100 Words – Woods

The echoes in the woods magnified our sense of danger. Creatures scurried on either side of the road, but they were small and harmless. It was the occasional ground-shaking thud that was worrying. It seemed to come from every direction and had no pattern. Then there was a mighty bang and the world tipped on its side. I woke up some time later with a terrible headache. Gravity seemed to have righted itself. The stars were all gone. I couldn't see the road ahead of me. I sat there waiting for the dawn the dawn to come. It never did. #100words

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Tom Week – Alabama Etc.

3/22/19

We're in Alabama! State number 26. It's everything we could ever hope for. Lot's of gun shops and even the news people have accents so think I can't understand half of what they're saying. Instead of golf carts the residents ride around on ATVs and mini bikes. Our next door neighbor has a dog called vittles.

3/23/19

We're in Florida again! Twenty miles from Pensacola. We're at a KOA with lots of RVs but very few people. Haven't figured that one out yet. My perceptions of the Gulf Coast are proving misguided. Not the people and places. They're what I expected. The problem is distances. New Orleans is only 230 miles away. That's three states. Alabama and Mississippi have much less coastline than I pictured. Also met a guy here at the campground that's riding his bicycle across the country from the Atlantic to the Pacific. It's his sixth day on the road and he's covered 400 miles.

3/24/19

Great day today. This morning I rode my bike to downtown Milton, FL. A town on a river trying to balance quaint and touristy. Fortunately quaint seems to be winning. After being in Georgia and Alabama I have to say that Florida is much friendlier to cyclists. Nice wide bike lanes everywhere. Then after lunch I got a pile of work on the RV done. Vents to replace and clean. Holes to weatherstrip. Door to trim to nail down. I felt like such a "guy."

3/25/19

Daylight Savings time, time zones, states smaller than I thought. All this has left me dazed and confused. We woke this morning in Florida. We drove to Alabama. Then we drove to Mississippi. All in the matter of a few hours. We are now an hour from Louisiana. We are in a very nice RV park in a not great area of Biloxi. Pat and I both got a little nervous because the neighborhood reminded us of one in Fresno. That park turned out to be hideous. This one is much nicer.

3/26/19

On the best of days there are no plans. Today is one of those days. We've extended our stay in Biloxi till Friday and rented a car. Or rather a truck, and this in no mid-size wimp of a truck. It is a 2019 Ram crew cab with a HEMI! We toured Biloxi, ate lunch at a pathetic Hooters knock-off called Twin Peaks, and took Abigail to a dog park that only had one other dog. Then I took a nap. I was up all last night working on my latest short story.

3/27/19

Nearly fifteen miles on the bike today. Out to dinner we had one of those rare failures of an experiment. The food was way spicier than hoped and it was full of unexpected ingredients. You can't win them all. Then we went to a giant gift shop which seriously needs some competition.

3/28/19

Coming back from WalMart I managed to get lost again. Having the ocean to the south is confusing. Took dad to the casino. He won six dollars, but Mom made him buy me a beer so he actually wound up with only two dollars profit.

PIX

[caption id="attachment_3934" align="alignleft" width="300"] Behind this RV park there were cows. As in mooooo![/caption] [caption id="attachment_3935" align="alignright" width="300"] Some RV parks have "yuge" spaces.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_3936" align="alignleft" width="300"] The rental truck was the envy of all the lesbians in the park.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_3937" align="alignright" width="300"] The view from the top of the Biloxi Bay Bridge[/caption] [caption id="attachment_3938" align="alignleft" width="300"] Pelicans by the bay.[/caption]

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100 Words – Other People’s Nostalgia

I live unwillingly in other people's nostalgia. I walk down the street and I am bombarded by their best and mostly false memories from long-ago. Everything is black-and-white in soft focus and too much sunshine. I long for that rare event of someone with a truly dark subconscious. Grainy horrors and scary monsters. When I find one I follow them as long as I can remain hidden. I have to break it off when they notice me because they are always adept at using the weapons they always carry. When all else fails the bottle is my guide. Sweet oblivion. #100words

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100 Words – Lost

The last time I rode my bike on a dirt road, everything went fine. Not today. None of the roads were straight and the sounds of the nearby highway echoed from every direction. I knew I was truly lost when I came to the intersection of County Road 232 and County Road 232. After some weird macho attempt to be above being lost I peddled about a hundred yards, then gave in and got out my phone. The GPS map showed that there were indeed two CR232s, and I was on the wrong one. From now on, check maps first. #100words

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100 Words – Disoriented

Disoriented was too weak a word. Smiley seemed to wake from a deep sleep to find himself sitting at the bar of a strip club 50 miles from his last waking thought. Then he noticed Martha in the doorway arguing with the bouncer. This was bad. He took a couple deep breathes and tried to remember what happened. Nothing. So he made up a story to tell Martha. There was a drink sitting in front of him. He swallowed it. Then Martha was sitting next to him, only she was smiling. "That was fun." She said, waving for the bartender.   #100words

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Solitary – Short Story

Why do I expect music when there is no radio? I blame the movies. There's always background music in the movies, even in solitary. There are three of us down here. If I'm right there are six cells. I'm in the fifth from the door. The others are in two and three. Sometimes at night I hear them whispering. I think they're in love. The rats come by at dusk. At first they came into my cell but they've learned I have no food to share. Now they just stop to sniff hello and move on. Maybe the lovers feed them. I get two small meals a day at random times so sometimes it's a full day before the next arrives. The best way to deal with that is to assume that you are never going to be fed again. That way each meal's arrival is a nice little surprise. I wish it was dark. That would help. There is a single bright bulb in the hall shining on the grime that paints every surface of the cell. If it was dark I could imagine I was somewhere else. Sometimes I feel like I've been sent to my room by my parents to think about what I've done. Only my room is a stinking dungeon and I still have no idea what I've done. The guards tell me that they can't tell me. I came to prison for identity theft. I was guilty. My lawyer told me if I plead guilty I'd get off easy. Id did but I didn't. Maximum sentence for a first offender. Still, parole possible in eighteen months. Three months later they drug me down here. No reason, no warning. Last night the lovers had an argument. Many guards came and beat them into silence. Then they dragged one of them to cell six. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see the wounds. I don't like this. I can feel his presence. I know when he wakes up he'll be listening for me. I have to keep quiet or he'll start whispering to me at night. I don't want to get into any more trouble. From the sounds of the meal deliveries I think it's number two that's now number six. I don't know why I care. Even if he tried to talk to me I wouldn't answer. They dragged away number six today. I think he was dead. They found out when they brought food. Fortunately they did his cell last so my food wasn't delayed. You should have heard number three. You'd think it was him they beat to death. Somethings wrong. I was pacing the cell like I do a couple times a day to keep my muscles from dying. Mid-stride it felt like my heart was sucked out of my chest. Then it slowly came fluttering back in. I sat down and breathed for a long time. Nothing happened. I told the food guard what happened but he didn't care. The next day I woke up in the hospital. It took a couple minutes to focus and realize I was strapped to the bed. It was comforting in a way. No responsibility. Then the cute nurse came over and smiled at me. Instant boner. I tried to squirm and hide it but couldn't move. He put his hand on my arm and said, "Don't worry dude. It happens all the time." That was the nurse's favorite saying. He said it a lot. All around me people were puking and shitting and screaming. The nurse ran back and forth doing everything he could do to make people comfortable and clean. I loved him, but he wouldn't tell me his name. He said to call him nurse, company policy. The meals in the hospital were much better and more regular. I was unstrapped. At first the nurse and the guard watched me closely but I wasn't going to do anything to ruin this sweet setup. On the third day a doctor and three suits came to visit me. Doc said that my heart was acting up because I wasn't eating properly. No Shit. I complained and asked why I was down there in the first place. He was about to answer but one of the suits stopped him. Then another one of the suits handed me a pile of papers and a pen. He explained that if I signed it and didn't ask any more questions I'd be set free. Well, I'd be paroled. Not exactly free. A week later I was ready to go home. No more heart "episodes." I sat on my bed, wearing real clothes, waiting for the discharge guard to come get me. It's amazing how clothes like I've worn my whole life become so important after not being able to wear them. I still didn't know what was really happening to me. I was deep in thought and didn't notice the nurse standing in front of me. He sat down close next to me. Fortunately my jeans were better at hiding my excitement than my hospital robe. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" He smiled and gave me a business card. It was the vice warden's. I didn't recognize the name. Then I did. One of my victims, a big one, had the same last name. I looked at the nurse. He nodded, got up and walked away, taking the card with him. I sat all the way at the back of the bus. I like to have my back against the wall. That way nobody can sneak up behind you. You can see them coming. A fair fight. I wonder if the warden will see me coming. #shortstory

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100 Words – Forever Wounds

Back in San Francisco I knew a homeless guy who used to sell jokes for a quarter. Then his foot got sliced open and he found that sympathy got him a lot more money than humor. So he never let his foot heal. Once a week or so he'd take a steak knife and open it up again. As horrific as that sounds I do the same thing in my mind. Emotional scars, some forty to fifty years old, are torn open over and over again. Familiar pain relived. Some wounds just never heal, especially if you don't let them. #100words

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