The sun blistered skin of his forearms was glistening in sweat. His arms were tense, pounding, and shaking from the constant motion of the sledge hammer against the stone.
Despite the constant barrage of blows, the stone seemed to show no signs of fatigue or wear.
Exhaustion was burning through his limbs and thirst was tearing apart his throat, but he knew that he had to continue.
The destination, the goal, the coveted treasure was buried just below the surface of the rock. He had been told of it his entire life and knew that it was just within his reach.
The map that his grandfather’s, grandfather’s, grandfather had made was folded up gently in his pocket. He had followed it to the tee and now he was where he had wanted to be his entire life.
The sweat on his forehead was streaming down into his eyes, past his eyebrows, and burning as it meshed with his tears. Eventually it would all be worth it and he would have his life’s goal, the thing his father hadn’t been able to find, or his father before him.
The sledge continued to swing with his arms and crash into the solid rock and as the dusk approached the sky, he worried. Would he ever be able to reach it?
Then, just as the sun began to dance with the horizon, a crack formed in the rock’s surface. Excitement filled his heart and he pounded stronger then he had the entire day. He hit and enlarged the crack, until it was a full hole.
Glee touched his heart and with every ounce of excitement in check, he reached down into the stone crevice that he had created.
His hand felt, touched, and then found what he had searched for. He pulled out a small, worn box that appeared to hold jewelry and held it up to his eye level. He was going to be sure to get a close look at his new found fortune.
With fingers shaking and tears flowing from the corners of his eyes, he opened the box. But instead of finding money or jewels, he found a piece of paper. He kept his hopes up and figured it may be some sort of stock or deed.
Like it was a Cracker Jack prize, he unraveled the paper and began to read, “Don’t spend your life chasing rainbows without realizing the ones that you already have.”
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Tuesday Night Fright
I know that I usually blog on Monday and Friday now, but a strange occurrence happened tonight. It all started just like it always does. I sat down at the desk and pulled up the internet connection, attempting to get my social networking done for the night.
At first the buttons on my keyboard started shaking and the thing lifted almost clear off of the desk. There it just remained hovering over the desk as if suspended by strings.
Amazingly next, the screen of the computer started turning and did a complete 360 on its pedestal. It was creepy, it was strange, but that wasn't it.
A loud beeping noise started to play from inside of the CPU and forced me to hum the tune in response, otherwise the consequences would have been unspeakable. The only true comfort was that it seemed to accept my out of tune respones.
So there I was, in my chair (with the NY Giants logo on the back), humming to the sounds, watching the spinning monitor, and trying my best to wrangle up the keyboard. At first I thought a priest would be in order, but when one of my children came down to see what was wrong, everything went back to normal. And, I feel the only way to heal is to share my experience.
Oh and by the way, really all that happened was that my new found addiction, Twitter, wasn't working. That is almost as scary as a possessed computer, right?
Have you gotten to the point with the social networking craze that I have? Do you feel anxiety when Blogger/Twitter/Facebook aren't working?
At first the buttons on my keyboard started shaking and the thing lifted almost clear off of the desk. There it just remained hovering over the desk as if suspended by strings.
Amazingly next, the screen of the computer started turning and did a complete 360 on its pedestal. It was creepy, it was strange, but that wasn't it.
A loud beeping noise started to play from inside of the CPU and forced me to hum the tune in response, otherwise the consequences would have been unspeakable. The only true comfort was that it seemed to accept my out of tune respones.
So there I was, in my chair (with the NY Giants logo on the back), humming to the sounds, watching the spinning monitor, and trying my best to wrangle up the keyboard. At first I thought a priest would be in order, but when one of my children came down to see what was wrong, everything went back to normal. And, I feel the only way to heal is to share my experience.
Oh and by the way, really all that happened was that my new found addiction, Twitter, wasn't working. That is almost as scary as a possessed computer, right?
Have you gotten to the point with the social networking craze that I have? Do you feel anxiety when Blogger/Twitter/Facebook aren't working?
Friday, February 11, 2011
M. Love's Firsts
Love's firsts....M.A. Leslie.............................
Alone, she sat in the corner. Her mind was on the keys of her laptop as she wrote away and occasionally sipped the latte next to her hand. She didn’t need the caffeine, but it called to her drowsy eyes.
The curtains around her were falling and the gazes from the employees would have told her to pack up and leave, but she didn’t notice. Not until he walked into the room like a catalyst cutting through the silence.
She had spent the prior year barely looking up from her work, but the almond shaped baby blues were inspirational to the point that they required attention. As if researching for her next project, she looked at his tightly wrapped body that housed the gorgeous angelic face.
With cunning in his eyes, he made the barista melt as the words of his order flowed from his tongue. Simple, easy and far from expected, he ordered a straight black coffee and slowly and slightly noticed the gaze from afar.
Like an uncomfortable burning had hit him from her eyes, he turned away and stared to the ground. It wasn’t in his nature to be shy, but something about her poker-straight beauty called to him. It wasn’t the type he sought usually, or the look he strived for, but the eyes caught him.
Like he had known them all his life and he had just woken for the first time since birth, he, like metal to a magnet, walked toward her. Pride pulled away and unlike all of the other times before, he walked to her with a simple hello. However, knowing it would be the first of thousands of words spoken, unlike the time before, he had finally seen and met the coveted one and even though it would make sense to walk away, he couldn’t. Like enamored teenagers on their first date, they sat there in the coffee shop that they had frequented regularly and for the first time and last time, noticed each other.
Happy Valentines
Alone, she sat in the corner. Her mind was on the keys of her laptop as she wrote away and occasionally sipped the latte next to her hand. She didn’t need the caffeine, but it called to her drowsy eyes.
The curtains around her were falling and the gazes from the employees would have told her to pack up and leave, but she didn’t notice. Not until he walked into the room like a catalyst cutting through the silence.
She had spent the prior year barely looking up from her work, but the almond shaped baby blues were inspirational to the point that they required attention. As if researching for her next project, she looked at his tightly wrapped body that housed the gorgeous angelic face.
With cunning in his eyes, he made the barista melt as the words of his order flowed from his tongue. Simple, easy and far from expected, he ordered a straight black coffee and slowly and slightly noticed the gaze from afar.
Like an uncomfortable burning had hit him from her eyes, he turned away and stared to the ground. It wasn’t in his nature to be shy, but something about her poker-straight beauty called to him. It wasn’t the type he sought usually, or the look he strived for, but the eyes caught him.
Like he had known them all his life and he had just woken for the first time since birth, he, like metal to a magnet, walked toward her. Pride pulled away and unlike all of the other times before, he walked to her with a simple hello. However, knowing it would be the first of thousands of words spoken, unlike the time before, he had finally seen and met the coveted one and even though it would make sense to walk away, he couldn’t. Like enamored teenagers on their first date, they sat there in the coffee shop that they had frequented regularly and for the first time and last time, noticed each other.
Happy Valentines
Thursday, February 10, 2011
M. Assassin's Heart
Assassin's Heart.......
M.A. Leslie.......
His peering eyes tilted as the unassuming target approached, slightly, he slumped to hide his shadowy figure further into the blackness of the lone alley. He had been trained in the act of killing and knew his target would be a fairly simple matter.
Half of the payment was already in the bank and for an unknown reason an exorbitant amount of money had been paid. However, the target didn’t seem to match the price. He had killed much more dangerous for much less in the past, but he wasn’t going to say no to people who paid generously. Cautiously, he watched from his post and pulled out the tools of his twisted trade.
He knew that the ones with him may pose no extreme threat, but the protective instincts of a mother could be that to recon with. Just like clockwork the baby carrier was taken from the back seat of the car and the pair made their trek to up the concrete path to the apartment.
The time to strike was now, the light was all but gone, and the chances of an outside assault were minimal. Like a well trained predator on revolt, he jumped from the darkness and the smell of fear filled the air like the stench of a skunks spray.
First the man was taken, it wasn’t sexist, just convenient, and he knew who the real threat was. The man gurgled and fell to the ground as his contents poured out around him, posing no future threat. Then the weapon swung and despite the few defensive actions of the victim, she fell lifeless to the ground, in a cross over her dying partner.
Being out in the open was nothing but a constant threat. Taking heed, the assassin stowed his tools and took the handle of the carrier as he turned out into a run. He knew where he was going and that the chance of witnesses was nil. The destination had been set by the men who had bought the fate of the child.
In a smooth steady run, he went his hidden vehicle and with little concern for the child in the seat, he shoved the carrier into the passenger seat and took off to his destination.
Once he was at a reasonable distance from the dangers of the scene, to insure that he would receive payment, he pulled over and took down the mask that was laid over the child. Despite his nature, he slid the cloth down gently and peered into the flame blue eyes of the babe.
With forgiveness, the child caught his eyes and together they locked. A small coo sounded from swaddled package and from nowhere a hand appeared. The assassin reached in and allowed the minuscule fingers to tightly clutch around his finger.
He knew what he had been told and knew what he now felt. While the men with the money told him that the child would need to be destroyed, that he was the coming of the end of man, it just didn’t make sense. The innocence of the child told him otherwise. It was not the child or his bleeding parents that had been the threat. It only took those eyes to convince him, he had made the wrong choice. And, for the first time in his career, he would not be getting the job completely done.
M.A. Leslie.......
His peering eyes tilted as the unassuming target approached, slightly, he slumped to hide his shadowy figure further into the blackness of the lone alley. He had been trained in the act of killing and knew his target would be a fairly simple matter.
Half of the payment was already in the bank and for an unknown reason an exorbitant amount of money had been paid. However, the target didn’t seem to match the price. He had killed much more dangerous for much less in the past, but he wasn’t going to say no to people who paid generously. Cautiously, he watched from his post and pulled out the tools of his twisted trade.
He knew that the ones with him may pose no extreme threat, but the protective instincts of a mother could be that to recon with. Just like clockwork the baby carrier was taken from the back seat of the car and the pair made their trek to up the concrete path to the apartment.
The time to strike was now, the light was all but gone, and the chances of an outside assault were minimal. Like a well trained predator on revolt, he jumped from the darkness and the smell of fear filled the air like the stench of a skunks spray.
First the man was taken, it wasn’t sexist, just convenient, and he knew who the real threat was. The man gurgled and fell to the ground as his contents poured out around him, posing no future threat. Then the weapon swung and despite the few defensive actions of the victim, she fell lifeless to the ground, in a cross over her dying partner.
Being out in the open was nothing but a constant threat. Taking heed, the assassin stowed his tools and took the handle of the carrier as he turned out into a run. He knew where he was going and that the chance of witnesses was nil. The destination had been set by the men who had bought the fate of the child.
In a smooth steady run, he went his hidden vehicle and with little concern for the child in the seat, he shoved the carrier into the passenger seat and took off to his destination.
Once he was at a reasonable distance from the dangers of the scene, to insure that he would receive payment, he pulled over and took down the mask that was laid over the child. Despite his nature, he slid the cloth down gently and peered into the flame blue eyes of the babe.
With forgiveness, the child caught his eyes and together they locked. A small coo sounded from swaddled package and from nowhere a hand appeared. The assassin reached in and allowed the minuscule fingers to tightly clutch around his finger.
He knew what he had been told and knew what he now felt. While the men with the money told him that the child would need to be destroyed, that he was the coming of the end of man, it just didn’t make sense. The innocence of the child told him otherwise. It was not the child or his bleeding parents that had been the threat. It only took those eyes to convince him, he had made the wrong choice. And, for the first time in his career, he would not be getting the job completely done.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Fourth and Goal
Senior year was what Jake Richards had been waiting for his entire life, that and standing on the football field. High School had revolved around football, he had remembered plays, practiced daily leaving sweat and blood on the field, and spend his entire off season training, and here he was in the state championship game as the starting running back for the team that he had played for since he could walk. It was the end of the fourth quarter and his team was down by three points. The coach had called time out after the last play and he knew well that this would be the last play of the game and the last play of his high school career.
They were lined up on the two yard line and all it was going to take would be one little push but it was now fourth and goal and with no time or timeouts, this was the last shot. Jake huddled up with the young men that he had spent most of his childhood with playing on the field and they came together as one unit listening to their quarterback the golden boy, Stan Philips.
He looked at everyone and then around like he was making direct eye contact with each and every one of them then he looked to the center and said, “Twenty-one dive; on one, on one, ready break.” There was no fluent speech or motivational boost, the message was read from his eyes and everyone knew what they needed to do.
They all clapped together and headed for the line, Jake’s nerves were now on fire as he took his place in the backfield. The ball was coming to him. His coach had chosen him to carry the ball the last two yards over the line to win the game, the thought was starting to sicken him and he did his best to focus.
The linemen took their places and the gap that would soon be Jake’s road to victory now formulated in front of him. They would block and he would find it. The quarterback walked up and started yelling as if to tell everyone what to expect and what he saw. Voices were tense and loud to speak over the obnoxious din that was echoing from their opponent’s side.
While they were a few yards away and behind facemasks Jake could hear them as they snarled and growled. The linebackers were poised and ready, a few of them yelled out like they knew what was called and where to expect to go.
Jake took a deep breath and settled his feet behind Stan then allowed himself to become still and calm. He zoned out the noises across the field and only heard his quarterback as the cadence began. The front line dropped their hands on their knees, and then they placed their hands on the ground. And finally the ball moved.
In an instant Jake was running forward to his quarterback and taking the handoff. The line had opened the hole and he sprung forward with only one adversary in his way. Jake was at full speed as was the linebacker, the only person that could stand in his way. The time on the clock had run out and all relied on his arms reaching the ball across the line. It was completely up to him.
Like a steam powered train the linebacker ran toward him with his breath visibly pouring with chilled vapors from the November air. The collision was eminent and as he wrapped his arms around the middle of the halfback he did everything in his power to stop him. He too was trying to be the savior of the game and like two titans they clashed on the line pushing to achieve their own agendas.
Finally with one last gut wrenching push of all of his might and a twist of his body, Jake powered into the linebacker and crossed the ball over the line. His arm clutched the ball to his chest and didn’t let go but the rest of his body gave way as he fell into the end zone. He knew that he had reached his goal and he no longer had the power to even try to stand any further. Surrounded by cheering, screaming, and tears of his opponents, Jake laid on the ground completely alone, the pressure, the practice, the constant pressure was finally gone. He lay on the fresh cut, painted grass and for the first time he could actually smell the way that the field smelled after the mower made its cut, it was beautiful.
They were lined up on the two yard line and all it was going to take would be one little push but it was now fourth and goal and with no time or timeouts, this was the last shot. Jake huddled up with the young men that he had spent most of his childhood with playing on the field and they came together as one unit listening to their quarterback the golden boy, Stan Philips.
He looked at everyone and then around like he was making direct eye contact with each and every one of them then he looked to the center and said, “Twenty-one dive; on one, on one, ready break.” There was no fluent speech or motivational boost, the message was read from his eyes and everyone knew what they needed to do.
They all clapped together and headed for the line, Jake’s nerves were now on fire as he took his place in the backfield. The ball was coming to him. His coach had chosen him to carry the ball the last two yards over the line to win the game, the thought was starting to sicken him and he did his best to focus.
The linemen took their places and the gap that would soon be Jake’s road to victory now formulated in front of him. They would block and he would find it. The quarterback walked up and started yelling as if to tell everyone what to expect and what he saw. Voices were tense and loud to speak over the obnoxious din that was echoing from their opponent’s side.
While they were a few yards away and behind facemasks Jake could hear them as they snarled and growled. The linebackers were poised and ready, a few of them yelled out like they knew what was called and where to expect to go.
Jake took a deep breath and settled his feet behind Stan then allowed himself to become still and calm. He zoned out the noises across the field and only heard his quarterback as the cadence began. The front line dropped their hands on their knees, and then they placed their hands on the ground. And finally the ball moved.
In an instant Jake was running forward to his quarterback and taking the handoff. The line had opened the hole and he sprung forward with only one adversary in his way. Jake was at full speed as was the linebacker, the only person that could stand in his way. The time on the clock had run out and all relied on his arms reaching the ball across the line. It was completely up to him.
Like a steam powered train the linebacker ran toward him with his breath visibly pouring with chilled vapors from the November air. The collision was eminent and as he wrapped his arms around the middle of the halfback he did everything in his power to stop him. He too was trying to be the savior of the game and like two titans they clashed on the line pushing to achieve their own agendas.
Finally with one last gut wrenching push of all of his might and a twist of his body, Jake powered into the linebacker and crossed the ball over the line. His arm clutched the ball to his chest and didn’t let go but the rest of his body gave way as he fell into the end zone. He knew that he had reached his goal and he no longer had the power to even try to stand any further. Surrounded by cheering, screaming, and tears of his opponents, Jake laid on the ground completely alone, the pressure, the practice, the constant pressure was finally gone. He lay on the fresh cut, painted grass and for the first time he could actually smell the way that the field smelled after the mower made its cut, it was beautiful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)