: High-Energy Interactions

Posted on by bryon

“Renata!” Dr. van Oustil cried. “This is your report card?”

Heads turned and the party stilled a bit as father began to publicly berate daughter.

“How can  you be getting a C- in physics?” he demanded. “Here I am, an internationally renowned particle physicist, and you embarrass me with a C- in high school physics? Does heredity count for nothing, after all? How will you get on in life?”

A few partygoers chuckled; others were red with shame on the girl’s behalf, or perhaps remembering lectures from their own parents.

Renata stared at her father for a moment. The report card had been lying on the table for two days, but he waited until he could be the center of attention to chastise her. She caught a fleeting glance of her mother retreating to the kitchen, wanting to be anywhere other than near the spotlight. This was the van Oustil version of a normal day.

Renata walked a few steps to the open bar next to the refreshment table and snatched up a forbidden glass of merlot. Making certain she had her father’s attention, she downed it in a single gulp.

“Don’t get so upset, Father,” she said. “I have every intention of becoming a prostitute. I already know the little bit of biology I need for that career.” She motioned to her father’s closest collaborator. “Just ask Heinrich. He’ll vouch for me.” And she tossed the glass lightly to the floor and went to her bedroom.

The party broke up shortly after the police arrived. They were responding to an urgent call about a physicist trying to kill his colleague.

Fiction: The Boy with the Red Balloon

Posted on by bryon

Henry happened to look up as Joletta raised her teacup to her lips and stopped. A glassy look came into her eyes, as though she were looking at something inside herself rather than outside.

He reached across the breakfast table and gently took the cup, replacing it on its saucer. Sometimes she came out of these little trances rather sharply, and the tea was hot.

This odd behavior was common in her family. Joletta’s mother had had the sight, and so had her late brother, Randolph, of whom little was said. What was there to say, after all?

Henry continued to watch, waiting for her to come back to him and to see what peculiar direction his life was about to take this Saturday morning.

Continue reading “Fiction: The Boy with the Red Balloon” →