(Author’s note: The last couple weeks have been hell. I’m now at a point where I can do a lot more with my time, and hopefully will be able to update a lot more and answer things. Next week, I should be on time with my writing…depending on whether I’ll be writing on a plane or not. Otherwise, enjoy today’s Valentine’s Day writing piece!)
(Author’s Note: First week of new job doing fine. Hope to be back to mini-story writing next week. Here’s tonight’s fictioneers, with a song from my own personal deep cuts collection!)
Usagi looked outside, her long red hair a contrast to the thick snow on the window.
She wanted it. She knew what she wanted, and she finally took it. That was all, and no one could tell her otherwise.
She sat at the foot of her bed, smiling down and giving a little giggle at remembering everything that happened the night before. Magic happened last night, and she never wanted to see it go away.
She looked at her basset hound, with a small persian cat curled up within, sleeping away. They were the best of friends, and she was happy.
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.
Author’s Note: I want to give a thank you to everyone who has been reading, and especially the new readers that have come over to my blog due to “Unstoppable God / Invincible”. Quite happy with the response. Here’s today’s Friday Fictioneers offering for you all.
Hello, Fictioneer readers! I had to take a break from fictioneering last week due to the holidays, and the fact that I was not in the right state of mind to write at that time. I am back, and likely to have a few new stories out soon. But first…today’s Fictioneers story:
copyright Janet Webb
The Winter Long
by Miles Rost
The winter was the longest one that was on record. Cold temperatures kept people inside, the snow sometimes sealed them in like a tomb.
“Honey, do you think we’ll ever be able to leave?”
“Well, sweetie, look out the window.”
They walked over to their window, and looked at a tree with most of it’s leaves on, brown as they may have been.
“Those leaves have stayed on that tree all winter so far. If they can do it, we can do it.”
Honey looked back at her sweetie, smiling bashfully.
“Hold onto me, and I’ll hold on to you.”
Sweetie looked back at his honey, and enclosed his arms around her.
(Author’s Note: I’m BAAAAAAACK! I’ve been gone for the last month or so in the attempt to complete a TESOL Certification. Therefore, I had to drop the blog while I focused on getting all the tests out of the way. BUT, I am now back. And…here we go. ^_^)
Hazy Shade of Winter
by Miles Rost
On the campus of the University of Oregon, the air was becoming bitterly cold. December was not normally known for cold and snow, but for this year, it blitzed across the western United States with a fury rarely seen in any storm. While the city of Eugene was not known for being full of snow, the entire city was blanketed with nearly a foot and a half of snow.
Walking down one of the main streets of the campus, Mike Carlton was admiring the buildings with their roofs full of snow. It was unusual to see a thick coating on top of Willamette Hall’s strange shaped entrance, or a pile of snow that shut the front of the Volcanology building. Mike smiled as he watched a shovel crew scrape the snow and resulting ice-melt off the amphitheatre.
He crossed the heart of campus and angled to go across the plaza, the long strip of green park that stretched from just below the heart of campus across to the west side of campus. He stepped onto the path that cut across the plaza, looking to pass by the statue of the Pioneer Mother and head towards the library. As he took the first step, he heard the carillon bells from the student union behind him, and smiled.
1 o’clock on the nose, he thought, as he smiled at the quietness.
A quietness that was shattered with a loud *THWOCK* and the sting of cold and pain on the right side of his face.
“BOMBARDAMEN!” he heard from one side of the plaza, lined up with a slew of guys behind hastily erected snow-barriers.
Mike looked in horror at the guys, and looked the other way to see if there was the possibility of escape.
He was faced with 16 sorority girls with snowballs in their hands.
He started running from both sides, hurtling over one erected snow barrier and ran straight towards the Physical Education building. The girls and a few of the boys from the plaza started to chase after him, trying to pelt him with more snow than they could even imagine.
To Mike’s shock and surprise, he heard a loud series of *THWOCK*s from behind him. He took a glance behind him and saw that half of the girls and guys that were following him were felled by a series of pink snowballs, lobbed from the direction of the psychology building. For a second, he sighed in relief.
That is until a pink snowball splat in the road right next to him.
He looked up at Straub Hall, the psychology building, and saw a motley crew of girls and guys on the roof, lobbing at people that seemed relatively unscathed.
“Aw HELL naw!” he said, as he continued running past the Physical Education building. He knew where he needed to go, because there was no way that he’d survive if he kept being outside.
He ran past Hayward Field, the running track used for the Olympic Timetrials, now covered in what looked to be virgin snow. He payed no thought to it, as he ran across Agate Street. Like a comically tragic anime character, he ran up the stairs and smacked straight into the doors of the Knight Law library.
Surely, I can take refuge in here! Lawyers don’t have fun or a sense of humor.
Yet again, he was proven wrong as a series of dark blue snowballs rained down upon him. Deftly dodging them, he realized that there was no hope. He did not want to fight, but he was given no choice.
He ran back to the former football field and launched himself into the untouched snow. He looked around like a madman, looking for containers of any type. Within a few minutes of work, he created a sizeable number of snowballs. As he succumbed to his snowy bloodlust and launched the first of his snowballs at an unsuspecting faculty member, one thought entered his mind.
The bright wintry white ground of rural Idaho was not a place for any normal man to be traveling in the middle of the night. This was forbidden lands, a hunting ground for animals and man alike. If you were one of the hunted, you were likely running scared. If you were a hunter, you were patient in your tracking.
Rick Manetti was not supposed to be one of the hunted. He was trying to find his way to a house so he could call for a tow truck. Instead, he ended up at the wrong place, in the wrong part of Idaho, at the worst possible time.
He slowly sneaked through the woods, trying to keep as silent as possible while trying to put distance between himself and his pursuers. He looked at the moon in the sky, and heard a wolf cry in the distance. He knew that he could follow the moon’s path towards the freeway, but he was likely many miles from it. He would likely die before reaching it. He looked behind him, and kept sneaking. He heard a similar wolf-like call, but one that was more like a whistle. He knew that his stalkers were not too far away from him.
He stepped over a large log. As he tried to swing his leg over, he stumbled and fell forward. The noise he made wasn’t massive, but it was enough to hear the sound of rustling a distance away. He looked up, and he knew they were near. He looked to both sides, and behind him. Seeing distant lamps, he scrambled up onto his feet and took off running the way he was originally going.
With a couple of barks from a dog behind him, the chase was now on.
Rick ran as quick as he could, looking for anything that could remove his scent or help him in slowing down the pursuers. He went through the trees quickly, and before too long, he found himself looking at a wide expanse of white. A clearing, a field, or even a lake; whatever it was, Rick was going to run through it.
He ran as fast as his heart could stand, and he felt like he was putting distance between his pursuers. He kept going as far as he could, until he had to slow down. By this time, he cleared about 3/4 of the gigantic clearing. He looked behind him and didn’t see lights.
“I pray that I lost them,” he said to himself, aloud.
Just then he heard the unmistakable click-clack of a bullet being loaded into a shotgun. Off to his left the sound came, and as he looked, he saw two men and a woman with weapons in hand.
“Who the hell are you?” the larger of the two men demanded, focusing keen eyes on his target.
“I’m a motorist, I’ve been chased by these crazy guys for going on 3 hours now. Are you one of them?”
“We’re not. Again, who the hell are you?”
“Rick Manetti.”
“Social?”
Rick gave him his social security number
“Follow us. We’ll get you away from the crazy weed barons.”
“Wait…why should I follow you?”
“We’re the Lunatic Fringe. We’re the resistance. And they are trying to kill each one of us too. You’re not the only potential victim of these joyriding murder fetishists.”
Rick was relieved. His thoughts turned from escape to punishment. And he was going to make sure they got it.
Music and Fiction 