Getting ready.

I checked the fluid levels on the car, and the tire pressure, so it would be as ready as I can get it. Some of the food, and most of the clothes I'm taking is in the car too. Susan is still packing.
After months of not using it I started cleaning my SLR this morning. I will say cleaning cloths aren't as effective on cleaning the lens, and filters as blower brushes used to be. Anyway, the camera is ready now.

Vacation

On Tuesday, Susan and I, will be going on vacation. We're both looking forward to it. Neither of us has been to Mesa Verde before, and she hasn't been to Great Sand Dunes before, or four corners.
I will try to do some posts on our vacation. I'm sure I'll be uploading a lot of pictures to View Bug too. I really like to do the photography competitions.
For the near future I probably won't be posting any more flash fiction shorts. They are fun to do so I'm sure I'll be making more.

Trip (flash fiction, 700 words.)

The Studebaker had done well on this trip for the last 800 miles. He still had a thousand to go. It wasn’t that he wanted to travel. He had to relocate because of his job as an insurance agent at a new agency. 1959 was turning out to be a good year with a whole new set of beginnings.

  Charlie was headed to his new job in Los Angeles, and on a whim, he decided he wanted to go through the mountains for part of the trip. It would be fun he told himself. He’d never been to the Rocky Mountains before and he wanted to see them at least once. He might never get the chance to do it again.

  He knew his life would change greatly from what it had been in Des Moines. It was okay though, he’d always rolled with the punches no matter what came about. He commonly told himself, don’t let the bastards get down.

  Having listened to the monotony of the wind noise for far too long he reached over and turned on the radio. Static filled the car. He turned the dial to find a station to no avail. Only the static emanated from the speaker. With a frown he turned the radio off again.

  His stomach growled. It had been several hours since he had eaten last. In the next town I’ll find a diner.

  After the next curve billowing fog filled the air ahead which derailed his thoughts. Pay attention Charlie. He reached over and turned on the headlights which were on the high beams. The light glared and he couldn’t see much of anything, including the road. Tapping the floor switch he switched to low beams.

  As he drove the fog grew thicker. He eased up on the pedal so the car would slow. His heart rate increased and his breathing got faster.

  After what had seemed like a long time the pavement ended. The car swerved on the dirt and he almost lost control. Stomping on the brakes he slowed the car to about 20 miles per hour.

  Continuing on the road became a pair of wagon ruts. He had to slow down even more. The car rocked with all of the dips in the turf. What in the hell happened to the road? His forward momentum slowed to a crawl.

  Seeing a log cabin by the creek he drove toward it. He had to find out what was going on. At least he thought he could find out where he would meet up with the road again. This track wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Charlie gawked at his surroundings as he got close to the cabin and stopped the car.

  A strange looking man stepped up on the creek bank. He was wearing some kind of a pelt for a hat and he looked like a trapper from the old days. The rifle he was holding looked an old repeating rifle.

  “What in tarnation is that thing?!”

  “You’ve never seen a car before?” Charlie was shocked.

  “What’s a car?” An oblivious expression covered the man’s face.

  Charlie shook his head. This had to be a nightmare. When the hell am I? There was nothing he could compare this to.
  “I think I’m lost. Could you tell me how to get back to the highway?”
  “I guess you turn around and head back the way you came.” The trapper spit into the grass.

  Charlie had to know a little more about something. “Can you tell me where I’m at?”

  The man spit in the grass again and pointed the rifle at Charlie. “You’re in Mexico. You aren’t going to tell those bastards I’m here, are you?”

  “No, I won’t. I’ll leave now.”

  “Have a good day then.” The man held the rifle up and kept watching as Charlie attempted to turn the car around. Afraid of get shot he tried hurrying up. He had to get back to the road as fast as he could. As soon as he was out of sight of the cabin he breathed a sigh of relief. This would be a trip he’d never forget.

The end

Walkabout (flash fiction)

John loved these evening walks on the lake shore away from his many daily cares of his business. The walks allowed him to take a few moments to take break from everything. It was just never long enough to be a real break so he called them walkabouts.

  He stopped walking a moment and turned to look back at the cabin. Four years ago he had bought it for these little getaways he’d always wanted to take but never could. He was too busy too often. One day he wanted to take a whole week at a time instead of just a weekend here and there like he was doing now. The cool sand felt great on the soles of his bare feet in the evening.

  Smiling, he turned, to look out over the water. The expanse of stars reflected on the surface of the water. A single light caught his attention as it arced through the darkness.

  I wonder where that plane is going.

  The moving light slowed and came closer until it was directly overhead. Then, it descended toward the surface of the water slowly. John could only stand there in awe and watch it.

  In a few minutes it stopped a short distance from the surface of the water. Hovering it appeared as if the surface of the craft was pulsing with faint blue lights. A soft pulsating sound filled the air. What the fuck?

  Out of the bottom of the craft a beam came down to the surface of the water. Something dark travelled up through the beam of light to the craft.

  Unable to contain himself any longer John squeaked, “oh, Jesus Christ!”

  The beam disappeared and the light pulses across the surface of the craft changed from soft blue to red. To John’s shock the craft came closer to him. His heartbeat thumped in his ears though he was barely able to distinguish it. The soft pulsating sound increased in volume.

  Wanting to run and hide John was riveted in place. His mouth hung open in rapt attention.

  Directly over his head the craft stopped. Out of the bottom of the craft the beam started to descend toward John. His vision faded and he collapsed to the ground.

  All became darkness.

  In future nightmares he’d relive the next few hours of time.

The end

La Fuga (flash fiction)

   Three days ago Juan had escaped. Now he was lost in the desert of what would become Arizona in another 300 years. The natives had attacked and killed everyone in the expedition except for the lone escapee. They’d tied him down next to an anthill and had left him to rot. Luckily for him one of the stakes came loose which let him get away. At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about having to work for one of the missions again.

   I need to find some water soon. He brushed the sweat from his forehead. His shirt, soaked with sweat, clung to his back. Soaked pants retarded the movement of his legs.

   Stumbling, he fell into a cactus. The sharp needles pierced the skin of his hand, and arm. “Oh shit!” Wincing, he pulled himself free. Then he removed the sharp spines that had lodged themselves in his skin.

   Think man! His eyes swept the vicinity seeking out some kind of shelter. Not spotting any he sighed and decided to push on hoping he’d find something soon. He also hoped he wouldn’t get found by those natives again. They were bad news. So were the cactus plants which he tried to carefully avoid.

With the heat of the day what appeared to be water showed in the distance. He knew that was just a mirage though he’d learned from the expedition leader. Now he wished he’d paid more attention when the leader had spoken about navigating an area.

   He slogged along as the hot sun beat down on him. Though only a couple of hours it seemed like an eternity wandering through a strange land that was devoid of life. No birds flew overhead. Even the lizards, and snakes, seemed to be in hiding from the blistering sun.

   His head began to hurt from a headache. Spots began to form in his vision. Trying to blink he tried clearing his sight. His mouth hanging open began to dry out and his tongue stuck to his teeth.

   Just as his vision began to fade he smacked into a tree face first. He shook his head, and blinked. The shade was a welcome respite. Then, he spotted the little creek. He made his way to the bank and fell to his knees. Dipping his hands in the cool water he splashed some water on his face which instantly refreshed. Next he leaned over and took a sip. He wanted just a little of the sweet nectar to slake his thirst.

   Now, he would rest in this place for a short time before he pushed on. Where he was going he did not know.

The end

Algeria

1943, North Africa

  The M3 tank was noisy. Sometimes, after it was shut down John’s ears would continue to hum which made it difficult to hear anyone. The tank was also known as a death trap. One properly dropped bomb from a Messerschmitt would usually kill the tank, and all of the occupants. It was the stuff of nightmares.

  To help pass the time he would reminisce about his past life as he watched the scenery pass by. Walking through his memories was a better option than focusing on the possibility of getting up in this tin can.

  Jenny Walker, and he, would go frog gigging down at the swamp when they were teenagers. He smiled at the pleasant memories flooding his mind. How I wish I could go back there now.

  He allowed his thoughts to continue to drift until they came to rest on the time he kissed her for the first time. They were both 16. They’d been together ever since with the exception of this damned war. He’d even married her just after he was drafted in 1942.

  A jolt felt through his feet brought him back to the present. A ball of flame greeted his view through the slit. His mouth dropped open in shock. Then, the tank stopped. What the fuck?

  Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. John squatted down and spotted the now dead driver who was slumped over in the seat. I have to get him out of there.

  Reaching up he popped open the hatch and peeked out over the edge. His eyes swept the horizon looking for those Kraut planes. All he needed was a few bullets plugged into his ass. Satisfied, he pulled himself up to the top of the turret and made his way to the driver who he tried to slide off the seat.

  After several tries he succeeded and he climbed down into the drivers seat. He put the tank into gear and pushed on the peddle. There was no response from the tank. Think John!

  He shifted into neutral and tried starting the tank. No resonse from the seven cylinder engine. He tried a second time, and a third. It wouldn’t start. He was now a sitting duck. Jenny’s sweet smiling face filled his mind for a moment as he tried to figure out what to do.

  Looking to his right he spotted another M3. He began waving his arms and shouted, “hey!” They continued rolling on westward. Maybe I can catch them if I’m quick enough.

  He pulled himself back out and began to run after the moving tank. It was moving too fast and the distance was increasing as he pushed himself. Realizing he was wasting his time he stopped and sat down. His chest heaved from his exertions while attempting to catch his breath.

  Closing his eyes he began to daydream about Jenny again.

The end

Workaholic (short story)

Yes, I'd done things like this in the past. I'm definitely not normal in some ways. This would be the first short story I've written in about a year and a half. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Three months ago it had happened.

  Justin had woke up to an empty house. Looking back he knew should have realized what was going to happen. Working two full time jobs had taken their toll on his marriage. Luckily they were common law married which made part of it a whole lot easier.

  Still, it pissed him off.

  He blamed her, and yet, deep down he knew a big amount of the reason was is that it was his own damned fault. Being too busy killed his relationship was a fact he was slowly becoming aware of.

  It didn’t take long to get tired of watching TV. Once again he was sitting on the sofa and stared at the blank screen that reflected his image back at him.

  “What the fuck do I do now?” he muttered to himself.

  His gaze moved to the open window. The open field captivated his attention. What is beyond it?

  Taking hold the idea grew stronger and he knew he wouldn’t be showing up at his job tonight. They’d have to without him permanently. So would his other job. With a couple thousand in the bank he could go a long ways.

  Knowing it was crazy he didn’t care. He’d leave today. Destination unknown.

  He walked to the bedroom, stopped a moment, and considered his decision a few moments.

  Yes, it was the right decision.

  He’d leave. Start over fresh. Opening the dresser drawers he pulled out a few clothes which he piled on the bed. An empty pillow case made a convenient piece of luggage easily carried.

  His jeans he grabbed out of the closet and laid over his left arm. He grabbed the pillow case with his left hand. As he reached for the doorknob on his way out he stopped and his eyes swept the apartment.

  There’s nothing you need here.

  He opened the door and walked out it. His thoughts drifted to driving down the interstate to somewhere without a plan.

  The End