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Give Blood and Thanks: Chapter 17

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Chapter 17: A Mission Remembered

“Hell Sergeant, you keep staring at the picture and she just might pop out and get shot.”

The young Private was out of line, he knew it.  It was part of the job though.  Be the Alpha male no matter what and bust balls on anything you can.  Weakness was not an option in war and all the men were constantly tested by each other, Grunts and NCO’s alike.  Sergeant Remfred Brody tucked the picture of his red haired beauty into the vest pocket of his BDU and snapped the flap closed.

Nothing was sacred, he understood that, but that didn’t mean lines weren’t ever crossed.  Everyone has a threshold for all types of torture; emotional or physical everyone cracks at some point.  Brody was far from any threshold but he very much would have enjoyed inflicting a little physical reinforcement of the chain of command.  But that would show weakness – like the Private got to him.

“Catch a few hours of sleep Private.  Thank you for volunteering yourself to be lead scout when the shooting starts tomorrow.  That is very brave of you.”

The Private sighed rolling his face away from Brody in the fox hole and was snoring within seconds of closing his eyes.  Tomorrow was the big day.  Brody’s first mission as a Combat Leader.  Men would be behind him and looking to him to make the choices that would ensure their safety.  He closed his eyes and put his palm to the pocket with the picture of Des.  He hated this war, this jungle, the fighting, and the dieing.

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100 Words – Over/under

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Four boys walk across an old decommissioned railway bridge in the heart of the Sierra Nevada Mountain range. Vern, keeps tossing rocks over the rail to listen to the splash they make as they hit the river below.

“Dude, your disturbing the fish, cut it out,” says Gordie.

“Just one more.” Vern picks up a rock as big as his palm and tosses it. No splash.

He looks over the side of the railing. He sees his rock floating on something bare and bloated.

“You guys wanna go see a dead body?” he says to the others.

100 Word Stories – shuttering walls and the pie man

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The Walls Shuttered

“Get away from that window Tres. The wind I fear will soon shatter the glass.”

“Duo is right Tres, not so close. That ghastly wind is the reason we are holed up in your brick hut in the first place,” Unus said.

“This region was not known for it’s gusting wind or I wouldn’t have built my house of sticks,” Duo said.

“I was under the impression this was more of a tropical desert climate. My house of straw should have been more than adequate.”

“The brick mortar appears to be under the assault of some substantial seismic distress Tres.”

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Hugh the Pie Man

Lucy waits in the dark of her entryway everyday, always at the same time.

The old dusty grandfather clock starts its bonging, sending out the nights collected particles in little poofs of classic horror show fashion.

6 a.m

The onset of dawn slowly illuminates Lucy’s matted, oily, and once blonde hair. Seething up and down she sits crossed legged in her stained sunflower dress, waiting for the door bell.

Crusted fingers adorned with hardened yellow nails clutch the second bright shining thing in Lucy’s life, the pie server.

Hugh the pie man should be here any moment.

She loves him.

Give Blood and Thanks: Chapter 16

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Give Blood and Thanks: Chapter 16 – Download PDF

Chapter 16:  What it is Smitts?

A little dark haired boy sat opposite Detective Arthur Martian and Officer John Martian in the waiting room of the Marshall General Hospital.  Arthur leaned his head back against a poster warning the public about the dangers of second hand smoke.  His long brown overcoat was pushed back under the arms of the cheap chair exposing the grip of his .38 in the shoulder holster and the red top of a pack of Marlboro Reds in the vest pocket.  The little boy, who couldn’t be more than seven or eight years old, stared at the pistol’s handle with wide eyes.  The boy’s mother provided a familiar inner city ambiance with her screams at the receptionist.  Really, she just loves her family and wants to provide a better life for her children.  Is that so wrong?  Medical bills keep piling up and they won’t cut her a break, these systems, are broken.  Arthur noticed the boy staring and nudged John to get his attention.

“You ever remember having an interest in guns when we were kids?” Arthur asked.

“Yea a little bit.  Probably only because it was against the rules to touch them.  Dad had us scared shit-less.”

“Yea, the old man was good about keeping some structure.  I guess.” Arthur prepared for John to react.  This was part of the game he played with his brother.  Crack about Dad, John picks up the fumbled ball to save his face, and then Arthur tackles him in the open to bring Dad back down.

“He was.  I don’t think Dad was all that bad when it came down to it.  What happened between you two that made you take off so soon and hate him so much?”

Arthur felt the hair stand up on his arm.  John was calling him out.  In a way Arthur was happy John blamed himself for their father’s death.  Up until that day five years ago it was Arthur who dodged the questions about Dad.  It was Arthur who told John to shut up.  Arthur was relieved to see the old man go.  Arthur could make his therapeutic snide comments about Dad and John would never want an explanation or let it go any further.  Arthur was counting on this to continue for a long time, at least until his own wounds caused by the old man were healed.  Now John was asking, asking a direct question, and Arthur was not ready to dodge, not ready to relive, not ready to tell the truth.

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100 Words – Unprepared

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Charlitok stands in line with the other veteran soldiers.

The commander is awarding accommodations.

Charlitok is proudly advancing to join an elite group who dawn the freshly killed head of a mighty grizzly bear.

Charlitok digs his heals into the soft earth, holds his head high, and tenses his muscles in attention.

As his commander lowers the head of the bear he feels a massive weight of responsibility to protect his brethren soldiers and the tribe.

“Good job Charlie, next scout rank is Webelos right?” his Mom says.

The applause and screams from the tribe echo in Charlitok’s ears.