Welcome Pam.
Thanks for joining my blog.
Will be posting more stories soon.
Kindest regards
Diane
Showing posts with label serial. Show all posts
Showing posts with label serial. Show all posts
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Episode 62: A Perfect Beginning
(The Last Episode.)
Episode 62
Synchro
“I, ah, talk with them too,” Cindy said hesitantly.
“Ghosts? Spirits?” Synch corrected.
She nodded.
“Edith told me her son David murdered her.”
Synch’s eyebrows rose high.
“She said she felt an attack coming on while he was there and went to get her medication. He beat her to it and held it out of her reach. She begged him to give it to her. He wouldn’t. She tried to phone triple zero for help but David pulled the phone plug out of the wall. He watched her for hours as she became worse and eventually passed out. He waited a few more hours to be sure of her demise before calling an ambulance.”
“He told me he found her unconscious when he arrived,” said Synch. “That lying, murdering… low-life.”
“Karmic energies caught up with him rather quickly,” Cindy added.
“We’d better tell David Finestra,” he said.
“Why? David Buchanan is dead. Too late to charge him. And how can the dearly departed be a witness to a crime?”
Synch shrugged.
“Seems the right thing to do,” he said.
Cindy thought about it.
“I guess,” she shrugged and got up. “I’m starved. Let’s eat.” She uncovered the containers and microwaved them.
“You know how you can tell a person’s whole life story by looking at them,” Cindy began as they finished eating.
Synch knew what was coming.
“What exactly is in store for me?” she asked.
“Lots of things.” He was being evasive and scooped up the empty dishes. “Want a tea or coffee?” he said shoving the dishes in the dishwasher.
She followed him into the kitchenette.
“Is it that bad?” she said her forehead creased deeply.
He smiled a knowing smile.
“No. It’s very, very good.” He watched her relax.
“Then tell me,” she said and added. “Please.” She backed him up against the bench and closed the gap between their bodies. He loved the feel of her warm body against his and held her narrow waist.
“Well,” he had to trust himself, trust that what he saw in the future was correct. Sometimes part of him had doubts. But in his heart he knew it was correct. They’d only known each other a matter of weeks. How would she take it. She might be overjoyed, or, not. She might bolt unable to handle the fact that someone knows exactly what she’s in for. He understood how someone might feel their privacy had been invaded by him. He wondered how he’d feel if roles were reversed. Then it came to him. Her future was set. No matter what he told her it wouldn’t change her future.
Their arms loosely encircled each other.
“How do you feel about me?” It was a starting point.
He watched the smile spread across her face.
“Like I’ve known you all my life.” Her voice was soft. She looked into his eyes.
He slowly nodded, the same softness radiated from his own face.
“Like I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you.” She blushed slightly at her own words.
He raised his eyebrows and nodded, the confirming grin told her.
“Us? Together? Long term?” she said.
He felt excitement tingle through her. He felt relief.
“Yep,” he said softly.
“The works?” she said to be sure.
“Yep,” he repeated.
“Wow.” She was silent for a few minutes digesting the prospect. “When do we start?”
“Start what?”
“Our relationship,” she was jumping ahead.
“I thought we had,” he said.
She kissed him her mouth opening over his.
“Mmm, I suppose so,” she said peeling her lips from his only enough to let the words out. She sank her tongue into the depths of his mouth. “I’ve dreamed about waking up in bed with you.”
His lips moved to her ear and down her neck.
“I’ve dreamed about doing more than that with you,” he said nibbling at the base of her neck with his lips and retracing his path to her mouth.
She pulled away from him. Holding his hand she dragged him toward the bedroom.
“I guess we’d better find out if we’re sexually compatible,” she smiled from under her eye-lashes.
He knew they would be as surely as he’d take his next breath.
He knew too that before the night ended they’d proclaim their love for each other. It would be the real start of their life together.
He couldn’t think of a more perfect beginning.
The End
By Diane L Wood
Writer
It’d be fantastic of you to make any comment about the serial.
Many thanks for reading it!
Diane
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Episode 62
Synchro
“I, ah, talk with them too,” Cindy said hesitantly.
“Ghosts? Spirits?” Synch corrected.
She nodded.
“Edith told me her son David murdered her.”
Synch’s eyebrows rose high.
“She said she felt an attack coming on while he was there and went to get her medication. He beat her to it and held it out of her reach. She begged him to give it to her. He wouldn’t. She tried to phone triple zero for help but David pulled the phone plug out of the wall. He watched her for hours as she became worse and eventually passed out. He waited a few more hours to be sure of her demise before calling an ambulance.”
“He told me he found her unconscious when he arrived,” said Synch. “That lying, murdering… low-life.”
“Karmic energies caught up with him rather quickly,” Cindy added.
“We’d better tell David Finestra,” he said.
“Why? David Buchanan is dead. Too late to charge him. And how can the dearly departed be a witness to a crime?”
Synch shrugged.
“Seems the right thing to do,” he said.
Cindy thought about it.
“I guess,” she shrugged and got up. “I’m starved. Let’s eat.” She uncovered the containers and microwaved them.
“You know how you can tell a person’s whole life story by looking at them,” Cindy began as they finished eating.
Synch knew what was coming.
“What exactly is in store for me?” she asked.
“Lots of things.” He was being evasive and scooped up the empty dishes. “Want a tea or coffee?” he said shoving the dishes in the dishwasher.
She followed him into the kitchenette.
“Is it that bad?” she said her forehead creased deeply.
He smiled a knowing smile.
“No. It’s very, very good.” He watched her relax.
“Then tell me,” she said and added. “Please.” She backed him up against the bench and closed the gap between their bodies. He loved the feel of her warm body against his and held her narrow waist.
“Well,” he had to trust himself, trust that what he saw in the future was correct. Sometimes part of him had doubts. But in his heart he knew it was correct. They’d only known each other a matter of weeks. How would she take it. She might be overjoyed, or, not. She might bolt unable to handle the fact that someone knows exactly what she’s in for. He understood how someone might feel their privacy had been invaded by him. He wondered how he’d feel if roles were reversed. Then it came to him. Her future was set. No matter what he told her it wouldn’t change her future.
Their arms loosely encircled each other.
“How do you feel about me?” It was a starting point.
He watched the smile spread across her face.
“Like I’ve known you all my life.” Her voice was soft. She looked into his eyes.
He slowly nodded, the same softness radiated from his own face.
“Like I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you.” She blushed slightly at her own words.
He raised his eyebrows and nodded, the confirming grin told her.
“Us? Together? Long term?” she said.
He felt excitement tingle through her. He felt relief.
“Yep,” he said softly.
“The works?” she said to be sure.
“Yep,” he repeated.
“Wow.” She was silent for a few minutes digesting the prospect. “When do we start?”
“Start what?”
“Our relationship,” she was jumping ahead.
“I thought we had,” he said.
She kissed him her mouth opening over his.
“Mmm, I suppose so,” she said peeling her lips from his only enough to let the words out. She sank her tongue into the depths of his mouth. “I’ve dreamed about waking up in bed with you.”
His lips moved to her ear and down her neck.
“I’ve dreamed about doing more than that with you,” he said nibbling at the base of her neck with his lips and retracing his path to her mouth.
She pulled away from him. Holding his hand she dragged him toward the bedroom.
“I guess we’d better find out if we’re sexually compatible,” she smiled from under her eye-lashes.
He knew they would be as surely as he’d take his next breath.
He knew too that before the night ended they’d proclaim their love for each other. It would be the real start of their life together.
He couldn’t think of a more perfect beginning.
The End
By Diane L Wood
Writer
It’d be fantastic of you to make any comment about the serial.
Many thanks for reading it!
Diane
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Episode: 61 A Creepy Pair
Episode 61
Synchro
“What’s wrong?” Cindy said into his neck.
She’d called him as she left work and sensed from his response that there was trouble. She’d called in home, grabbed two of her dinners from the freezer and hurried over. He’d opened the front door to her and pulled her into his arms.
Now she felt his body warmth, his breath on her shoulder, his strong arms around her. His silence and physical rigidity worried her.
“It was awful,” he said at last.
She backed away a little keeping her arms around him.
“What?”
“I saw the two ladies being murdered.”
Cindy thought he might cry or vomit, or both.
“You mean in your mind’s eye?”
He nodded.
“I’ve never been exposed to violence other than movies or TV. They’re not real,” he said taking her hand leading her into the kitchenette.
A frown shadowed his face.
“My family is passive. So am I.” He took the containers from her and put them on the bench.
“How am I supposed to cope with extreme real violence?” Still holding her hand, he lead her to the couch, motioned her to sit and carefully seated himself beside her.
“The crime you saw, happened, you can’t do anything about it,” she said laying on her back, her head in his lap. His face, in fact, his whole body was tight as the strings of a guitar. She went on. “It’s a re-run that’s all.”
She liked his fingers playing with strands of her curls. She firmly clasped his other hand.
“You’ve got to separate yourself from it and move on,” she said.
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t see the… “ no he’d not tell her the gory details. “ …it.”
“Do you believe strongly that what you’re doing will prevent at least some crime, save some peoples lives?”
“Hopefully.”
“Then ignore the nitty gritties. Distance yourself from it.”
“Where did you get ‘nitty gritties’?”
“My grandparents.”
“Edith used to say it,” he said. She was probably smugly looking down on him if that were possible. He didn’t believe the ‘life after death’ concept.
“Is she less than 160centimetres tall with short permed grey hair? Wears a floral dress, a hand knitted cardigan and black flat healed shoes?”
“You knew her, before she died?”
“Arhh, no.” It was time to tell him the rest. “I see people on the other side.”
“The other side of what?”
“After they’ve died, I see them on the other side.”
“Ghosts?”
“Spirits,” she nodded. She was conscious of his thighs under her head as she did so.
Synch gazed off into the distance.
“Does it creep you out? Is it going to affect, us?” She wasn’t sure how he’d take it.
He laughed.
“You’re kidding right?”
“No,” she said hesitating.
“Think about it,” he rumbled with laughter. “Seeing a person’s whole life in my mind is creepy. So why would I think… ” he laughed.
She got it and smiled widely. “We’re a creepy matching pair.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
“What’s wrong?” Cindy said into his neck.
She’d called him as she left work and sensed from his response that there was trouble. She’d called in home, grabbed two of her dinners from the freezer and hurried over. He’d opened the front door to her and pulled her into his arms.
Now she felt his body warmth, his breath on her shoulder, his strong arms around her. His silence and physical rigidity worried her.
“It was awful,” he said at last.
She backed away a little keeping her arms around him.
“What?”
“I saw the two ladies being murdered.”
Cindy thought he might cry or vomit, or both.
“You mean in your mind’s eye?”
He nodded.
“I’ve never been exposed to violence other than movies or TV. They’re not real,” he said taking her hand leading her into the kitchenette.
A frown shadowed his face.
“My family is passive. So am I.” He took the containers from her and put them on the bench.
“How am I supposed to cope with extreme real violence?” Still holding her hand, he lead her to the couch, motioned her to sit and carefully seated himself beside her.
“The crime you saw, happened, you can’t do anything about it,” she said laying on her back, her head in his lap. His face, in fact, his whole body was tight as the strings of a guitar. She went on. “It’s a re-run that’s all.”
She liked his fingers playing with strands of her curls. She firmly clasped his other hand.
“You’ve got to separate yourself from it and move on,” she said.
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t see the… “ no he’d not tell her the gory details. “ …it.”
“Do you believe strongly that what you’re doing will prevent at least some crime, save some peoples lives?”
“Hopefully.”
“Then ignore the nitty gritties. Distance yourself from it.”
“Where did you get ‘nitty gritties’?”
“My grandparents.”
“Edith used to say it,” he said. She was probably smugly looking down on him if that were possible. He didn’t believe the ‘life after death’ concept.
“Is she less than 160centimetres tall with short permed grey hair? Wears a floral dress, a hand knitted cardigan and black flat healed shoes?”
“You knew her, before she died?”
“Arhh, no.” It was time to tell him the rest. “I see people on the other side.”
“The other side of what?”
“After they’ve died, I see them on the other side.”
“Ghosts?”
“Spirits,” she nodded. She was conscious of his thighs under her head as she did so.
Synch gazed off into the distance.
“Does it creep you out? Is it going to affect, us?” She wasn’t sure how he’d take it.
He laughed.
“You’re kidding right?”
“No,” she said hesitating.
“Think about it,” he rumbled with laughter. “Seeing a person’s whole life in my mind is creepy. So why would I think… ” he laughed.
She got it and smiled widely. “We’re a creepy matching pair.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Monday, June 22, 2009
Episode: 60 Horror
Episode 60
Synchro
The week went quickly.
Synchro informed David Finestra of his decision and was welcomed aboard.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting himself into. He couldn’t read his own future like he could everyone else’s but because he saw Cindy’s long future being with him, he was fairly confident nothing fatal would happen to either of them.
Synchro made phone connection on the third note of his ring-tone.
“We picked up Ryan Sturges for drink-driving. We can’t place him near the crime scene. His alibi’s too convincing. We have to release him soon. Can you come in and, do your magic?”
At the station formalities were rushed through.
Synchro stood behind a two-way mirror studying the suspect. A bubble of white light formed around Ryan. A movie-like visualisation began in Synch’s mind’s eye. He had no control over the content.
He told David every detail of the movie.
Ryan walked along an old suburban street eyes narrowed scanning front doors. He stopped and opened a squeaky iron gate looking left and right along the street. No sign of life. He knocked on the front door. There was no security door.
“Yes? What do you want,” said the short grey haired lady.
Ryan didn’t speak. He shoved the door and the lady out of his way. She fell back hitting the floor. He slammed the door shut.
“Get out! I have no money,” she said struggling to her feet. “Get out.”
He checked all the rooms. In the kitchen a younger woman stood up and screamed when she saw the older one limping, screaming at the man.
“Shut up!” he roared at them.
They ignored him and kept screaming.
He grabbed the long bladed knife from the scarred wooden cutting board.
“Shut up!” he roared again and lunged at the old lady’s neck. The knife sank deep. She collapsed.
The younger woman was hysterical. Ryan lunged again. She fell beside the other one. Blood from their necks pooled together as the veil of death enveloped them.
Synchro closed his eyes, massaged his temples and breathed slow and deep.
“You’re doin’ fine,” said David.
Ryan sat at the table in the mirrored interview room.
The bubble formed around the murderer again as Synch resumed.
Ryan snatched up a tea-towel and wiped the handle of the knife thoroughly. He dropped the knife and towel and put his hands in his unzipped jacket pockets. He calmly stared at the bodies then hurried to the front door. With hand covered he opened the door and casually left.
Synchro kept watching.
Ryan was back at the house where they’d observed him packing his car months before.
Inside he sat in a lounge chair and picked up a hand rolled cigarette.
“There’s a woman asleep on the settee,” said Synchro. “She’s, out cold. Not aware of Ryan’s presence at all.”
Synch closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
“Can I stop now?” He’d had enough. The movie was re-running in his mind. “I’m not sure I can do this all the time.”
“If it’s any consolation, there’s more robberies than murders,” the detective said. He purposely with-held the fact that a lot were violent. He hoped Synch couldn’t read his mind.
“Your description fits the crime scene perfectly,” said David deliberately encouraging Synch.
He nodded.
“That’s all for today,” said David.
“Will it help you get a conviction?” Synch hoped viewing the grizzly homicide was not a futile exercise.
“Yeah. The information is invaluable,” said David.
Synch was pale.
“Go home,” said David.
Synch walked out as if he’d been camera-man of the most chilling crime reality TV show imaginable.
How could he get his head around the horror?
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
The week went quickly.
Synchro informed David Finestra of his decision and was welcomed aboard.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting himself into. He couldn’t read his own future like he could everyone else’s but because he saw Cindy’s long future being with him, he was fairly confident nothing fatal would happen to either of them.
Synchro made phone connection on the third note of his ring-tone.
“We picked up Ryan Sturges for drink-driving. We can’t place him near the crime scene. His alibi’s too convincing. We have to release him soon. Can you come in and, do your magic?”
At the station formalities were rushed through.
Synchro stood behind a two-way mirror studying the suspect. A bubble of white light formed around Ryan. A movie-like visualisation began in Synch’s mind’s eye. He had no control over the content.
He told David every detail of the movie.
Ryan walked along an old suburban street eyes narrowed scanning front doors. He stopped and opened a squeaky iron gate looking left and right along the street. No sign of life. He knocked on the front door. There was no security door.
“Yes? What do you want,” said the short grey haired lady.
Ryan didn’t speak. He shoved the door and the lady out of his way. She fell back hitting the floor. He slammed the door shut.
“Get out! I have no money,” she said struggling to her feet. “Get out.”
He checked all the rooms. In the kitchen a younger woman stood up and screamed when she saw the older one limping, screaming at the man.
“Shut up!” he roared at them.
They ignored him and kept screaming.
He grabbed the long bladed knife from the scarred wooden cutting board.
“Shut up!” he roared again and lunged at the old lady’s neck. The knife sank deep. She collapsed.
The younger woman was hysterical. Ryan lunged again. She fell beside the other one. Blood from their necks pooled together as the veil of death enveloped them.
Synchro closed his eyes, massaged his temples and breathed slow and deep.
“You’re doin’ fine,” said David.
Ryan sat at the table in the mirrored interview room.
The bubble formed around the murderer again as Synch resumed.
Ryan snatched up a tea-towel and wiped the handle of the knife thoroughly. He dropped the knife and towel and put his hands in his unzipped jacket pockets. He calmly stared at the bodies then hurried to the front door. With hand covered he opened the door and casually left.
Synchro kept watching.
Ryan was back at the house where they’d observed him packing his car months before.
Inside he sat in a lounge chair and picked up a hand rolled cigarette.
“There’s a woman asleep on the settee,” said Synchro. “She’s, out cold. Not aware of Ryan’s presence at all.”
Synch closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
“Can I stop now?” He’d had enough. The movie was re-running in his mind. “I’m not sure I can do this all the time.”
“If it’s any consolation, there’s more robberies than murders,” the detective said. He purposely with-held the fact that a lot were violent. He hoped Synch couldn’t read his mind.
“Your description fits the crime scene perfectly,” said David deliberately encouraging Synch.
He nodded.
“That’s all for today,” said David.
“Will it help you get a conviction?” Synch hoped viewing the grizzly homicide was not a futile exercise.
“Yeah. The information is invaluable,” said David.
Synch was pale.
“Go home,” said David.
Synch walked out as if he’d been camera-man of the most chilling crime reality TV show imaginable.
How could he get his head around the horror?
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Episode: 59 Mercenary
Episode 59
Synchro
“Will it be dangerous?” she said concerned and biting into toast and vegemite.
“Theoretically, no,” he said.
“Then, no problem,” said Cindy.
Both thought, ‘Yeah, right!’
“My internet business is running well. It’s set up so I’m not needed full-time. Doing… what do you call it anyway?”
“Reading peoples futures?” she shrugged.
“Doing, that, will give me two streams of income,” he said frowning.
“A mercenary way of looking at it,” she said stiffly, her lips pressing to a fine line.
He half smiled. Telling her about the charities he supported could wait.
“I’m off to work,” she said standing abruptly. “Help yourself to food, whatever you need.”
Her smile was gone. She glanced at him as she disappeared out the door.
Mmmm! ‘Won’t hold eye contact.’
A grin spread across his face.
‘Our first tiff. Just like an old married couple.’
He folded his hands behind his head and rolled onto his back.
“Arrrgh! Blasted backside.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
“Will it be dangerous?” she said concerned and biting into toast and vegemite.
“Theoretically, no,” he said.
“Then, no problem,” said Cindy.
Both thought, ‘Yeah, right!’
“My internet business is running well. It’s set up so I’m not needed full-time. Doing… what do you call it anyway?”
“Reading peoples futures?” she shrugged.
“Doing, that, will give me two streams of income,” he said frowning.
“A mercenary way of looking at it,” she said stiffly, her lips pressing to a fine line.
He half smiled. Telling her about the charities he supported could wait.
“I’m off to work,” she said standing abruptly. “Help yourself to food, whatever you need.”
Her smile was gone. She glanced at him as she disappeared out the door.
Mmmm! ‘Won’t hold eye contact.’
A grin spread across his face.
‘Our first tiff. Just like an old married couple.’
He folded his hands behind his head and rolled onto his back.
“Arrrgh! Blasted backside.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Episode 58: Rest and Decide
Synchro
Episode 58
“You can think about it while you rest,” she’d added.
He didn’t need to think about it. He already knew what was in store. Knowing ‘what’ was going to happen took a lot of uncertainty out of his future and eliminated the insecurity that came with the unknown. However, it didn’t fill-in the blanks of ‘how’ or ‘when’ he would achieve the ‘what’.
Fate sure was moving things along though.
The evening disappeared quickly as she’d prepared for work the next day and tucked him in before taking herself to bed.
Synch lay on his side in the darkened room. The slashes of street-light creeping through the venetian blinds was somehow comforting. He rolled over to give his right side relief and faced the back of the sofa. He should be going to work too. Five days cooped up inside was going to be a drag at best. It wasn’t at all like the movies where the shot hero was back on deck five seconds later in the next scene. This sucked.
A whiff of lamb stew tickled his saliva glands as his eyelids closed the world out. A good night’s sleep and he’d be fine in the morning. Yeah.
His backside ached, one side of his body had had enough of being laid on as did the other. The pale morning light signaled wakeup time. Morning ablutions, breakfast and out the door was not on his roster today. He scrunched the pillow, settled his head and listened to flowing water as Cindy showered. She dressed and was fastening her earings when she bounced into the lounge-room.
“Hi.” She sat on the coffee table smiling down at him. “Ready for breakfast?”
“Mmmm,” he grumbled.
“Cheer up. You’ll feel better soon,” she said busying herself in the kitchen.
Synch’s mobile rang.
“Yeah, David?” he said into it.
“Fine,” he said. Hot toast and tea aromas filled his nose.
“Oh,” the down-turn in his voice was noticeable. “What now? …oh… …mm… yeah… no I haven’t decided.” He disconnected the call as Cindy placed toast and tea before him.
“David Buchanan didn’t make it,” he said. He gazed past Cindy.
She held his hand.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He shrugged.
“Finestra wants to know if I’ll be a consultant for the police investigation unit.”
“Will you?”
He gently massaged her palm with his thumb.
“If I do, it might help catch the bad guys,” he said weakly injecting humour into the prospect. Clear memories of the last few days bore immense influence over his decision.
“Probably, …yeah.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Episode 58
“You can think about it while you rest,” she’d added.
He didn’t need to think about it. He already knew what was in store. Knowing ‘what’ was going to happen took a lot of uncertainty out of his future and eliminated the insecurity that came with the unknown. However, it didn’t fill-in the blanks of ‘how’ or ‘when’ he would achieve the ‘what’.
Fate sure was moving things along though.
The evening disappeared quickly as she’d prepared for work the next day and tucked him in before taking herself to bed.
Synch lay on his side in the darkened room. The slashes of street-light creeping through the venetian blinds was somehow comforting. He rolled over to give his right side relief and faced the back of the sofa. He should be going to work too. Five days cooped up inside was going to be a drag at best. It wasn’t at all like the movies where the shot hero was back on deck five seconds later in the next scene. This sucked.
A whiff of lamb stew tickled his saliva glands as his eyelids closed the world out. A good night’s sleep and he’d be fine in the morning. Yeah.
His backside ached, one side of his body had had enough of being laid on as did the other. The pale morning light signaled wakeup time. Morning ablutions, breakfast and out the door was not on his roster today. He scrunched the pillow, settled his head and listened to flowing water as Cindy showered. She dressed and was fastening her earings when she bounced into the lounge-room.
“Hi.” She sat on the coffee table smiling down at him. “Ready for breakfast?”
“Mmmm,” he grumbled.
“Cheer up. You’ll feel better soon,” she said busying herself in the kitchen.
Synch’s mobile rang.
“Yeah, David?” he said into it.
“Fine,” he said. Hot toast and tea aromas filled his nose.
“Oh,” the down-turn in his voice was noticeable. “What now? …oh… …mm… yeah… no I haven’t decided.” He disconnected the call as Cindy placed toast and tea before him.
“David Buchanan didn’t make it,” he said. He gazed past Cindy.
She held his hand.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He shrugged.
“Finestra wants to know if I’ll be a consultant for the police investigation unit.”
“Will you?”
He gently massaged her palm with his thumb.
“If I do, it might help catch the bad guys,” he said weakly injecting humour into the prospect. Clear memories of the last few days bore immense influence over his decision.
“Probably, …yeah.”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Episode 57: Lamb Stew
Episode 57
Synchro
The pain-ridden journey to Cindy’s ended. He’d felt every bump in the supposedly high standard of roads. The Roads Department couldn’t claim to have the smoothest streets around.
Carefully installed on her sofa with pillow, blanket and TV remote, Synch would wait for the intensity to subside. He closed his eyes.
“Want some pain-killers?” Cindy asked.
“No, thanks,” he said softly. He didn’t like the pain. He disliked losing four hours of consciousness even more.
“Let me know if you want anything,” she said.
“Ok.” It was bearly audible.
“I’ll just let you rest now,” she added.
No answer. His eyes-lids shut her out. His chest rose and fell with shallow breathing.
She quietly did her chores, checking him regularly.
An hour and a half later she saw his arms raise in a stretch, heard deep intake of breath as he roused from sleep.
He smiled as she came into his view.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“Mmm! What did you have in mind?” he said reaching a hand out for her to come to him.
“As it’s dinner time you have a choice of four dishes from the freezer, all home cooked of course,” she said sitting carefully on the edge of the sofa.
His eyebrows flew up.
“I do a big cook-up once a fortnight,” she explained holding his hand. “Enough to last the two weeks and freeze it in serving size portions. That way I don’t have to cook every night.”
“What’s on the menu?”
“Lamb Stew, Chicken with Carrots and Silverbeet, Beef Stroganoff or Tuna Medley.”
His stomach gurgled.
“Lamb Stew sounds good,” he said.
“Coming right up,” she said leaving him.
“I haven’t had a chance to ask you what you think about this, ah, psychic thing I do,” he said.
“Ask away,” she said removing containers from the freezer.
“Well, are you alright with it?”
“Sure. Like I said, my Mum’s a witch.” He heard a door click shut, beeps then the microwave oven start up. Blended with the oven drone, china tinkled and cutlery rattled. “It’s all in the same department.”
“What do you mean?”
The droning stopped. Click. Scrape.
“Here,” she said handing him a plate of stew. Mmm! Diced lamb and vegies cooked in there own juices, seasoned, thickened and steaming hot. His mouth salivated.
Cindy sat opposite him with a plate on her knee.
“What I mean is, I think of my life as a huge department store,” she said ramming her fork into a meat cube. “Everything from witchcraft to reading zodiac predictions in the newspaper are all in the one department.”
She popped the chunk into her mouth.
“What department is that?” he asked between mouthfuls.
“The supernatural.”
“This is fantastic,” he said licking his lips.
“Yeah, well, you haven’t eaten anything in thirty six hours. Cardboard pizza would taste great. You might think differently when your taste-buds are back on their feet.”
They ate quietly.
Synch finished first, leaned over and put his plate on the coffee table.
“What department am I in?” The half smile on his lips emitted hope.
“You were in the department for men. Now you’re in transit.” She swallowed and flushed slightly. “Final destination is up to you.”
He knew beyond doubt what department he wanted to be in.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
The pain-ridden journey to Cindy’s ended. He’d felt every bump in the supposedly high standard of roads. The Roads Department couldn’t claim to have the smoothest streets around.
Carefully installed on her sofa with pillow, blanket and TV remote, Synch would wait for the intensity to subside. He closed his eyes.
“Want some pain-killers?” Cindy asked.
“No, thanks,” he said softly. He didn’t like the pain. He disliked losing four hours of consciousness even more.
“Let me know if you want anything,” she said.
“Ok.” It was bearly audible.
“I’ll just let you rest now,” she added.
No answer. His eyes-lids shut her out. His chest rose and fell with shallow breathing.
She quietly did her chores, checking him regularly.
An hour and a half later she saw his arms raise in a stretch, heard deep intake of breath as he roused from sleep.
He smiled as she came into his view.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“Mmm! What did you have in mind?” he said reaching a hand out for her to come to him.
“As it’s dinner time you have a choice of four dishes from the freezer, all home cooked of course,” she said sitting carefully on the edge of the sofa.
His eyebrows flew up.
“I do a big cook-up once a fortnight,” she explained holding his hand. “Enough to last the two weeks and freeze it in serving size portions. That way I don’t have to cook every night.”
“What’s on the menu?”
“Lamb Stew, Chicken with Carrots and Silverbeet, Beef Stroganoff or Tuna Medley.”
His stomach gurgled.
“Lamb Stew sounds good,” he said.
“Coming right up,” she said leaving him.
“I haven’t had a chance to ask you what you think about this, ah, psychic thing I do,” he said.
“Ask away,” she said removing containers from the freezer.
“Well, are you alright with it?”
“Sure. Like I said, my Mum’s a witch.” He heard a door click shut, beeps then the microwave oven start up. Blended with the oven drone, china tinkled and cutlery rattled. “It’s all in the same department.”
“What do you mean?”
The droning stopped. Click. Scrape.
“Here,” she said handing him a plate of stew. Mmm! Diced lamb and vegies cooked in there own juices, seasoned, thickened and steaming hot. His mouth salivated.
Cindy sat opposite him with a plate on her knee.
“What I mean is, I think of my life as a huge department store,” she said ramming her fork into a meat cube. “Everything from witchcraft to reading zodiac predictions in the newspaper are all in the one department.”
She popped the chunk into her mouth.
“What department is that?” he asked between mouthfuls.
“The supernatural.”
“This is fantastic,” he said licking his lips.
“Yeah, well, you haven’t eaten anything in thirty six hours. Cardboard pizza would taste great. You might think differently when your taste-buds are back on their feet.”
They ate quietly.
Synch finished first, leaned over and put his plate on the coffee table.
“What department am I in?” The half smile on his lips emitted hope.
“You were in the department for men. Now you’re in transit.” She swallowed and flushed slightly. “Final destination is up to you.”
He knew beyond doubt what department he wanted to be in.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Saturday, May 16, 2009
Episode 56: The Cat's Whiskers
Episode 56
Synchro
“Your family’s really nice,” said Cindy.
“Yeah?” said Synch groggily.
“They were very enlightening about your childhood.” She grinned. “The plaits incident had me spellbound.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward.
She was taking new clothes from a carrier bag. She yanked the tags off.
“I overheard some adults talking about a witches spell. What are you doing?” he said.
“Getting you out of here,” she said pulling back the bed covers.
His muzzy head was in no condition to handle an argument. He dragged the side of his body to edge of the bed and rolled off onto his feet. The polished floor was sharply cold on his soles. The room rocked a little.
“Do you need help to dress?”
“I might,” he answered. “How long have I been out?”
“Four hours.” Cindy put one of his arms over her shoulder. “Hang on till you get your balance.”
He liked holding onto Cindy.
With her free hand she went to remove the hospital gown.
“Ahhhh… did you bring underwear?” he said holding the gown around him. “Mine had to be cut off before surgery and binned.”
She pulled two small garments out of the bag and held them up.
“Boxers or jocks?”
“Jocks,” he said.
She ripped off the tag.
“I better put those on,” he said. She handed him the black briefs. He held them out to step into and leaned forward. The room was cockeyed. He clung to the bed. Cindy took the garment from him and helped him step into them. She gently pulled them up under the gown.
‘Could have been a lot more interesting exercise without a thick head and a pain in the arse,’ he thought.
Cindy readied a polo shirt.
“Did you particularly need both of Mesh’s plaits?”
He raised his arms as she pulled the shirt down over his chest.
The pain in his backside had dulled. Standing up increased intensity though it was bearable.
“I was six. Didn’t understand ‘quantity.’”
He leaned forward holding the bed again.
Cindy flicked a pair of jeans out and eased them onto him.
“Oops!” he said wobbling.
“Hold on,” she said wrapping her arm around his torso to steady him. “The medication must have been strong.”
“I think my body over responds.”
She managed to carefully fasten the stud and send the zip slide home.
“Did your spell work?”
He swayed a little.
“Nah! Couldn’t detach the cat’s whiskers. Had to throw the whole lot in the pond. He swam back to dry land and took a swipe at me. The snails didn’t fare so well.”
“Huh ha,” she agreed slipping his blood stained shoes on his feet. “Couldn’t swim in deep water?” she said
She rested his arm over her shoulders.
“Sank like little round stones.”
“Let’s go,” she said aiming them toward the door.
“Where?”
“To my place,” she said.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
“Your family’s really nice,” said Cindy.
“Yeah?” said Synch groggily.
“They were very enlightening about your childhood.” She grinned. “The plaits incident had me spellbound.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward.
She was taking new clothes from a carrier bag. She yanked the tags off.
“I overheard some adults talking about a witches spell. What are you doing?” he said.
“Getting you out of here,” she said pulling back the bed covers.
His muzzy head was in no condition to handle an argument. He dragged the side of his body to edge of the bed and rolled off onto his feet. The polished floor was sharply cold on his soles. The room rocked a little.
“Do you need help to dress?”
“I might,” he answered. “How long have I been out?”
“Four hours.” Cindy put one of his arms over her shoulder. “Hang on till you get your balance.”
He liked holding onto Cindy.
With her free hand she went to remove the hospital gown.
“Ahhhh… did you bring underwear?” he said holding the gown around him. “Mine had to be cut off before surgery and binned.”
She pulled two small garments out of the bag and held them up.
“Boxers or jocks?”
“Jocks,” he said.
She ripped off the tag.
“I better put those on,” he said. She handed him the black briefs. He held them out to step into and leaned forward. The room was cockeyed. He clung to the bed. Cindy took the garment from him and helped him step into them. She gently pulled them up under the gown.
‘Could have been a lot more interesting exercise without a thick head and a pain in the arse,’ he thought.
Cindy readied a polo shirt.
“Did you particularly need both of Mesh’s plaits?”
He raised his arms as she pulled the shirt down over his chest.
The pain in his backside had dulled. Standing up increased intensity though it was bearable.
“I was six. Didn’t understand ‘quantity.’”
He leaned forward holding the bed again.
Cindy flicked a pair of jeans out and eased them onto him.
“Oops!” he said wobbling.
“Hold on,” she said wrapping her arm around his torso to steady him. “The medication must have been strong.”
“I think my body over responds.”
She managed to carefully fasten the stud and send the zip slide home.
“Did your spell work?”
He swayed a little.
“Nah! Couldn’t detach the cat’s whiskers. Had to throw the whole lot in the pond. He swam back to dry land and took a swipe at me. The snails didn’t fare so well.”
“Huh ha,” she agreed slipping his blood stained shoes on his feet. “Couldn’t swim in deep water?” she said
She rested his arm over her shoulders.
“Sank like little round stones.”
“Let’s go,” she said aiming them toward the door.
“Where?”
“To my place,” she said.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Episode 55: Auntie Jane
Episode 55
Synchro
All of them smirked waiting for an explanation.
Given time Synch would have come up with something explanatory and sanitised to conceal his recently acquired ‘gift.’
They couldn’t wait.
“Who shot…
“… must have been running from … “
“Can you walk?”
“… in pain … “
“… caught him yet?”
“… own flat …”
Christmas day lunch thought Synch. Everyone talking at once and no-one making any sense.
From the middle of the melee came a shrill,
“SSSW-THWIWW-WWWITT!”
Synch smiled at the silence.
“Auntie Jane?” he said.
Pushing bodies aside a small neat woman in her fifties came forth, worry creasing her brow. She was his mother’s older sister. She acted much younger than his mother.
“Synchro my lad.” She considered all her nieces and nephews to be her own. Perhaps because she had no children of herself. “What happened ya great Wally?” She patted his arm affectionately.
So many eyes watching him. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. His backside throbbed. He looked at Cindy for support.
“A crazed intruder broke into his flat and tried to kill Synch,” she said.
His face paled. His butt felt like a white hot skewer was twisting its way deeper into his flesh.
Cindy felt his hand wet and tense, noticed the slight sheen of sweat on his face and neck, saw his stilted movements under the bed covers.
“Are you ok? Shall I call a nurse?” she said pressing the call button.
His audience frowned sympathetically en mass.
“I’m… fine… “ he breathed.
Cindy knew he was not.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
All of them smirked waiting for an explanation.
Given time Synch would have come up with something explanatory and sanitised to conceal his recently acquired ‘gift.’
They couldn’t wait.
“Who shot…
“… must have been running from … “
“Can you walk?”
“… in pain … “
“… caught him yet?”
“… own flat …”
Christmas day lunch thought Synch. Everyone talking at once and no-one making any sense.
From the middle of the melee came a shrill,
“SSSW-THWIWW-WWWITT!”
Synch smiled at the silence.
“Auntie Jane?” he said.
Pushing bodies aside a small neat woman in her fifties came forth, worry creasing her brow. She was his mother’s older sister. She acted much younger than his mother.
“Synchro my lad.” She considered all her nieces and nephews to be her own. Perhaps because she had no children of herself. “What happened ya great Wally?” She patted his arm affectionately.
So many eyes watching him. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. His backside throbbed. He looked at Cindy for support.
“A crazed intruder broke into his flat and tried to kill Synch,” she said.
His face paled. His butt felt like a white hot skewer was twisting its way deeper into his flesh.
Cindy felt his hand wet and tense, noticed the slight sheen of sweat on his face and neck, saw his stilted movements under the bed covers.
“Are you ok? Shall I call a nurse?” she said pressing the call button.
His audience frowned sympathetically en mass.
“I’m… fine… “ he breathed.
Cindy knew he was not.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Episode 54: Let Them Wait
Episode 54
Synchro
“If you have someone to look after you for the next five days you can go home,” said Doctor Smyth-Jones after the examination. “Get plenty of rest,” he added before leaving the nurses to re-dress the wound and make Synch comfortable.
Great. He can go home.
The ring tone of his mobile phone was muffled. He opened the drawer of the bed-side table and flicked open the phone on the fourth ring.
Hmm, his favourite detective he thought drolly.
Synch told him the good news.
“You can’t go home,” said David. “It’s a crime scene, a possible homicide. No-one’s allowed in there.”
“I need clothes and toiletries,” Synch protested. “And where am I going to stay?”
“Buy new necessities and check into a motel,” David said. “And… ah, we found two bodies in a housing commission flat in Broadmeadows.”
“Let me guess,” said Synch. The pit of his stomach felt heavy. Chilled goose bumps stippled his skin. “An elderly lady and a younger disabled female?”
“Yeah,” said David. “We still don’t know the whereabouts of Ryan Sturges, which brings me to the next topic. Will you work for the department on a regular basis as a consultant?”
Synch’s mouth hung open unable to emit any sound.
Wh-at… wh-ere… h-ow…?
“Synch? Are you there?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have an answer for me?”
“You must have a lot of faith in this weird thing I do,” said Synch. He wasn’t entirely sure of its accuracy himself.
“My superiors are impressed with your predictions and want you on-board,” said David.
“I need to think about it,” Synch said finally.
Cindy popped her head in the door and saw Synch on the phone. He beckoned her to come in.
“Hi,” he said. He felt a stupid grin on his face as he finished the call and greeted Cindy.
Was there really that glitter stuff, kids used to make drawings sparkle, in her eyes or was his imagination playing games with him?
He held her hand. It was warm and comforting, and, having a surprising effect on his masculine anatomy. Pain in the general region was supposed to quell sexual re-action, wasn’t it?
Cindy bent to kiss him on the cheek. He ran his free hand into her hair at the nape of her neck and gently re-positioned her to brush her lips against his. He held her there. She softly touched his lips again with her own holding the kiss a little longer.
They both heard the door smash open.
“Let them wait,” he whispered against her mouth and kissed her again.
They heard multiple footsteps.
“Synch! Are you okay,” came a confused female voice.
“Obviously not sis. He requires mouth to mouth resuscitation,” came a smart-Alec male voice.
“There’s always later,” Cindy whispered into his mouth.
“Uncle Synch, what are you doing?” came a small high pitched voice.
“So long as now catches up with later,” he whispered and released her.
He blinked twice and held Cindy’s hand tight.
His whole family had crowded into the room.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
“If you have someone to look after you for the next five days you can go home,” said Doctor Smyth-Jones after the examination. “Get plenty of rest,” he added before leaving the nurses to re-dress the wound and make Synch comfortable.
Great. He can go home.
The ring tone of his mobile phone was muffled. He opened the drawer of the bed-side table and flicked open the phone on the fourth ring.
Hmm, his favourite detective he thought drolly.
Synch told him the good news.
“You can’t go home,” said David. “It’s a crime scene, a possible homicide. No-one’s allowed in there.”
“I need clothes and toiletries,” Synch protested. “And where am I going to stay?”
“Buy new necessities and check into a motel,” David said. “And… ah, we found two bodies in a housing commission flat in Broadmeadows.”
“Let me guess,” said Synch. The pit of his stomach felt heavy. Chilled goose bumps stippled his skin. “An elderly lady and a younger disabled female?”
“Yeah,” said David. “We still don’t know the whereabouts of Ryan Sturges, which brings me to the next topic. Will you work for the department on a regular basis as a consultant?”
Synch’s mouth hung open unable to emit any sound.
Wh-at… wh-ere… h-ow…?
“Synch? Are you there?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have an answer for me?”
“You must have a lot of faith in this weird thing I do,” said Synch. He wasn’t entirely sure of its accuracy himself.
“My superiors are impressed with your predictions and want you on-board,” said David.
“I need to think about it,” Synch said finally.
Cindy popped her head in the door and saw Synch on the phone. He beckoned her to come in.
“Hi,” he said. He felt a stupid grin on his face as he finished the call and greeted Cindy.
Was there really that glitter stuff, kids used to make drawings sparkle, in her eyes or was his imagination playing games with him?
He held her hand. It was warm and comforting, and, having a surprising effect on his masculine anatomy. Pain in the general region was supposed to quell sexual re-action, wasn’t it?
Cindy bent to kiss him on the cheek. He ran his free hand into her hair at the nape of her neck and gently re-positioned her to brush her lips against his. He held her there. She softly touched his lips again with her own holding the kiss a little longer.
They both heard the door smash open.
“Let them wait,” he whispered against her mouth and kissed her again.
They heard multiple footsteps.
“Synch! Are you okay,” came a confused female voice.
“Obviously not sis. He requires mouth to mouth resuscitation,” came a smart-Alec male voice.
“There’s always later,” Cindy whispered into his mouth.
“Uncle Synch, what are you doing?” came a small high pitched voice.
“So long as now catches up with later,” he whispered and released her.
He blinked twice and held Cindy’s hand tight.
His whole family had crowded into the room.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Episode 53: How Are You Feeling?
Episode 53
Synchro
“I’ll talk to you later,” said David. He glanced knowingly at Synch and left the room.
Cindy edged her way closer to the bed.
The searing pain in his rear-end ebbed a little.
“How are you feeling?”
Everyone asks the same question. Must be a highly contagious ‘how are you feeling virus’ going around.
“Getting there,” he answered.
Her eyes sweetly captivated him.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said.
The drugs were having a weird effect on him. He kept hearing the same things over and over.
He vaguely remembered her words when the ambos attended him.
“How so?” he said.
“As I started to tell you my mother’s a wiccan. I rang her from Seymour and asked her to cast a spell of protection over you, us I mean,” Cindy explained.
“Didn’t work for me,” Synch put in.
“She says it did.” Cindy was serious. “She says you would have copped something much worse without the spell.”
“Do you believe in that stuff?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“Don’t know. There’s a constant stream of co-incidences in Mum’s life that could be put down to her witch activities.”
Synch thought, ‘Yeah, hogwash.’
“It can’t hurt. She’s a white witch, won’t have anything to do with black magic,” said Cindy.
“Heaven forbid,” said Synch flippantly.
One side of her mouth curved up.
Her hands were on the bed beside him. He reached over and took one in his own.
“Tell her thanks for helping,” he said.
The curve spread to the other side of her mouth, a mouth waiting to be kissed. He saw her look at his own mouth. The tip of her tongue moistened her lower lip, an invitation if ever he saw one. He gently pulled her arm across him, lowering her to him. She smelled of flowers. Her arm was warm across his body. Her lips were so close to his he could almost feel their warmth with his own…
The door slammed back against the wall.
“I’m Doctor Harry Smythe-Jones,” said the tall casually clad man pulling the chart from it’s holder at the foot of the bed. Two nurses followed him at close quarters. “I’d like to look at your wound and must ask the young lady to leave the room.”
“Fine,” Synch mumbled as if he had any say in the matter.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
“I’ll talk to you later,” said David. He glanced knowingly at Synch and left the room.
Cindy edged her way closer to the bed.
The searing pain in his rear-end ebbed a little.
“How are you feeling?”
Everyone asks the same question. Must be a highly contagious ‘how are you feeling virus’ going around.
“Getting there,” he answered.
Her eyes sweetly captivated him.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said.
The drugs were having a weird effect on him. He kept hearing the same things over and over.
He vaguely remembered her words when the ambos attended him.
“How so?” he said.
“As I started to tell you my mother’s a wiccan. I rang her from Seymour and asked her to cast a spell of protection over you, us I mean,” Cindy explained.
“Didn’t work for me,” Synch put in.
“She says it did.” Cindy was serious. “She says you would have copped something much worse without the spell.”
“Do you believe in that stuff?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“Don’t know. There’s a constant stream of co-incidences in Mum’s life that could be put down to her witch activities.”
Synch thought, ‘Yeah, hogwash.’
“It can’t hurt. She’s a white witch, won’t have anything to do with black magic,” said Cindy.
“Heaven forbid,” said Synch flippantly.
One side of her mouth curved up.
Her hands were on the bed beside him. He reached over and took one in his own.
“Tell her thanks for helping,” he said.
The curve spread to the other side of her mouth, a mouth waiting to be kissed. He saw her look at his own mouth. The tip of her tongue moistened her lower lip, an invitation if ever he saw one. He gently pulled her arm across him, lowering her to him. She smelled of flowers. Her arm was warm across his body. Her lips were so close to his he could almost feel their warmth with his own…
The door slammed back against the wall.
“I’m Doctor Harry Smythe-Jones,” said the tall casually clad man pulling the chart from it’s holder at the foot of the bed. Two nurses followed him at close quarters. “I’d like to look at your wound and must ask the young lady to leave the room.”
“Fine,” Synch mumbled as if he had any say in the matter.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Episode 52: Sorry
Episode 52
Synchro
Rays of morning light jabbed his eyes. Someone opened the curtains. The brightness pierced the back of his eye-balls.
“Good morning.”
Synch hesitated pulling his hand from his eyes to find out exactly who the familiar voice belonged to.
“How are you feeling?” said David Finestra.
“Fantastic,” Synch breathed, carefully moving his legs.
“Sorry you got shot,” said David. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Synch's eyes narrowed. He wished he’d stop hearing that phrase.
He waited for an explanation.
“Will planted a listening device under your kitchen bench. Our guys were listening to you out front in an unmarked van. When you said ‘David’ then heard the rap music they thought it was me and called to confirm it. I answered my phone just as they heard the shot. The mistaken identity slowed their response time by a few minutes. Sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I did insist on going home,” said Synch. His face wrinkled as he re-arranged his legs. “How’s David Buchanan?”
“Still breathing, with help,” said David.
All this because of a Last will and Testament thought Synch.
The door slowly opened.
Cindy peeped in.
God, she was beautiful.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
Rays of morning light jabbed his eyes. Someone opened the curtains. The brightness pierced the back of his eye-balls.
“Good morning.”
Synch hesitated pulling his hand from his eyes to find out exactly who the familiar voice belonged to.
“How are you feeling?” said David Finestra.
“Fantastic,” Synch breathed, carefully moving his legs.
“Sorry you got shot,” said David. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Synch's eyes narrowed. He wished he’d stop hearing that phrase.
He waited for an explanation.
“Will planted a listening device under your kitchen bench. Our guys were listening to you out front in an unmarked van. When you said ‘David’ then heard the rap music they thought it was me and called to confirm it. I answered my phone just as they heard the shot. The mistaken identity slowed their response time by a few minutes. Sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I did insist on going home,” said Synch. His face wrinkled as he re-arranged his legs. “How’s David Buchanan?”
“Still breathing, with help,” said David.
All this because of a Last will and Testament thought Synch.
The door slowly opened.
Cindy peeped in.
God, she was beautiful.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Episode 51: Green Blobs
Episode 51
Synchro
A tongue of balled tissue paper. A dry mouth. Blurry green blobs, moving. Bipping.
“Are you a witch?” Synch asked.
“I don’t think so,” one of the green blobs said.
“It’s the third time he’s asked that,” said another blob.
A body, well part of one.
“How are you feeling?”
Synch lay on his side.
“Can’t feel much,” he answered. His throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow.
His vision cleared quickly. He looked around frowning.
“You’re in post op,” said the male nurse. He checked Synch’s pulse and blood pressure.
“You’ll be taken to a ward soon. We need to keep an eye on you for a while first.”
Synch rolled onto his back.
“Arrrgh!” He quickly rolled on his side.
“Sit-ups will be off your exercise regime for a while,” said the nurse.
Synch winced. The pain lingered.
His stomach rumbled. It felt empty. It was complaining.
“Feel a bit peculiar in the stomach,” said Synch.
“Nauseous?” said the nurse. He strategically placed a stiff rimmed plastic bag under Synch’s mouth just in time to catch the air expelled with each heave. His body continued convulsing in vomitous motion. A brief conversation between the nurses was blotted out by Synch’s involuntary retching.
“This should stop it,” he heard. He felt a sharp prick in his thigh. Minutes later the vomiting stopped.
His eye-lids felt loaded with lead.
“Might make you a bit drowsy,” said the nurse.
“Apparently, I don’t do drowsy,” Synch said as he sank into a sound sleep.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
A tongue of balled tissue paper. A dry mouth. Blurry green blobs, moving. Bipping.
“Are you a witch?” Synch asked.
“I don’t think so,” one of the green blobs said.
“It’s the third time he’s asked that,” said another blob.
A body, well part of one.
“How are you feeling?”
Synch lay on his side.
“Can’t feel much,” he answered. His throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow.
His vision cleared quickly. He looked around frowning.
“You’re in post op,” said the male nurse. He checked Synch’s pulse and blood pressure.
“You’ll be taken to a ward soon. We need to keep an eye on you for a while first.”
Synch rolled onto his back.
“Arrrgh!” He quickly rolled on his side.
“Sit-ups will be off your exercise regime for a while,” said the nurse.
Synch winced. The pain lingered.
His stomach rumbled. It felt empty. It was complaining.
“Feel a bit peculiar in the stomach,” said Synch.
“Nauseous?” said the nurse. He strategically placed a stiff rimmed plastic bag under Synch’s mouth just in time to catch the air expelled with each heave. His body continued convulsing in vomitous motion. A brief conversation between the nurses was blotted out by Synch’s involuntary retching.
“This should stop it,” he heard. He felt a sharp prick in his thigh. Minutes later the vomiting stopped.
His eye-lids felt loaded with lead.
“Might make you a bit drowsy,” said the nurse.
“Apparently, I don’t do drowsy,” Synch said as he sank into a sound sleep.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Monday, April 13, 2009
Episode 50: Shot
Episode 50
Synchro
“Oh, shit,” said Synch from the bedroom floor.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” said Cindy from the floor beside him.
They heard indiscernible yelling muted by the rap music, another gun-shot and a thump.
The rap was cut.
“…ambulance... ...shot and unconscious…,“ came from the other room.
Synch remained on his stomach.
“Shit, my arse hurts,” he said.
He heard Cindy gasp.
“You’re bleeding,” she said. “Lots.” Her voice broke into snivels. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Apply pressure will you before I bleed to death.”
They heard a chorus of sirens.
She flattened her hand on his buttock and pressed hard.
He stiffened and sucked in air.
She drew back a little.
“Press hard,” he said.
They heard doors open, footsteps and talking in the other room.
“What do you mean ‘this wasn’t supposed to happen’?” said Synch.
“My mother’s a witch,” she said through tears. She wiped her runny nose with the back of her free hand.
“My mother can be a bit that way too sometimes,” he said.
They heard car doors. Sirens droned to a stop and more car doors slamming.
“Quick, there’s no heart beat,” said someone standing at the front door. Fast paced footsteps entered the house. Synch half turned, looked back and saw two paramedics fly past. He blinked. Did one of them have short dread-locks and multiple face piercing?
“…over on his back… …start pumping.”
“I mean my mother is a real witch, a white witch, a wiccan,” said Cindy.
Someone was singing in the other room. The words were familiar. It was rock and roll.
Two other paramedics stood in the bedroom doorway. They spotted the blood under Cindy’s hand.
“Another victim in here,” one said over his shoulder to the others in the main room. They came in and put their boxes of medical equipment beside Synch. One moved Cindy’s hand a little. Fresh blood flowed copiously onto the carpet. “Keep pressing,” he said to Cindy.
The singing continued next door.
“Are you in pain,” the paramedic asked Synch.
“I’ve been shot in the arse. Of course I’m in pain.”
The medic opened his medical box.
One sterile gloved hand gave Synch a short flat plastic thing. There was a hole in the end of it.
“Put this to your lips and breath in through your mouth,” he instructed Synch. “It’s a pain killer.”
Synch did so.
“Who’s singing?” Synch asked. He felt light, all over.
“Angus. He’s a bit weird but an excellent medic,” came the answer.
“Why is he singing,” asked Cindy.
“He sings songs with a particular beat. Says the rhythm helps with timing chest compressions,” said the medic. “When I say ‘now’ remove your hand,” he said to Cindy. “Now.”
Synch couldn’t see what the medic had done.
The singing continued. Synch liked the guy’s voice.
“Does that hurt?” he asked Synch.
“A little,” said Synch. The room was lop-sided.
“Have another suck on that.”
Synch sucked on the lump of plastic and before he breathed out the room swirled around and around.
“Wh-hot were you thaying about y-hor Mum?” he asked Cindy.
“Stay with us,” the medic said loudly to Synch.
“…trying…” Synch managed.
“Most people don’t get drowsy when they use that,” said the medic. “You must be sensitive to drugs are you?”
“Don’t…. know,” Synch answered.
He was drifting off.
Sleep! Yeah, that’s what he needed.
He’d miss the singing.
His body felt lighter than air.
It was nice. He was so-o-o relaxed.
His eye-lids were heavy.
He was far away from… Cindy… the singing… the pain.
The last thing he remembered before unconsciousness consumed him was the voice singing in the next room.
“Another one bites the dust…”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
“Oh, shit,” said Synch from the bedroom floor.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” said Cindy from the floor beside him.
They heard indiscernible yelling muted by the rap music, another gun-shot and a thump.
The rap was cut.
“…ambulance... ...shot and unconscious…,“ came from the other room.
Synch remained on his stomach.
“Shit, my arse hurts,” he said.
He heard Cindy gasp.
“You’re bleeding,” she said. “Lots.” Her voice broke into snivels. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Apply pressure will you before I bleed to death.”
They heard a chorus of sirens.
She flattened her hand on his buttock and pressed hard.
He stiffened and sucked in air.
She drew back a little.
“Press hard,” he said.
They heard doors open, footsteps and talking in the other room.
“What do you mean ‘this wasn’t supposed to happen’?” said Synch.
“My mother’s a witch,” she said through tears. She wiped her runny nose with the back of her free hand.
“My mother can be a bit that way too sometimes,” he said.
They heard car doors. Sirens droned to a stop and more car doors slamming.
“Quick, there’s no heart beat,” said someone standing at the front door. Fast paced footsteps entered the house. Synch half turned, looked back and saw two paramedics fly past. He blinked. Did one of them have short dread-locks and multiple face piercing?
“…over on his back… …start pumping.”
“I mean my mother is a real witch, a white witch, a wiccan,” said Cindy.
Someone was singing in the other room. The words were familiar. It was rock and roll.
Two other paramedics stood in the bedroom doorway. They spotted the blood under Cindy’s hand.
“Another victim in here,” one said over his shoulder to the others in the main room. They came in and put their boxes of medical equipment beside Synch. One moved Cindy’s hand a little. Fresh blood flowed copiously onto the carpet. “Keep pressing,” he said to Cindy.
The singing continued next door.
“Are you in pain,” the paramedic asked Synch.
“I’ve been shot in the arse. Of course I’m in pain.”
The medic opened his medical box.
One sterile gloved hand gave Synch a short flat plastic thing. There was a hole in the end of it.
“Put this to your lips and breath in through your mouth,” he instructed Synch. “It’s a pain killer.”
Synch did so.
“Who’s singing?” Synch asked. He felt light, all over.
“Angus. He’s a bit weird but an excellent medic,” came the answer.
“Why is he singing,” asked Cindy.
“He sings songs with a particular beat. Says the rhythm helps with timing chest compressions,” said the medic. “When I say ‘now’ remove your hand,” he said to Cindy. “Now.”
Synch couldn’t see what the medic had done.
The singing continued. Synch liked the guy’s voice.
“Does that hurt?” he asked Synch.
“A little,” said Synch. The room was lop-sided.
“Have another suck on that.”
Synch sucked on the lump of plastic and before he breathed out the room swirled around and around.
“Wh-hot were you thaying about y-hor Mum?” he asked Cindy.
“Stay with us,” the medic said loudly to Synch.
“…trying…” Synch managed.
“Most people don’t get drowsy when they use that,” said the medic. “You must be sensitive to drugs are you?”
“Don’t…. know,” Synch answered.
He was drifting off.
Sleep! Yeah, that’s what he needed.
He’d miss the singing.
His body felt lighter than air.
It was nice. He was so-o-o relaxed.
His eye-lids were heavy.
He was far away from… Cindy… the singing… the pain.
The last thing he remembered before unconsciousness consumed him was the voice singing in the next room.
“Another one bites the dust…”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Episode 49: Unwelcome Visitor
Episode 49
Synchro
“Hey, Synchro,” said David Buchanan. His thick silhouette filled the doorway. “I brought you something.” He pushed the door shut with his foot and shoved a CD player on the kitchen bench. “Want to hear it?” He turned it on without waiting for a reply. From the oversized speakers rap music blared making conversation difficult.
“GREAT ISN’T IT,” David shouted against the rabble.
Synch stepped toward the unwelcome visitor intending to tell him to get out. As he did so the intruder pulled a hand-gun from his pocket. He flicked it at Synch who stepped back and in front of Cindy.
“TURN THAT OFF SO WE CAN TALK,” said Synch.
David shook his head.
“YOUR PLAIN-CLOTHED FRIENDS UNDOUBTEDLY LEFT A BUG,” he said. “THE NOISE STAYS.”
“IF THIS IS ABOUT THE WILL,” said Synch. “I HAVE NO INTENTION OF ACCEPTING YOUR MOTHER’S ESTATE.”
“SHE TIED IT UP SO YOU HAVE NO OPTION,” David scowled. “EXCEPT IF YOU’RE DEAD.” He raised the gun aiming for Synch’s chest.
“I DON’T WANT IT,” said Synch taking a half pace back and moving Cindy toward the right. She was still behind him. They were level with the front bedroom door-way. He let go of her and kept both hands behind him.
“I’LL FIND SOME WAY OF GETTING IT ALL TO YOU,” Synch went on. Behind his back he pointed to the bedroom then held out three fingers. Christ he hoped Cindy got his message.
“YOU CAN’T,” said David.
Synch held out one finger.
“I’VE BEEN TO THREE DIFFERENT SOLICITORS,” David said relaxing his gun a little.
“THERE’S GOT TO BE A WAY,” said Synch. He held out two fingers.
“WE’LL JUST KEEP ASKING SOLICITOR AFTER SOLICITOR TILL WE FIND A WAY,” said Synch. He held out three fingers.
Cindy dived for the bedroom.
Synch dived too.
At the same instant David squeezed the trigger.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
“Hey, Synchro,” said David Buchanan. His thick silhouette filled the doorway. “I brought you something.” He pushed the door shut with his foot and shoved a CD player on the kitchen bench. “Want to hear it?” He turned it on without waiting for a reply. From the oversized speakers rap music blared making conversation difficult.
“GREAT ISN’T IT,” David shouted against the rabble.
Synch stepped toward the unwelcome visitor intending to tell him to get out. As he did so the intruder pulled a hand-gun from his pocket. He flicked it at Synch who stepped back and in front of Cindy.
“TURN THAT OFF SO WE CAN TALK,” said Synch.
David shook his head.
“YOUR PLAIN-CLOTHED FRIENDS UNDOUBTEDLY LEFT A BUG,” he said. “THE NOISE STAYS.”
“IF THIS IS ABOUT THE WILL,” said Synch. “I HAVE NO INTENTION OF ACCEPTING YOUR MOTHER’S ESTATE.”
“SHE TIED IT UP SO YOU HAVE NO OPTION,” David scowled. “EXCEPT IF YOU’RE DEAD.” He raised the gun aiming for Synch’s chest.
“I DON’T WANT IT,” said Synch taking a half pace back and moving Cindy toward the right. She was still behind him. They were level with the front bedroom door-way. He let go of her and kept both hands behind him.
“I’LL FIND SOME WAY OF GETTING IT ALL TO YOU,” Synch went on. Behind his back he pointed to the bedroom then held out three fingers. Christ he hoped Cindy got his message.
“YOU CAN’T,” said David.
Synch held out one finger.
“I’VE BEEN TO THREE DIFFERENT SOLICITORS,” David said relaxing his gun a little.
“THERE’S GOT TO BE A WAY,” said Synch. He held out two fingers.
“WE’LL JUST KEEP ASKING SOLICITOR AFTER SOLICITOR TILL WE FIND A WAY,” said Synch. He held out three fingers.
Cindy dived for the bedroom.
Synch dived too.
At the same instant David squeezed the trigger.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Episode 48: Home - Safe!
Episode 48
Synchro
David Finestra reported to his superiors as they sped along the highway toward Melbourne. No other words were spoken during the hour long trip.
Synchro didn’t care what either detective thought. He knew what he knew and it was time to trust his knowledge.
The four got out of the car at Synch’s place. His flat was at the front of a block of four ground level units.
“We’d like to check inside,” said David.
Synch thought it was unnecessary.
“You’ve been away over-night, long enough for someone to gain entry,” the detective added.
Synch saw his point and unlocked the door.
David and Will inspected the bedrooms, bathroom and did a quick scan out the back.
Nothing was amiss.
“If anything unusual happens, even an odd noise, call me,” said David.
Synch and Cindy had their backs to Will and didn’t see what he was doing. He was in the kitchen, at the bench, with his back toward to them.
“You have my mobile number in your speed dial,” David added. “Use it.”
Synch agreed and opened the front door. The detectives exchanged glances a triffle longer than they should have.
They took the hint and left.
Cindy and Synch watched through the window as the detectives drove off.
“You don’t need their protection,” she said turning to Synch.
Flowers. Yeah, she smelled lightly of some kind of flower. Must be her hair. And musk, natural musk. It was bringing his senses to life, and other things. He wanted to slowly undress her and kiss her all over starting with her left ear lobe.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
‘THU-UMK.’
‘BANGHK.’
The back door banged open and smashed against the wall.
“David!” said Synch.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
David Finestra reported to his superiors as they sped along the highway toward Melbourne. No other words were spoken during the hour long trip.
Synchro didn’t care what either detective thought. He knew what he knew and it was time to trust his knowledge.
The four got out of the car at Synch’s place. His flat was at the front of a block of four ground level units.
“We’d like to check inside,” said David.
Synch thought it was unnecessary.
“You’ve been away over-night, long enough for someone to gain entry,” the detective added.
Synch saw his point and unlocked the door.
David and Will inspected the bedrooms, bathroom and did a quick scan out the back.
Nothing was amiss.
“If anything unusual happens, even an odd noise, call me,” said David.
Synch and Cindy had their backs to Will and didn’t see what he was doing. He was in the kitchen, at the bench, with his back toward to them.
“You have my mobile number in your speed dial,” David added. “Use it.”
Synch agreed and opened the front door. The detectives exchanged glances a triffle longer than they should have.
They took the hint and left.
Cindy and Synch watched through the window as the detectives drove off.
“You don’t need their protection,” she said turning to Synch.
Flowers. Yeah, she smelled lightly of some kind of flower. Must be her hair. And musk, natural musk. It was bringing his senses to life, and other things. He wanted to slowly undress her and kiss her all over starting with her left ear lobe.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
‘THU-UMK.’
‘BANGHK.’
The back door banged open and smashed against the wall.
“David!” said Synch.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Episode 47: Home, Now!
Have a happy, safe Easter break everyone.
Episode 47
Synchro
The quartette digested his words.
“You know what?” said Synch facing David and Will. “It could be David Buchanan or Ryan Sturges or you Will or you David or someone we haven’t even thought of who has it in for me.” His voice grew in volume. “I don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough. Take me home.”
“Settle down,” said David.
“Take me home now,” Synch demanded.
“We can’t do that while you’re a target,” said David.
“Now,” Synch repeated.
The detectives stared at Synch.
“What about Cindy?” said David.
Synch laced his fingers through hers.
“She comes with me, if she wants to,” said Synch looking at her for confirmation.
“That’s not what I meant,” said David.
Synch and Cindy frowned nutting out his meaning.
Synch’s eyes narrowed.
“I told you she’s honest,” said Synch.
Cindy looked down from under dark lashes and bit her bottom lip.
He stood up holding her hand firmly and helped her to her feet.
“Take us home now David or we’ll hitchhike,” said Synch.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Episode 47
Synchro
The quartette digested his words.
“You know what?” said Synch facing David and Will. “It could be David Buchanan or Ryan Sturges or you Will or you David or someone we haven’t even thought of who has it in for me.” His voice grew in volume. “I don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough. Take me home.”
“Settle down,” said David.
“Take me home now,” Synch demanded.
“We can’t do that while you’re a target,” said David.
“Now,” Synch repeated.
The detectives stared at Synch.
“What about Cindy?” said David.
Synch laced his fingers through hers.
“She comes with me, if she wants to,” said Synch looking at her for confirmation.
“That’s not what I meant,” said David.
Synch and Cindy frowned nutting out his meaning.
Synch’s eyes narrowed.
“I told you she’s honest,” said Synch.
Cindy looked down from under dark lashes and bit her bottom lip.
He stood up holding her hand firmly and helped her to her feet.
“Take us home now David or we’ll hitchhike,” said Synch.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Episode 46: Beneficiary?
Here's the link to a page which, if you like, you can join in and have some fun:
http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(Sorry! You'll have to copy and paste.)
Cheers
Diane
Episode 46
Synchro
The detectives scrutinised the area at a busy truck-stop near Seymour. The site was clear of suspicious looking characters like Ryan Sturges.
A breakfast of crisp bacon, eggs, fried tomato and tea was going down well when Synch’s mobile rang and displayed the caller I.D. He went to move away and take the call where it wouldn’t disturb the other’s while eating. David motioned him to stay put.
“Jenny!” said Synch. He listened. “I’m not late. I won’t be in today… …she won’t be in either.” He looked at Cindy.
The others kept eating.
“Open it and read it to me,” he said. He listened some more and said goodbye.
“Apparently I’m sole beneficiary of the estate of the late Edith Buchanan,” he said. “Strange. I was only her neighbour. Why didn’t she leave it to her son David or some other relative?” he thought aloud.
They ate in silence.
Their mind activity clogged the surrounding atmosphere.
The morning sun streaming through the window failed to warm the chill of their thoughts.
The last morsel cleaned from his plate and Will could stand it no longer.
He voiced the dominant question.
“Does David Buchanan own a gun?”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(Sorry! You'll have to copy and paste.)
Cheers
Diane
Episode 46
Synchro
The detectives scrutinised the area at a busy truck-stop near Seymour. The site was clear of suspicious looking characters like Ryan Sturges.
A breakfast of crisp bacon, eggs, fried tomato and tea was going down well when Synch’s mobile rang and displayed the caller I.D. He went to move away and take the call where it wouldn’t disturb the other’s while eating. David motioned him to stay put.
“Jenny!” said Synch. He listened. “I’m not late. I won’t be in today… …she won’t be in either.” He looked at Cindy.
The others kept eating.
“Open it and read it to me,” he said. He listened some more and said goodbye.
“Apparently I’m sole beneficiary of the estate of the late Edith Buchanan,” he said. “Strange. I was only her neighbour. Why didn’t she leave it to her son David or some other relative?” he thought aloud.
They ate in silence.
Their mind activity clogged the surrounding atmosphere.
The morning sun streaming through the window failed to warm the chill of their thoughts.
The last morsel cleaned from his plate and Will could stand it no longer.
He voiced the dominant question.
“Does David Buchanan own a gun?”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Episode 45: Morning Shock
Episode 45
Synchro
Synch shot out of bed.
David and Will had guns drawn as Synch met them in the kitchen.
“What was that,” Cindy whispered from the bedroom doorway.
David pursed his lips and held his straightened index finger vertically instructing silence.
He pointed to the ceiling.
Synch glanced at his watch.
It was after eight.
The four stood as still as the eerie precursor to a violent storm.
Five minutes went by.
No noise.
Will moved silently to a front window and angled himself to look out the window at the side of the curtain without touching it. Curtain movement would give them away.
David was at the front door, hand on the door-handle.
They waited another five minutes.
No noise.
Slowly David turned the door-handle. He eased the door open the width of an eye.
A ray of morning light lay straight and flat across the floor.
He opened the door a tad more and breathed out heavily, shoulders relaxed.
Holstering his gun he opened the door wide and hooked his thumb toward the massive old gum tree two metres from the entry. The white trunk glistened in the morning light.
“It dropped a branch on the roof,” he said.
A gnarled leafless branch dangled over the edge of the roof guttering.
Floating in on a gentle breeze came the raucous laugh of a nearby kookaburra.
None of them thought it was funny.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
Synch shot out of bed.
David and Will had guns drawn as Synch met them in the kitchen.
“What was that,” Cindy whispered from the bedroom doorway.
David pursed his lips and held his straightened index finger vertically instructing silence.
He pointed to the ceiling.
Synch glanced at his watch.
It was after eight.
The four stood as still as the eerie precursor to a violent storm.
Five minutes went by.
No noise.
Will moved silently to a front window and angled himself to look out the window at the side of the curtain without touching it. Curtain movement would give them away.
David was at the front door, hand on the door-handle.
They waited another five minutes.
No noise.
Slowly David turned the door-handle. He eased the door open the width of an eye.
A ray of morning light lay straight and flat across the floor.
He opened the door a tad more and breathed out heavily, shoulders relaxed.
Holstering his gun he opened the door wide and hooked his thumb toward the massive old gum tree two metres from the entry. The white trunk glistened in the morning light.
“It dropped a branch on the roof,” he said.
A gnarled leafless branch dangled over the edge of the roof guttering.
Floating in on a gentle breeze came the raucous laugh of a nearby kookaburra.
None of them thought it was funny.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Episode 44: Sleepless in Seymour
Welcome Dee. Great to have you on board. And for your entertainment, the next instalment...
Episode 44
Synchro
“I checked out her past and future. Her only involvement is with me,” he said emphatically. He looked at them as if they should know.
They looked puzzled.
“Remember this ‘ability’ I have?”
“Oh yeah,” they nodded.
The door creaked open and Cindy bounced back into the room, grinning.
“Good news?” asked Synch.
“Mum has lots of comforting words. They help a lot,” she smiled and blushed a little.
Synch was unable to hear conversations when he appraised subjects. He could see her mother while studying Cindy. He knew Cindy wasn’t telling him something. She’d tell him when she was ready.
“You three get some sleep,” said David. “I’ll take the first shift. Relieve me in two hours Will.”
It was well after 2 a.m. when the beds groaned under occupancy.
The kitchen chair squeaked as David made himself comfortable.
Synchro settled back wondering why he couldn’t foresee his own future. It helped that he saw other’s future’s and how he fitted into them. He was alive and well in each instance.
However, if the future could be changed…
He was well aware of the beautiful woman in the bed opposite him as he drifted into a light sleep.
Foggy dreams plagued his need for rest.
Surely deep rejuvenating sleep would come soon.
He lay on his back, arm bent over his eyes, silently urging the night to go quickly…
CRA-A-ACK!
THUNK!
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Episode 44
Synchro
“I checked out her past and future. Her only involvement is with me,” he said emphatically. He looked at them as if they should know.
They looked puzzled.
“Remember this ‘ability’ I have?”
“Oh yeah,” they nodded.
The door creaked open and Cindy bounced back into the room, grinning.
“Good news?” asked Synch.
“Mum has lots of comforting words. They help a lot,” she smiled and blushed a little.
Synch was unable to hear conversations when he appraised subjects. He could see her mother while studying Cindy. He knew Cindy wasn’t telling him something. She’d tell him when she was ready.
“You three get some sleep,” said David. “I’ll take the first shift. Relieve me in two hours Will.”
It was well after 2 a.m. when the beds groaned under occupancy.
The kitchen chair squeaked as David made himself comfortable.
Synchro settled back wondering why he couldn’t foresee his own future. It helped that he saw other’s future’s and how he fitted into them. He was alive and well in each instance.
However, if the future could be changed…
He was well aware of the beautiful woman in the bed opposite him as he drifted into a light sleep.
Foggy dreams plagued his need for rest.
Surely deep rejuvenating sleep would come soon.
He lay on his back, arm bent over his eyes, silently urging the night to go quickly…
CRA-A-ACK!
THUNK!
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
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