I waited for you, hoping you would abscond with me, like some desperado fleeing for the border. You’d take me away to that faraway place where the ocean’s crush against the shores, like two lovers in the surf and sweet blue waters teem with life.

You left me desolate and inconsolable. I thirst for you like a cooling spring, as a deciduous tree craves the springtime when it can bloom anew.

Where did you go? I refuse to believe that pile of broken metal and glass is your shuttle, that I am stranded forever on, this desert planet Arrakis, alone.

I took today's #MeanageMonday prompt quite literally.
Turq awoke with a splitting headache, handcuffed and sporting a leg cast. As the haze lifted, he saw the barrel of a standard issue service pistol pointed directly at him.

“Now that is rich. This planet must have a flair for the ironic, you a peace officer?”

“You son of a bitch I’m gonna kill you for following me here. I was doing well, starting over. Why did you have to go ruin everything?”

“We are all sons of the Bitch. I’m not surprised you’ve forgotten who you are. You always were a troublesome pup, Grach.”

“My name is Greg now. Every twenty-eight days I get reminder of what I was. You show up and cause an accident down by the river. So much for discretion! Why did you come after me?”

“It’s time for you to come home. If you stay here much longer, each full moon will become more violent. Your rage will become unstoppable; you will start to kill the people you claim to love. Come back to Sirius where we can take care of you.”

“You were always the favorite of the litter, you wouldn’t understand.”

A silver bullet in the brain stopped Turq from responding.

Today's prompt reminded me of an amusing thought I had this week:
Earthquakes are uncommon in New Mexico, so the rattling put them off guard.  Zeke and his wife Ellie thought they might find a little Christmas rest at Hueco Tanks National Park.  They didn't expect to find a pile of human bones in such a heavily travelled area.  Soon more bones started to bubble up out of the earth and knit together.  A chill far beyond the December wind cut through them.

"Hey Ellie, weren't folks going on how last week was supposed to be the end of the world?"  Zeke asked.

Ellie smiled.  "Guess God has a sense of humor."

This week's picture prompt reminded me of Garcia from Full Moon City
The clack of a trigger, the thunderous burst and flash of light, as the hammer fell, echoed gently as if from a hundred years past rather than a moment ago.

Wisps of smoke ascended in lazy curls as the scents of sulfur, carbon and hot metal wafted through the air blending into one another.

At last, a long sigh dispersed the heavy silence.  "Are you quite finished?"  Garcia's smooth Mexican accented words rolled off his tongue as casually as if he were asking for a light.

"¡Pero, eso es imposible!"

"Órale pendejo, didn't anyone ever tell you?  I'm bulletproof ese!"

The folks at authonomy, have weekly flash fiction contests.  This week's prompt inspired the following story with apologies to Will Smith.

The Legend of Baggy Pants

In west Philadelphia, where I was born and raised, I frequented the local clubs at night in search of the perfect date.  I tried to impress the women with my fly dance moves, but all I managed to accrue were stares and the occasional giggle.

One night I snuck into an exclusive club in Jersey by telling the bouncer "I'm with the band."  I figured my cameo appearance in the new environment might change my luck.  I started up a conversation that I hoped would blossom into something more but by the end of the night, She left me with the memory of a beautiful face and five digits of a phone number.

Trudging home, I passed the bridge and seriously considered stopping to take the plunge.  As I stood watching the waves below, a still small voice spoke to me.  "Don't give up yet.  Tomorrow is another day, wait and see where the day takes you."


The alarm clock went off far too early.  I shuffled off to my factory job, grateful that anything is still made in America.  The hours crept by.  That night I planned to going out in style.  If I couldn't land a date with a gorgeous woman, I'd just land in the Delaware River.

The first woman I ran into was way out of my league.  She told me directly that there were six degrees of separation between us.  I guess she preferred bad boys, I don't know.

I was wearing my fresh prints,   the matching shirt and pants I'd purchased in Bel Air.  I thought the shirt looked classy, but given the stares, I started to doubt myself.  Again, the voice came to me, "This is your day to be yourself, consider it your independence day."

I realized that not every story has a happily ever after and more than likely the voice in my head was going to tell me it was kidding and I should just jump in the river and get it over with, but for the time I decided to stick to the plan.

Sure, I stood out in a sea of men in black jeans, t-shirts and seven pounds of gold chain, but I couldn't understand the hostility.  They acted as if I were an enemy of the state.  I seriously wanted to run to the post office to see if my face graced the most wanted list.  That thought made me chuckle, least wanted was more like it.

I figured I would play the part of the villain.  In my mind, the dance floor became a train in the wild, Wild West and I planned to blow it up.  I started imitating the dances of the other men in the room.  The moves felt stiff and unnatural, but I was going to find a way to fit in and finally get a girl.

That's when he walked in, Baggy Pants, the legend himself.  "Hey son, " he said.  "Did you get my messages?"

"That was you?"  I could hardly believe what was happening.  "How is that even possible?  Hey can I get your John Hancock?"

"Sorry friend, I don't do autographs.  So what's going on with this dancing here?"

"I'm trying to dance like everyone else.  It's not really working though."

"There's an understatement.  I thought I told you to be you.  Get loose, float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, the thriller in manila, Muhammad Ali."

"You want me to box?"

Baggy shook his head.  "Listen, all of us have our own style, our own flow.  You have to find your own groove and stop trying to fit into someone else's.  What dance moves do you really enjoy doing?"

"Well, I robot and I do the swim."

"You're drowning man.  Let me tell you a tale about sharks.  They never stop moving or else they sink.  You can't stop moving, can't limit yourself to named dance moves, I mean show me the moves that feel right to you."

I closed my eyes and let go, at first I hitched and twitched but at last I let go.  I can't really describe the dance from there, but it was mine and it was beautiful.

"There you go, son, now you've got it.  It's the same thing when you're talking that cute girl over there.  Don't try to be someone you aren't.  The pursuit of happiness is the pursuit of the true you.  Be yourself and watch what happens."

I hesitated, the same girl who'd blown me off before sat at the bar.  "Hey sorry, about the silly lines before, my name's William, I work at the factory on 23rd street."

She stared at my extended hand for a minute, and then peered into my eyes.  "Hello William; my name is Stacey.  It's nice to meet you, the real you."

A few hours later, Stacey and I walked out together.  We passed Baggy standing by the door.

"You were right, Baggy."  I said, "Thank you so much for your advice."

Baggy grinned and nodded.  "I'm always right, that's why I am legend." 

Another Friday tale for you!
"Papa, why are there rainbows?"  The little girl with golden hair clung to her father's hand as they walked along the shore.

Papa knelt down and showered his daughter's hair with kisses.  "That's where dreams come from, little one."

"Is that true?"

"Yes, the absolute truth."

They looked up stream and saw the rainbow end on a small boat where a beautiful woman reclined.

"Who's that lady?"

"That, Aurora, is your mother."

"But if she's coming from the rainbow, then she's a dream and not real."

"I know." 

Aurora faded away leaving a lonely old man, holding nothing but dreams.

This picture reminded me of an unfortunate sapling.
Down by the river, I sit and I wait. 
Summer turns to autumn and leaves cascade: yellow, orange and red like a flame.  If only that were enough to keep me warm.  The snow is coming soon and I will fall to sleep.  Still I hope that someone or something will move me. 
I know that I cannot take root in a rock, but it is my nature.  When the spring comes, I will make my home here. 
Cold, unyielding stone why do you mock me?  I understand I am bound to die here.  Still I sit and I wait.

“How about we talk first, shoot later?” Carrie asked.

"The time for talking is long gone," Margot said. "They won't even be able to clean the grease stains off the floor when I'm finished with you."

"I really don't understand why you find it necessary to be so violent. Why can't we handle this situation in a friendly polite discussion?"

"You can't stop over analyzing things can you? It's quite simple really. We had some very basic rules for our relationship, but you just have to argue and equivocate."

"Ooh Margot's using big girl words."

"I'm going to enjoy slaughtering you."

"I'm sorry. I can't help the sarcasm, it's an a defensive mechanism. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh I understand alright. Let's get this over with. All it will take is one shot and the issue will be settled once and for all."

Carrie sighed. "Fine, take your shot. I'm tired of trying to reason with you."

"Ha! For a smart girl you don't know the difference between reasoning and arguing." Margot took aim.

"Wait. Let me think for a minute."

"Too late," Margot grinned. The shot from half court was nothing but net.

Carrie ran to get the basketball, stood on the half court line and took her shot.

"Oh a brick, H-O-R-S-E spells horse. You've got dishes for the next TWO weeks!"

"You sharked me; that is so unfair," Carrie pouted.

"That's what you get for assuming you're more athletic than me."

Three sisters were born under wicked stars, their parents passing when they were but small, leaving only a blue cloak, a red dress and a yellow jacket.

Blue was a lightweight in every way.  She trusted her sister, who took her heavy cloak in exchange for a flower.  A strong wind stole Blue away in her stupidity.

Weighted by the cloak, Red could not run, the wolves feasted because of Red's cupidity.

Yellow perceived what her sisters had done.  Sensing the folly within, she took her own life rather than burden the world, so she lost her life to lucidity.

I thought I would take a break from editing Full Moon City to bring you some more of your favorite trio:
"Luke I picked these flowers for you but they're tiny now.  I don't know what happened."    Margot's pendulous bosom made a "boin" sound as she walked toward the beach.  Her shadow washed over her friends.

Carrie gaped.  "At the risk of stating the obvious, that's not good."

"What happened to you Margot?  You're huge!"

"I know I put on a little weight, but you don't have to… hey why are you so tiny?"

"We're not tiny Margot, you've grown enormous."

"I'm so sorry.  I made a wish to be a bigger part of your life and now our picnic is ruined!  This is like "The Nightmare Before Valentine’s Day."

"I think you mean Christmas."


"You're referring to Tim Burton's movie, the one with Jack Skellington."

"Why are you always so mean to me?" Margot's 10-gallon tears whistled like incoming missiles as they approached the ground.

Luke and Carrie dove away to avoid being crushed.

Luke woke up drenched in sweat.  Margot lay to left, Carrie to his right, both sleeping peacefully and in their ordinary sizes.  It may have been a dream but he felt the strong desire to change their plans for a valentine picnic.

"I've got to stop watching anime holiday specials."