The Virtual Storytellers Campfire

I will come back with an offering of my own a bit later, when inspiration hits.

Cav
Cav, you should ask Asherman to post his many short stories. They are gems.

BBB

Good idea!

Hide and seek?
Intending merely a fresh air jaunt around the lawn, I began to stalk my daughter. Over the fence rail, down to the pasture. But I had to stay upwards the hill, for a tree wide enough to hide me. She swung on down, faster and faster... where the slope began to level at the brook.
I saw him then. A slight built guy, hanging close to the willow trunk. She definitely walked toward him- but hesitated as she was in eye contact.
I couldn't hear their words, and there was not a lot of gesturing. She just stood there, stiffly- and he suddenly sat down on the mossy bank. I thought I saw him motion for her to sit, but If he did, it was ignored. She stood.
I was weary of standing too. Leaning did not help much, so I tried to sit down- keeping myself as hidden as possible.
Why was my kid- my little girl, here- down at a creekside talking to a guy, when she was supposed to be in her room upstairs, homeworking?
I decided to spy anyway.
She was disobedient, so I am nosey.
Reaching into his trousers, he handed something toward her that was shiny. The sun caught it's brilliance and it winked like a mirror signal.
Glory stepped toward him just enough to reach out and grasp it. Then she began trudging back up the hill. He yelled to her. I could hear that.
"Hey, don't go, don't go yet" he shouted. She just got faster. I was peering with all my might, trying to see what was in her hand; but she had too much of it hidden.
Quickening her youthful stride, she was getting too close for me to move to another hiding place.
Well, I'll just stare her down, I thought- this is my ground too.
Glory pulled even with my tree, mouth agape and eyes wide. "Why are you here?" "I might ask you the same, young lady," I rasped out.
She smiled at me weakly, and turned to run toward our house. "Oh wouldn't you like to KNOW," she squealed. And I saw the shiny locket hanging from a chain, dangling as she ran.
"Oh God", I sighed- moving back toward the kitchen, "to be 10 again!"

Only one story captured, cavfancier.
I thought about writing one myself, but I do not see any interest in the topic.
It's a shame really, for I read this days ago, and thought it was a good idea. I keep coming back to see if you or anyone wrote anything-
but alas, I read where you were somewhat ill.
Hope you are lots better soon, and better luck with some other topic.
Salute Lou.

(liked your anecdote, jackie)

theollady, some topics last here on a2k for years. This one will probably develop over time. It'll be a place for all of us to think of placing our short stories.

The bird sailed over the barn and disappeared from view. I stared at the barn for a second, then leaned down to concentrate on my putt.

theollady, I expect this thread will go slowly, but I don't intend to let it go. I'll be posting an offering later tonight, and may PM a few people to join in. Had a couple large caterings this week, so I haven't popped in. So, gustav, what happens next, does the bird crap on your balls? Gustav concentrated on his swing. Staring down he thought "tee....fore!!" Must be tax time.

That was the complete story, Cav. A "slice of life" if you may. I thought that I conveyed in very few words the entire gamut of human emotion.

Read it again.... it will inspire you.

A slice of life. A sleight of air. A sliver of light. A slice to the left.....

THE TROUBLE WITH PEACE



Dare had begun in the very early morning, working with a fixation that carried him through noon, ignoring Mom's calls to lunch. At last, in the late rays of day, he was able to stand smugly before the product of his labor and take it in, a tight smile etching his deeply tanned face. There was no corresponding light in Dare's penetrating blue eyes as he studied his contraption of a bow and a barrel shaped tube. The bow and tube had been mounted on a platform that swiveled and tilted and stood on four legs. The bow apparatus included a catch with a trigger, so that a bolt could be set against the string and fired out the tube at the tightening of a finger. Five bolts lay on the ground, but a sixth rested inside the barrel, with the bowstring straining against the catch. Dare aimed the bow slowly around and around again at imaginary targets. When finally he decided to select a real target, it was a great spreading tree, with a flat circle on it where a great limb had been sawed off by a person with a chainsaw. Dare squeezed the trigger, slowly, the way he had seen it done in the movies. There was a loud twang and the bolt shot true and deep into the circle on the crusty old trunk, embedding itself too deeply for the boy to contemplate jerking it back out. He fairly danced in triumph. He selected a second bolt to load, thought better of it, and lay it back on the ground. He had finished in all practicality for the day; yet, Dare lingered, as if reluctant to go home. He finally lifted his tools and headed along the fence that divided the only two families on the whole stretch of Peaceful Haven Road. Lush grass cushioned his feet as little summer zephyrs cooled his hot face. The neighbor's dog began barking, out of idleness, lonely for the return of its companion, the boy named Robbie Johnson, who had been gone all the long day. Robbie was due to come home late that same night. Dare threw a rock in the dog's general direction. It moved off a few yards but continued barking. Dare sauntered by, anxious by now to get to his own house. On arriving, he dropped his tools at the back door, all but two kitchen knives he had borrowed from Mom. These he took inside. Moving from his domain to his parents' domain, his demeanor shifted from cocky confident to moody quiet. He made for the kitchen.
It was a bright and warm kitchen; in there he found Mom pulling a savory lamb roast from the oven. The meat smell made his belly growl. He had finally become aware of hunger for the first time today. He lay the knives on the counter beside the sink.
"Wash up, sweetheart. It's time to eat."
Dare wordlessly went to wash. He heard from the living room the sound of television airing the evening news, an event Dad had never missed once in the boy?'s memory. Dare was oblivious to the news, a fact that irked his parents. When they used little ploys to spark his interest, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and contempt for them. The only stories the media could tell just now centered on the emergent reality of the triumphant end of rancor among nations, the outlawing of all weapons, great or small; a fact that shaped every piece, making for endless repetitions: terminal boredom. Dare did not care for the innocuousness of it, the syrupy tales the commentators spewed, their stories a sweet, sickly, goop, as he had informed his parents on more than one occasion. The parents' troubled frowns only fed his defiance.
After a few moments Dare came in and positioned himself at the dining table. He sat quietly, perhaps reliving the events of the day, the magnificence of which had to sweep away all other events before it. Never before had the boy worked with such clarity of vision. His creation exceeded his years in both scope and maturity. His feeling had to go way beyond proud. Dare became transfixed as he sat there. He only moved for Mom to set the table after she asked him to. Soon enough, she broke in on his thoughts.
"Where have you been all day?"
Dare shrugged.
"Making things to play with."
"Robbie hasn't been there to play with you. How did you find enough to keep you out all day long?"
"I was making something. It took all day long."
"Ask your Dad to come in to dinner, please."
"He won't. The news is still on."
"Ask him anyway."
Dare went as far as the doorway. He leaned slightly in.
"Dad, it's time."
Dad tilted his head somewhat without breaking his attention away from the screen.
"In a few minutes, son. I'm watching the news. If you wait a moment, they're going to show the greatest pile of handguns and rifles you ever saw, getting bulldozed into a crater sized hole and getting buried."
Dare balked.
"I've got to comb my hair now."
Dare loitered in the bathroom a moment before returning to the dining room. Already the carved up roast lay on a platter in the table's center and glasses of iced tea stood beside the plates. His favorite small peas, along with boiled potatoes, were in bowls beside the roast. He plopped in his seat and stared fixedly at the food, his stomach audibly grumbling.
Mom took one exasperated look at her son.
"You march into that bathroom and comb your hair before you sit at this table, mister."
Dare sullenly returned to the bathroom. He listened to Dad in the living room, exclaiming over a story that had his blood up.
"Those dirty - Why, I can't believe this."
Mom finally had to fetch Dad away from the television.
"Hurry up. It's on the table."
"I'm, sorry. I'm coming."
"It's getting cold."
"Coming, my dear."
Dad finished tucking away his glasses as he approached the table.
"This is wonderful, Sarah; you've outdone yourself. Isn't it wonderful, son?"
Dare nodded his head.
The plates were passed to Dad, who piled on generous portions before passing them back. Mom and Dare sat quietly then, waiting for Dad to pray. He always began with the same supplication, but added an editorial at the end.
"Lord, you know Sarah says she does not believe, and Dare is much too young to make his own determination; nevertheless, we sit, humbled, by your love, and your forgiveness. Bless this food of which we are going to partake. Please watch over the world nations as we make this great transition, becoming instruments of peace for the first time since man's very beginning. Today the Chinese were caught cheating on the weapons destruction program, hiding some missiles under remote villages somewhere in the north of China. Please see that these missiles are destroyed, dear God, and bring all the nations into total compliance. In your name we pray. Amen."
Dad looked brightly around.
"Let's eat."
Dad consumed his dinner with slowness and deliberation, while Mom ate in tiny nibbles. Both were astounded to witness the ravenous attack Dare made on his plate. They had scarcely begun by the time he requested more. Dad took the plate and poised with it over his own food.
"Just meat? Or do you want peas and potatoes?"
"Everything."
"We don't say ?'please' anymore?"
"Please. Sorry, Dad."
Dad began to describe in detail the China story. Dare stared vacantly as he cleaned up his plate.
The boy went straight to his room afterward, perhaps hoping that Mom and Dad would let him alone for once. He emerged only to shower, then returned, ready for bed. Exhaustion was evident in his face. That night he slept like the dead. Nevertheless, Dare awakened at dawn's earliest gleaming. The sun had yet to break out of the tangle of forest on the hill when he made his way back along the fence. The heavy dew smattered against his skin; his shoes were soaked as he approached the hollow where his invention rested. He went to the five bolts, bundled them and leaned them against a small tree. He hesitated a second, then selected one and slid it into his pant leg. Off to the side lay a pile of sticks, shaped and readied for potential bolts for when the need arose. He practiced swiveling and aiming at various targets, without loading. After a time, Dare returned to the fence, just across from the Johnson house. He lingered and watched the dark curtained windows. He took time from his watching to scour the ground for pebbles to shove in his pocket. They were few and far between, but he managed to pocket eight nice ones. After tucking away the last one the boy leaned upon the fence and stared at Robbie's house again. As the first lights came on he climbed over the top rail and sauntered that way. Robbie's dog ran to greet him: a rat terrier, with crooked legs and deformed teeth. Dare threw a rock to scare it away. He went around to the bedroom window and tapped against the glass. There was a slow rustling, as of someone rising, perhaps slipping into some blue jeans, then a form appeared against the thin curtain to slide the window open.
Robbie thrust his head into the open air. He was still yawning and trying to get the sleep out of his eyes. He rubbed them and they rolled a bit before coming to rest on the skinny youngster on the ground.
"What do you want?"
"I have something I want you to see."
"What?"
"You have to come with me. I want you to see for yourself."
"Well -"
Robbie's huge mouth was yawning. He was an overgrown boy, eight months younger than Dare, but, much larger.
"Give me some time to tell Mama then and I'll be right out."
Dare's impatience was evident as he strode about in a circle. He paused to pull up a pebble, then sought out Robbie's dog. The wary animal, having read the boy's intention, fled, just as the pebble came glancing through the grass. Dare threw a second time. His pebble went wild, striking the garage.
After an interminable amount of time, Robbie emerged, chewing a last bite of egg and biscuit. His tow hair needed combing and his tangled shoestrings hung wild. The dog pushed its nose against him, seeking attention. Robbie looked around, seeing nothing particular.
"What?"
"It's not here, dummy. Come over on my side and I'll show you."
Robbie dutifully climbed the fence. He was constantly going out of his way to please this boy with whom he used to be close friends, though lately he had quit coming around him quite so often. He stepped down from the rail and watched Dare scale the fence also. He and the ungainly dog followed the quick stepping Dare into the hollow where the bow- gun rested. Dare went to it and began loading a bolt. Robbie walked all around it, twice, obviously impressed.
"Wow. You made it?"
"Nah; I found it growing in the woods."
"Those things can't grow in the woods. They can't grow at all. I can see where it was carved and cut on."
"I made it, okay? Let's find a target. I'll show you how this baby works."
"That bow looks strong. How strong is it?"
"Look."
Dare urged Robbie to visit the tree in which the first bolt rested. Again, Robbie seemed impressed.
"Look how far it stuck in. That bow's strong, all right."
"Watch this."
Dare began demonstrating the bow's range of movement. He selected many false targets, all the time eyeing Robbie's dog, about twenty yards off, just now hunched, in the act of defecation.
By the time Robbie perceived that Dare had the bolt pointed at his dog, it was already being loosed. Dare exclaimed loudly.
"Damn! Missed."
The still hunched dog hobbled, stiff legged, striving to finish its business. Dare adjusted his aim to follow its movement.
He was caught unaware by a sudden onslaught from Robbie. The greater boy siezed his arms from behind and flung him to the ground. Dare wisely chose to lie still, with the debris of yesterday's construction digging in his back.
"Hey, what was that for? I didn't go to shoot him. I just meant to scare him. No harm in that, is there? Anyway, I missed him a mile."
"I don't want you to shoot at him. He's my dog and I won't let you to shoot at him."
"I don't want to hurt him. Let me up, and I'll show you."
"All right, but, I get a turn."
Dare loaded the bow. He stood back to let Robbie take his shot with it. Robbie let the bow swivel a few degrees, then sent the bolt aimlessly into the trees.
Dare snatched up one of the two remaining bolts. He crowded the bigger boy away from the contraption.
"You dope. You wasted one of my last arrows."
Dare looked around before resetting the bow. He appeared undecided, until a crow landed on a branch less than thirty feet away. He took a long, studied, aim. The huge bird gawked at the boys, unafraid. Once, it hopped to a slightly higher branch, but that did not save it. Dare's bolt caught the crow dead center, sweeping it off the branch. It plummeted, lifeless, to the ground, with the bolt soaring onward.
"I got it!"
Robbie lumbered gracelessly to the carcass and held it up by a wing.
"Good shootin'. That's some good shootin'"
The tangle of crimson and black feathers were a magnet to the dog. It snatched the remains away and ran off to chew the warm flesh. Robbie looked as though he would prefer it not to do that, but made no move to stop it.
Dare was already loading the last arrow. He set the string and turned the bow on the dog yet again. Before Robbie could reach him the bolt went flying. The dog yelped and vanished into a high growth of weeds. Robbie's face was transformed. He took gigantic steps and grabbed Dare by the collar.
"I told you don't shoot at my dog. I told you an' I'm gonna hurt you. I'm gonna hurt you for shooting at my dog."
The cloth ripped and Dare easily pulled away. Grinning, he ducked under Robbie's thick arms and sprinted up the trail. He ran until he came to a fork along the way, then veered off toward the creek. Robbie put on a surprising burst of speed and kept Dare in his sight. They trotted in close succession until they came to the trickling stream of water, then plunged into a place along the bank where the growth was thick. Dare was small enough to slip under the hanging branches and slide through the heavy underbrush; Robbie pushed through by weight and force alone. Though he labored to breath and his legs were becoming leaden, Robbie kept up the pace.



Dad sipped his coffee, making a little slurping sound. He beamed at Mom.
"You know, Sarah, bringing Dare out here, and making this our retirement home, was the best thing we ever did. Dare hasn't been in a bit of trouble. I believe he's finally going to be allright."
"I think it proves that the gangs back home were the real source of the trouble. I always knew our son could not be the monster our neighbors painted him to be."
"By the time he starts back to high school this year, the past will be wholly forgotten. Yes, we've come a long way in eight months."
Dad emptied his cup and took a final nibble on his toast. Rising, he brushed a few crumbs into his hand and emptied them on his plate.
"I'm going to check the news. If you like, I'll be glad to come and clean this up after I catch the headlines."
"Don't worry, dear. It's just a few plates and cups, a little wiping. I'll be in with some coffee."
"Okay. See you in a bit."
Dad could not resist lingering enough to mention the situation with China and a new twist that had come about.
"China says the United States has more hidden weapons than it has. So now we'll go a round of accusations and both will have to prove themselves to the world community. The trouble with peace is, everybody may wish it, but, nobody is willing to give up enough to achieve it."
Sarah smiled her composed little smile.
"I'm sure it will be allright in the end. We've come too far to turn around now."
"I hope you're right."



Dare came upon a dead end, a place where a combination of rusty barbed wire and a stand of thick, shoulder high, growth formed an insurmountable barrier. He waited, watching his foe wade steadily in. Robbie's entire body heaved with each breath.
"Why did you try to hurt my dog? (gasping) I didn't want to fight with you except that you shot at my dog."
Dare did not answer, only snorted out his nose. His hand in his pocket gripped one of the pebbles that he had earlier gathered. When Robbie got into range, Dare slowly pulled the pebble out and held it like a baseball. He mouthed a single word.
"Sucker."
Robbie saw the stone coming and turned aside to make it miss. His anger stoked anew, Robbie charged. A second pebble bounced off his temple. He stumbled to the side, feeling the wound, feeling warm blood on his fingers. Dare siezed the moment to escape, slipping by and retracing his steps, not slowing until he once again reached the hollow, where rested the bow-gun. He made it swivel in Robbie's direction before pulling up his pant leg to retrieve the hidden last bolt. By the time Robbie lurched into the picture, with the crimson patch across his face, both crying and raging, the bolt had been inserted and the bow set. Robbie lumbered, with one shoulder going up, the other going down. His eyes were gleaming little orbs with flesh folded around them. With complete disregard for the bow, he raised his arms after the manner of an attacking grizzly bear. Dare carefully took his aim, then released the bolt. Robbie's mouth flew wide open. His eyes became saucer sized before he crumpled to the ground and sprawled on his back. The bolt protruded from his heart, standing straight in air.



Dad shut down the television, smiling, with a smug, satisfied air. He gathered his and Mom's cups.
"You know, Sarah: utopia always seemed so far away; a fantasy, really. It's hard to believe, it's virtually here."

Ahhhh, you understand, Osso. I always thought you were a sharp old bird.

Edgar, that was a pretty dark story you wove there.

Kind of reminded me of a cross between Phillip Dick and Thomas M. Disch.

Your story was quite interesting also, gus.

Edgarblythe, this is very good writing- keeps the reader CAPTURED- to know what is going to happen next!
[I do sincerely hope that MOST of our youth have not gone this far, for it is a very hopeless picture you paint with words.]


gus, many "motions" distract the golfer. Your little story ENLARGES that fact.
neato!

Lou
Quoting Red Skelton: I calls 'em the way I sees 'em.

Good story Edgar, it holds you until last line. Your story is reminiscent of some of Stephen King's work.

Gus, as always, your stories inspire me.

Jackie, I like your story.

Thank you, colorbook. I never know how one of my efforts will be recieved.