(Author’s note: Working hard on adjusting my schedule and getting rid of distractions in order to do better work. Also working on plans to put some of these stories on video, like Youtube or Vimeo. We’ll see what happens. Here’s today’s fictioneers, with a bit of The Church involved.)
(Author’s note: Hidiho, neighbors! Currently training my replacement in anticipation of a new position coming up. In the meantime, doing my duty with putting a Fictioneers up. This one reuses music that I’ve used before, but I think it’s appropriate. Enjoy!)
The 20 students snuck in overnight, flying into Tullamarine Airport, looking like smiling tourists. They walked past immigration, past the taxis, onto the nearest train platform. They smiled as they got on, and in unison, looked out the window.
As the trains eventually pulled into the Southern Cross Yards, each of the students looked towards a blonde haired girl with Chinese features.
“We have been selected for a great future. We are the future of Australia’s education.”
The train slowed to a stop.
“Time to take this town, girls!”
They rushed out the doors, onto unsuspecting businessmen and college registrars.
“Alright, we are here.”
“A set of steps? Why are we standing here?”
“It’s open and I want people to see this.”
“Remember the night of the Sydney fireworks?”
“How can I forget? You kissed me while I was talking.”
“But it was pretty good, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would, except I couldn’t.”
“Well, we’re on steps, you’re above me, and I am now kneeling with a box in my hand.”
“Will you marry me?”
He looked puzzled.
“Of course, you silly goose!”
All was silent, as he was given a scorcher of a smooch.
For some reason, I am not sure why, this is the second week I have done a Fictioneers story with a girl’s name as the title. I guess that’s what happens when you’re in the middle of making a move. Next week’s Fictioneers story will be done from Melbourne, Australia!
copyright Kent Bonham
by Miles H. Rost
She walked up to the DJ booth that I was sitting at, and plunked a sack of lollipops next to the control board. She looked at me with those blue eyes, framed by aureolin-tinged hair, and a sly smile.
“I figured you could use these.”
I looked up at her, one eyebrow arched, giving her a querious look that could only be reserved for certain people. I looked at the flat candies on a stick and popped one in my mouth.
“Thanks, Val! You’re the best cousin around!” I beamed back with a cheesy smile
She furrowed her eyebrows at me, and stomped away, her attempt at flustering me failing miserably.
Even with success, the specter of loss hung around his head like a bad cold.
Patrick Dumont was not an unhappy man, by any means. He was charming with all the folks, a man of character and integrity, and even fairly successful with his new business ventures. In all, he should be celebrating his life in great ways.
Yet, alone in his apartment, his head between his knees, he wasn’t even celebrating.
It started earlier in the day. Looking through his finance books, he knew that everything was going alright and that there were not going to be problems for the next couple months. But that nagging feeling was there, telling him “Hey, you’re finances are not as stable as they should be.”
As the day wore on, he got more and more worried. As the worries built, the memories of old days came flooding forth like a raging flood breaching an earthen dam. The more the worries piled on top, the more depressed he became. He took off from work early, and just went straight home.
As he sat in that apartment, head between knees and tears falling down his face, he remembered the many times of worry he had in the past. He heard the words of people telling him that if he didn’t plan for his future, he’d have nothing. That if he wasn’t paying attention, everything would fall around him.
He remembered his family as it came apart in pieces, like a car losing it’s parts as it drove along. His family splitting apart from divorce, his father becoming despondent after losing his job, his younger brother jumping off a high bridge to end his life after getting a failing score on his final test. He even remembered his own loss of the first business he started, a hedge clipping business.
Then there was Hannah. The girl that gave him so much passion, and so much life. He wanted to keep her in his heart always, always having that chance of being able to see her again. That is, until he heard the phone call.
“Patrick, I’m pregnant.”
“Who’s the father?”
He screamed out, cried, and put himself into fits while dealing with all of these things that came forth from his head. For 4 straight hours, he was in agony. Four hours of crying, sobbing, screaming into his sweatshirt. It seemed as though he would be crying for many more hours.
Suddenly, he sat up. He dried his eyes, and looked around. He blinked a few times, looking at the fluorescent lights reflecting from the outside window into his apartment, casting glow over shadows. His eyes, even in the dark, cleared up.
“I have no need to remember this.”
His words had steel behind them. It was the sound of determination. Whatever he had just went through was done, and he finally stood up. He smiled, as he put his jacket on.
He was free to enjoy life again. He was free from his pain, his grief, and that feeling of holding onto something.
Klaus started to stir, as the winds gently caressed his face. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked around, and found himself on a beautiful windswept beach.
The sands were like salt and pepper, dark and light waves of sand coarsing across the entire beach. He saw the ocean’s waves crest and fall, the tide coming in and going out. The sky was a beautiful blue, with the sun overhead as though it was late afternoon. It was, in his mind, the perfect time and perfect place. It was where he wanted to be for his entire life, and he was there now.
He started walking down the beach, letting the waves lap at his feet as they lazily came and went. He breathed in the sea air, the scent of salt and marine life wafting like a gentle perfume into his nostrils. He walked for what seemed to be a long time, when he saw someone in the distance.
He continued walking as the figure in the distance got closer. He was happy that he wasn’t going to be the only one on this beach. He kept walking, kicking piles of sand and leaving his footprints behind on the soggy sandy shoreline. As he got closer to the figure, he noticed that it was decidedly feminine. And she had a familiar look to her. He got closer, to the point where he got to see her face.
He blanched, because what he saw could not be true. He was looking at his own mother, who had passed on many years before.
“Mom?! Is that you?” he cried out.
She walked over to him and smiled.
“It is me, Klaus,” his mother said.
“But, I thought you were dead.”
“My body is dead, but you know that my spirit lives on.”
Klaus took a nervous breath.
“But, if you’re not here, is this a dream?”
“It very well may be. However, I am here to offer some help.”
He looked at her, and gave her a look of wonder.
“You have been having trouble with your life, and where you want to go.”
“That is true, mom. I have been wanting to do something that is my passion, and the world seems to want me to go a different direction.”
His mom chuckled.
“Do you remember what I told you when you decided to go to business college?”
“I remember. You told me, ‘Don’t do what you want to do for money, do it because you love it.'”
“That’s right. Now, are you doing what you love to do?”
He looked down at his feet, and shook his head.
“I’m doing what I can to survive.”
“Then, my son, you should change it and look at doing something you love.”
He looked at his chestnut-haired mother, smiling cherub-like.
“I still wish you were around, Mom. I could use your help at times.”
She smiled back at him, and bowed.
“My darling son, I’m always around.”
She suddenly disappeared.
It was then that Klaus awoke from his slumber, in a sweat. He looked around the darkened room, at the alarm clock that signaled 4:30AM. As he turned himself over to go to sleep again, he mused at what he dreamed.
He looked at a picture of his mom, sitting on top of the nightstand.