Day Without a Sunrise

When I was in second grade, there was a day without a dawn.

Youngsters were considered hardy creatures in those days, so in spite of the ink-black skies and sheeting rain, I went to school. The one concession my parents made to my young age was that they drove me. This was remarkable since the school was only one block from our house. On any other morning one could stand at the end of the driveway and see it plainly.

In the classroom our teacher tried to keep us away from windows and endured our nervous jokes about "night school." Trees fell as the storm raged, and we whispered our concerns that we might not get lunch, since the cafeteria was in another building and we were under orders to shelter in place.

We tried to concentrate on our lessons, casting anxious glances toward the bank of classroom windows where it seemed the sun would never come up.

Finally the sky lightened and the downpour became a steady shower, then a drizzle. Our teacher lined us up like good little goslings and we trooped wide-eyed past downed trees charred by lighting to the cafeteria where we were served a distressingly ordinary trayed lunch - eat it all, it's good for you.

Walking home that afternoon, we shared our stories - the tremors created by falling trees, the whimperings of a terrified first-grader, a second-grade boy's discovery that he could generate an electric shock by touching the aquarium.  A fourth-grade girl had felt her hair stand on end when she saw a bolt of lightning twist and crackle as it struck outside her classroom window.

What did we tell our parents about that day? I no longer recall. Most of us, though, made it out to be no big deal. To admit we had been scared might've prompted our parents to shelter us, curtailing the grownup-free adventures we were in the custom of enjoying.

We dealt with our fears in silence.

In my nightmares of that day, my home was always left standing but it was a dark and strange place; habitable but damaged. I've never doubted, though, my ability to weather a storm.

This true recollection was written for Sunday Scribblings .

An Embarrassment of Riches

We sit above the red roofs, unnoticed, you and I,
admiring constellations as the hours tick slowly by.

We're everything to no one. What masks do we wear here?
If I showed you all of me, would you still want to come near?

You'll promise not to pester and I'll promise not to tell.
We'll hide our wealth from strangers and from those with whom we dwell.

In secret, divide your riches. I'll divide my fortune, too.
For truly we are not safe until all the counting's through.

With our eggs in separate baskets, lest catastrophe befall,
our enemy will be time, which makes beggars of us all.

This poem was written for Sunday Scribblings and Magpie Tales.

Love Poem

You touched my hand in the rain
and told fine fairy tales.

(lies and ghosts of lies)

Each burning night
was followed
by cool torment
of showers in afternoon.

(you said you were the one)

From the brown murky shadows
of my most foretelling dream
you haunted, made me think forever.

(stories for credulous children)

In the end I was left with

Only me.

Today I will climb up on my rooftop
in the glory of a spring morning.
Free of who I thought you were,
I will bind my heart to nature's truth

And dance.

This is a Sunday Scribblings post.

Stolen Key

A few stolen moments,
ten stories high.
The gravel crunches underfoot
and air conditioners hum.

we're not supposed to be here

Drifting through the early sky,
pink and golden clouds
look succulent, delicious,
like the flesh of a pilfered peach.

hush and watch the sun rise

Skyscrapers glitter at this hour,
columns of reflected fire.
No worries yet of profit and loss,
only a faint troubling smell of coffee.

don't let the morning go

Drink the golden air.
Stop today's arrival.
Forget the life that waits below,
where headlights pierce the gloom.

don't say it's time to go

Before we can breathe again,
this moment will have passed.
Just another sunrise
stolen by the day.

This is a Sunday Scribblings post.

New Flash Fiction

New Steal Tomorrow flash: The Best of Modern Life

A Moment of Refuge

Take refuge in this moment.

Ephemeral, unknowable, it isn't what it seems.

In the madness of delusion, we seize on certain certainties,

but like a photograph of memory,
reality dissolves into disconnect if you look too closely.

Nothing is what we think; it's more interesting than that.

So rest in this moment, which is passing as we speak.

This is Buddhism-inspired poem is a Sunday Scribblings post.

Steal Tomorrow Excerpt: Possibilities

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an excerpt from my novel Steal Tomorrow, posted here for Sunday Scribblings. In this scene the teenage survivors of a global pandemic have been in a fight with a rival gang and are checking up on the status of their wounded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many of the casualties were sharing mattresses, but Cassie had made sure Julilla had her own. She lay so still that if not for the rise and fall of her ribcage, Cassie might’ve thought her dead. “Her ankle is only sprained, but she lost a lot of blood from the cut on her arm. Doc said in a normal world, she would’ve gotten a pint or two, but he’s not set up for that sort of thing.”

“But she’ll be okay, right?” Galahad sat down and rested a hand on her good shoulder. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. A lot of us wouldn’t.” He gave an ironic smile. “She must’ve been deadly on the basketball court. She can rally a group in full retreat and make them want to fight.”

“She just needs rest,” Cassie said. “And food. And to not get an infection.”

“Three impossible things.” He stood up. “Well, we attempt the impossible every day around here, so what’s new?”

By now Cassie had noticed that not all the blood on Galahad’s shirt was from battle. Some was oozing from his arm and she took a firm tone. “Would it be impossible for you to let Doc look at that arm now? Come on. Before you end up like Julilla.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you enjoyed this story, go to Steal Tomorrow for the serialized novel, flash fiction "extras" and and other fun Steal Tomorrow stuff. Be sure to also visit Sunday Scribblings today and see who else contributed!

New Flash Fiction

I've posted a new Vince story for Sunday Scribblings: Normal Annoyances

New Jazz Gang Fiction

New flash for Sunday Scribblings: Flutes and Rumors

New Jazz Gang Fiction

I've posted a new Jazz Gang story: In Sickness and in Health.

New Vince Fiction: Thieves and Politicians

I have a new Vince story posted at Sunday Scribblings: Thieves and Politicians

New Jazz Gang Post

I hope Steal Tomorrow fans are enjoying the new Jazz Gang stories. I have a new one today for Sunday Scribblings: Jazz Gang: Going Pro

New Steal Tomorrow (Jazz Gang)

For Steal Tomorrow fans, I have what I hope will be a treat: a new story series set in the same world but with all different characters. Please check out the first of my Jazz Gang stories, and look for more to come! Jazz Gang: Good Omens

New Will and Diana Flash for Sunday Scribblings

In a final act of weekend insanity, I've written a flash for Sunday Scribblings. This is a Will and Diana story and is from around the time they first started with Unitas, when they were in their early teens: Limited Operations

New Flash Fiction: The Last Barbecue

I've written a new Steal Tomorrow flash fiction for Sunday Scribblings: The Last Barbecue.

New Flash Fiction:

I've written a new flash fiction for Sunday Scribblings. This one is based on Tin Soldier: Making the Most of Things

New Flash Fiction

New Steal Tomorrow flash for Sunday Scribblings! Sweets for the Sweet

Another New Flash Fiction

I've posted another new story in the Will and Diana series. This one's about Coyote and Macy, and I wrote it for Sunday Scribblings: Leap of Faith

New Flash Fiction

New Steal Tomorrow flash, this one featuring the twins: Keep Out.

Flash Fiction: Halfway Point

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This flash fiction piece was written for Sunday Scribblings. Be sure to drop by, read, and leave comments!
~~~~~~~~~

Vince rested his hand on the gun at his hip. "I don't like it."

"Looks okay to me, boss." Ozone shrugged.

"It would." Speedball toyed with his knife. "You've always got your head in the clouds."

"At least it's not up my--"

"Guys." Vince motioned for silence. "Save it for after we close the deal. Speedball, check the west side. Ozone, you take the east. I'll go up ahead and see if anything's happening yet."

While his men went to inspect the decrepit buildings and alleyways, Vince moved cautiously up the street, trying to appear casual while keeping a sharp eye for anything suggesting an ambush. This was no-man's land, halfway between the area he controlled and that of his contact, but that didn't explain his unease. Bigger things were happening. The vibe felt off.

A shadow detached itself from the darkness and Vince started to draw his gun, but then realized it was only Malo, his contact. He waited, every nerve on edge.

"Your guys ready?"

Vince gave a slight shake of his head. "Bad time, bad place."

Malo's lips twisted in an ugly sneer. "You can't back out now. We have a deal."

"I'm not backing out. We just can't do it here. Something--"

Running feet. A shout. Then the hard impact of asphalt as Speedball shoved him to the ground. The explosion obliterated every thought and sent tremors through the earth. When he recovered enough to look up, Vince saw Malo on the ground in front of him, equally alarmed.

"It's a setup," Speedball said. He hauled Vince to his feet.

Malo threw up his hands. "It wasn't me, I swear!"

There was no time to speculate. Vince and Speedball ran back the way they had come, with the sound of gunfire erupting in the distance. They reached Coal Street, one of the borders of their turf, and ducked into a building.

"What was that about?" Vince said, after catching his breath.

"Not sure."

"Probably the Diablos. Seems like their kind of work."

"They've got infiltrators everywhere," Speedball agreed.

"Ozone get out?"

"Dunno."

Vince pondered. He was always willing to risk his neck for loyal guys, but if he didn't know where Ozone was or if he was even in danger...

"We shouldn't do this any more."

"Do what? Make deals?"

"No, meet people out there. We should make them come to us."

It was a nice thought, but no one could earn a living that way. Vince suppressed a sigh. "Sorry, man, but that only works in fairy tales. It's risky, but in real life you have to try to meet folks halfway."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For more stories about Vince, go here.