I have spent most of my life traveling around the US and the globe. Now it's time to draw on these experiences and create what I hope are interesting fictional stories. Only you, the reader, can tell me if I've achieved my goal.
To the untrained eyes of uneducated earth dwellers, it simply looked like the gathering of storm clouds, and they would be partially correct. There was a storm brewing, but not the kind most people were expecting. This storm would determine the very existence of not only humanity but the Gods themselves. Since Earth was part of the nine realms, it was a given that what happened in another realm almost always affected this planet.
Too Late Now
Okay, I’ll admit it. I enjoy being the center of attention, but this is plain nuts. If there was ever a time when I wished I could fly, this is it. It must be a hundred feet from the top of this cliff to the water below, and everyone is waiting for me to jump. Don’t they know I was just kidding when I said I’d do it? Guess not, because they’re all floating around in their kayaks cheering me on.
The Dobbs House
I am now the proud owner of this Federal-style house and barn that was built two years before our country was born. Over time, it’s been added to and updated somewhat, but the original structure still stands. Of course, it’s not in move-in condition since the last resident died twenty years ago and the current occupants—spiders, bats in the attic, and a family of raccoons don’t perform maintenance. It will take time and money to restore, but I have plenty of both after winning the lottery.
My name is Jack McDougal, the great, great, great, (maybe one more great) nephew of Phineas McDougal, one of the country’s first robber barons. Unlike the Rockefellers, Carnegies, and Melons, Uncle Phineas outlived most of his money. At the time of his death, all that was left of his fortune was a Victorian-style mansion on twenty acres of land in Greenfield, Massachusetts. It was the house Phineas was murdered in. He was hit over the head with an iron fireplace poker on October 31, 1879, Halloween. He was not a popular man!
Fix It Again Tony
It was the middle of 1972 when my new wife and I decided we should buy a new car before my enlistment in the Air Force was up. A year earlier, we had driven her 1965 Plymouth Fury to Laredo, Texas, where I was stationed. It made the trip with no issues, but I wasn’t sure it was up for the trip back to Massachusetts. Just like every other car that has spent most of its life in New England, body rot from road salt was taking a toll. The engine was leaking oil, and the transmission slammed instead of sliding into gear. We needed a new ride to bring us home.
No Participation Trophies Awarded!
In today’s tumultuous world, it’s no surprise there is a greater disconnect among generations than in any other period of history. One probable reason for the animosity between age group is that people are living longer. The older generation, in this case Boomers, have increased the average life span from late fifties and mid-sixties to the mid-seventies through early eighties. Gen-Y or Millennials have an excellent shot at making it to one hundred.
Use the Back Door
When I was a kid, it was standard practice to always use the back door. The front door was for visitors. The only time a child used the front door was if an adult accompanied them. Well, I’m an adult, so why are my instructions telling me to enter through the back door?
The USS Hawaii, a fast attack nuclear submarine, finished replenishing supplies at the naval base in Yokosuka, Japan. Once underway, they would prowl the Pacific in search of threats to the US and its allies for the next three months. All 15 officers and 113 enlisted personnel reported for duty; the order was given to cast off, and the ship was soon underway.
A Fish Tale
Doris would tell her friends whenever they asked how she was doing, “I have four loves in my life: Harold, may he rest in peace; Kathy, my beautiful daughter; this solarium; and my saltwater aquarium. I miss Harold, but I still have the other three, so I’m doing just fine." She was content with where life had placed her, and at seventy-six, contentment was really all she could ask for.
An elderly gentleman casually strolled around the perimeter of the gallery, admiring the paintings. He would stop in front of each one, read the placard describing who the artist was, the year it was painted, and the title of the work. There were very few people visiting the gallery on a weekday morning, so he could take as long as he wanted, drinking in each one’s unique beauty. The only distractions came from a passing guard striding by on his rounds or a docent asking if he needed any help. Each painting portrayed a different scene, but used the ocean as a backdrop.
Nowhere to Hide
“Now, that’s something you don’t see every day,” Greg said to the group of kayakers. He was referring to a large houseboat that had somehow broken free from its moorings, floated down the river from who knows where, and run aground on an outcropping of rocks.