Tag Archives: Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes

January 30, 2016

Swan Song

By Kat Myrman
DisarmBomb

This photo is from Shutterstock.com

“I’ve heard there was a secret chord. Its harmonic resonance opens the gate of the fortress. If we can crack the code, maybe we can get inside before it’s too late.”

“You’re an idiot! Might as well play a swan song. Kiss your ass goodbye. It’s hopeless!

“Well, I have to try. The fort was built in 1856. Chromatic mediants were a common chord progression. I could start in the key of C Major and proceed into its diatonic mediant and submediant, E Minor and A Minor.

“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah. Whatever makes you happy!”

Tom used an electronic keyboard to play the haunting chord sequence. Nothing happened. He tried another sequence and another and another. Leonard leaned against the stone wall.

“I told you, Tom. Here, have a smoke.”

“I don’t smoke. And I’m not giving up. How much time is left?”

“Not enough!” Leonard smirked, “3 minutes 47 seconds…46…45…44…”

“Shut up! I have a few more sequences I can try.” Tom played furiously, fingers trembling.

Suddenly, the latch burst open, its force shifting the massive door ajar. Leonard tumbled to his ass dropping his cigarette.

“Hah! I did it! Get up Leonard! You have a bomb to disarm!”

Leonard rushed the chamber where the bomb ticked, red LED numbers flashing, 50…49…48. He located the red wire, giving it a swift clip.

It was over by the time Tom arrived. He dropped to the floor next to Leonard. “Maybe I will have a cigarette. What is it you were saying about swan songs?”

Leonard growled at Tom while offering him a light.

“I know a few swan songs Leonard. I can play one for you if you like. But you don’t really care for music, do you?”

~kat – 30 January 2016
(295 Words)

Click HERE to Read Part Two

A Flash Fiction Story for RonovanWrites Friday Flash Fiction Challenge. This week’s prompt:
-Use the first line of one of your favorite song and begin your story with that line. (REQUIRED)
-Word count of no more than 300. (STRONGLY SUGGESTED but I don’t want you to let it get in the way of creativity.)

My inspiration comes from the song “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen. I used the first line as required and borrowed my favorite line from the song for the end of my story, adding a bit of irony.  🙂

If you would like to read other stories or enter your own, click HERE.

26 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Flash Fiction, Under 300 Words

January 25, 2016

Milestones

By Kat Myrman

​image

It’s not every day that one hits a milestone half a century in the making. That would be me, actually, who has evolved and survived some fifty plus years on this planet. “An event of this magnitude warrants something big,” I thought at the time, “something unexpected, memorable. Yes, this calls for nothing less than a tattoo!” Don’t laugh. It’s quite common you know. Middle-aged people add a tat or two to commemorate a well-lived life. Besides, it was on my bucket list.

Of course, my first and only tattoo could not be merely common, like a butterfly or a flower. This was fifty years we were talking about. So I did what anyone who wants to find a meaningful symbol to etch permanently into one’s flesh would do. I googled it. I already knew that I wanted something that reflected my faith with a Celtic flare. And I wanted a verse to go with it, in Latin. Mind you, I knew nothing about Latin except for a few words derived from Latin roots. But I was determined and inspired.

It didn’t take long to find the perfect verse. “Alis Volat Propriis!” or as it is translated in English, “She flies with her own wings!” I am reminded of a quote by the late, great president, Abraham Lincoln, “The problem with internet quotes is that you can’t always depend on their accuracy.” But then, I digress. I am getting a bit ahead of myself.

I went to work creating a beautiful tattoo sketch. I found the perfect Celtic knot triangle embellished with ivy for the art. Then I printed a word of the verse on each side. “Alis…Volat…Propiis”.

To my great delight and surprise, three of my daughters managed to make it to my door from two states away just in time to celebrate the big 5-0 with me, as well as accompany me to the tattoo shop, just in case I was having second thoughts. I wasn’t. I was ready to present my flesh as a canvas and to commemorate my mid-life Croning, as it were, in a big way.

If you have never gotten a tattoo, you should know, it hurts. There’s no way around it. The droning precision of the needle as it pulses, depositing ink, black and green, deep into layers of flesh hurts like hell. But with good company for moral support and music playing in the background…heavy, loud music… the hour or so goes by pretty quickly.

I loved my new tattoo. I still do, even though a few years later I discovered my worst nightmare…a misspelled word! I hate typos. This typo was etched permanently on my left shoulder blade. “Alis Volat Propiis.” “Where was the “R”? There is supposed to be an “R” after the second P? How did I miss it? Every source I consulted online spelled the phrase without the “R”!”

And that was the problem. It seems that there are quite a few folks wandering around with this misspelled disaster branded into their skin. The State of Oregon even listed it as a viable “Latin Motto Version”. But, ultimately, it was a typo! One that I had spent weeks researching and perfecting with my photo design program. One that I had suffered through hours of grueling, dull, excruciating pain to receive.

It could have been my undoing you know, having to live with this embarrassing secret hidden under my clothes. But I have grown attached to my beautiful flawed tattoo because it reminds me of me. It was, in fact, the perfect way to commemorate my crazy, roller coaster first 50 years.

This year I will celebrate my 60th year. I have lived ten more years filled the joys and sorrows that are part of every life. I thought about getting another tattoo. But I can’t decide what it should be or say. I’ve tossed this verse around…tell me what you think… “Just Breath”. I am kidding you know. Maybe I’ll just stick with butterflies.

kat ~ 25 January 2016
(675 Words – Non-Fiction)

Yes…this really happened…and yes, I still love it, flawed and all! 

 

This story is in response to RonovanWrites Weekly Flash Fiction Challenge. If you would like to read other stories or add your own, click HERE.

 

26 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Digital Art & Photos, Essays, Random Thoughts and Musings, Short Stories (300+ Words)

January 15, 2016

Old School Gumshoe

By Kat Myrman

crime-scene

“Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine…” 

What did it mean? It was the only thing of substance recovered from the crime scene. This and the bloody remnants of a violent scuffle…but no body. From the width and span of the blood trail that ended at the curb, Sean figured it was a large, heavy person, likely moved from the scene in a vehicle…a van, with easy access to the edge of the sidewalk.

Sean had seen this before. A post-it note and a trail of blood. Attempts were made to identify the victims based on missing persons’ reports and DNA tests, but no matches had been found.

Back at the precinct Sean added the note to the evidence board in his office. He was old school. The younger detectives used computer programs to solve their cases, but Sean liked to see it on the wall, full size. 

This was the third victim in as many weeks. Three cryptic messages. Three trails of blood. The crime scenes were all west of the River, but the locations seemed random.

Sean scanned the messages again.

“Bridges take you here to there…water takes you everywhere.” The first note was found behind the textile warehouse at the edge of town; no bridges or water nearby.

The second message read, “Musical notes melodic and sweet…quench the thirst of savage beasts…” Again the crime scene didn’t have any link to music or…

“Wait! Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t see it before now!” The second scene was located at the dock, a block from the old stone bridge. And this last crime scene was in the alley behind the strip club on Broad Street.

Sean repeated the third message, “ticks and tocks of essential time…ticks and tocks…essential time…clocks, something to do with clocks.” There was a clock tower in the square and another huge clock at the First National Bank. But the second part…sink the spirits lower than wine…a bar? There were no bars near either clock. “Think Sean…sinks the spirits…lower than wine…ticks and tocks…essential time…sinks…spirits…lower…” Sean’s eyes widened, “The clock tower at Shady Grove Cemetery! If this guy tries again, this has to be where he’ll strike!”

Sean enlisted a team of officers to monitor the cemetery. Three nights passed. Nothing. 

On the fourth night, a grey van pulled into the entrance. When it stopped 100 feet from the clock tower, Sean and his team wasted no time moving in. As the driver opened the side door of the van, a woman with hands bound and head covered by a dark pillow case tumbled out. He shoved her toward the clock tower alcove. 

Within seconds the officers had overtaken the killer, disarming him just as he raised a knife to deliver the first blow.

Sean didn’t need a computer to help solve this or any other case. He was old school.

kat ~ 15 January 2016

(498 Words)

A short story for RonovanWrites Friday Fiction Challenge. This week’s challenge: Write a story using the line, “Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine…”  somewhere in the story.  500 words or less. If you would like to read other stories or write your own, click HERE for the link.

 

20 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Flash Fiction, Short Stories (300+ Words)

January 9, 2016

A Night Shift Dreamtime Story

By Kat Myrman

boab.png

Emily remembers the day she heard the ancient dreamtime story. She was working the night shift at the nursing home. Her favorite part of the shift was snack time. She would visit each resident with a tray of crackers and cheese or fruit and a selection of herbal teas, water or milk. It was during these nighttime visits that she got the opportunity to have a seat and rest herself.

Each person shared the most wonderful stories. There was Mr. O’Malley, a retired security guard whose beat ran along Chicago’s South State and Van Buren streets during the burlesque era of the 1950’s. His most treasured memory was the night he glimpsed Gypsy Rose Lee through the front window at Minsky’s. And then there was sweet schoolmarm, Miss Lucy. Never married, she always had an anecdote to share about one of her students, many of whom she had followed over the years, some quite famous.

But of all the residents, Mrs. Charlotte Jones was Emily’s favorite. Mrs. Jones had traveled to Chicago from Australia to live with her daughter and her family. She came to Shady Grove Nursing Home after taking an unfortunate spill on an icy patch that resulted in a broken hip. Here she received more intense care and rehab than her daughter was able to provide at home.

In retrospect, Emily often wonders if it was the full moon that night or the rain and wind hissing outside the window. There was an electricity in the air the moment she entered Mrs. Jones’ room. Emily was always cautious not to share any personal information with the residents, but on this night, she broke her own rules.

“Hello Mrs. Jones, did you have a nice visit with your family this evening? I think it is just lovely to see how close you all are. You are very fortunate.”

“Hey, how ya goin’ love? Yep, it was heaps good. What about you Emily? Do you have any ankle biters at home?”

“Oh no Mrs. Jones. My husband and I would love to have a few children, but after years of trying, we think it’s just not going to happen for us.”

Mrs. Jones eyes narrowed to a twinkle as she held Emily in her gaze. Emily couldn’t look away. Ugh! Why had she just shared that bit with Mrs. Jones? Something that personal can’t be taken back once it’s said out loud. Mrs. Jones smiled.

“I have a dreamtime story to tell you, love. It’ll take just a minute. My mum told it to me, and her mum before that. Many many years ago, a time before time, the great rainbow serpent who brought the wet seasons and floods, also deposited spirit children in pools of water across the land. The women who waded in the water became pregnant…” Mrs. Jones tilted her head, raising her eyebrows as if waiting for it all to sink in. “Every Sheila in my family has waded in that water. I can tell you it’s the dinky-di.”

“You think I should go to Australia and wade in some pool of water?” It all sounded a bit crazy to Emily.

“Well, you’ll never know unless you give it a fair go. She’ll be right.” Mrs. Jones smiled and gave her a wink.

Emily quickly changed the subject to the weather. But she couldn’t forget their conversation or Mrs. Jones’ dreamtime story. What if a dip in a pool on the other side of the world could make her dream come true. She had to try…”give it a fair go” as Mrs. Jones would say.

Emily settled in near the window, buckled her seatbelt and leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder. It was a long flight. She’d best catch a nap, if that was even possible. Tomorrow she would be wading in some magical pool in Northwest Australia. Mrs. Jones told her exactly where to find it. On the edge of town just past the Boab tree.

kat ~ 9 January 2016

A short story in response to RonovanWrites Friday Fiction Challenge. There’s nothing flash about this piece, but since there is no word limit, I went with it. 🙂 The photo above is the prompt for this week’s challenge. It features a Boab tree found in the Northwest region of Australia. In doing research for this story I learned quite a lot about the Boab trees of Australia as well as their relatives the Baobab trees of southern regions of Africa. If you would like to read other stories, or write one of your own, please click HERE.

 

18 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Short Stories (300+ Words)

January 1, 2016

Purple Haze

By Kat Myrman

Recently, I made the mistake of leaving an open bottle of wine on the table. Soft-hearted sap that I am, I decided not to pen the dogs while I did some last minute Christmas shopping for snow ski’s for my grandson.

As you might imagine I came home to a royal mess, no doubt masterminded by the cat. Fluffy, that’s his name, don’t judge, managed to tip the wine bottle over the edge of the table sending a flow of purple drink into the waiting chops of my pups. (By pups, I am talking about 150 pounds plus of rowdy mastiff energy EACH…but I digress.)

“Fluffy” (AKA: Sebastian)
Winston & Maxwell
Mr. Bean

Maxwell and Winston got slightly whizzed and started feverishly spinning the bottle like a toy. The wine that was still in the bottle left lovely impressionistic smatterings on the walls of my parlor as well as giving our Sun Conure, Mr. Bean a lavender makeover.

Of course these clueless blokes had no idea that they had just been duped by the cat, who sat smugly aloft on the mantle watching the whole scene as I entered the house.

I was greeted by Maxwell and Winston’s usual slobbery kisses and machete-like tails bashing my thighs…and the indignant bobbing and squawking of Mr. Bean. I had to smile. It WAS my fault after all.

Back to the store for more wine…for me this time. Dogs penned, everything in its place. I may decide to keep the artwork in my parlor. It’s growing on me. I think I’ll call it “Purple Haze!”

kat ~ 1 January 2016
(260 Words/Flash Fiction/Genre: Humor)

And…if you believe that this little flash of a story is true…then I have done my job! 🙂 Thank you Ronovan for kicking off the New Year with a wonderful challenge. I managed to use ALL of your prompt words. And I do hope the result has been a fun read for everyone. If you would like to read other stories or enter your own using the prompt words: dog, cat, toy, fever, ski, fluffy, machete, and purple drink, click HERE. Have a great Friday!

36 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Flash Fiction, Humor