Friday Fictioneers – Partners In Crime

(Author’s note: Have a happy thanksgiving, everyone!)

ceayrdoor

© C.E. Ayr

Partners In Crime

by Miles H. Rost

“This isn’t right.”

Phil Markowitz looked back, staring straight into the eyes of his best friend, Elena Katakova.

“What isn’t?”
“All of this. We’re trespassing, and we don’t even know where this door goes.”
“I do.”
“I thought you said you were never here before.”
“I did.”
“So then how…”
“I came from the other end of what lays behind the door.”

Elena scowled, as they moved the chain within the old lion pit at the zoo.

“Elena, get ready to have your socks knocked off.”

He opened the door, and immediately heard a roar. He shut the door.

“Weeeeeeeeeell… maybe not. RUN!”

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Hunters Of The Night

Hunters of the Night
by Miles H. Rost

Feet pounding the pavement.

Quick pacing, left-right-left-right.

Fabric of short jean shorts riding up.

Two miles to liberation.

Melinda Charles swiveled her head around as she ran, keeping an eye out for anyone who may be trying to report or record her moves. She knew that her dad would be keeping tabs on her, and really didn’t want to see herself kept locked up in her house.

Locked up for love, she mused, Sounds like a great song title. 

The 17-year old knew that her legs could take her far, in distance and in life. She was a medal winning medium-distance runner in track and field, having endurance to carry her for miles. Yet her legs were also toned, exuding feminine strength and allowing her to receive offers to do leg modeling ads after graduation. Legs that could take her far also drove the guys at school wild.

Half a mile gone. Not too long now.

She paced herself as she ran, reaching back every so often to remove the wedge of her shorts from her bum. Beads of sweat were starting to form on her neck, soaking into her shirt with every pounding of her feet. Fenceposts marked out a 1-2 beat, a visual reminder of how rhythmic she was moving.

The afternoon sun shone upon her face, the glistening sweat making her face glow, and softening the shape of her nose and chin. To her, nature was working its magic to put its own makeup on her as she ran. She had some time to see if the effects would work, but hope was welling in her heart.

One mile down. One to go. 

She thought back to the day, over a year ago, when she met this young man. She started thinking about how wrong she was at first sight of him. He looked like the stereotypical nerd, head buried in his comic books, a 17-year-old with unruly brown hair and coke-bottle glasses. She didn’t realize that under that exterior lay a man with a heart of gold, and a passion for music.

She didn’t realize it until one blustery day in October.

She remembered that she forgot her hoodie at home, and couldn’t go back and get it without being late for school. With the temperatures plummeting by the minute, she shivered while walking on her way.

“Melissa!”

She turned around and saw him. She immediately started to groan, not wanting to interact with Mr. Coke-Bottle Glasses.

“What are you doing without a coat?” he asked her.

She turned to the side, cheeks flushed.”I forgot it at home. Didn’t think it was going to be this cold this quick.”

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a green hoodie.

“Here. You can use mine for today. It’s Jupiter Green.”

She looked at him, in disbelief.

“Why should I?”
“Because if you don’t, you’ll get sick. You get sick, we won’t have you ready for the upcoming basketball season.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you getting sick. It’d make me sad.”

She stared at him in disbelief, but grabbed the hoodie. Wrapping herself in it, she realized that she was quite cold.

“Thank you.”
“When you’re finished with it, you can give it back.”

She started to jog away from him and head towards school, her schoolbag striping her hands red from pressure.

He started to walk down the street, and for only a second, as he looked up from his shoes, he noticed Melissa looking back at him, before disappearing around a corner.

Half-mile left. Time to do a little diversionary work. 

Melissa took a sharp left across the street, running into the woods and down a path that seemed to have little foot traffic. Hearing a short screech behind her, she smirked as she picked up the speed. The diversion was going to make it a little longer to make it to her destination, but it would keep her father’s guard off her back until she arrived there.

The woods opened up into a grassy field, where she followed a lesser worn trail that followed the wood line. She remembered the April day when things changed for her.

Early April, and the first of three track meets at her school had come around. When track athletes heard the name Melissa Charles, they knew that there was trouble coming. Getting ready for the 4-by-800 relay, she started to prep herself. The day was still cool, and she wore the dark green hoodie that she had received many months back.

“Hey, Makoto!”

She looked around, the voice familiar in her mind. She looked and saw him again, this time waving. She smiled, as she walked over to the fence separating the fans in the stands from the athletes.

“Well, hey there, stranger. What’s with the Makoto thing?”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“You’re tall, you’re wearing green, you got long legs and you have a fighter’s attitude. You’re basically Makoto Kino, Sailor Jupiter.”
“That’s a first. Do you always charm your friends with comparisons to anime characters?”
“Only people I have respect for. Besides, the word’s out. You’ll likely hear it a lot more.”
“You didn’t…”
“I didn’t. Brian Parker did. And I don’t even like him.”

She laughed out loud, a hearty laugh that got the attention of one of her teammates.

“I guess that means I should probably start looking the part, right?”

She pulled back her hoodie. Her average brown hair now had auburn tints to it, and was put up in a high ponytail with a greenish-ball hair band.

He had taken a sip of soda, when it suddenly spat out to the side. His eyes bugged out.

“You….whoa. What prompted this?”
“You, silly!” she giggled, as she started to jog in place.
As he was about to open his mouth, the call for 4 x 800 relay runners came over the loudspeakers. He smiled at her, as he walked over to a small group of classmates.

The first runners took their mark at the line, and with a shot, they took off. Melissa, as the anchor runner, stood off to the side as her classmates watched. Two runners from another high school tied for the lead after the first two exchanges. As the third runners took off from their lines, Melissa put herself into her lane. Her sweet spot was lane #3, and today was her day. She waited, as her teammate pulled past the second place runner, though she was lengths behind the first place runner. As the first place runner got the baton, Melissa’s teammate gave her the sign to start moving.

The baton hit her hands, and Melissa was off with a shot.

One-two-one-two-one-two-ma-ko-to-ma-ko-to

The mantra in her head suddenly switched, and she listened closely. The sound of her new nickname resounded through the stands when she took the first corner. A faint smile peaked on her face, as she increased her strides.

“Ma-ko! Ma-ko! Ma-ko!” said the boy, smiling as Brian Parker and others started chanting.

Taking the third and final corner, she was within touching distance of the first place runner. Taking inspiration from the character whose name she was adopting, she put lightning in gear and increased her speed in the last sprint to the finish. Pounding, pounding, her feet pounded like kettle drums in time with the chants.

One second, she pulled up to the side of her opponent.

The next second, she stretched her legs and chest further.

The last second, the starter pistol went off in the air. The entire Charter Oaks High School spectator section went up in cheers!

Melissa “Makoto” Charles had won the race by a half a foot.

She looked over to the stands as she slowed, and saw the boy, her friend, smiling at her.

500 feet. Just need to hit that last stride. 

She weaved her way around trees, making sure that she kept her opposition in her peripheral sight if she could. Looking straight, she could barely make out a flat wooden fence in the distance.

“If you could only see me, honey,” she muttered, as she dodged trees to make it closer. She got closer, knowing she was less than 100 feet from freedom.

80 feet, she swiveled her head around and saw nothing.

60 feet, she saw his shape rushing towards the fence.

30 feet, she was getting herself ready to jump onto and over the fence. She saw him stop suddenly right at the edge of the fence.

She felt a painful prick right below the back of her knee and stumbled to the ground. Within a few seconds, her leg started to go numb. She felt someone jump onto leaves and land near her head. As she looked backwards, she saw three men running towards her. She was sat up, and her head turned towards her beau, who was looking at her without his trademark coke-bottle glasses.

“I’ll help you in. Those guys won’t do anything.”

The men approached, and yelled at the two young people.

“You! Boy! Get your hands off her!”

It was her father, the man who tried to rule her life with an iron fist.

She looked up at her boy, and slowly dragged herself to the fence. She pulled herself up, standing on one leg. She looked at him, eyes focused and steely. .

“Get back over the fence.”
“I can handle him.”
“My fight. Let me do it.”

Melissa’s father growled as he continued to walk towards her. Her beau returned to his property, while she faced her father.

“You’re coming with me young la-”

Before he could finish, she fired a taser at him. As he rode the lightning, she glared down at him.

“I. Am. Not.”

He whined and growled as the electricity stopped. His nerves on fire, he laid there for a time. His men stood near him, but stayed back from the scene.

“Dad, I’ve had enough.”

He took a sharp breath as she spoke.

“You have been restricting everything I’ve been doing. The one time I get something I want, you try to take it away. You got me kicked off the track team because you didn’t want me hanging around with him. You monitored my cell phone, because you wanted to know if I was with him.”
“I only…wanted to keep…you safe…”
“From what, Dad? Someone whose dad you put into a locker during high school? Someone who has very little to do with his life?!”

Her dad grimaced, as he slowly sat up.

“I got the story from him, Dad. I found out why you had him followed. You were afraid that he was going to use me to get to you in revenge. But with everything you did to try to protect me, you forgot one piece of information: He hasn’t talked with his dad for 10 years.”
“That’s…a lie…”
“NO! When he says dad, he means his stepdad. If you weren’t so shallow minded, Dad, you would have actually known this.”
“That’s…”
“Shut it. Just…stop, Dad. When he told me about all of it, he asked me if I was with him because of revenge. I told him the truth, that it was because he was a nice guy, even if I had it ingrained in me that girls like me could never be with a nerd.”
“You little…”
“I told you to shut up, Admiral!” she screamed, pointing at him. “You do not get to talk until I am done!”
She slowly lifted her legs and tried to slowly scale the wooden fence.
“Dad, you showed me how to fight for what’s mine. And that’s what I’m doing right now. He loves me, and showed me that he loved me that first day with the hoodie, the green hoodie that you absolutely hated.”

She lifted herself again, sitting on the top of the fence with her long legs dangling down.

“The hate that you had for him and me became the love that we have. He’s my nerd, I’m his Makoto. If anyone is responsible for that, it’s you. ”

Her father spat on the ground, as he started to stand. The pain was evident and obvious on his face. The man with him and another man walked over and lifted him to his feet. Slinging his arms over their shoulders, they held him up to look at her.

“Daddy, I love you. You need to give me time, but I will be back.”
“And yet, you run…”
“No. I’m 18 tomorrow. I have made a decision to not be with you. I will come back to you, a woman and someone who can give you the respect you deserve, in time. But you have to earn the respect of a father. You don’t have it because of what you’ve been doing.”

Her father just glared at her, as she flipped her legs over the top of the fence. She looked back at him.

“Dad, he and I are hunters. We’ve been searching for each other and found…us. Now let me live, and let us live.”

Her father just stared, as they turned to walk him out of the woods.

Melissa looked at her father, as he walked away, and slowly lowered herself off the fence and into the waiting arms of her man.

“You really are like Jupiter, Melissa.”
“Because I stood up and fought?”
“Because you took charge and won the day.”

The young man looked out at his property, and smiled.

Melissa turned his head and gave him a tender kiss. After a few seconds, their lips parted. He moved to carry her, until he heard the “uhn-uh”.

“Nope. I’m walking off this Novocaine. You’re gonna just have to wait for me.”
“Can I at least help you walk up to the house?”
“You can lean on me,” she smirked
“Lean on you?”

They laughed, as they hobbled their way up to his house.

 

Friday Fictioneers – Waiting In My Dreams

(Author’s Note: Dealing with a sinus infection, headache related to, and all this other jazz. Forgive me if things seem a bit off.)

 

peter-abbey11

©Peter Abbey

Waiting In My Dreams

The pathway was dark, surrounding me with the litter of my mind. Things said, things written. At the end, I saw a solitary man.

“Let me through,” I said.
“You didn’t do things right this time,” the man said
“Want to make a bet?”

I pulled out my tazer and made him ride the lightning. After a good 10 second jolt, I stepped back and waited.

He didn’t move an inch.

“I am not afraid of you,” I said defiantly.
“Probably not. But you’re still not getting through.”
“Why?”
“Not your time yet.”
“Then I’m sitting here until my time comes.”

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Kyrie (Eleison)

Kyrie Eleison
by Miles H. Rost

A few weeks before it happened, I packed up my belongings. I was to leave my wife, my family, and everyone. The journey from the desert to the sea, to travel to the west, was beginning. It was a 2 week walk and ride to Tyre, where I would pick up a ship that would take me as far as I could go. Thus was the life of a traveling educator.

Educated by the best, a head of a prosperous temple at the time, I felt I was being moved to leave and do more with what I had learned. It wasn’t necessarily because I wanted to leave, but it was because there was nothing left for me to do there. It was going to be very hard to leave behind my wife and my children, but I made sure that my brother, Elam, took care of her in my absence. Elam’s a good man, older than me but still devoted to family.

I was making my way towards Damascus, when I met up with a block in the road. There were men who had said that the way to Damascus was blocked for travelers, and that I needed to go around the city. The caravan I joined up with were reluctant to do so, but after making an inquiry, we realized that there were big things afoot. And, so, we headed south and west. We passed from the lands of Assyria and ended up in deep Roman lands. While I had no quarrel with the Romans themselves, I heard about some of the different things that had happened in the interim.

I heard about this Jewish man, this Jesus whose name as a teacher had even spread to my community. I didn’t pay him much mind, though. The ravings of a lunatic, I once said to my temple brethren. They all laughed with me about it.

We were nearing the end of two weeks, and we stopped short of Tyre. We ended up in a small village about a day’s journey from Tyre. We were close. I had decided, for some reason, to walk outside after dinner in order to clear my head and prepare myself for the next day. The sun was low in the sky, but it had not set when I encountered this man. He was a very powerful person, someone who did command authority. Rugged and everything. He was standing next to the well, looking like he was taking a rest.

“Good eve, sir. Is this well being used?” I asked him.

“I’m just taking a rest right now. You should be able to use it,” he said, with a smile.

While I worked to operate the well, the man continued to look at me. I was starting to get unnerved when he finally spoke.

“Tell me. What have you heard about this Jesus fellow?”

I looked over at him. I didn’t pay him much mind with his scraggly beard which appeared to be unkempt in the darkening light of the evening.

“Jesus? Are you talking about that Jewish guy? The things he’s saying seem to make me think he’s a bit out of his mind.”

I saw a little glint in his eyes, and that is when I knew that I was in deep trouble. He started into a debate with me about this Jesus, whom he called “The Christ”. About how he died so that others may live, and how we were to live by faith and not by sight. I just sighed, because I felt like I was being sold a pitch.

That’s when he threw the curve ball at me.

“He’s still alive. His body was dead. I saw it die. But He’s alive! I saw that, too! By the Sea of Galilee we saw him, and many upon many saw him, too.”

I responded to him that it could not have happened, but in my educated head, I felt like the logic that was in there was failing. I couldn’t explain why, but the idea of bodily resurrection actually seemed to make sense in the way this man was speaking.

“But let me ask you this, my good man. Why would such a man decide to do this for someone like me? Why would he knowingly give up his own life, to save a person like me who doesn’t even believe in his words?” I asked the man.

“Because it’s simple: If he sacrificed himself for all, that means we’re all on His level. We’re all equal.”

I sat for a little bit, to chew on this. One thing went through my mind: “The lunatic isn’t a lunatic at all. He’s the Lord. It makes sense.”

That night, my entire life was changed. I acknowledged all of it, and with the help of the scraggly-bearded man, I later went out to other lands to tell people, to share the Gospel, and to show people how Christ died for them. The scraggly bearded man, the one who called himself Petros, was a good friend to me during that time.

As I gave him a hug before boarding the boat, I looked at the boat and him, and said something I never would have thought of saying in my time back in the small educated area from which I came.

“Kyrie Eleison down this road that I must travel.”

Petros gave me the blessing, and I went on my way. Christ’s death gave me life, and it was certain, I would share it with whoever I met on my new life to a new land.

(A joyous Easter Sunday, and Resurrection weekend to all who read. – M.)

Healing Waters

by Miles Rost

Steven Latrell was an ordinary man. One of the most unassuming people you could have ever met. Middle aged, salt-and-pepper hair, had a couple of grown kids who loved him and a wife that cared deeply for him. He wasn’t much of a man of faith, but he called himself a believer.

His life changed with one voicemail left on his cell phone.

“Steve, this is Dr. Langston at Memorial Hospital. You need to come back to the hospital as soon as you can.”

Within a few days, Steve received the news that every man in the world dreads to hear.

“You have prostate cancer. Stage 4. The most we can say is that you should get your affairs in order and be ready for things.”

Steve didn’t know what he could do. He felt shock, especially since his father’s side of the family never had the occurrences of cancer. Most of them died of old age in the fields of North Dakota. He felt anger, that all the work he put into having a life and a great family was now about to be gone from his sight.

“Honey, I am going to take a walk. I will be back in a little while,” he called in, calmly. His wife gave a shoutback of acknowledgement, and he went off walking.

He walked  down his street until he couldn’t go straight anymore. He looked to the left and saw nothing but fields and fences. To his right, he saw trees and grasses. Following his heart, he went right and followed the road through the trees. He walked for a good while, getting lost in the news and thoughts that he was focused on.

After a while, he saw a path that looked like it was barely taken. He looked in his heart, and realizing that there really wasn’t anything to lose, he decided to take it. He walked down the path and through a thick grove of trees and thicket. After walking for a good while, he came upon a stump of a grand old tree. He was about to walk past it, when he noticed words carved into the top.

Where do we go when the world forsakes us, where the healing waters flow

Curious, he thought to himself, as he then started to walk again. He walked for a shorter distance, and came upon a beautiful river and a wider lake-like area. He smiled at seeing this beautiful, nearly untouched piece of paradise.

“Come out to find answers, have ya?”

Steve turned and looked in the direction of the words that came past his ears. He saw an older man sitting on a stump, looking into the water. He looked like he had been in that swamp his whole life, but yet had a calm about him that said, “Listen.”

Steve looked back at him and gave him a wry smile.

“When you find out that you just received your ticket off of Earth, it makes you want to go somewhere and think,” he said.

The old man looked at him, and shifted himself. His overalls shifted along with, showing a bit of the boniness of his upper body.

“What you got?”

“Stage 4 prostate cancer. They think I’ll survive 8 weeks at most.”

“How are you with God?”

Steve sighed at the question, one he was asked many times.

“Honestly, not good. I have never really been a churchgoer, and I believe that Christ saved me, but I also don’t feel like I want to go.”

“What is church to you?”

Steve sat and thought for a few moments.

“It’s a place to go and meet with other people. It’s a set location somewhere.”

The old man leaned forward and gave him an impish smile.

“Would you believe you’re in church now?”

Steve was taken aback by this. It didn’t make sense to him.

“What…do you mean?”

“Well, Christ said that when two or three are gathered together in worship of Him, he’d be there. Church can describe a building, or more importantly, it can describe the body of believers in Christ. There is a difference between a church building and The Church.”

Steve thought about that for a moment, processing it in his mind.

“I never really thought of it that way.”

“You believe Christ saved you, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You should have nothing to worry about, then. Talk to our Father about the things that you’ve done, square them away, and you’re ready for action.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“When you’re facing a doctor imposed deadline of 8 weeks, it can be.”

Steve sat down, his back leaning against a tree, the damp soil soaking into his khakis. The old man looked back at him and slowly stood up. He walked over to the water, and smiled.

“You have a choice, young man. You can take the time you have left to do great things for God’s service, or you can waste them. Someone asked me once “Where do we go when all our time’s been wasted?” I answered him by saying we go where God wants us to.”

Steve looked at him and started to listen a little bit more.

“Have you ever been baptized, young man?”

Steve blinked, and though for a few seconds.

“I don’t think I have. Never had a reason to do it.”

“Don’t you think you have a reason now?”

“But, aren’t ministers supposed to do that?”

“Sonny, In God’s kingdom and at some point, we’re all ministers.”

Steve nodded.

“Think you’re ready to give the rest of your time here on Earth to finishing your business with family and making a mark for God on the world?”

Steve thought about it, and smiled. He was ready. He waded into the water, where the old man was waiting. With a quick prayer, and a blessing that seemed to be divinely inspired, Steve Latrell was baptized.

They walked out of the semi-cool river, and Steve dried off as much as he could with a seemingly new towel the old man gave him. Steve looked at him, and smiled.

“Have you been waiting down here for me?”

“Nah. I’ve been down here for nearly 50 years. This is a place where people go to either face their mortality, get right with God, or take their own life. I’m here, simply, as a minister who helps people with their choices.”

Steve nodded.

“I guess it’s time to go back, and put everything in order.”

“Just remember something, young man: Let go, Let God, and do good. That’s your job, besides making disciples of the nations.”

Steve looked back, nodded, and proceeded to leave the beautiful lake area.

In the short time he had left, he spent enough time with his wife and kids to help them with their impending loss. And in the 6 weeks since that day, he spent almost the rest of his time volunteering with the local church’s youth groups.

He got ready for bed on week 7, and looked at his wife.

There is a river running deep into my soul. Rushing like a vision over me, it flows…

His wife looked at him, and blinked.

“I’m actually at peace. Christ’s been working in my life. I think I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

Where do we go when the world forsakes us?  Where do we go when we’re getting to the very end of things? We go where the healing waters flow.”

She looked at him funny, and gave her husband a kiss.

“I love you, honey. And even if you are gone tomorrow, I know that we’ll see each other again. Maybe even where those healing waters are.”

Steve got into bed and turned off the light, and held his wife tight through the night.

That was the last thing that Steve Latrell, a lay minister of God, did in his time on Earth. At 5:45AM, he left the Earth and went to where the healing waters flow.

The old man that sat by the river looked up at the sky at that precise moment.

“Lord, you have another of your men now,” he said, calmly, “Thank you for bringing him back to you in such a quick way.”