Flash: Buffet

Strobe lights flash over the room, blue then white and finally red. A slow eerie wail pierces the crowd noise and the curtains draw back in time with the slow beat of a single drum.

Head thrown back inky hair flows nearly to her waist, she stands still as a statue the only thing moving is white fog swirling up around perfect legs. Spotlights flash on either side, mirror images heads bowed, supplicants.

She moves down the steps, the drum beats faster. Her hips move flowing as if unhinged, fluid. All eyes follow her, silent and worshipful; this is the moment they have waited for. The mirror images move, lift their heads and join her in dance; their bodies move together, clothing drops. A veritable buffet a cornucopia of womanhood on display before a room of wolves and the room erupts in whistles and dollar bills.

FlashinthePan

Flash in the Pan is brought to you by the amazing Red of M3 fame

This week’s word is Buffet. The word limit is 150 words. This one comes in at 146.

Hashtags: #flashfiction #getpublished

Flash Fiction: Galley

Sweat streamed in her eyes, trickled down her back causing the woolen shirt to stick wherever it touched. The sun beat down with a rhythm matching the bass drum beaten by the monster in the stern. Worse, the whistle of the whip flew past her, landing on other shoulders and backs, their pitiful groans reminding her what would all too soon be her fate.

All around her men pulled oars, backs burned black from the sun. Faces sucked dry of moisture, eyes deadened with pain. They wondered one thing, why didn’t she rid herself of the encumbrance of shirt, pants and hose. Why continue in this terrible heat fully clothed, baking unnecessarily when all around her were stripped to their skivvies.

They were unaware she was a girl, hidden in boys clothing as a lark she has been ‘pressed as a Galley slave to the Kings service.

FlashinthePan

Flash in the Pan is brought to you by the amazing Red of M3 fame

This week’s word is Galley. The word limit is 150 words. This one comes in at 147.

Hashtags: #flashfiction #getpublished

Flash: Busboy

He stares down the long hall, his cart empty, sweat beading his upper lip and inside his cap. His knees are weak and his hands shaking did he really sign up for this?

“Open”, he shouts. The gate creaks back.

Arriving at the first door, he flips the lock, “push through your tray”. Grabbing it, he throws it on the cart proceeds to the next door.

Unbelievable, I am a busboy on Death Row.”

FlashinthePan

Flash in the Pan is brought to you by the amazing Red of M3 fame

This week’s word is Busboy. The word limit is 75 words. This one comes in at 74.

Hashtags: #flashfiction #getpublished

New Middle Age

Linda_1960When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. 1 Corinthians 13:11

When we are young it seems the opportunities are endless doors to the future are flung wide open and we are bulletproof.

Bad love affair? Lost job? Bad grade in a class?

Never mind, we will overcome any and all of these very quickly with a few days of lamentation, perhaps a bitch session or two with our friends and then it is back to life. This is true of most of us; we are indeed invincible and these inconveniences teach us, toughen us up for adult life.

When we are young, doors are flung wide open and we march through them, assured life will hand us the gold medal, most of us rarely reach middle age unscathed by the arrows of real life beyond childhood. I look at my own history as a long hallway, some doors flung wide open and others securely locked with blinking “Do Not Enter” signs above the jams. My future is simply the continuation of that hallway, with fewer doors, fewer choices and not nearly as many frightening outcomes as my past.

My mother once said to me, “Keep it up and you won’t see 40!”

I don’t know if she was threatening me at the time or simply receiving visions of my future, I have always suspected it was part threat and part wishful thinking. Needless to say, not only did I see forty, I will be fifty-six this year. Each decade of my life has seen real changes take place, sometimes those changes have not been of my choosing but the upheaval brought something new and in later years usually something better.

They say fifty-five is the new middle age, with this I have reached a new pinnacle a new point in life. I am no longer ‘young’, can no longer excuse my indiscretions on youth; I am not ‘old’ either, I don’t have the excuse of age or memory loss. I don’t think of myself as anything other than me, just me with all my body dysfunction brought on by injury and misuse. I think of myself as just me, with foibles and strange predilections brought on by my history and need to protect myself and control my environment.

Having reached this wonderful milestone, this spectacular new middle age of fifty-five I can only consider what is next. There was no light flashing over my head last September when this magical age was reached, in fact I believe I was sitting at my favorite restaurant having forgone the normal holiday to bright and sunny spots. I am far too young to retire and honestly couldn’t imagine life without the hustle of work, despite there are days I do not love it.

I worry sometimes, how does society view us? Those of us reaching this magical new middle age, we aren’t old; we aren’t ready to retire to our rocking chairs. Most of us, no matter the lives we have led to now are vibrant, smart and ready still to rock-n-roll, we have much to offer yet we are often sidelined. I am lucky for now, at fifty I began to contract myself rather than work as someone’s employee. This transition gave me freedom though it is a frightening freedom to be sure, especially now in our economic uncertainty. They say though reinvention is necessary and so I reinvented myself, one more time.

Each decade of our lives, we change, sometimes the change is small and other times the change is spectacular. With each transition to a new decade, we carry with us the hopes and disappointments of the previous decade and our dreams for the future. It is inevitable our dreams change as our life is changed by providence. We grow up and expand our world, with people we love and causes we align with. As our world expands, as our vision of what we are capable of grows we are enriched and we are better able to enhance the lives of those we touch.

Although the pasture ahead of me seems welcoming, I am not quite ready yet. At the ripe middle age of fifty-five I suspect I still have some hell to raise and some childish things I haven’t put away. I am guessing the secret to not growing old even as we transition from one age to the next is holding on to all those special memories, loves and lights that caused us to cherish each decade  while releasing the hurts of the past to galaxy.

Silver Linings

One hell of a week, whether looking at my personal life or a week of news I can only say, “It was one hell of a week”.

I don’t know where to start; don’t even know what I think about this past week, turmoil was a theme, one I could certainly have done without. I suspect there are times I should toss plans aside, never mind those great thoughts I have and instead simply allow the world to spin me to the next adventure. This might truly be the easier strategy that is no strategy at all. Weeks like this do make me wonder though, wonder if my goals, wants and desires are simply unrealistic.

Do you ever think fate is a great and evil bitch with a nasty sense of humor? I think this quite often. I also think, more often than I care to admit that I am far too old for this, I need something more settled, more secure and less crisis based.

What has happened this past week that was a shot out of nowhere, unexpected and costly?

  • Husband’s car lost transmission, no not putting $4,000 into car. Buy new car. But wait this one isn’t paid off; still have three payments by my calculation. There is question as to what is still owed and the difference is $3,000. This is costly and we are still trying to get an answer from the other bank of why their records are off.
  • Current contract will likely be cancelled this week; this is only 6 months early. This is a big blow for me. While the client is a bit crazy, it is a good contract, interesting and fun. It is also the first time I haven’t traveled in 10 years, being able to drive to work instead of getting on a plane on Sunday is a huge benefit, one I took a rate cut to enjoy. The change in project strategy and leadership came as a surprise (though not a shock) and it is unlikely they will use me going forward.

So significant cash out of pocket right at a time when it is likely I will be taking an extended unplanned holiday. Nice, right?

Fate is a bitch.

This leads to how to achieve calm, peace or Zen in the face of the unknown or the unexpected. I have unfortunately had an inordinate amount of practice at this. My week ended with two great things, an early dinner with my sons, their partners, children and other parents on Saturday. Grounding me in family and love. Sunday was a long and leisurely swim, adding a new exercise to my routine.

These don’t lead specifically to calm or peace; they just remind me there is more to life. If I lose this contract, it will suck; yes, it will. But I have been through this before and will go through it many times more before I retire. My suitcases remain ready to roll through airports, my resume remains up-to-date and I have already upgraded my membership at Dice and Ladders. I have to remind myself, I signed up for this when I signed up to contract rather than work for others. Time to put my network to work for me.

If the contract is cancelled, I will take a couple of weeks of downtime while I look for the next one. There are certainly some things I would like to do before being sucked back into work!

There is always a silver lining.

Flash: Sommelier

Aged to something less than perfection the scent wafting to his nostrils makes his nose twitch. It smells of fresh wet concrete, minerally; something he read somewhere but fitting.

“Boy!”

He slowly turns to the sound of the slurred word.

“Boy, I am ready to check out, get your ass over here.”

Leaning his mop against the wall he hurries to ring up the bottle of Mad Dog. He is the Sommelier of Skid Row.

FlashinthePan

Flash in the Pan is brought to you by the amazing Red of M3 fame

This week’s word is Sommelier. The word limit is 75 words. This one comes in at 75.

Hashtags: #flashfiction #getpublished

Flash in the Pan: Wave of Emotion Promotion

Do you wonder what that big beautiful blue book is in my side bar? Come on, ask me; no really ask me.

Thanks, I am glad you asked.

That my friends is the compilation of all the Spring Flash in the Pan, all of the authors in one place including little ole moi. Pretty awesome, right? I can now say I am a published author, my scribbling’s have made it into a book with the incredible writings of other really wonderful authors, all of whom are truly funny and talented.

I am in awe.

I am shaking in my high heels.

arrow1

Some of these talented authors have blogs others submit directly for book publication. There are a total of 16 authors and 168 pieces of great Flash Fiction in the Spring edition. Personally, I loved this set of words, the emotional peaks and valleys of elation to brokenhearted. I had a wonderful time crafting the stories, my first foray into writing to prompts and containing my word counts. Anyone who reads my blog regularly knows I can be loquacious at times.

If you enjoyed the Flash Fiction on my blog for Spring, I hope you will think about buying the complete set and supporting all the great authors who contributed. Flash in the Pan, Wave of Emotion is available in Paperback, Kindle, EPub or PDF (I of course bought the Paperback who wouldn’t want to see their name in print).

Well that is my plug for the day. I am really excited about this, yes I really am. I am excited about RedmundPro Publishing, a unique approach to the publishing world and one I am thrilled to be part of and happy to promote. In the future expect to see more books and authors promoted from RedmundPro.

Rubber Fat and Training

Each morning that I show up for a training session, I find myself staring at this lovely pair of rubber fat and muscle reproductions. I suspect someone somewhere thought used properly these would inspire me to work harder. Not at all, in fact these do nothing but inspire me to create X-rated pictures. Great globules of fake fat are not inspiring rubber muscle does not enthuse.

These are toys they leave us to play with after our workout, which is something to look forward to though. As we stand there, sweating glistening we can poke at the deep pocked (gad they even gave it cellulite) rubber fat dreaming of the day we will no longer have so much of it. We can stroke lovingly the deep red dense fake muscle and pretend someday we will have some, or even that we have some underneath our fat. I think the trainers at my gym leave these out not as demonstration models but rather so their clients can de-stress after workouts, so we can bounce, poke, prod and even tear a little. The result of my imaginative poking is this.

fatone_2

That piece of paper is my days workout.

I have a fantastic trainer, though I often picture her in leather thigh high boots, a bustier with whip in hand (no this isn’t a twisted fantasy you have not discovered my dark secrets). My trainer has a great understanding of my limitations and works with me to find balance between my great desire not to re-injure and my need to get healthy. She is also a fantastic listener, I get a twofer with her, “move your ass” and girl-talk. Joellen (what a great joellen_2name, right) understands when I say, “I can’t do that”; I am not whining I am actually saying something within my injured body is not going to allow me to do what she is asking. I love this about her!

My trainer is like me, not quite normal on the social spectrum. She isn’t what you expect; her hair is like mine all spikey and unanticipated. She wears unmatched shoes, everyday it isn’t an accident. She isn’t bouncy; she doesn’t wear make-up to the gym (thank you). She has a brain between her ears (not saying this is like me only mentioning it). She doesn’t take herself too seriously but she has a very serious side and focus on a future beyond what she is doing today, right now. She is health conscious, diet conscious and can discuss with great insight and knowledge how our bodies work. I really appreciate this about her, it makes me trust her. What I like most, honestly and I hope if she reads this she isn’t offended, she is imperfect. In her imperfection, with her injuries that she has had to recover from she gives me and I am certain her other clients hope.

Right now I can get myself to the gym at least two mornings a week because (1) I pay her to make certain I move my muscles the right way and (2) I look forward to talking to her. We have agreed I don’t do squats (this is what you do in the woods when there are no public restrooms available) I do Plié or even Grand Plié, but I do not squat.

joellen3_2

I suspect she thinks the things that sometimes come out of my mouth are a bit odd; she just goes with it this is another thing I like about her. My guess is she knows I don’t like facing mirrors, ever. I find the entire sweating glistening, weight lifting, Plié and other for health reasons things we do at the gym quite undignified. There is nothing attractive about it. There is especially nothing attractive if you are zaftig.

I know I need to do more, I feel the difference she is helping me make in my health. Despite pornographic rubber fat at the trainer’s desk and the honest truth I find nothing wonderful in sweating I know I have to do this for me. Thankfully I have help along the way!

Flash: Reservations

Lines are long for a Sunday night; people fidget, children act out from boredom. Everyone watches as flights change from on-time to delayed or cancelled. Anger is palatable; in the Red Carpet line, a lone woman stands serene.

True approaches the desk, ahead of many waiting far longer than she, the agent politely greets her, “may I assist you with your reservations?”

“Thank you.”

Transaction complete, True saunters through security past lines. A riot ensues.

FlashinthePan

Flash in the Pan is brought to you by the amazing Red of M3 fame

The Hot Flash word is Reservations. The word limit is 75 words. This one comes in at exactly 75

.

Hashtags: #flashfiction #getpublished

Flash: Diner

Tommy screams pancakes, with raspberry syrup. Jane wants waffles, with peanut butter.  Ice cold milk for both, orange juice, no pulp for either.

Orders in, where is George? Unshaven, breath smelling of last night’s beer he stumbles into the kitchen.

“Coffee”, he belches out.

“Is that all?”

“Eggs, over easy, bacon and toast.”

She stares around the table at her family then ties her apron on for another day of work at the diner.

FlashinthePan

Flash in the Pan is brought to you by the amazing Red of M3 fame

The Hot Flash word is Diner. The word limit is 75 words. This one comes in at exactly 74

Hashtags: #flashfiction #getpublished

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 344 other followers

%d bloggers like this: