(Author’s note: Exam week and essay week is coming next week. That means I may have new stories to put on my blog. I’m not sure, however, due to the X factor of a new job and timeframe. So, here’s to seeing what comes. Otherwise, here’s today’s Friday Fictioneers piece!)
Diana Cheung looked around, and quickly boarded the bus.
“Dee! Over here!”
In the middle, next to the window, was her man. She smiled, and rushed to the open seat next to him.
“Did anyone see you?” he asked her.
“No. If they did, they aren’t coming.”
Her beau sighed with relief, as she laid her head on his shoulder.
“Are we going to be safe, honey?”
“Once we leave this town, we’ll be fine.”
She looked up at him, a tear falling.
“Was it our fault?”
“No. Love is not our fault.”
He looked out the window as the bus pulled away, the light reflecting off his pale skin.
(Author’s Note: I am doing a little bit better, but won’t be on the full track for a little while. It’s the end of the term at uni! That means…so much fun. There is a possibility I may have to go dark for a week, but I am hoping that will not be the case. Here is today’s Fictioneers!)
“How many applications did you put out this week?” Miguel asked, as he chewed on an apple.
“30 as of Thursday, with 15 more coming up,” Carmen replied.
“And how many do you expect callbacks on?”
“Probably about 5, at best.”
“Why do you do it, Carm?”
Carmen sat back, leaning herself against his leg.
“I think it’s because I want to be useful.”
“But you don’t necessarily have to work to be useful.”
She gave Miguel’s knee a kiss.
“I want to be useful for you. That’s why I do it.”
Author’s note: Hey everyone! I keep promising more stuff on the blog, but school and job hunting gets in the way. Once something comes along, there will be more posts. Otherwise, you get to enjoy Friday Fictioneers from me! My good blog-father, David Stewart, got the picture for this week, and I think it’s a beauty! Enjoy the story!
The rust on the gate was quick. Brand new last year, now tarnished.
Only one rainfall came that summer, but it was a blessing. A year’s worth of crops came in a month. It was incredible.
Then they came to the house. Claimed all sorts of charges, all sorts of lies. They said the rain didn’t want to come. I asked them how they knew the intent of the rain.
They didn’t tell me much, didn’t even allow me the chance of getting a lawyer.
(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! Hope you’ve been paying attention and watching things. Even in the weirdness of school, I have had time to write. You all should be able to read my latest piece, Her Last Performance. The music will really make that one pop. Otherwise, here’s this week’s Fictioneers offering! Enjoy!)
Pia Nagala was incredible. No one who looked upon her would have doubted it.
Among the world of the urban man, she would have been called “on fleek”, or looking very fine. The air about her was captivating, and she held your gaze constantly. For any man, she would be considered as close to perfect as one could get.
The guy on her arm, however, would be another story.
Charles Trainor would not be considered “on fleek”. He was a good looking man, but unremarkable compared to Pia. A lot of people wondered why they ended up together, first in a touch-and-go relationship, then much more steady. Some even warned Charles to be careful, that he wouldn’t rush too far and be too focused.
“So, what do you plan to do now?”
The question from Darryl, one of Charles’s good friends, was pointed. It cut home quickly, without much of a fuss, and Charles shrinked down in his chair at it.
“Plan to do about what?” he responded.
“About Pia. You two have been dating for a while, and now there is full on, undisputed evidence that she’s been involved in some really nasty behaviors.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who gave me that evidence.”
Darryl’s olive green eyes narrowed as he looked at Charles. He was correct, it was his investigation of Pia that brought up the evidence of her dalliances with tarot readers and illicit sex acts in places that Charles would never go to. He looked over at the manila envelope, sitting lazily on an end table, the contents of the package spilling out onto the floor.
The color photos that were visible had showed the chestnut haired woman with a blissful look on her face as she was leaving a tarot parlor. Another photo, laying on the floor and facing towards the ceiling, had the oblivious woman walking towards a warehouse door. She was wearing skintight clothing that showed off her endowments, uncharacteristic of the normally demure young lady commonly found on Charles’s arm.
“Pictures don’t lie, Chuck. She’s been playing you this whole time.”
“But, how can it be that she would do this? I mean, she was the one who helped get me straight with my father. She was the one who helped me get in touch with guys who were able to keep me accountable about my binge drinking. Heck, she was able to help me find you!”
Darryl’s face grew a slight bit more red, more from embarrassment than anger. Again, a true statement, as Pia introduced Darryl and Charles at a dinner party a few months back. They had become very close, due to their higher age and their similar tastes in music and food.
“C’mon, Chuck, you know me. You know my record, and you know that I wouldn’t lie about Pia.”
Charles ran his hands up his face and through his straight, thick black hair. The expression on his face was like a man who was about to crack up. His neck muscles tensed as the factoid bounced through his head like a small bouncy ball.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping down in defeat.
“You’re right. You wouldn’t lie about her.”
“I don’t like saying things like that, man. I know she was something very special and she made you feel really good.”
“You’re right. She did. But, I know that she has other…”
He stopped for a moment, shaking his head as he thought about the depravity of it all.
“Seriously? That warehouse was a sex club?”
“Yeah. The PI that went in there came back and showed me the video that was in there. I had to tell him to turn it off after the first minute…”
“Yeah, yeah. No need to recount those details.”
“So, as I asked, what now?”
“I am not sure what exactly to do about it.”
Charles looked around the beautiful living room that was part of his new place. He gazed at the crystal light that hung over the living room table, remarking in his mind about how beautiful it made the rest of the living room.
The new place was possible because of her help. A fact that Charles knew could be a big problem if things blew up.
“It might just be good to get it into the open and just break it off with her cleanly,” Darryl said, taking a sip of his dark Colombian roast coffee.
“But, that could mean trouble. Remember, she’s pretty influential among my friends.”
“Duh! I know that! Remember that most of them are my friends, too!”
As Charles started to stand, the screech of tires emanated into the house. Darryl looked at Charles for the briefest of moments, locking eyes with him, before he bolted from the chair to the pictures. As Darryl furiously scrambled to put all the evidence back into the envelope, Charles paced back and forth.
The slam of the car door lightly reverberated into the house. The wrinkles around Charles’s eyes became more pronounced with each second’s passing.
Charles’s heart panicked and quickened as he heard the keys slide into the door to the garage.
The door opened, and Pia walked in. As she closed the door, her green A-line skirt twirled around her, barely showing her knees. She turned around, her fuzzy white sweater covering her torso and arms, holding a bag of groceries.
She smiled as she looked at Charles.
“Charlie! You’re here! Can you help me with these groceries?”
Charles’s face froze in a look of petrified shock. He could not move, could not blink, could not do anything. When Pia looked him in the face, her infectious smile lessened.
“Charlie, are you okay?”
Charles blinked, then smiled bashfully.
“I’m sorry, Pia. I had some bad news come to me today that caused me some issues. I was just talking with Darryl about it when you came in.”
He walked over to her, picked up the bag from her hands, and started to unpack them. Pia just smiled and bit her lip as she walked back to the garage. After a few minutes, and putting the bags away, she put her hands around his waist. She pressed herself into his back.
“So, dear, what was the bad news?”
“Oh, you remember that job I applied for? The one at the newspaper?”
“Yeah, you were happy about that one.”
“I didn’t get it. They called me just before you got here, and told me that I had excellent references and information.”
“And other people were more what they were looking for, right?”
“Exactly.”
Pia turned Charles around with her hands and gazed into his caramel brown eyes. Her own deep, dark eyes showed sincerity.
“Don’t worry. God’s on your side, and you will get that job. He provides.”
“I know he does, Pia. I just hope that something comes soon. It’s really gonna be hard to deal with if I can’t find something here to provide for my living expenses.”
“He’s already come through for you before, right?”
“Yeah, he has. I just really wish there weren’t so many other issues to deal with.”
She laid her head against his chest, as Darryl carefully walked into the kitchen.
“Hey there, Pia.”
“Heya, Darryl. How’s everything been?”
“Eh, not much to say. Rita is doing alright, but she’s mostly home for now.”
Pia looked into his eyes, giving a solemn nod.
“I gotta run, Charlie,” he said, taking one last look at his friend. A friend who was locked in an embrace with a temptress.
He looked at Pia, sweet and innocent Pia, as the images of her in revealing clothing flashed past his eyes. His face became stony, and he quickly walked out of the kitchen. Neither Pia nor Charles did anything until the door slammed.
Pia was the first to break the silence.
“Is it just me, or did it seem like he had something wrong with him?” she asked, as she turned towards the stove.
“Nah. I think he’s just been under stress with the children at school.”
“I thought he liked his job.”
“They take a lot out of him and today was his first real day off.”
“That would explain it. So, what do you want for dinner?”
Charles was about to say something when she turned around and looked at him, with the usual and beautiful smile she always gave him. He worked his hardest not to show anything but an emotion of gratitude.
“Oh, whatever you wish. I am more interested in just resting than watching you cook tonight.”
“Aww,” she pouted, making herself look more enticing than before, “I was hoping you’d help me.”
Charles nervously laughed, looking everywhere for a way out.
“That news really took me hard. I think I’m just going to go into the living room and lie down.”
“Okay!” she beamed, “I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”
As Charles left the room, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“I really don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep this up…”
Author’s note: Since classes will soon be starting up again, I will likely be updating with mostly Friday Fictioneers stuff and short writings that result from my “argle-bargle” sessions of getting frustrated with being a grad student. At the very least, enjoy today’s selection for Friday Fictioneers.
“Why did we travel an hour to this place for food?!”
Chandra Barker was not a happy person, and her fiancee, Mark, knew it. He sat her down on a bench and looked her in the eye.
“When I was 9, my teenaged sister and I came here for fun. We had these cinnamon flat disks for a snack, before we went onto the ice. It was the last thing that we ate together before the day she fell through the ice. Coming here is a reminder of what we used to do.”
She looked at him, and a tear fell.
“And you wanted to share this memory with me?”
She planted her lips firmly on his cheek, appreciating the gesture.
It was said that a couple could walk through the Macquarie Station tunnel, and after coming out the other side, they would have a child 9 months later. Just like magic.
I saw it in my childhood friends, Alistaire and Ophelia. They were enemies, and both about the legend when they chased after each other that fateful June afternoon.
I saw them running towards it, and I called out to them, “Don’t go in…” And yet, they did, running all the way through.
9 months later, they were enemies no more. And they’ve been that way for 20 years now.
Here I stand today, looking at the demolishing of the station and the tunnel. The legend lives on only in those who have passed through the fabled halls. And me, the only one too chicken to do so.
(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!”
The Gathering – Part B: Callings
(Story V of the Warrior Series)
by Miles H. Rost
(To see the start of The Gathering subset, go to the last story “The Gathering” (Part A) at the link.)
—-
“All these are empowered by one and the same Spirit, who apportions to each one individually as he wills. For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slavesor free—and all were made to drink of one Spirit.
For the body does not consist of one member but of many.” – 1 Corinthians 12:11-14
—-
“New Recruits, come forth!”
The man we all called P.S. was a commanding figure. He wasn’t a tall man by any stretch of the imagination. He was shorter than other warriors, but his voice and his spirit commanded attention. He was a slightly tanned man, looking to be of Asian descent. In spite of his shorter stature, he maintained his health well and looked formidable. He wore a dark blue tunic, and work trousers that were just a few shades of blue lighter. His buzz-cut hair symbolized the seriousness of his charge, of his role.
When those of us looked at him, as we moved forward to the “river area” in front of the stage, we could feel the atmosphere of authority flow off of him in waves. Even some of my fellow recruits were taken aback by the amount of authority that surged outward from this grand commander.
As we approached and was in front of where P.S. stood, I saw a familiar face. A fellow warrior from Antioch Division named Joseph was standing next to me, ready to receive the words that were about to come. Joseph was a man of great knowledge, and a man of prayer. He was able to talk the old language of machines, and could be of great use. He gave me and Tia a nod, as we stood there. The music that was playing before had died down, but was not out as our general started to speak.
“Our Father is rich in many different ways. I pray that each one of you recruits will be richly strengthened in the Spirit, so Christ may live within each of you.”
P.S. looked down towards each one of us, a mixture of compassion and stern military discipline in his steeled eyes.
“Each one of you have had to deal with being opposed in your faithful walk. You’ve been attacked by the devil! You’ve been told to stay when God wanted you to get moving, or vice versa. That’s when we gotta rely on the Spirit! That’s when we need to call on The Spirit, to give us reinforcement and strength. You are warriors, but warriors cannot fight when they’re deprived of the source of life.”
Tia lifted her hands to the sky, as I bent my head and opened my hands in front of me. Joseph raised his hands in front of him, parking them just in front of his shoulders.
“We need the grace and strength to continue to walk this walk of faith, to fight, to continue onward! No matter what tribe you’re from, what lands you may have been in before, you are here on this day! The outpouring of the Holy Spirit is absolutely critical to your success and endurance!”
P.S. paced on the stage in the way a General paces when they assess and exhort their troops.
“New Recruits, I can see that some of you were reluctant in accepting the training to become leaders. But understand that our Father is raising up an army from the dry bones of our old lives. He is fulfilling the promise of Ezekiel 37, to breathe his breath on the valley of dry bones, the people who haven’t been walking well in His grace.”
His voice started to lift and to quicken. It became more urgent, more focused, and with more force.
“It’s only when the spirit of God our Father enters into these dry bones, that they can stand up and begin to move. And I have some news for you, recruits! Those dry bones, the ones that God our Father is breathing into right now…they are you!”
The air around all of us new recruits started feeling heavy. The heaviness wasn’t a smothering type, but instead a thickness that felt strong and full of life. I perceived that Tia was being prepped in her spirit, as I could feel the displacement of air that signaled her arm’s movements. I could sense the placidity of Joseph, the calmness of the readying that he was receiving. I perceived my bent head, arms stretched but bent in front of me, with my hands out like a farmer praying for rain.
“We require the breath of God to continue our fight! To continue doing what we have been charged to do. Each one of you new recruits, open your hearts! Open yourself up to the life-giving breath of God!” P.S. said, the fire and steel in his voice rising with even more authority, “Commanders! Division commanders! Sergeants! Gunnies! Come up here and minister! Pray for these new recruits, officers! Help them receive what God wants to pour out on them!”
I could feel a great electricity in the air, a rushing spirit flowing around our legs and our heads like a raging river. I heard the voices of my fellow recruits rising up, urgent in their prayers and quickened in their pleading. My own prayers started coming forward in spurts, like it wanted to come rushing out but was behind some sort of a barrier. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear and perceive what was happening around me, even through my own prayers to my Father.
I heard the voices of my fellow warriors around me. I could hear the cries of Tia, the pleading and the laughter in her voice as she continued praying. I recognized the voices of various sergeants and commanders as they walked around.
I didn’t count how long it was, but I felt a hand on my head. My hands were out and in a receiving mode, and I heard the voice of someone praying out loud and in earnest. I couldn’t make out the words very well, and after a short time, he left. Shortly thereafter, another hand was placed on my head, in the back. I recognized the sound of my mentor, Brian. He was there for a short time, but also left. I felt all of this and heard all of this, but I did not see a single thing.
Suddenly, I felt a white heat on my ears. I felt a great sound fill my ears. I could feel and hear the sound of Miguel, the leader of the Freedom Division Martial Band praying over me, but it was at a great distance. The heat spread to over my eyes, and I felt a greater voice fall upon my being.
“Kneel, and receive.”
A great weight fell on my shoulders, and it felt like it had a strength that was inhuman. I knew it wasn’t from Miguel, and I had no choice but to fall to one knee.
Suddenly, a flash came to my mind. A flash of a memory. A memory of kneeling by my bed, praying for my classmates, praying for my mother, and more.
“Knight. You are a warrior,” the great voice said, “You were a prayer warrior a long time ago, my son.”
It finally clicked. The gears and the mechanics finally hit the top of the hour in my head. My Father was talking to me.
“You have come this way, Knight. Your path has taken you here. Now, pick up the mantle you were given.”
Before I could even ask the question out loud, the answer came.
“I commissioned you as a prayer warrior in the past. Continue it, son, from this day on.”
I could say nothing except “Thank you, Lord,” repeatedly.
As my eyes and ears calmed from the meeting with Father, P.S. gave the signal that all was clear with us. It would take a few minutes, but slowly I was able to get up and walk to my seat, balancing myself with the edge of the stage.
I sat back on the wooden half-log bench, taking in sharp breaths, as Tia smiled down.
“What were you feeling, Knight? What was it you were feeling?”
I looked up at her, as I was heaving breaths and getting in a lot of air.
“I know what my role is. The training I have done in the past in the Western Lands, everything that led up to today, has been to give me back the role I had.”
Tia looked at him, hands out and eye open, as if she was saying “What was it?!?!”
“I’m in the Prayer regiment. I’m a prayer warrior”
Tia laughed heartily and beamed after hearing that, giving me a hearty slap on the back. I coughed, but felt happy because of what happened. I then asked her how she felt.
“Me? I felt…” she paused, thinking back a second, “…I guess I felt joy. A joy in freedom. Like I didn’t have all this baggage hanging around and dragging me down. I felt light, not only physical light, but also light weight. Like I didn’t have to worry about anything.”
This was something new. Something I never experienced before. Hearing people have their burden lifted, and me getting my new marching orders. From God, the Great General, no less. As I was thinking about this, suddenly we heard a scratching up on the stage.
“This gathering, warriors, is one where not only do we learn about ourselves and our Father, but we also learn about tactics and strategy here. And we have some visitors from the Western Lands, who traveled here to speak with all of us about things…”
That night was a full blur of so many different things, that we had to take more notes. For a good long while into the dusky night, we listened and learned. We rejoiced, we prayed, we were called forth, and we were even given release from problems that were affecting us.
Even I received release from the disappointments in my life. Me, Knight, the one who always worried and expected the worst case scenario, now was released from the old disappointments and was brought into the light of truth and confidence.
The thing is…this was not the only big thing that happened at this gathering. There was one more event that totally blew me away.
Music and Fiction 