The bullet passed through the soldier’s chest, decorating the linoleum floor in a fine, maroon speckle. Time momentarily froze as the tranquility of a routine patrol was shattered by the silent death of a sniper rifle.
CRACK! came the rifle shot, and every man in the room took cover, smearing the delicate pattern of blood.
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You could see the recognition, and the distress, dawn across his face. Whatever it was, it was not something he liked. The stubby pink plunger forced the offending morsel out from between his down-turned lips. “Do’ wan-it,” came the plaintive, half formed sentence, as he pushed the plate across the dining room table.
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John stepped out the back door, across the deck, and into his lawn. The dry, brown grass crunched as small clouds of dust billowed beneath his shoes with each step. It was only ten, and already the mercury was into the nineties.
Still, John smiled. No rain meant no mowing. A happy Father’s Day indeed!
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Though the words stung even as they passed through his lips, he knew they were rightly said. She knew, too; he could tell by the look in her eye. There was sadness, but not surprise. And certainly not anger. It simply had to be this way.
The words? “I think we should be just friends.”
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As the sun crested the horizon John sipped coffee from a ceramic mug his son had given him years ago. John would never again sit in rush hour, cursing his travel mug and the traffic…
If only he could pin down the story floating in his head. Picking up his pen, John began to write.
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(Pardon the shameless self-promotion, but I’m pretty excited about an event we’re hosting this weekend. Details of our World Vision Benefit BBQ can be found here.)
The crowd was larger than expected, and everyone was having a good time eating and talking. “Ready?” I asked.
“Ready,” she said. Making her way across the yard she grabbed the […]
Oh no! The big game and Trina’s company dinner are on the same night. What’s Mac going to do?
“I know,” Mac thought. “I’ll hide a tiny radio in my pants pocket and run the earphones up my coat sleeve. No one will ever notice!”
*****
Mark changed the channel confident he’d seen that episode before.
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Approaching the house, the silence disturbed him. Where were the squealing children? The music blaring from his son’s bedroom? It was too quiet.
Opening the door, he caught a whiff of Pine-Sol rising from the kitchen floor… on a Tuesday!
It could mean only one thing… an infamous “last second visit” by his parents.
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Tommy and Frank say quietly at the bar nursing their beers. Neither said anything - it wasn’t their way - but they were worried about Mark. It wasn’t like him to not show up… not even for something as trivial as happy hour.
Suddenly the door burst open. “Drinks are on me, fellas! I’m having a […]
“Half way there,” he said aloud, though no one was around to hear him. His quest had begun weeks ago, and as many weeks still lay before him.
He pressed on, driven by the memory of her scent and the hope of her presence once again. In five hundred miles his hope would be realized.
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