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Showing posts with the label streetlights

New Orleans (Blogophilia 42.15)

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  If you have been following along on Facebook and Instagram, you know I spent a week in that fabulous den of iniquity and corruption, New Orleans. It was a trip planned several times, each time getting postponed for one reason or another. Finally, the stars aligned. My wife and I got the wheels moving on Sunday morning for the seven hour trip. Unlike other trips I could name, we didn't run into much traffic either there or back. Which is a nice change from my usual experience.  So, how do you describe the city in a swamp where the dead are buried above ground? It is a Jack-Of-All-Trades place, a combination seaport and oil town with a mix of people you won't find anywhere else. As with many other seaports, bribery is how you get things done. There are different terms for it: taxes, donations, tips... Add them all up and your travel budget just went up 15%.  Bring folding money. None of these folks take cards.  Yeah, I'm being a parsimonious cynic.  It's also a ...

122 Steps (Blogophilia 37.12)

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White painted sentinel Standing against time and tide Against the storms in my mind. I come seeking guidance 122 steps Rosary recited in time With the march Vertigo comes With the climb At the top I stand and hear my voice cry out A wordless scream at ancient power Until the dolphin breaks the surface Against the sunset Anchor drops in my soul's Safe harbor ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Topic- Dave Coon Pic- Stormy Gail Dormire Pic guesses Sentinel (in blog), Anchor (in blog) Safe Harbor (in blog), White (in blog), Light, Time and Tide (in blog),

First Line Friday

I thought I would join in this week. This is a project of  Jolene Naylor , and gives the reader a chance to see works in progress. This one is from a three part serial story I wrote several years ago, Streetlights . I am the process of consolidating the parts into a single piece. Damn, the cramps were starting again. Kari hated driving with them.   As the muscles tightened, it reminded her of her boss. “Charlie Cramps”. A fitting nickname, she thought.   Only he was messy and a pain 24/7, not just once a month and a tampon in the mouth didn’t shut him up.    If you want to join in, put your link in the comments below. If you have editorial comments, those are welcomed, too. 

Midnight Mass (Blogophilia 44.5)

Christmas eve and spirits past hang heavy. As Kari looked into her glass, it occurred to her this was not her favorite holiday.   Old clients communing in their own midnight mass above her weathered couch.   But Kari didn’t like to think of herself as a Priestess, powerful and holy.   She wasn’t.   She was a human helping other humans’ transition to the next phase, whatever it might be.   That is all. The images always seemed to mock her loneliness and vulnerability.  And really, why couldn't they do that at All Saints.  It was what the holiday was for she thought, gulping down the ruby dregs.  She was so stoned she couldn’t make sense of the images on the TV.  A mummified skeletor speaking demanded attention.   The audio didn’t match the video exactly, l ike one of those poorly dubbed art movies. The addled brain had some difficulty processing the effect. A disembodied voice stated her weight would disappear if she would just ...

Kari Summers (GBE 44 and Writercize 168)

On Alana's Writercize blog she suggests taking a name from either a random name generator or a short story you are working on and list a number of characteristics for them.  I choose Kari Summers, who is in the Streetlights series that I've published on this blog and a longer story that I am editing. Kari is: An aging hippie Prefers long skirts Doesn't mind the grey streaks in her raven hair Drives an old VW camper Works as a bartender on occasion. Buys, sells and makes silver jewelry Has never married Has never had children Has no living relatives Took care of her mother through her final illness Has a reputation for being a "Death Angel" Questions authority Questions humanity Doesn't get along with other women, even though she has one night stands with them. Is something of a loner Smokes a lot of pot Drinks fairly heavily Lives in the house she was born in. Though she has traveled quite a bit, always returns to her Eastside Atlanta hom...

Streetlights-Conclusion

Running through thick woods, he wondered why?  Branches and rocks littered the way, reaching up to grab and scratch his body.  Feet about 25 feet behind him.  Hurry up.  The fetid smell of rotted leaves and bodies ran up his nose as he jumped a large log.  The path cut sharply to the right here and broke into a large pasture.  He heard a thump and the cursing of his stepfather as he hit the log.   Across the field was an old farmhouse.  As he started towards it he wondered if there would be anyone there to help.  Over toward the right was a herd of cattle with a large bull standing guard.  The bull just stared as he came across.  As he approached the house, he could hear the clank of the shotgun.  He hits the steps…. “Randi!  Honey, are you alright? Wake up. “Kari asked as she shook him.  “You were yelling so loud I could hear you over the engine.  Anyway, we are at my house. Come on.  We’ll...

Streetlights-Part 2

The crescent moon peeked over the trees and reflected in the puddles.  As they climbed in the camper, Kari turned on a battery operated lantern hanging on the door.    Randi stood passively, not sure of his position.  He found a towel on the side bench and began to dry off.   “Why are you being so nice to me?” “Why not?  Just because I had a crap day doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you.  And besides, that would only make me feel bitchier.  God knows I feel like it.”    Kari found her IPod in the center console and plugged in to the radio.  The first song was Fly Me to the Moon .  She took Randi in her arms and began to slow dance, her flowered dress rustling with the rhythm.   He felt uncomfortable and pulled away. “Were you serious about being on your last tampon?” “Nah.  I picked up some before I came into the diner.  So you don’t have to worry about having ...

Streetlights.

Damn, the cramps were starting again.  Kari hated driving with them.   As her stomach tightened, it reminded her of her boss. “Charlie Cramps. A fitting nickname”, she thought.  Only he was messy and a pain 24/7, not just once a month.  Always grabbing and wanting to fuck her.  And a tampon in the mouth didn’t shut him up.  She had just told him shove the job up his ass after flipping him over the bar.  She had spent the rest of the night with a bottle of Smirnoff she took on her way out.     Another swallow and Charlie Cramps would no longer be a memory. There was a bang and the VW Bus died as she pulled into the empty lot.    “Oh, God”, she thought.    What was it this time?    Rain soaked her bright red hair as she opened the engine bay and saw the missing belt. “It’s 3:00 fuckin’ AM.  Shit, what I am gonna do?”    She looked up and saw the lights of the a...