Fiction with Video

by

Changing Tides

Changing Tides
(aka Mayumi’s Story, Part II)
by Miles Rost

The old pangs were just like torture.

The old desires, the old needs, all of them were trying to drop Mayumi in her tracks. And damn if she was going to let it.

It had been nearly three weeks since her ex-boyfriend was sent packing across the Outback on his motorcycle, with her hoping he’d never return. She examined herself fully to see how she was, and for the first couple of weeks, it seemed to be alright. She was getting by on her work at the radio station, spending lots of time working radio traffic during the week and hitting up the 7-10 shift at Shine FM on the weekends. With one day off on Mondays, it was a nice job to have, especially dealing with all the stuff she had to deal with.

What she didn’t expect was those old pangs coming back. The feelings that she had still stuck around, the residual mess that was left to be cleaned up.

The pangs were slow to creep up on her. Just a little reminder of the way her boyfriend used to hold her, at a time when she was vulnerable; or a little reminder of the gentle kiss that he’d give her while they watched wrestling on TV. Small things like these kept popping into her mind as the days progressed.

It was a Friday afternoon, and as she got home, that she felt the old feeling of loneliness and desire pop back into her life. The indicators were there before, however.

——

12:45PM, Friday

The papers were all stacked up on her desk. Inputs for commercials and liners were ready to be processed. She picked up one of the requests and started to write on the page. As the pen ran across the sheet of wood pulp, her knuckle started to ache. It was a small ache at first. As she processed each request, the ache got worse and her emotions started to run a bit higher. After a half an hour, she sat back and rubbed her hands across her face, ending with one going through her sandy-gray hair.

“Hey, Mayumi. You okay?”

Mayumi looked at her deskmate, Kelsey. A fresh-faced Sydney graduate, buxom and smart, Kelsey seemed to have a second sense to when problems were about to start.

“Yeah, Kel. Ah just have a lot on m’plate. That’s all.”

Kelsey looked at her through strands of her dark chocolate brown hair, and squinted.

“I don’t believe that for a second. In a half an hour, you can get through a stack like that on your desk. You’ve only gotten through half. What’s going on?”

Mayumi sighed, as she continued to process the paperwork.

“Ah’m just still dealing with my ex.”

“I see. Still haven’t been able to let him go, have ya?”

“Ah let him go. It’s just hard to let the memories fade, y’know.”

Kelsey pursed her lips, as she thought carefully. The brunette scratched her hair with a pencil, while she thought.

“It was two weeks ago, right? And how long were you together.”

“Yeah. And we were “together” for over 8 years. High school sweethearts and all that junk.”

“Ow,” Kelsey grimaced, a slight twinge of pain going through her face.

Mayumi sighed and looked at her friend.

“What’s bad is that ah know when my emotions are overwhelming me. The aching in my knuckle tells me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, ever since ah had this depressive episode back in ’06. Whenever ah have too much emotion, and ah’m about ready to cry or needing to release, it screams at me.”

“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. I mean, you haven’t taken a day in the year I’ve been here, and you are probably going through some major league withdrawal if it was that bad.”

Mayumi thought about it for a few moments, and looked at her paperwork. She did get part of it done already, but she didn’t want to leave until she finished her work.

Kelsey looked at her again, and sighing audibly, she put her hands out. She told her, without words, ‘Give them to me. You need rest’.

After a few moments of writing the last page on her desk, she gave the stack of papers to her sympathetic comrade and registered her sick leave request with the manager. Getting it approved. she popped into her vehicle and raced home.

—-

She was already into the apartment when she dropped her keys on the floor. She didn’t even notice them, as she stumbled into her ornately decorated bedroom. Falling upon the bed, she grabbed a full length pillow and hugged it tightly. Tears started to flow down her face, dropping it’s salty emotion onto the sleeve of her light silk blouse. She held onto the pillow for dear life, as her mind raced through the emotions that were bombarding her from all direction.

She cried as she recounted the feeling of his touch on her skin, the longing of wanting that touch on her body. The warmth of his hands on each of her shoulders was still firm in her mind.

Mayumi’s mind was in agony as she went through all sorts of memories. She didn’t know what to do with all of them, with all the extra energy that she had without directing so much of it toward her idiot ex. The “good memories” were the ones that caused her the grief she was experiencing, though at times the bad memories came surging upward, forcing a scream into her pillow as she recounted the numerous numbers of abusive barbs.

You’re not worth the time, Yumi.

That was the one that hurt the most for her. It was one of the last things that the idiot said to her the night before he left for parts unknown. 8 long years, and she had her time wasted.

She screamed out curses at his name, at the memories as the tears poured down her face like a mini-waterfall. Her blouse was becoming soaked with her tears, just like the pillow she held onto.

All of the desire that she had, the lust of her heart, the pain and memories, flowed out of her. The pain in her finger throbbed at all the emotion coming from her.

The culmination of the three weeks of stress and all the old feelings had burst forth from it’s prison. As she sank into what would be called a deep sleep, in the last vestige of her consciousness, she saw a vision of an old tree chopped into firewood, and a hole filled with dirt.

Finally, she was facing all those emotions head on. And the healing would begin in earnest.

by

I’m Still Standing

by Miles Rost

Blood trickled down the man’s face, mixing with dirt and grime. The flick of the tongue grabbed onto the liquid and brought it into his mouth.

The taste of it was satisfaction for Stan Bernal.

For 23 years, he worked for a large manufacturing firm in the big city across the river from his hometown. It was a good living, making cardboard and paper boxes for a variety of companies and firms. The job was perfect for the man with only a high school education, with one exception:

Jack Blaine.

Blaine was a co-worker, who took an instant dislike to Stan. Every single day, for 23 years, Stan had to deal with at least one insult coming out of the mechanic. For 22 years and 364.25 days, it was business as usual. Stan would walk in, he’d get hit with two insults from Blaine, and he would go to his post like nothing happened.

July 15th, 2011 was a day that would go down in history at the company.

Stan arrived at work like clockwork. Old habits died hard, as they say. He walked in and awaited the first two barrages of insults from Blaine.

They never came.

Stan, shook by the lack of insults, looked around and walked into the lunchroom. Putting away his lunchbucket in his refrigerated locker, he got his safety equipment on and started moving out to the floor for the start of his day. He asked one of the other boys if Blaine was around. Getting past their remarks about him wanting to be insulted, they indicated that they didn’t see him that morning

The first part of his shift passed with no trouble. He fed the machines the new sheets of rough paperboard, which later became cardboard. The tedium nearly got to him, until he walked over to turn his machine off. As he pressed the button to turn it off, a sudden ka-THUNK brought him back to reality. As did the searing pain in his arm.

His machine had pinched his arm in between two metal plates, and the pain was intensifying with each set of seconds. As he screamed out in pain, others came around to pull his arm out of the jam. He sat down and the medic looked at his arm, declaring that he was lucky and that it was only flesh wounds. He would be going home for the first time in 23 years.

Stan walked to the lunchroom, and was just about to walk in, when he heard a cackling sound around the side of the modular lunchroom. He walked around to investigate, and looked in shock.

Jack Blaine was cackling.

And holding two bolts that were from his machine.

Stan’s face suddenly started boiling red, his eyes went white, and with a mighty cry reminiscent of Adam Sandler’s “waterboy”, he leaped upon the laughing gentleman.

Stan’s leap made his arm go into a pain spasm, but with the amount of adrenalin going through his system, he didn’t feel any of it. He pulled Jack down onto the floor and started raining blows with his good arm.

It looked like it would be a one-way fight until Jack flipped Stan over and into a water cooler. As the machine spilled it’s contents over Stan, Jack rushed over to pick him up. Jack lined up for a punch, and connected with Stan’s face.

Yet, Jack suddenly felt a pressure upon his nether regions, and started screeching in pain.

At the same time as Jack connected with Stan’s face, Stan’s foot crunched Jack’s nuts.

Both men went down, Jack howling in pain and Stan lolling about. The fight was now about time, and how much time it would take for either man to get the initiative.

For a moment, it looked as though Jack would be able to get up and take the lead. However, Stan stumbled over to Jack and smashed his foot into Jack’s face. Repeating his blow a few times, Stan lowered himself down and grabbed Jack’s work shirt. He pulled him up and spat in his face.

He then threw two punches. One connected with Jack’s nose and made a sickening crunch. The other blow landed on the side of Jack’s head. The last punch was the last thing Jack would see for two whole days.  His body became limp, and fell out of Stan’s hands.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OVER HERE?!?!” a bellowing sound echoed throughout the warehouse.

Nobody moved, while Stan turned to look at the incoming foreman.

“Stan! What the hell are you doing?”

Stan looked up at the foreman, and gave him the two bolts that were in Jack’s hand.

“Jack tried to kill me. I was about to leave for home, and I heard him laughing about it. I wanted to make sure that I was the last one standing.”

The foreman looked at the unconscious form of Jack Blaine and sighed.

“It took 23 years to finally get you two to get your differences ironed out.”

“I’m still standing, boss. Better than I ever did. I feel like a true survivor, though no longer like a little kid.”

“Well, I can guarantee one of you two will not be here on Monday morning. And more than likely, it’ll be him. It all depends on you.”

Stan smiled, looking down at Jack’s still body.

“We’ll do the paperwork now. I’m still standing. I just may need the next couple of days off to recover from the near death I got today.”

by

The Beginning of Something New (aka “Supernova”)

The Beginning of Something New
(aka Supernova)
By Miles Rost

New feelings were always so hard to understand.

Coming out of a mentally abusive relationship was not one of the plans that Mayumi Shiomi had in mind for the weekend. She hoped to have done that earlier in the week, so she could heal over the weekend and not have to deal with the crying she would ultimately do at work.

The 22-year old was finally able to say goodbye to the abuse she took. Seeing her old boyfriend leave on his motorcycle for the other side of Australia was a relief for her. Now that the hound was away, “The Fox” was likely ready to play.

She looked at herself in the mirror quickly, but after a few moments looking away from the mirror, she decided to take an inventory.

Ah need to do this, she thought, Since the old baka won’t be back in West Penfield, Ah have to see what’s left.

The large bathroom allowed her the comfort of being able to walk around and not worry about being in an enclosed space. She made sure of that when she bought the new townhouse. With all the room , she would be able to get a good view of what she looked like now.

The young woman looked at herself in the full length mirror, hung delicately on the wall close to the shower. She ran her hand through the short, incredibly light brown hair that she wore. It was a good look on her, seeing as she kept it since the middle of high school. It also helped her when she had to deal with drinking a bit much, as having too much hair would mean vomit smell constantly.

She gazed at her reflection, the face that people called a “Kitsune” face. She didn’t care much for her nickname of “The Fox”, but she was willing to live with it as it did adequately describe her normal, everyday look. At least, what the look used to be before she was involved with the baka. She did have beautifully colored hazel eyes, but they rarely were seen as she had a constant squint to her eyes. It was part of “The Fox” charm that people knew.

She analyzed the rest of her visage, noting that her body still had the curves that she inherited from her Australian mother’s side of the family. She was definitely a beauty, and she knew it. She knew that guys would look at her and immediately fall at her feet, even knowing that her reputation kept pointing to the phrase “Dangerous Curves Ahead”. She did a slight wiggle, and smiled.

Yep, ah still got it!

She drew a breath, as she pulled a chair to her. As she sat down, she looked in the mirror, directly into her own eyes.

The hardest part of her analysis was about to come.

She was fine on the outside, but she needed to take an inventory of her inside. She needed to look at her mind, her spirit, and the wholeness of her being on the inside of the beautiful shell.

“Alright, Mayumi, how’re ya doing?”

She looked at herself as she waited for her spirit to answer, while her heart blazed a thousand words a second describing how good it was that she was free of the bastard that hurt her. She snickered that her heart would be the first one to send off the signals of relief. Her spirit would be the one that she would need to focus on, as her relationship had gone on for very long time.

“Are ya ready to get movin’ on with life?”

Somewhere within her spirit, a peace that was indescribable finally appeared to her. It was like it was saying, “You will be healed, be free.”

Her mind, however, was the one that raced through a million possibilities about why things would go wrong. Her mind, the one part of her being that just would never shut up. It was where the biggest attack on her would come from, and she knew this was a possibility.

She looked at herself in the mirror again, leaning forward in the chair to get a closer look at her face. She knew she didn’t need the baka, but everytime she tried to quit him, she’d always go looking for him again. She never realized that a lot of her problems surrounding him were less about her and more about a part of her past that had since been rectified. She realized this, and said the only thing that she could.

“Lord, ah think it’s time for me to get livin’. Ah need your help to get through this.”

It was the best prayer she could think of, seeing as she was now able to be restored to a condition that would be perfect for her.

She was about to continue analyzing herself when she heard a loud buzzing sound. She forgot about her phone, and the alarm that was set for 5PM. She had two hours to get over to Shine FM, a relatively new radio station broadcasting to the suburbs of Sydney, including West Penfield. The job she held, for such a long time, was one of the saving graces that helped her in the dealings with her baka boyfriend.

“Time for this girl to get herself on the air,” she said to the mirror, putting on a smile that would show that “The Fox” was back on the stalk.

Today was the first day of her new life, a new air of freedom. She would never go back to that baka again, and she would most certainly spend a lot more time on the things that she loved.

“Lookout, world. Ahm back!” She said, giving her reflection a wink.

by

The Lady In White (Take Me With You)

The Lady In White
(aka Take Me With You)
by Miles Rost

I’ve seen her before. In the recesses of my mind, when I haven’t been paying attention, she’s there.

It usually starts the same way. I’m doing some sort of work-related task, maybe grousing a bit, or I hear a certain song. My mind drifts off to a beautiful beach. I assume that I am on a beach somewhere in the Southern Pacific, somewhere like Australia. That seems to be where my mind drifts off to, lately.

I’m on this beach, and I see this woman in front of me. She’s grabbing a hold of my wrist and forearm, laughing and being playful. Never do I see her face, but I do see what she wears. Each time I have the dream, or vision, she’s always wearing the same thing.

She wears a white cord-knit sweater, a slight bit bulky but not too big. Big enough to hide things, but not enough to make it a true mystery, even though most times the dream is a bit fuzzy (like when I don’t wear my glasses.) The sweater is a long-sleeved one, and reminds me of an older style of dress. She also wears a pair of white pants. I’m not sure if they’re jeans, capris, thin material, or whatnot. They show her curves off, but not so much as to make her look like a Kardashian or Mitsune Konno. Finally, she wears a pair of white canvas shoes. I know that they are because I cannot perceive holes anywhere on the shoes. It would also fit the idea of beach attire.

Strangely enough, I never see her face. She seems to have long hair, but I’m not sure what color it is exactly. It could be brown, black, or even red. But never do I see her face. It’s always obscured, or blurred out like one of those pixelated pictures to hide a person’s identity. Always a bit frustrating, but hey, who said dreams and visions weren’t a challenge?

The first part of the dream or vision, as I said earlier, is her pulling me along the beach. I can feel the salt in the air, and I can see that she is laughing. Apparently, she’s either wanting me to see something, or she’s just happy that I’m there. It’s in slower motion, but I noticed that she’s trying to keep me close as we stumble down the sandy shore.

Each time I’ve had the vision of her, it’s been a bit different. The first time I had the vision, we were as said above. But in later ones, she’s always been in my mind. Recently, when going through the final processes of giving up an addiction from which 20 years descended, I saw her in my dream. She wasn’t pulling on my sleeve. The air about her seemed to be serious, but with loving concern, and she gave me a thumbs up. It seemed like she was saying “You’re gonna make it through, and I’m here for you.”

Other times, I’ve had more than one dream or vision in sequence. The other dream is of both of us on a porch, looking over a hilly meadow and a tree that has afternoon autumn sunlight peeking through the browning leaves of the tree. She’s laying against my shoulder, while I hold her gently. We just sit for hours as the sun falls below the hills off in the distance.

I keep wondering about this lady in white. It feels quite a bit like one of those bad anime where a boy makes a promise to a young girl that they will be together and get married, and they move away from each other for 15 years or so, and meet up again to find that they’re different…and yet, so alike.

There are so many different possible explanations to what it could be. From wild and creative ideamaking, to a personal prophecy, to inter-soul communications, there are hundreds of explanations.

But I realize that sometimes, an explanation is not the thing that one needs. Maybe, just maybe, one may have to enjoy those fleeting moments in your own mind. If it turns out to be true, then all the better…

by

She’s A Mystery To Me

by Miles Rost

“She has taken over your life, Stu.”

The light conversation between Anatoly Churkhin and Stuart “Stu” Yorkszin took a dark turn with the phrase that Stu just heard from his longtime colleague.

The sounds of the diner were drowned out by the silence between the two men, two veterans of the 70’s KGB corps. Since retired to rural Kentucky, both men plied their trades in different fashions: Stu was a law clerk with expertise in international business in Lexington, while Anatoly involved himself as a hostage negotiator for the Covington Police Department.  The diner, an old-style luncheonette just off the interstate, was a convenient meeting place for both of them. It was in the middle of nowhere, and they could keep their conversation between them and no one else.

“Anny, how do you figure that Chelsea has taken over my life?”
“She found you 6 months ago. Within that amount of time, she has your schedule wrapped around hers. Do you remember what Yuri Andropov told us back in the day?”
“I don’t know, but I wish he would have Androppedov the earth earlier than he did. He caused more trouble than he was worth. He becomes leader, we become nothing.”

Anatoly looked at him crossly and sighed.

“You are not listening, Stu.”
“I am not listening because she is not taking over my life. She is sweet and kind, and she loves me for all my faults.”
“But, do you really know her? Do you know what is in her past? You don’t seem to know. I do.”

Stu looked at him, as he was pleading his case. He chuckled, knowing that his one-time partner in spying was about to pull out his “I Spy” card.

“Darkness falls and she will take me by the hand. She will take me to some twilight land, and she’ll give me what I need. Which doesn’t involve sex.”
“Are you hearing yourself speak? You don’t know her that much! I know this because you don’t talk about her history!”
“I know her history.”

Anatoly bore his eyes into Stu’s, and gave him a deep warning. Stu just looked back at him, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Then tell me, Mr. KGB Agent of the Year 1973: What do you know about her history as a “historian”?”
“She wasn’t a historian. She was an agent for the FBI, an analyst for the area we called Kazahk. She retired from that job in 1996.”
“You already knew this?”
“I wouldn’t have started dating her if I didn’t. Come on, Anny, do I look like Konstantin Chernenko?”
“More like a Ukrainian Orson Welles.”

The guffaw coming from Stu brought all eyes in the diner onto him. He sheepishly looked around, and smiled as his portly frame did the rest. To those in the diner that day, he was merely imitating Santa Claus. And that perception was good enough for Stu.

“Anny, you need to understand that we’re no longer KGB, FSB, or whatever acronym they’re calling themselves today. We are not allied with Putin. We are retired, with no more running and hiding.”
“But, Stu…”
“My friend, Chelsea is a mystery to me. It’s a mystery how a 50 year old woman can deal with a 70 year old warhorse like me. It’s a mystery how she can do so many things for me, and yet love me without reservation regardless of my past.”
“This woman, this Chelsea, she really must be something special.”

Stu just looked out the window as he took another sip of his borscht.

“She’s a mystery girl. She’s my mystery girl. And I love her for it.”

by

Walking Home Alone

by Miles Rost

Daniel “Danny” Barstow hated walking.

Every time he ended up walking, something either had gone wrong in his life, or was going to go wrong. Whenever he got that feeling of walking, he tried everything to avoid going out. No matter what he did, though, he would always find himself walking and with a new set of problems to deal with.

The first time he ended up walking was ten years before, after he broke up with his longtime girlfriend, Yolanda. He walked for 20 miles before he finally stopped. He was cold, tired, and hungry, and ended up spending over 200 dollars on a hotel room for the night. For the first few years, whenever that happened, it was always something that went wrong that caused him to walk.

About five years later, he found the first time that something bad happened after he went walking. He wanted to take a nice walk around the park, and ended up in the next county 18 miles away. He was picked up by police and charged with vagrancy and being a public nuisance, which were later dropped after finding out that he wasn’t a drifter.

Three more years later, he found that feeling of walking again. He was laying in bed when he got the urge to walk. He realized this and he took a sleeping pill to try and stop the walking from going on. When he finally woke up, he was in the middle of a cow pasture, 15 miles from home and in the blazing daylight sun. He was arrested for trespassing, and subsequently released.

And now, today, he had just gotten laid off from his job. Working for a construction firm as their lead designer, the economy turned sour for him and he was laid off. He didn’t know how much of a bad day it would have been, until he dropped his car off at home. That’s when his cell phone rang.

“Hello?”
“Hey, Danny. What’s going on?”
“I got laid off from my job. I need to file for unemployment, and try to find another job.””How about coming down to the bar by my place, and I’ll help you feel better.”
“Gabriel, There’s no way I am taking my car down to your neck of the woods.”
“Then why don’t you walk down here.”

When Gabriel said the word ‘walk’, Danny’s feet shifted.

“Huh?”
“You don’t want to take the car, so why not walk?”

Danny’s feet shuffled this time.

“Gabriel, I don’t want to go. Now stop telling me to do the ‘w’ thing.”
“‘W’ thing? You mean walk?”

As Gabriel kept saying the word, to Danny’s great annoyance and fear, his feet started walking on it’s own.

“Gah! What the hell? Gabriel, stop saying that word. You’re prompting my feet to walk on their own!”

Gabriel did not stop saying the word until Danny arrived at the bar.

“Now, we’re going to get you drunk, you will go home, and you’re not going to worry about things.”
“But I’m going to get into trouble. It always happens after I go walking.”
“But at least you’ll have fun getting into trouble, right?”

Danny just hung his head and looked his inevitable future. He was at the mercy of other people to walk where they wanted him to go.

by

Intimate Strangers

by Miles Rost

From the diary of Richard Sullivan

With the plop of papers into my basket, I was done with my day.

I slid on my leather trenchcoat as I stood up from the desk. It had rained earlier in the day, and it helped to keep my clothes dry. I looked at the papers on my desk, sitting neatly in the basket in which I plopped them down. A typical Thursday evening, everything was ready for tomorrow morning, and I would be on my way home.

I walked out of my building, and onto the sidewalk. I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second as I looked towards the sinking sun in the northwestern sky. The heaviness that was in my heart, in my hands, had come back to sit down upon things.

My thoughts turned from work and work issues to the burden on my shoulders. As the heaviness in my heart spread, the indicator that I was being “called” came up. As I felt the stiffness and the aching in my index fingers, and knew that she was the one in trouble.

I walked towards my home and I focused my thoughts inwards. I took many deep breaths as I walked slowly towards my one-bedroom apartment. I searched deep within my heart to see what was going on, what the problem was.

She has been there for the longest time. I’m not sure who she is, as I have never met this woman. It’s unusual, because I normally wouldn’t connect with someone I don’t know. But, I can sense her in my heart and in my indicators. I feel as though she is not doing very well today. When this happens, I think about the things that I can do from here.

In the time since I left work, have been thinking about this woman, and arrived outside my apartment, it’s been about 25 minutes. Walking is a great thing as it clears one’s head. However, to be honest, I didn’t feel much clearing today, especially in regards to her.

I walked into my apartment and set my things down. After taking a shotglass of water and downing it, I sat on the edge of my bed and started to pray. In this case, it’s the only thing I can do. I don’t know where she is, so I cannot be near her. I know that my prayers, however, will allow her comfort. That she will be shown love in a way that’s totally different from anything.

This woman and I are intimate strangers. We are connected in a way that no one could even fathom, and yet we have never met. And I hope that sometime in the very near future, I’ll be able to see her and that we’ll both know that we’re the ones. This is my hope and prayer.

by

Dancing In Heaven

by Miles Rost

The ringing of the phone told him it was time.

“Hello?”
“Gabe? It’s Jennifer.”
“Jennifer! Hello! Are you calling to say you’re ready?”
“Everything is done. How long will it take you to get here?”

After telling her it would be about 15 minutes, Brian “Gabe” Gabrielson exchanged the last pleasantries with the girl he had wanted to be with for so long. Ever since he saw her fixing her shoelaces in 8th grade gym class, he felt that Jennifer Cross was the girl he was meant to be with. Finally, after 7 long years and many classes together, Gabe was about to get his wish.

He hung up the phone, looked around the room, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he jumped in the air and gave a loud “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWWWWWWW!”

He grabbed the keys from the board and ran out to his vehicle. He slid across the hood, doing his best impersonation of Luke Duke while praying he didn’t plant his face in the gravel. With luck, he landed on his feet and hopped in his 1971 Oldsmobile 442.

Within a minute of hanging up the phone, he was in his car. Within 10 minutes, he was outside her place. Within 20 minutes, she was in the passenger’s seat and they were tearing down the highway heading out from Las Cruces. Tonight was going to be a blessed night, and one for the ages.

“Are you ready to do this, Jenny?”
“I’ve been waiting for this for many years, Gabe. I think our first time should be really special.”

Gabe smiled and blushed just a bit, as he blasted down I-25, and onto a paved but relatively deserted county road. The sun was still high in the sky, but within two hours, it would be dark. And that would be where the fun began.

They drove for a long while, talking about what they were thinking about doing after college, and how the 7 years they knew each other flew by. Jennifer played with her hair, curling it around her finger, while Gabe kept running his hands through his own head of hair.

Finally, after a long drive through the craggly Southwestern landscape, they finally turned onto another paved road, where they would meet their destiny. A sign in front of them greeted them:

WELCOME TO SPACEPORT AMERICA!

They stopped the car at the terminal, and they waved to the waiting cameras as they filmed them walking through the terminal and out to their new vehicle, “SpaceShipFour”. Reporters tried to ask questions, but were held back by a team of skirts and suits. They just smiled as they entered what looked like an oversized commuter jet.

“Dancer 1 and Dancer 2, are you ready to go?” the pilot asked them.”Seat belts fastened. You got the gravity generators ready for the room?” Gabe responded.
“That’s been taken care of.”
“Our other guy is on the plane?”
“He’s strapped into the room. Once he gets the green light, he’ll be able to walk around. Cameras will also be operational there.”
“Then let’s do this thing.”

The control tower squawked their clearance, the pilot responding with a “roger”, as they taxied to the edge of the runway. With a short boom, SpaceShipFour blasted down the runway and took off at a high rate of speed. Cameras rolled as it quickly buzzed east through the skies.

Within 10 minutes, the sub-orbital was past the Karman line. Within 15 minutes, the vehicle was orbiting at around 300km above Earth’s surface. The signal was given to Gabe and Jennifer to unbuckle and to float towards the door to the other room. Doing so, and avoiding bumping into anything, was a bit more difficult. They both made it into the room, and closed the door. After holding onto a railing near them, the lights came on in the room and a whirring sound filled the space. Their feet landed on the ground with a short thud.

“Gravity has been set,” Jennifer said, as she walked over to the flat, vertical platform where their guest was. After unstrapping the man, he proceeded to pull out a notebook, and walked over to what looked like a music system.

“Alright, you know the rules as we agreed. Once the cameras start rolling, the song with start playing, and within 10 seconds, you will have to start dancing,” the man said, with a nasal intonation, “After the song is finished, we will certify the results, and we’ll get ready to land. Are you clear on this?”

Both of them nodded.

“As a member of the Guinness crew, this is the first time this has ever happened. Let the cameras sync!”

After a second, the cameras turned on and the music started to play.

This night, Gabe Gabrielson and Jennifer Cross would make history as the original holders of the Guinness World Record for Highest Elevation Dancing. They would “bossa nova” 300 kilometres above the earth.

by

Everywhere That I’m Not

by Miles Rost

A small green light popped on. A buzzing sound rattled urgently across the dresser.

An arm reached up from the bed, thrashing around while trying to grab the buzzing phone that was going insane. After a few seconds, and a vase knocked onto the floor, the hand and arm grabbed the phone and pulled back under the covers.

“mmmmfrla…Hello?”
“Hi, honey!”

Paul sat up in his bed, hearing the voice of his insanely beautiful fiancee, her voice waking him up like a shot of espresso to the veins.

“Anna! I…I miss you!”
“I know, honey! I do, too.”
“Where are you today?”
“I’m  sitting on a beach, looking out over the tides in the Bay of Fundy.

Paul just shook his head, and chuckled.

“I thought you were in New York?”
“Not today. I was two weeks ago, remember? I had to deal with a mugger that day.”
“That’s right. I remember now…did he recover from his injuries?”
“Hey! I didn’t kick him in the nuts that hard.”

Paul winced a bit, in sympathy.

“So where were you last week?”
“I had to go to Tokyo. They needed my services taking care of a negotiation between Culture Japan and the Aomori city government for promotions.”
“I find it fascinating where you go, but I feel very…lost without you.”
“Why do you say that?”

Paul sighed, as he pulled on his pair of long sweatpants.

“Well, let’s see. You call from New York, where I’m not.”
“Yes?”
“You go over to Tokyo, where I’m not…”
“Yes?”
“You’re in Nova Scotia, but I’m not.”
“And what are you saying?”
“Yeah, you’re everywhere that I’m not. And I feel lost. I want to be everywhere with you.”

A giggle resonated through Paul’s ear, as Paul’s face twisted in frustration.

“What’s so funny about that?”
“I think it’s very cute that you want to join me on my adventures, even though your job doesn’t allow you to go anywhere.”
“I wish I could get a job where that would be the case.”
“You never know, you may actually get one soon.”

His eyebrows furrowed, as his twisted into one of confusion. This was unusual, not Anna’s normal words that he was hearing in his head.

“What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you look out the window?”

He ambled over to the window. Looking out, he saw the snow-covered ground of his rural Pierce County home, the lights of his neighbor’s Christmas lights, a Tacoma power truck. He was about to tell Anna that he didn’t see anything important, when he noticed someone waving. He blinked again, and saw a person standing on his front lawn.

It was his lovely Anna, holding up her phone in her hand.

“Anna!”

He ran out of his bedroom and bounded down the stairs like a boy at Christmas time. He opened the door, nearly ripping it off it’s hinges as he ran out into the cool air and the snow. He bounded over to Anna, and just as she opened her arms, he pounced on her. They fell, in a mass of tumbling brown and auburn hair and pasty, while legs.

“Anna! I missed you so much!”
“And for a second there you actually thought I would be sent to Nova Scotia.”
“It’s because you’ve been gone so…”

A look of shock rang across his face.

“Are you wearing my favorite outfit of yours?”
“You mean the dark green turtleneck and short black miniskirt that you bought for me on our trip to Vancouver last year?”
“That’s the one!”
“Then the answer is yes!”

Paul smiled as his beautiful fiancee beamed her relief at being home.

“How about we go upstairs and crash for the day. I’ll call into work and take a sick day.”
“I think we can do that, so that you can be where I am.”

Anna smiled at him, as he lifted her up and carried her from the frozen lawn into their house.

by

Tradewinds

by Miles Rost

Salt and pepper.

The sands of the beach reminded Dennis of salt and pepper in his shakers at home. The fine and nearly bleached white of the sand mixed in contrast with the deep dark, almost charcoal-like black sand. Strewn in patterns like old growth tree rings, the sand was a testament to the changing of the tides.

Dennis had arrived at the beach a couple hours before sunset. He carefully laid his blanket atop the ebony and ivory sands, and pitched a bright, almost beanie-like umbrella next to him. A small, blue cooler lazed next to his arm, one side of the cooler open and displaying a tub full of nearly clear-blue ice and frosty bottles of his favorite beer. A cold bottle lay cradled in his left arm, like a newborn baby awaiting the full display of golden colored awesomeness inside it’s glass shell.

The hair on Dennis’s apple-shaped head was thinning. The years of work allowed the gray and white to start seeping in, dark wrinkles showing themselves like folds of clothing on his face. His face was leathery and aged, but he still showed the kindness in his eyes that he inherited from many generations of people. Capped off by a pair of dark blue wraparound sunglasses, his deep blue eyes pierced the skies and aimed straight for the sunset in the distance.

He shifted positions on his blanket, the white cotton of his t-shirt moving ever so slightly as he tried to relax.

The time was almost near, and as the warm trade winds came in from off the ocean, he focused on the gigantic orange orb of light and power in the far skies. Like a slow-motion play of a basketball as it approached the basket, the sun creeped towards the horizon. Dennis opened the top of the bottle of beer just as the bottom of the sun reached the horizon. He lifted the bottle upwards and flipped it, letting the light amber colored liquid flow from the bottle, into his mouth and the taste buds that awaited the moment. The sensation of cold quickly spread throughout his body as the sun continued to descend.

He looked out on the bay and saw a variety of different craft that , while playing many hours ago, were now focused on the spectacular display of light. The different colors of boats were no longer seen as the entirety of sky and sun were bathed in a deepening orange. By this time, the sun was already halfway below the horizon.

Dennis flipped the bottle again and took a long pull from it, letting the beer drain into his gullet. As he finished the bottle, he looked out at the sun. All but a sliver were gone. As the sun finally descended, he sat back and watched the last vestiges of sunlight disappear below the horizon. He sighed, knowing that the next one was merely 24 hours away.

He slowly packed up his things. Taking the bottle, he put it on the other side of his cooler and shut the lid. He picked up his blanket and folded it into very neat and tidy squares. He walked slowly up the path next to where he sat, and to his waiting car 25 feet away. Once he arrived at his car, he put everything into the trunk and pulled out a tuxedo. Attaching the tuxedo to the rear seat of his car, he got in and backed out. Taking one last look at the horizon, the orange color of the sky was starting to turn reddish and purplish.

He turned on his headlights, and didn’t look back for the rest of the night.