Delia’s eyes grew wide at the organizer on her daddy’s desk.
“Daddy, can I have paper clip?”
Her father looked down and smiled. His beautiful 6 year old came to work with him, due to inservice days at school. He sat down and lifted her onto his lap, and plucked a silver paper clip out.
Delia worked her fingers, bending, unbending; like lightning she moved. Daddy just closed his eyes, taking the quick break that he was hoping for.
“I’m done!”
He opened his eyes, and looked down at Delia, who had made a house out of one clip.
(Author’s note: Y’know, I feel really bad. I haven’t communicated with y’all in the comments in a month. A lot has happened in this month, mind you, but that doesn’t mean much. So, in order to make sure I actually get back to you all, I’ll be spending part of the weekend responding to all the comments that have come in.
I appreciate how everyone who has commented so far, and I am really grateful for everyone keeping me moving in this writing thing. It’s been a tough couple months for writing, but I think I’m close to being able to bust out and really get things going. Now…here’s today’s Fictioneers!)
“What was that sound?!” he growled. His daughter was sitting at her desk, writing in her book.
“I have been doing homework, father. What was the sound?”
He furrowed his brows, and turned.
“Never mind. My daughter is great, and I heard nothing.”
He closed the door behind him.
Minjin counted to 10, then smiled as she opened the window again, and brought out her binoculars. Looking through them, she peered into the open windows of the nearby fitness center.
“Come to mama,” she drawled, ogling the men exercising to the light of the moon.
(Author’s note: With the final part of my Korean experience finally complete, I now focus on the next phase of life. This means that Music and Fiction will likely get an upgrade/update in some way. Once I get settled back in a routine, this should happen. Until then, it’s Fictioneers and other stories I plan to write. Hope you enjoy today’s offering!)
(Author’s Note: Great response from people last week. Sorry I haven’t responded, but I am working on it. Now that a job has been secured, boomba…more time to do things. Here’s today’s Fictioneers.)
(Author’s note: Things have been getting pretty hectic around here, and things have been off kilter. I will try to add new writing on the blog, outside of Friday Fictioneers, but it will take a bit of time to get things moving again. Your patients will be well rewarded. Today’s Friday Fictioneers is here, to whet your appetite.)
“Ready to go, son?”
“Is it going to be safe?”
“We put it together, it will be.”
They each grabbed a side of the canoe and pushed it out to the lake.
“Alright, son. The canoe is there. Are you ready to get in?”
“I would if I knew where it was.”
“What? It’s right in front–”
Dad turned around, and saw the canoe was no longer there.
“Where did it go?”
“It sank.”
“Now, do you know why it sank?”
“Because we didn’t use the right sealant.”
“That’s right. That’s what we will tell Mom. Now, let’s go back to the cabin and watch the Ducks.”
(Author’s note: Hey folks! Glad you’re on board. 1.5 weeks left until I pick up sticks and head off to the land Down Under. If you are curious about the latest furor over “The Warrior Series” of stories, go ahead to the story “Unstoppable God, Invincible”. Otherwise, enjoy today’s Friday Fictioneers and be ready for new stories to come in the next week or so!)
“Nadia!”
“Yes, papa?”
The 6 year old’s father walked out into the entryway.
“My child, what are you doing?”
“I’m dancing, papa!”
He started chuckling, smiling down at his little girl.
“Would you like to teach your papa to dance?”
“Of course I want you to dance!”
She put her hand in her dad’s, and showed him how to turn around. He already knew how to do so, but humored his daughter, who loved him so.
“My daughter, you will make a lot of people happy in the future.”
“I know! I will be the best dancer in the world!”
Trying to Stop Failure
(aka “Mourning Dove”) By Miles Rost
Part 4 of Mayumi’s story
Months had passed by since the last time Mayumi Shiomi had left her job at Shine FM and went to a competitor. She waited a month, and in that time had great development in her personal life. With one exception…
The men that she had in her life sucked.
She had gone for a good two to three months without even dealing with such an issue, and she was getting better at staying away from situations, but the last guy she met just took her by surprise and she fell, very hard, in love. And got hurt in the interim.
She just broke up with another guy who wanted to use her and abuse her. After the night of their last date, she cried herself to sleep asking for things to finally just stop. That she didn’t want a relationship anymore, and that she needed some “me-time”.
She woke up the next morning, and looked at herself in the mirror. The short sandy brown hair that she used to have had grown a little longer in the months preceding. It was now down to her shoulders, but constantly tied up in a ponytail. She looked a slight bit older than her age, but she didn’t think much of it.
“Ah feel like crap right now,” she muttered to her reflection, “I have no clue what to do, how to deal with all these problems with men. Why…why do I attract that type of man?”
She changed out of her pajamas and put herself under the hot water of a long shower. She thought about where things went wrong, and where in her past was the catalyst for the change she had to deal with constantly. She turned on the waterproof radio that hung in the shower, and tuned it to her new station, Power FM 87. She knew that her show would be on in about 3 hours, and that before that was a great smooth jazz show by her newest friend, Mitzi.
“…and later this week, Larry Carlton will be in Melbourne, playing a 5 date set at Bennets Lane. Here’s a great one from him, going back a few years. This is Mourning Dove, on the Smooth Move show, here on Power FM!”
The start of the music shot into Mayumi’s heart like a needle into a vein. The soft keyboard and the beginning strains of the artist’s guitar nailed the feelings she felt at that time. She was mourning. Mourning her own problems with men, with falling a step behind again, and feeling lower than normal. She just stood under the steady and hard stream of water, as she started drifting into memories.
As the saxophone and guitars harmonized and carried her away, she looked back to the age of 10. She remembered seeing her own father, a man who she barely ever saw in later years. She saw the memory she had of him, smacking her mom around. She remembered him grabbing her mom’s arm and muscling her towards the bedroom. She remembered hearing the sounds, and running to her hiding place in the far part of the basement.
“Is this what ah’m running from?” she asked her 10 year old self, in her mind, “Is this why ah get the men I do?”
Her 10 year old memory looked back at her, saying nothing but showing her a glimpse of what may have happened to give her the perpetual bad luck with men.
She let the music carry her to another part of her mind, the water relaxing her to the point where she could do much more with her soul, mind, and body.
“Lord, ah think we know why things are the way they are,” she said, in a prayerful tone, “Ah’m dealing with the ghosts of the past, and it’s time that we work together on this. Ah wanna be free, and ah know you love me enough to want me to be free. Ah can’t do this alone, and ah have to give it up to you everyday.”
The song’s warm yet sad tones bled across her mind, the prayers she was sending infused with the music’s energy. She had never prayed as hard as she did at that moment, with hot water hitting her tired and stressed out shoulders.
“Father, help me address this problem. The image of my father, ah need to move on from it. Father, help me as ah do what I need to do.”
She kept praying, the water pouring over her hair like a waterfall. She didn’t know what effect her prayer would be, but she realized that she would eventually need to let everything go in a way.
As the song ended and a new smooth jazz song came on, she started her ritual of cleaning, getting ready for work. She felt lighter, but she didn’t know what would happen next.
Music and Fiction 