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In Uncategorized, Writing on January 3, 2010 at 12:49 pm

I’ll be here

Unexpected turns

In Uncategorized, Writing on January 2, 2010 at 9:00 pm

Photo

“Ma’am, are you okay?”  The strange man who held her asked.

“Wha—?  Who are you?”  Vivian asked, startled.

“It’s alright.  You started to fall and I caught you.  Do you have fainting spells often?”  He asked with quiet concern, still holding her.

“No.  I don’t know what came over me,” she whispered into his chest.

“Do you remember anything?”

“No, wait, yes I do!  He was sitting at that table, with her!”  She shouted, angry for showing them such weakness.

“Ah, do you want to sit down for a moment?”  He asked holding her shoulders.

“No, thank you, but my husband canceled all my accounts.  I have no money to sit at one of these tables,” she said turning away, her fists balled at her sides.

“Well I do.  If you would be so kind, I’d like to buy you lunch,” he replied catching her arm, turning her.

“I’m not sure I should be eating so soon if I fainted,” she said not daring to look him in the eye.

“It’s okay, you’ll be fine,” he reassured her, stoking her arm.

“How do you know?”  She asked demurely.

“Because I’m a Doctor.”

Taking her hand, she let him lead her over to a waiting table.

She fell in love with him all over again.  Her husband played his played part beautifully.  Who would have thought that he would have been willing to play the role of a Doctor seducing a distressed woman?

By:  Ben Pollard

Rescue

In Uncategorized, Writing on December 27, 2009 at 2:26 am

Photo Prompt

Raj ‘aud knelt in the snow, his dead sister cradled in his arms.  Fresh tears scalded his wind burned cheeks as he vented his grief.  He tried to reach them, ran as fast as he could and almost caught up, but they dumped her body onto the trail; mocking him.

He checked his sword, making sure it was secure in his scabbard, and set his skis in motion.  The bitter cold lanced through him; his eyes watered and he rubbed away the tears before they could freeze to his face.  Leaving his beautiful sister alone and untended, naked to the elements waiting on their father, filled him with sorrow; She deserved better than to be left on the side of the trail like discarded carrion.  However, he had to fight for the living.  Shara and little Tizzy were still held by the slavers.  He had to get them back.

Raj covered Shara’s mouth with his hand as she sat up wide-eyed.  He raised a finger to his lips warning her to be quiet.  He pointed to himself, then her, and finally Tizzy, willing her to understand.  And she seemed to, nodding her head.  He motioned Shara to follow as he scooped his little sister into his arms and crept away.  They moved a short distance into the trees following pale slivers of moonlight to safety.  Raj set Tizzy down and motioned Shara behind him, then lifted his hunting horn from his belt to his lips.  A single pure sorrowful note lifted into the night air, faded, then stilled.  He gazed at the moon above the clearing were the slavers had camped.  They stirred at the sound of his horn, but had no time to do more as the sky filled with arrows, and death rained down among the slavers.

Disaster

In Uncategorized, Writing on December 23, 2009 at 2:01 am

The land tolled as if struck.  Undulating waves of soil threw me to the ground.  Stunned, I watched my apartment building collapse in on itself.

“Noooooo,” I screamed.

All arguments and counters flew from my convulsing mind as I shuddered in time with the earth.  Tremors threatened to knock me off my feet as I raced to the rubble that was my life.

I dug, pulled, shoved, and fought my way to her.  Bleeding, broken, and impotent, the EMS carried me away.

I sat cradling my raw lacerated hands, the noise around me muted.  Someone close by asked me questions I couldn’t hear.

Roiling over and over through my mind were her last words.

“I called and called, why didn’t you answer your phone?”  She demanded.

“I didn’t know you called,” I replied, my temper rising.  “My phone died on me.”

“Why aren’t you ever around when I need you?”  She accused.

Mad, but not wanting to argue while my wife lay sick in bed, I stepped outside to have a smoke.

Seven

In Uncategorized on January 12, 2009 at 11:38 pm

                                                            Beginnings

 

            Scrubbing pots was all he ever knew.  It was safe.  It was tedious.  Most of all it was boring.  Dreadfully boring, there was nothing Saul wanted more than adventure.  Growing up in the kitchen, Saul was an orphan.  With no one to call family, he was unceremoniously adopted by the head cook.  A large round woman, Miss Tott, stern with graying hair was never far.  When Saul was tall enough to reach the top of the counter in the scullery, he was put to work, though he didn’t know why.  Oh sure some of the others had to work in the kitchens, sometimes, Saul was there every day.

            At the crossroads, what the traders called the “backlands”, a large inn had popped up. Those who wanted to get away from the cities and castles; it was the perfect place for it.  The Inn itself was a sprawling place.  Made of pine that had to be imported onto the plains it had a ramshackle appearance.   Pappa’s was the place where no one knew about your past and more importantly no one cared. 

Over the years a small village grew up around Pappa’s.  The buildings on the other side of the main road were made of mud brick with thatch roofs of grass.  Being the only other material in the middle of the plains, that did not have to be carried for twenty leagues.  Some coming to live, others working then moving on.  Pappa’s had the only well in twenty leagues.  A large well, caravans would stop to fill casks and barrels with water. The men at Pappa’s, to fill bellies and flasks with ale and wine.

            Women would sometimes come with the caravans hired to cook, guard, or as company.  They would also come into Pappa’s.  A few, seeking a new life, would pick up a trade and set up shop in one of the abandoned houses.  Travelers would often stop for them as well as water on there way to the North or East.

            Saul liked to think that his mother was one of the few women guards, someone rare and special, who could and would often stand up to anyone.  Often daydreaming, during his mindless hours of scrubbing, Lou would sneak right up behind him.  Inches away, she would whisper softly into his ear, “wake’em up sleepy”.  At a moment when something breakable was in his soapy hands, he would jump almost out of his skin, throwing his hands and dishes into the air, getting him into no end of trouble. 

            Lou was a girl about the same age as Saul.  Of the dozens of other children, Lou was his best friend.  He’d known her all his life; he even knew that her real name was Louise Anne and that if he wanted a black eye again he could say it out loud.  Long chestnut hair was in a tangle on her head this morning.  Sitting cross-leg on the dusty ground in front of the washbasin it was her day for laundry, Saul knew she hated every minute of it.