original story 28 - chiffon

by bofa xesjum

there was a lull around the christmas dinner table, all but a couple of the older guests had finished eating, and the others were obviously or not so obviously impatient to get up and get a drink or mill around or do whatever else they wanted to do. shirley found a bunch of really old photographs that grandma took a hundred years ago, they are kind of cute if anybody wants to look at them. a hundred years ago? of who? it was just an expression - they are probably i don’t know, sixty, seventy years old. you would be surprised how clear they are. all right, if you have them with you, we may as well look at them. gloria reached into the big old fashioned purse at her feet and took out a pack of about thirty old polaroid photos enclosed by a rubber band. oh, these are so cute. and you are right, look how clear they are. better than what you can get on your phone these days. who is this? it is just a baby, like it was just born. look on the back, grandma wrote on the backs of most of them. oh, it’s uncle joe! uncle joe was one of the older guests, and the one least known to the others. he had returned to the area about two years earlier after living “out west” since he was a young man - probably in california although no one knew for sure. he was not a communicative sort, and was the only member of the party referred to as “uncle” or “aunt” by the others. look, joe, weren’t you cute! joe stared at the little photo for a few seconds. yes, he stated in his loud clear voice, who would have thought that such a sweet looking child would grow up to be a serial killer. a brief silence fell on the table. was joe trying to be funny? in what little they had seen of him, humor had never seemed to be his game. well, since everybody is just about done here, maybe we could get up and get some of the pies and cookies gloria and mindy brought. oh, i love mindy’s lemon chiffon pie! did you bring it, mindy? actually, it’s lemon meringue pie, but yes, i did bring it. great! it’s the best!

original story 27 - the highway

by bofa xesjum

the highway is filled with victory all day. who are you? what are you doing here? i am lost. i guess you are. don’t move. i am going to call security. fine. maybe they can help me. hello security. this is t-87 in 55-p. i have an intruder how did they get in? i do not know. should i question them? wait for reinforcement. they will be there in forty-seven seconds. thank you. reinforcement will be here in forty-five seconds. do not try anything. what is your name? do you like your job? my name is t-87 and i love my job and my associates and the department and the whole human race. that sounds familiar. if you say so. i might have had a name like that and sentiments like that, long ago in a distant time and place. here are my beloved associates now. here you go guys, they are all yours. thank you, t-37. we have brought along u-33 to replace you here, as you will have to accompany us as we investigate this terrible breach. i understand, and i love you guys. and you, fellow, what is your name? i do not know, right. can you respond to a name? can you follow commands? i think so. we will find out. your name is jesse james 17. can you respond to that? i will try. do not try anything foolish or make any sudden moves. get in the back, and you, t-87, get in the front. goodbye, u-33, until we meet again. i love you guys. t-87 and jesse james 17 got in the cruiser, which roared off into the stratosphere, leaving u-33 behind to their thoughts. the highway is filled with victory all day. love your associatres. love the department. love the whole human race!

how to write a novel, part 2

by bofa xesjum

part 2 0f ?

to read part 1, click here

bob is walking down the street and meets joe. bob is wearing a green hat. joe is wearing black shoes and carrying a brown briefcase. bob says to joe, it is a nice day today. joe replies, yes, it is. they go their separate ways, bob back to his house, and joe to the bus stop where he will get the number 33 bus which will take him to within a block of his office. * the next day. joe is walking down the street and meets bob. bob is a nice guy and is wearing a purple hat and a red tie and a green backpack. he wishes everybody in the world could just get along. his favorite movie is the terminator, starring arnold schwarzenegger. joe is wearing a tan suit and red shoes and is carrying the same brown briefcase he was carrying the day before. joe is a jerk, and hates most of the human race, especially women. his favorite movie is a made for tv remake of the magnificent seven. bob says to joe, it is a nice day again today, and i see you are carrying the same brown briefcase that you had yesterday, even though you are wearing different colored shoes. it is a nice day, joe agrees. and you are a very observant person. the world would be a better and more efficient place if everyone in it was as observant as you. is joe being sarcastic? it is hard to tell. they go their separate ways, bob to mcdonalds to get two egg mcmuffins and a cup of coffee, and joe to the bus stop where he will get the number 33 bus which will take him to within a block of his office. * do you find bob and joe at all interesting? no. are they sympathetic? do you like either or both of them? no. do you wish to know more about either of them? no. i am sorry. do you think i should start over? that is up to you. what might make joe and bob more interesting? here are some suggestions: make joe a) a mighty warrior b) a horticulturist c) a clown at children’s parties d) an architect of a new world order and bob a) a homicide detective b) a mighty barbarian c). a bellhop in a grand hote; d). a follower thank you. i might try that. to be continued

original story 26 - late at night

by bofa xesjum

late at night, life is a mystery luckily for sam green, olivia was out of town when the postcard arrived from revelatory negation servivces. but olivia had the car! sam had always felt it was a mistake to get rid of the second car. now he was trapped. he could call a cab, but surely that would leave a trail. he decided to walk down to the bus stop and take the bus to the train station, wait - maybe he could go down to the highway and hitchhike. but hitchhiking was obsolete, was it not? would he picked up immediately by the highway patrol, taken to a station and questioned? he was trapped in the modern world like a bug in a jar, or a ship in a bottle. * sam looked around the train station. he had never taken a train before, and the station was smaller than he had envisioned it. could he just walk up to the counter and say, how far can i get for x dollars? that did not sound like a twenty-first century way to do things. and did they want i d, like at an airport? he did not think so, but you could not be too careful. he watched as a woman in a red coat and matching hat went up to the counter and seemed to buy a ticket. so far as he could tell, she was not asked for any i d. he decided to risk it. he decided to buy a ticket to chicago - a good distance, but not so far away as to be noticed by the clerk. and he could always get off at any stop before chicago. yes - that was a good plan - good enough. sam took a deep breath. the woman in the red coat and hat moved away from the counter, and he headed toward it. and felt a hand on his arm.

original story 25 - happen

by bofa xesjum

i wonder if anything will happen to me today, vera mused. should i get up and go into the kitchenette and make myself another cup of coffee, or should i pick the remote up off the table beside me and turn on the television and watch the news? something important might have happened that i should know about. but what could be that important? i do not hear people shouting in the street outside. but then again, i am here on the fifteenth floor and if people were shouting in the street it would have to be awfully loud for me to hear it. so i guess i will get up and make another cup of coffee, even though the one i just drank was not all that great. suddenly the doorbell rang. who could that be? vera wondered. nobody ever comes to see me, and i do not remember ordering anything. maybe i ordered something months ago, and forgot all about it and now here it is. the bell rang again, but not as loudly, as if whoever was ringing was not very insistent, but when vera got up and opened the door she did not immediately see anybody. nor was there a package on the floor. then she looked up and saw a woman in s long coat walking down the corridor, apparently headed for the elevators around the corner. excuse me, vera called to the woman, but the woman did not seem to hear her and disappeared around the corner. vera did not want to follow her, because she did not have her shoes on. she thought, if i go back and put my shoes on, by the time i get to the elevator she will be gone. i wonder what that was all about. i wonder if it qualified as something happening. vera went back inside her apartment. she made herself another cup of coffee. then she sat back down on the sofa and picked up the remote and turned on the tv. “the view” was on. whoopi goldbetg and sunny hostin were going on about something, but as vera had not heard the start of the conversation, she could not make out what it was.

original story 24 - amusement on a summer morning

by bofa xesjum

so this is how you treat your best friend. i have no excuse. dawn was breaking outside the old house. jose li’s period of ascendancy was coming to an ignominious close. but the worst was yet to come. inspector quant was on his way. lady li poured herself another cup of coffee. considering all that had happened during the long night, she appeared remarkably composed. she was an old cowhand from the rio grande. no one had ever caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. she always professed not to believe in luck, but to make her own. now all her dreams of glory had been shattered and scattered to the four winds.> the car carrying inspector quant drove into the courtyard and the driver slammed on the brakes. the driver, sergeant oliphant, whistled a happy tune as he was a morning person. the inspectpr’s mind was blank, as it always was when he started on a case. a rabbit ran across the courtyard. upstairs, the earl slept peacefully and obliviously. person, the butler, knocked on the earl’s door. violence never solved anything. francesca, lady li’s maid, suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor. she strode purposefully toward person. take this to heart, and remember it well. youth will be served, when there are no more tea cups or tennis balls in hell. the inspector is here. < perhaps you can persuade him to just go away. many have tried, but tradition still holds sway. very amusing.

original story 23 - lorelei

by bofa xesjum

look at you, mister brown growled. sebastian looked down at himself. his shirt was not on backwards, so far as he could tell. you are a hopeless case, mister brown continued, but i am going to give you one more chance. one more chance, but only because i owed your grandfather a favor, do you understand? yes, sir, i understand. what do you want me to do? moloch will tell you what you have to do. mister brown tapped a number on his desk phone. the door opened and moloch’s hulking figure appeared. job number 53, mister brown said to moloch. he nodded to sebastian that the interview was over and that he should accompany moloch. outside, the night was dark and the streets were deserted. an ordinary looking pickup truck was parked beside the building. moloch got in the driver’s seat and sebastian went around and got in the front passenger seat. sebastian did not speak until they were out on the main road, which was as empty as the streets in the city. what is job number 53? nothing that concerns you. i will be doing it myself. you will be doing a job, a real easy job, for me instead. sebastian knew enough not to question this. they drove along in silence. they drove and drove, out to the outskirts of town. finally they came to a little house, on a back road by itself in the middle of nowhere. moloch turned his lights off and pulled up about fifty yards from it. he reached into the glove compartment and took out a small pistol. it looked like a toy. take this. go up to the door and ring the bell. the bell works. a dame will come out - she will take her time, but she will come out. just plug her. right there, in the door? go inside if she lets you in right away. them let her have it. don’t waste time, just do it. i will be out here waiting. why don’t you do it yourself? because she knows me, you idiot. just do it sebastian took the small weapon, put it in his side pocket, and approached the door. he hoped there was nobody inside. he rang the bell. no answer. he looked back at the dark truck. he decided to ring again. the door opened. a woman with long black hair, wearing a tightly belted black bathrobe, stood there . and what a woman! the most beautiful woman sebastian had ever seen in his short life. he felt overwhelmed by her spectacular knockoutedness. her eyes scanned the street behind sebastian. who are you and what do you want? she asked. sebastian’s hand shook in his pocket and he could not get the gun out of it. who are you? he gasped. without answering, she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. when she let go of his arm, he got his hand out of his pocket but the pistol fell out of his hand and clattered on the floor. the woman picked it up. she looked out the window. the lights on the truck were still off. i have to get out of here, she said to herself. gripping the pistol, she headed toward a back door. take me with you, sebastian implored. she ignored him, but he followed her. a small black two door sedan was parked in back of the house. the woman got into it. take me with you, sebastian asked her again. all right, but only as far as the bus station. instead of circling around to the street where the truck had been parked, the woman backed the car up an alley behind the house. soon they were on the main highway, moving at just under te speed limit. there was no sign of the truck, or anything else, following them. what is your name? sebastian asked the woman again. what? what do you care? i am just curious. um - my name is lorelei. thank you. i like to know peoples names. i am peculiar that way, why? they don’t have to give you their real ones. lorelei dropped sebastian off at the bus station. he took the first bus he could, as far as it would take him for the money he had in his pocket. it took him to thompsonville, just as dawn was breaking. from thompsonville he hitched a ride to weaverville, and from weaverville through death valley and up the coast to santa cruz. he joined a small commune of peaceful souls like himself and stayed there for sixty years, becoming known and revered as rhe old man of the mountain, although rarely venturing near any mountains. but he never forgot that night in mister brown’s town. and he never forgot lorelei.

original story 22 - victory

by bofa xesjum

victory is assured now, sidney thought. except that it might not be, he quickly added to himself. down in the pit, the two champions continued to struggle. boris the barbarian, sidney’s man, seemed to have the advantage over lady limbtearer, isidore’s rep. but now the lady seemed to be holding her ground. suddenly the lights went out. outside, fog shrouded the night. perhaps i should get out of here, sidney exclaimed, before the authorities get here. quickly, sidney, quickly, a voice in his head urged him. was it the voice of constantine, his old mentor who had recently escaped from devils island? sidney put his running shoes on. he wrapped himself in his cloak of invisibility. he went out into the dark corridor and down the five flights of stairs to the street. he hoped to find the streets dark and deserted. instead he found that the streets, and the city, had vanished. maybe, he thought, the railroad station is still open. but in what direction was it? he wrapped his cloak of invisibility tighter around himself and began walking. this is what comes of thinking bad thoughts, he thought. and of falling in with bad companions. poor sidney! he tried to think good thoughts. quiet potatoes cooling on a peaceful stove a long time ago obviously suddenly the street and the city reappeared. he saw a lamppost up ahead. all his bad companions who had led him astray were hanging out around it. he heard one of them call his name - even though he was invisible. so much for victory.