Australia

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

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.

by

Survival

by Miles Rost

 

A white house overlooked the car-filled street near the beaches in Santa Monica. A ranch-style house, it was home to Travis and Rebecca Bentley, a husband and wife team whose lives had more ups and downs than a rollercoaster at Six Flags Magic Mountain.

Travis pulled into the driveway of the home. A record engineer in his mid-30s, he married his wife 11 years prior, after graduating from Cal State Fullerton and getting his first job at Capitol Records’ famous underground studios.

He got out of the car, pulling a briefcase and a pair of headphones out of the passenger seat. As he walked up the walkway to the front of the house, Rebecca opened the door and held the door open. He walked to the door and bent his head down to give her a kiss on the cheek. She sighed at this and walked in behind him.

“Everything okay, Rebecca? You don’t normally greet me at the door,” he asked, placing his bag and headphones on the table. He turned around to look at her and give her his full attention.

“We’ve been married for 11 years, Travis. I figured it was a time for a little spontaneity,” she said, turning her face away.

He looked at her and blinked for just a few seconds.

“You’re not usually bashful like this,” he said, trying to figure out things like she was a jigsaw puzzle, “Are you sure everything is going okay?”

She looked back at him with fake offense.

“I can’t greet my husband at the door? What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t do that once in a while?”

Travis smiled and shook his head. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass bottle of Mountain Dew. He popped the top with his thumbs, shooting the cap into the air in an arc. The cap pirouetted across the room and into a giant highball glass full of bottle caps. He smiled with pride and walked to his wife. He led her to the living room, and sat her down on the couch.

“Now, Rebecca, what’s going on? I feel like I haven’t been observant of something.”

Rebecca looked down in her lap and smiled.

“Have you ever been to Australia?”

“No, I don’t think I ever have been.”

“Would you ever think about living there, or doing your work down there?”

“If I was offered a job down there, and the record company was willing to pay for our relocation, I think I would. Australia is a burgeoning musical market.”

Rebecca smiled at this revelation.

“Well, what if I told you that there were possible opportunities for both of us down there?”

Travis let his eyes drift into hers, and he tried to read her.

“Go on.”

“You always knew that I wanted to put my degree to good use. I applied to an opening at Monash University in Melbourne a few months ago, and had an interview with one of their folks when they were in town last month. They contacted me today, and they are interested in offering me an adjunct position that pays about the same as what you make right now.”

Travis face went from anticipation, to shock, and then spread to a grin.

“Why didn’t you tell me this last month?”

“I didn’t really think about it that much. I figured it would be a possible opportunity.”

He smiled.

“Do you want the job?”

“Honestly? Yeah. I would love to teach students the art of finances.”

“Would they pay to relocate both of us?”

“They said that they may be able to do that, but they would want you to find work down there within a year of arrival.”

“I’ll let the moon announce my arrival, to every eye that cares to see.”

Rebecca looked puzzled.

“Oh, it’s from the latest album I’m engineering.”

“Which band?”

“You remember that band America? Sister Golden Hair? Ventura Highway?”

Rebecca nodded, only realizing after a moment that he was talking about a world-class band. Her eyes went wide.

“Wait…YOU are the engineer for THEM?!”

Travis smiled.

“Just finished engineering the latest album. That’s why I’ve been a bit distant the last three months”

“And why you couldn’t tell me anything.”

“Yep. Their album will likely be a smash this time. But I know that I can find lots of work. Music studios need engineers, especially good ones.”

Rebecca smiled, as she lightly bounced up and down on the couch.

“That’s why I think that this move may be a good one. I just need to make a couple of calls to see if some studios down in Sydney or Melbourne would want to have me.”

Rebecca smiled, giving her husband a big hug. Travis stood up and walked back to the refrigerator.

“I think, Becks, that 1981 is going to be a great year for us. Let’s get ready for a new adventure down under, eh?”

by

Long Tall Glasses (I Can Dance)

by Miles Rost

The day of reckoning had come.

In a gigantic building just off the main drag in downtown Portland, Oregon, nearly 700 people milled around the ground floor. On the 4th floor of the building, it was announced that there would be a major banquet occurring. The announcement of the 15 new dancers of the Portland Ballet would happen at the same time as the banquet.

For half of the dancers, this was a happy occasion for them. For the other half, it meant certain doom as they couldn’t even gain a pound. And for one man, it was an opportunity to not only get a chance at a possible paying gig, but a chance to eat. It would sure beat eating ramen and cream of mushroom soup every night.

Larry Burnell’s admission to the audition was a complete accident. A street person, he was not someone people would think as having any sort of talent. In fact, most people thought of him as a complete bum.

The day before the audition, he was walking from his claimed piece of a sidewalk down 1st Street close to the Morrison Bridge, walking towards the Union Gospel Mission to get a blanket. He saw a red envelope on the ground and looked at it carefully. The name on the envelope was close to his: Lawrence Burnett, and it was addressed to someone at Portland State University. He looked inside and saw his ticket.

He went back to his small camp and rummaged through his stuff, picking up a small harmonica case. He pulled the harmonica out and picked out two $100 bills. It was all he had left, and he was going to use it to try and take advantage of this situation. He went to the local YMCA and took a shower, cleaning himself really well. He even was able to use some floral shampoo that someone left in the showers. After changing into some semi-nice clothes that he used for interviews, he went to a barber to get a shave and a haircut.

He went into the shop looking like a bedraggled 45 year old, and came out looking like a university student. The most important part was complete. He took a dollar and made a call to his mother, who lived in North Portland. While they were estranged, he still  had some stuff there at her place. He asked her if he could come up and pick up a couple items from his boxes. She agreed, and that evening, he had his dancing clothes in his hands and ready to go. He went back down to his pad, and had one of his neighbors watch his stuff for the night. He would return the next night.

He slept at a cheap motel that night, so he could have a great night’s rest. He knew that would be important.

He went to the information desk at the gigantic building that day, refreshed and looking nothing like his bedraggled self the night before.

“Can I help you?” the lady at the counter asked.

“Yes, I am here for the audition.”

“Name?”

“The envelope says Lawrence Burnett. I’m afraid that they got my name wrong.”

“What’s your actual name?”

“Lawrence Burnell.”

After a little shifting, she gave him his numbers, and told him to go to the third floor to wait. He did as they said, and waited. He waited for nearly 3 hours, and his number was finally called.

“Number 699!”

“Right here!”

“Come with me, please.”

He was led to a large ballroom and a long set of tables with 7 judges behind it.

“You are,” the head judge started to say, flipping his chart up, “Lawrence Burnell?”

“That is my name, yes.”

“What do you do for a living.”

“I am a man of the road, most times. I’m a student at this time, though.”

“A man of the road?”

“A hobo, by name.”

“You….are a….hobo?”

“I hope that I don’t have to repeat myself…”

The head judge just sighed, and put on his best air.

“Are you here for the food, by perchance?”

“Actually, I have been trained in the arts in prior years and I believe that I can do a great job with the Portland Ballet.”

“Well, before you can eat, you gotta dance like Fred Astaire.”

“Wouldn’t Mikhail Baryshnikov be more like what I’m going for?”

The other judges bust out laughing at the head judge for such a mixup.

“Can you dance?”

“Of course I can dance. You bet I can dance.”

The judges gave him the piece of music. It was one that Larry recognized very well, as he danced it in the 1980s with the Sydney Ballet in Australia. Dancing to the song “No Promises” by Icehouse, he did his moves. All of the members of the judging team were shocked that a man of the road would be so good at this.

He ended the performance, and the judges looked stunned. The head judge then cleared his throat.

“Alright, we’ll tally up the score and at the banquet, you’ll find out the results. Please go to the door on your left and proceed to the banquet hall.”

He did, and when he got to the banquet hall, he looked around at the food that was set up. Being one of the last dancers, he got there just as they opened things up. A young lady approached him and smiled.

“Admiring the food aren’t ya?”

“Is there water coming from my eyes?”

She laughed, and put out her hand.

“Jenny Carazzo.”

“Larry Burnell.”

He was so astonished by what he saw in the food, he didn’t pay much attention to Jenny.

“Oh my, they got ham. They have turkey. And…is that caviar?!?!”

Jenny seemed to be willing to finish his sentence for him.

“They also have long tall glasses of wine up to…YAR!”

She made a big motion with her hands.

He smiled, and asked her if he could join her for the evening’s proceedings. She agreed, and they both filled up on food and drink. They had a great time, while some others were worried about their figures. After a couple hours, the head judge from Larry’s tryout came up to the podium and cleared his throat again.

“We are going to announce the lucky people who will have a position with the Portland Ballet this year. When your name is called, please assemble in a line at the front of the podium.”

5 names were announced, and the winners went up to the front and waved.

“The 6th member of this year’s troupe is Jenny Carazzo.”

Jenny jumped up and gave a hoot. She gave Larry a hug and bolted up to the front. To say that she was happy would have been a great understatement.

8 more members were called, and Larry just kept eating and drinking.

‘The last name on our list is a surprise, as it was someone that we didn’t know had prior experience. We have a former member of the Sydney Ballet in our midst, and I’d like to welcome the last person who will dance for the Portland Ballet this year. Mr. Larry Burnell.”

Larry’s eyes popped out of his head at this, and after swallowing the food that he was eating, he wiped off his mouth and went to the front. He stood next to Jenny as he heard the applause.

Jenny looked at him in shock.

“You actually had to audition, when you were a member of a troupe before?”

“Jenny, that was almost 25 years ago. Another place, another time. I’ve been homeless since ’99. I’m just happy to be able to do this now, and rebuild my life.”

“Me too, Larry. Me too.”