Let Keith explain what we have here in his words. “Using this photo (below) as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; and either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithkreates@channing.fr before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here – pingbacks don’t often work.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.”
“So I was saying to Chelsea, ‘I really need to get a different hairstyle—'”
“Hold on. I’ve seen that cop before.”
“Huh? Oh, that guy in the hideous orange thingy?”
“Yes. Keep your voice down. Look straight ahead and keep walking.”
“What’s the matter, Leon?”
“I’m telling you. I think that guy is following us. He has is back to us now, but I’m sure he was down at the last intersection.”
“Following us? Why would he do that?”
“I’m not sure, but I can’t shake the feeling we are being watched.”
“Oh don’t be silly. You and I are a couple out for a stroll. We look perfectly normal.”
“That’s what I hope, Esa. Just a couple of tourists walking along.”
“I think you are getting paranoid.”
“I think I have every right don’t you?”
“I don’t think we should talk about that now, do you?”
“It was your idea after all.”
“Yes that’s true but you are in it, and there is nothing you can do but keep walking.”
“He just looked at us.”
“I’m an attractive woman. He’s a cop for God’s sake. Of course, he would look.”
“He’s on his radio.”
“So what? That’s what they do. That and eat donuts.”
“Very funny. Say what you want we had better get a plan together.’
“We have a plan. Keep walking.”
“Are you sure that guy was reliable?”
“Of course. No one knows us or what we look like so calm down.”
“Excuse me, folks.”
“Y-yes officer?”
“You have something trailing out of your backpack.”
“Oh my goodness. Thank you, officer.”
“Looks like coffee beans. Please stop and let me have a look.”
“I can explain sir.”
“I think you’d better. Unless I’m mistaken, it looks like you have a whole bunch of coffee in that pack. Please step back and put your hands where I can see them. I think you may be in some pretty deep trouble. Looks like you could be charged with possession and distribution of a controlled substance. Big C is illegal here.”
“You and your caffeine habit. Looks what it has gotten us now.”
“Oh shut up. I’m jonesing for a Grande right now.”
The inspiration for this list came with President’s Day weekend. A lot of people are on road trips, and at least maybe they will read this before heading back home today. I always look back fondly on those road trips so many years ago.
Ten Things Not to Do on a Road Trip
10 On a road trip, do not let the kids claim their own space in the back. If you do, at best the territory claims will be endless. At worst, you’ll have to separate them and sit with your knees under your chin. (You forgot about the hump huh, Bunky?)
9 On a road trip, do not start the 100 bottles of beer on the wall song. If you do, at best everyone will get tired after ten. At worst, one of the kids will insist on going the whole distance. (How’s that toothache doing, Ferd?)
8 On a road trip, do not miss stating all the rules of I Spy. If you do, at best a small loophole will allow multiple winners. At worst, forgetting the “in the car” rule means little princess will hold out for 100 miles before declaring her item was a bird on the wire. (Yes, Tex. It was the bird 100 miles back.)
7 On a road trip, do not allow anyone into Buckys without a pre-set budget. If you do, at best you can justify the expense by the bonus points on the credit card. At worst, the manager of Bucky’s wants to sell your car to cover the bill. (What kind of rest stop has diamond covered boots huh, Pilgrim?)
6 On a road trip, do not think every tunnel is short enough to hold your breath all the way to the end. If you do, at best you’ll hit a long one and will have to breathe. At worst, little Tiny the future WWF champ who is a great competitor will be blue by the time you emerge. (No one told him to give up, Buster.)
5 On a road trip, if you are the driver do not hold up your feet over the railroad tracks. If you do, at best you won’t have a close call. At worst, you might be caught short if you need to make a quick stop. (If that semi in your lane, Buford?)
4 On a road trip, do not set unreasonable expectations around the number of license plates needed to be spotted to finish the game. If you do, at best everyone will be discouraged and quit. At worst, you most competitive child will keep going until they have all fifty. (Good luck on that Hawaii plate, Pal.)
3 On a road trip, do not allow the kids to pick their own snacks. If you do, at best you’ll need to run the car through a car wash when you get home. At worst, you will be peeling them off the ceiling after the mega sugar high hits. (You enjoy the screaming too don’t you Slick?)
2 On a road trip, do not let anyone in the car read the Stuckey’s signs. If you do, at best you’ll have to stop every hundred miles. At worst, you’ll have so many log rolls, divinities and clusters you will be able to open your own store.( Not to mention the dentist bill, right Ralph?)
1 On a road trip, do not insist that everyone hold it until the gas stop. If you do, at best the last ten miles will be very tense. At worst, you might be on the receiving end of a family mutiny. (You never realize how strong those kids did you, Jake?)
It is that time. I need your help to spread the word on the relaunch of My GRL. I will be posting the announcement on Tuesday, February 28th so anytime after that a post from you will be great. I will mail the material out on February 27th
The only thing you will have to do is copy a file and paste it into your native post page. I will send complete instructions with the material.
If you would like to help, please send an e-mail to:
johnhowell (dot) wave (at) gmail.com (trying to foil the spammers)
Yesterday was the Port Aransas city-wide Garage sale sponsored by Help Keep Port Aransas Beautiful an organization dedicated to maintaining Port Aransas as an attractive community. The idea is to repurpose items and help keep unwanted items out of the landfill. The event included private homes as well as a central sale at the Community Center.
The first photo is of the early morning opening of a private home sale. This guy’s shirt is from the local kite store. No, the guy doesn’t work there.
Another home sale. Love those water skis leaning against the tree.
Here is a view of the sale inside the Community Center
I asked this lady if I could take her picture and she jumped up with the cutest smile. If you want to set up at the Community Center, you pay $15.00 per table, and the tables are provided.
Here is a sight you see at every garage sale. Mom and child are manning the tables. I wanted that purple bag, but it wasn’t for sale.
Here is also a sight you see at every garage sale. The person behind the table is paying absolutely no attention to the patrons. I could excuse here, though she was engrossed in reading My GRL. You can see in the background that there is a snack bar set up. (They sell donuts and coffee)
Here is a table of a lot of jewelry and stuff. (Don’t miss the ferns under the table.) That lady approaching me with the look is asking, “Hey, aren’t you that famous blogger and novelist John W. Howell?” I told her she must be mistaken.
Of all the pictures I almost threw out this one was at the head of the list until I spotted that pneumatic apparatus on the guy’s chair. He has the only collapsible rocking chair on the planet. After I had taken this picture, the man wanted to know what of what I was taking a picture. “Not you.” was my reply. “Oh, okay,” was his.
Help Keep Port Aransas Beautiful sells Afghans and t-shirts to raise money. The Afghan has scenes of all the famous Port Aransas places. Most of which have been on this blog
My final shot was taken on the steps of the Community Center. I caught a guy with his treasured fishing pole. It is hard to see, but water is pouring out of the dolphin’s mouths.
I know it wasn’t Earth shaking but hope you enjoyed the tour. Peaceful Sunday to you.
It is Stream of Consciousness Saturday and time for another prompt from Linda Hill. This week’s prompt is “ham.” Yeah, you read that right. “ham.” The good news is Linda says we can use the word any way we want. Now let me think of the ways to use ham. Right now I’m thinking ham and swiss on rye. (I need to have some lunch) If you would like to participate in the fun, go to Linda’s blog and read all about how to do it. Here is the link. Oh and by the way, if you go there you will be able to see some other interpretations of the “ham” prompt. https://lindaghill.com/2017/02/17/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-feb-1817/
Looks like we made it. Well, another eight hours will tell the tale. What’re eight hours anyway? We did forty-eight before today, so this will be a snap. (Unless you are hanging by a frayed rope over the Grand Canyon)
Interesting week. I had to get another proof for My GRL. It seemed when I went to print stage there was a setting which I had not double checked. It was in the style set up under “normal.” For some reason, the default .o5 indent reestablished itself even though aI had set it a zero. Well, this is all too boring so let me say that when the proof arrived, I was stunned. I had to go back and redo the setup. I didn’t want to take a chance again, so I created a new document. Long story short I’m waiting for the new proof. If it is still messed up I will go ahead and launch the kindle version and follow with the paper edition since the turn around time is too long to make the March 1 date.
I’m telling you all this so that you will not even think of launching a paper edition without getting a proof copy first. This would have been a major embarrassment, and at this stage of life, I can’t afford much more.
Today’s JohnKu talks about checking your work. I hope you have a great weekend.
Lloyd and Cassidy’s last adventure was to honor a life. This time they are out to end one.
It was a normal, violent mission to Texas that should have had nothing more than beer-induced hiccups. That is until an old enemy makes off with Cassidy’s jeep and most of their gear. Needless to say, she’s pissed off and challenging Lloyd for the psychopath of the month award. With the mouthy serial killer by her side, she is going on the warpath from Dallas to Miami even if it means declaring war on the drug cartels.
So strap in for another wild ride through the Shattered States and learn why you never mess with Cassidy’s jeep.
“So your boss thought she could send assassins to kill the Riflemen,” the black-haired leader says, earning a cheer from his men. A firm smack to the prisoner’s head silences her gurgling attempt to deny the charge. “Nothing you say can prevent the inevitable. Don’t go thinking that pet serial killer will save you either. The idiot brought a paintball gun to Texas and thought he’d win a gunfight? I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. All we need to do is find the body and we can collect the bounty on him too. Guess you’re lucky that he’s wanted dead and you’re wanted alive by that warden up north.”
“I’d be careful, boss,” a sword-wielding gang member warns. She leans away from the angry glare, but rolls up her sleeve to reveal a sloppily stitched wound. “While this one isn’t as tough as her reputation says, she can still hit hard. Lost two men before we restrained her and three more are nursing broken balls. Maybe we should use some of our tranquilizer stash and keep her sedated.”
“No reason for th-” Top Hog begins as he runs his hand across the prisoner’s forehead. He rubs his fingers at the sensation of something sticky between his fingers and looks closer to figure out what he has touched. “This scar is fake. Made from glue or something. Are you sure this is Cassidy?”
“She was with Lloyd Tenay at the bar,” a one-eyed man replies in a shaky voice. He shifts from one foot to the other when everyone else takes a step away from him. “You told us to look for him and a blonde woman. She had the denim jacket, the forehead scar, cursed a lot, carried two pistols, and even has the correct tramp stamp. Everyone was calling her Cassidy after she drove up in the blue jeep too. We made sure that everything checked out, boss. Even bribed the bartender and two waitresses.”
Sweat beading on his face, Top Hog draws his large gun and presses it to the prisoner’s temple. He leans around her, his eyes repeatedly darting toward her hands to make sure they are still bound. Lifting her white shirt, he sees the unique tattoo that the widespread stories mention Cassidy getting a little less than a year ago. The design is two pistols back to back with vines of bone curling around and binding them together. A strange discoloration catches the gang leader’s attention and he rubs his thumb along the woman’s side, pushing his weapon harder against her head to prevent wiggling. He swears that he feels a seam, so he gets a dirty fingernail beneath what turns out to be a flesh-colored sticker. Top Hog yanks it off and shows it to his men, the prisoner biting her lower lip to avoid screaming. He can already see that the tattoo is smeared from where he has touched it with his meaty fingers.
Enraged and embarrassed, the gang leader is about to kill the fake Cassidy when he hears distant rock music. Within seconds, he realizes that the source is getting closer and is soon joined by maniacal laughter coming over a crackling megaphone. With a snap of his fingers, Top Hog orders one of his men to take the prisoner to his office while the others run for the exit. Nobody gets very far before a blue jeep, which has been outfitted with a wide battering ram, smashes through the front of the warehouse. The vehicle leaves a gaping hole in the wall, which is made worse by hooked chains on the rear bumper that catch and tear more of the obstacle down. The jeep continues at full speed through crates, shelving units, and the slower gang members whose deaths are celebrated by honks of the horn. Tires screech as the driver hits the brakes and gets the car to spin, the move appearing to have no purpose beyond making those inside dizzy. With an embarrassing thud, the vehicle hits the back wall and hisses to a stop.
The gang have already drawn their weapons and are cautiously approaching the jeep when the sunroof opens. Bullets fly at the blonde figure that leaps out, the projectiles creating so many holes that the top half of their target falls off. The legs of the cardboard cutout are casually tossed to the floor before the shriek of a megaphone makes everyone cringe and cover their ears. With the tattered remains laying face up, the frustrated criminals realize that they have destroyed another Cassidy decoy. They are about to inch closer when the jeep briefly roars to life and a man inside begins making engine noises. The sounds change to the exaggerated screams and detailed begging of those whose parts are still stuck to the scuffed battering ram.
“So that was your plan, Cassidy?” Top Hog asks with a chuckle. He turns to see their prisoner is trying to roll away and fires his gun into the air to stop her. “Two decoys, so that you could get the drop on us. Guess you thought more of us would get run over. You still have thirteen of my crew standing and you’re cornered in that jeep. Now, the only question is if I send a piece of you back to the Duchess as a message that she should stay out of my business. Damn northerner needs to stay out of Texas’s business.”
“Actually, that young woman was the bait and I was the distraction,” Lloyd announces from inside. With a gleeful laugh, he opens one of the doors and yanks it back when the gang shoots at him. “Well shit. That was my favorite power window button. Anyway, people make that mistake all the time. You see, bait draws you in and, at least here, allows the real predators to follow you back to the previously hidden hideout. Not even a sign to help us out, which is very rude and unaccommodating. Now, the distraction’s job is to keep you looking in one direction while a mischievous maiden of mayhem prepares her new toy somewhere else. Don’t bother running, boys, because she’ll take that as an insult.”
Top Hog and his men turn toward the hole in the wall, which has exposed them to the large parking lot. The sun forces them to squint at the lone figure standing behind a loaded mini-gun, the weapon glinting in the midday light. Clouds move across the sky, which makes it easier for the gang to identify the denim jacket and blonde hair of their enemy. They take a few shots at the distant woman, but their bullets either miss completely or bounce off several riot shields that are strapped to the weapon. A slamming car door causes them to jump, but they turn in the wrong direction and are unable to stop Lloyd from racing toward the prisoner. Wearing orange pants from his time as a prisoner and a red shirt with a lightning bolt, the black-haired serial killer seems like an obvious target as he scoops up the young woman and dives behind a box of grenades. Suddenly afraid for their lives, Top Hog and his men attempt to scatter and hunt for cover.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.
There are a number of activities taking place for Mystery Thriller Week. Here is the link for a listing of today’s events. You can also use this link going forward on all events from now until February 22. https://mysterythrillerweek.com/online-calendar-of-events/
I will be leading a discussion on Facebook. The subject will be Character Participation in Story Development. I hope to have a lively interchange on how characters can influence the storyline.
The discussion begins at 9:00 EST and runs until 10:00 EST. Hope to “see” you there. Here is the link.
It’s Wednesday Story Day time again. Last week we thought we were going to have a little excitement between Alice and Lucas. They arrived at Lucas’s place, and just when there might have been something happening, Alice got a phone call. She had to rush off but not before we all learned Lucas is not experience in being with women. Let’s go back and see what is next in this saga.
“Thanks for the ride Alice.”
“You’re welcome Lucas.”
“What did you mean back there when you said ‘give me a rain check?”’
“I meant that I have to run right now, but I want to pick up where we left off. I would appreciate it if you would clean up your place, though.”
“My place? Oh, you mean the dishes and stuff.”
“Exactly. Just wash them and put those clothes away.”
“I didn’t realize that was why you had to leave.”
“It’s not. I just think it would be more romantic if your place didn’t look like a sty.”
“How about going to your house.”
“That will never happen, Lucas. Let me put it this way. If you want to get laid I would clean your home and maybe take a bath yourself.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I see what you are saying.”
“Now get out of this car. I have to take care of this phone call.”
“Alice?”
“What Lucas.”
“I think I love you.”
“OMG. Please get a grip. You don’t love me you are just hot and bothered is all. You are filled with lust.”
“How do you know the difference?”
“Right now I don’t have the time for this counseling session but let me leave you with this. Love is in the heart. Lust is in the pants.”
“I think I have both.”
“I’m sure you think so Lucas. Go put your head under the garden hose. I’ll come by tomorrow. Now please get out.”
“Till tomorrow then.”
“And clean up that dump. Bye Lucas.”
Keith explains this prompt i n his own words. “Using this photo (below) as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; and either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithkreates@channing.fr before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here – pingbacks don’t often work.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.”
