(Author’s notes: A lot of things will be happening in the next couple months, mostly outside of this blog. But, I plan to do everything in my power to make sure that some benefits reach each one of you, my readers. I am hoping to see some fruit come soon, and I pray that you all will be enjoying things.
Also, quick greetings to all comers from My Music Canvas and Oh My Gloss!. Welcome to Music and Fiction! Put your feet up and read a bit! Here’s today’s fictioneers!)
The machinist always worked quietly in the back of the building.
He kept to his work, only coming up to meet people to collect payment.
He was young, good looking, but painfully shy. His bravery shown through when wielding metal and acetylene torches.
He heard a clang up at the front. Grabbing a torch, he creeped up behind large metal sheets, and caught the noisemaker as they were coming around the corner.
“Who are you?” he demanded, looking into the welding mask of the culprit.
The mask went up, revealing a pretty woman’s face.
She understood there was a price to be paid for having that serenity, and she was willing to pay it. For a while. The old ruins of the science building on campus gave it to her, and no one around to say anything.
But she didn’t want to be alone. She wanted serenity, without the loneliness.
“Excuse me. Is this ruin taken?” she heard from behind.
She whipped her head around at the male voice behind her. His eyes widened and he started to run away.
(Author’s note: Still working on the story. Been dealing with some things that have come up since. A little under the weather with a throat infection. Getting better, though.)
Paul Marcus looked over the lily-pad covered lake, deep in thought.
“Where did the time go? Not long ago, I was 24 and full of spirit. Now I’m 35 and broken.”
He looked at the small bobs coming up from the lake, stirring a pad or two.
He thought back to the opportunities that were there, that he missed because he was focused on one dream. A one track mind, and that track derailed a year before.
Sitting back in a chair under the shade of a gazebo, he looked at his watch.
Heyo, everyone! After a wild and wooly (meaning stressed out previous) week, and a restorative weekend, here I am with the Christmas Eve version of Friday Fictioneers. Coming up soon will be a longer story from me, but until then, here’s my latest entry:
The screech of a car horn right outside the window barely made Daisy flinch.
In the small ground level apartment, she sat on a bed. With her arms around her legs, she sighed with hesitation. She didn’t look up from her pajama-covered legs, focusing only on all the feelings she held inside of her.
All of the feelings she had bubbled up from the reserves that were stuck in her system over the last week. Combine that with a combination of heat, losing people she loved, and a new job that was incredibly laborious, the cocktail of stress caused her to break.
She pulled her legs closer, feeling the weight of her loneliness and isolation. She wanted to go and meet people, but she was in an isolated area of the city, far from the other people like her. The feeling made her turn inward, thinking of what she lost when she left her old location.
As her long, apple-colored hair touched her knees, she saw her cell phone light up on the counter. The telltale sound of her ringtone chimed through the largely empty apartment.
Don’t answer me
Don’t break the silence, Don’t let me win
Don’t answer me
Stay on your island, Don’t let me in
Run away and hide from everyone
Can you change the things we’ve said and done…
It repeated, one of her favorite songs suddenly turning into her biggest tormentor. She felt a tear fall down her face as the words hit her hard. One right after another, like the start of a waterfall as winter becomes spring. She let it ring, as she felt those emotions build up even more with each tear that fell.
The phone rang again, the same lyrics resounding around her head.
Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!, she cried in her head, trying to block out the sound. Finally, after the third time the phone rang, she picked it up.
“Hello?” she said, stifling a sniffle.
“Hey! Daisy! It’s Barb. You okay, child?” her friend Barb replied. A southern belle through and through, and her genteel nature was one of the reasons her and Daisy were able to be good friends.
“I’m living.”
“And I can tell that you’re not doing very well. Your sadness is showing. Care to have a friend to talk to here?”
It was no use. Daisy couldn’t hold it in any longer. Through wracked sobs and screams, she relayed everything she felt at that time. She laid out all the fear, the feelings of isolation, the disappointment, and all of the other feelings. For 30 long minutes, she talked to her, putting it out there for one of her long-time friends.
After a few moments of silence and breathing, Daisy gave a long sigh.
“Felt good to get that out, didn’t it, child?”
“Yeah, it felt good. I just don’t have people down here to deal with, that would share experiences with me.”
“Aw, sugah, do you remember when you met me? Remember how you thought I was a bit weird cause I was from the south?”
Daisy put her palm to her forehead, as she remembered the first thing she said to Barb.
“Anyhow, child, remember something. No matter how far we may be from each other, you can always talk to me. And don’t forget your other friends back here, too. The pastor, Jimmy, and even Pele the gardener are always here to talk with ya.”
Daisy smiled, the first smile she had shown to people in a week. As she kept talking, the tears of pain and sadness, hurt and all other feelings, turned to happiness, relief, and joy. She was very thankful for her friend, and she was incredibly grateful that she was there…even if she was going to be going home soon.
(for David Stewart, one of my great friends who has helped me on one of the biggest transitions I’ve had to deal with. Ever.)
The sun was setting in the skies off the coast. The bright yellow of the sun sunk below the horizon, the sky starting to turn a firy orange with twinges of red. There were no clouds in the sky, the winds were calm, and the surf was very mild. It was exactly like a picture, frozen in a moment in time.
Paul Bernal sat top a set of rocks close to the ocean’s edge, looking out at the seas. He had come there for solitude, to calm the raging beast within himself. He looked out at the ocean, and felt the soothing splashing of the waves on rocks farther out. This was his place of refuge from the rest of the world. This is where he was able to do all of the things he needed to do. He was along the waterfront, right where he needed to be.
The rocks he stood on had a roughness that was pronounced. However, one spot seemed to be perfectly cut into the rock pile where it was smooth. The rocks formed two cylinders, which allowed for ease of kneeling when praying. And it was in those grooves that Paul put his legs, and knelt in prayer.
As he prayed, he thought about all that had happened in the day and even days as he prayed, the situations recounted in his mind as he brought all those cares up for prayer. The images from the computer screen that triggered his inner beast were being addressed in prayer, and how much he struggled with images that were more erotic and stimulating. While it had been a few days since the last time, he knew that he had to continue being in prayer and putting forth all the things that he could not keep inside.
He lifted up his troubles at work, dealing with all of the stresses of being a financial aid counselor. Hearing the hard luck stories and not being able to do much didn’t help his psyche at all, and lifting those cares up helped ease the pain that he felt.
For nearly 20 minutes, as the sun continued to descend beyond the horizon and twilight started to show it’s beauty, he continued praying. As he finished his prayers, he stood up on the rocks, and climbed down from them. Landing on the soft sand, he looked down and smiled.
“I’ll be back again, tomorrow. Be ready for me, Lord,” he said, staring out into the darkening skies and ocean. He turned and walked back towards his car, ready to head home and face another night alone.
Music and Fiction 