Archive for : March, 2015
The van rushed in front of her. Two men jumped from the van and grabbed her arms. Before Jordan could scream they slapped a piece of masking tape over her mouth and dragged her into the van. They shoved her to the floor and the van sped away. One man held on to her while the other put plastic handcuffs around her wrists and threw her body to the floor of the van. Her body roll and bumped around as the van hit potholes. The back windows were covered with black and all she could see from the floor were the two men that grabbed her sitting in the only two bucket seats in the van. The driver and the passenger.
“Slow down and let the guy pass.” The man in the passenger seat watched his side view mirror.
The van slowed.
“He’s still behind us and now he’s flashing his bright lights. Like he wants us to stop,” said the driver.
“That ain’t happening. It’s probably some old dude that doesn’t know what to do.”
“Maybe something’s wrong with the van, in the back or something.”
“Naw, he’s just being a jerk. I’ll wave him around.” He stuck his arm out the window and motioned for the car behind them to pass.
But it didn’t. The vehicle began to speed up until it almost hit the back end of the van, then it backed off quickly and swerved from side to side. All the while, flashing bright lights off and on. The vehicle came parallel to the van and revved its engine several time before it dropped off and went right behind the van; the front end of the vehicle hidden in the rear mirrors of the van.
“I’m going to get rid of this piss head.” The driver swerved back and forth in an attempt to frighten his tailgater. The van’s big Michelin tires threw gravel and sand behind it, kicking up quite a dust storm.
“Look at the dust back there, dude.
The driver made a sharp U-turn, kicking up even more dust. Jordan was tossed around the back of the van like a pin-ball ball.
“I’m going to scare the shit out of this guy.”
The dust made it almost impossible for the two men to see anything in front of them or behind them.
“Can you see his head lights”?
“No, dude, I can’t see anything.”
The sat quite for a moment and then the rear van doors were ripped open. Frank and Dodger stepped up inside in a split second. Frank helped Jordan to her feet while Dodger held the gun on the two men.
“Put your hands on the steering wheel. Both of you.”
No one moved.
“Now,” Dodger shouted.
The men did as Dodger instructed, but reluctantly. Frank used electrical tape to fasten their hands to the steering wheel.
“This is bullshit, man,” the driver protested.
Dodger shoved the gun to the driver’s head. “No, bullshit is when you grab a women from the streets and force her to go with you to do God only knows what to her. You boys just relax for a while and think about how you could or should have done things differently. Someone will be here soon to get you.”
Frank snipped off Jordan’s plastic handcuffs and the three of them left the van. Jordan pulled the tape from her mouth.
“How did you find me?”
“We never really lost you. We followed you from the apartment building.” Frank explained. “We could see you needed some time alone so we gave you some space.”
Jordan threw her arms around Frank’s neck. “Thank you. I was so freaked out. I didn’t know where they were taking me.”
“How about me?” Dodger said.
Jordan ran to him and when she reached him he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her. Kissed her hard, smack dab on the mouth. She melted at his touch. The kiss lasted about sixty seconds and when Dodger released her Jordan stumbled backwards. He caught her arm to steady her.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“What’s going to happen to them,” she asked.
“We have someone coming for them.”
She didn’t question things any further. She was just happy to be back inside the beamer.
Jordan woke up just as the sun was coming up in the east. Dodger was beside her and sleeping.
“Where are we?”
“Almost to New York.” Frank answered
“New York? City?”
“That’s the one.” Frank smiled.
“I can’t go to New York. I’m due at work.”
“You’re going to call off today.”
Dodger woke up. “Coffee.”
“He’s cranky without his morning coffee.” Frank answered.
Dodger pulled his ball cap down over his face and folded his arms around his chest.
“Wake me when we get some.”
“There’s a rest stop ahead. We can go in there.”
It was evident to Jordan that she wasn’t going to talk Frank into turning the car around and take her home. She had chosen to hang with Frank and Dodger and this is what has happened. Jordan went to the restroom and used her cell to call work. She lied and said she wasn’t feeling well. She had to speak to her immediate supervisor who gave her hell for being sick and said she was needed at work. He finished the conversation by telling her illness was had better only last a day. He made Jordan so angry she threw her phone against the wall. Dumb move. It broke into several pieces. She tried to recover them all but it didn’t really matter. The phone no longer worked.
Some of you have been following my Short Story Thursdays and if you have seen the last few Thursdays posts you know that I am writing the story Choices as time goes along. I don’t have an ending, what you see from week to week is what I’m writing from week to week. I was writing tonight and realized I’m at a stand still. I found the last 250 words I wrote were nothing but fluff, which means I have no idea where I’m heading with the story. About 500 words ago I thought I knew exactly where I was headed, but Jordan wasn’t cooperating and headed down a road I didn’t know she was going to take.
That might sound a little funny, but if you do any writing at all you know your characters some times have a mind of their own. I can be writing just as fast as my fingers can move along the keyboard and find out that my characters, in this case Jordan, has made a turn I wasn’t prepared to take. I started typing tonight to get her out of a sticky situation, but for some reason every avenue I thought to take wasn’t going to work. I needed help and so did she.
I thought if I took this short break to tell you what is happening in the story, it might give me enough time to figure out what she is going to do and headed for next. So hang in there with me, with us, it might be a bumpy ride.
I know that if I should ever be low and lying sick that I can recall all my Ahhh moments. Moments like watching the sunset at Captive Island in Florida or the sunset at Crotch Lake in Canada, or the sunset on Virgin Gorda, British Virgin Island. They are magnificent and breathtaking. All of us have those special moments in our lives, when it seems the stars must be aligned, and everything is in order. We are content.
My first real experience with contentment was when our daughter, Karen, was only a couple of weeks old. She was born in November, and the November temperatures were leaning more toward winter than that of fall, and we had had a very busy day with family visiting the new baby. It was eight o’clock in the evening, eight being early, but not so much with a newborn because you caught sleep whenever it was available. I had put on my flannels and robe, my husband had rented a movie and it was time to settle in for the night. I fed Karen her bottle, and held her in my arms, watching her sleep peacefully.
I was warm, she was warm and all was right with the world. It was at that time that I was most content in my lifetime. I cannot remember a more peaceful time in my entire life. The stars were aligned. I can remember that time as if it were yesterday.
When Karen was seven, we traveled to St. John, United State Virgin Island for vacation. Even though St. John is considered the United States, it is tropical and located in the Caribbean. We landed in St. Thomas, ferried over to St. John, and rented a rag-top Suzuki for the week. Karen was strapped in the back seat with the luggage on our way to the villa. We had only talked with the airport personnel, the cab driver and with the vehicle rental agent. We are winding our way up and down the hill driven roads, driving on the left as they do there, feeling the warm wind in our faces when a small voice from the backseat said, “I tink I gonna like it here, mon.” Karen had picked up the dialect. Another content and happy moment.
Canada in late July can run hot or cold, literally, but even if the temperature should be 75 degrees in the middle of the day, at night on the lake the temperature can drop 10 to 15 degrees and be quite chilly. We fish day and night. Ernest Hemmingway said it best, “Fish too much, can’t be done.” We have taken several family fishing vacations on Crotch Lake and every single time, I am always wanting more by the time we leave. I am content on the water. It is still, clean and peaceful.
We enjoyed St. John so much we wanted to explore another Caribbean island, and set sail, so to speak, for Virgin Gorda, British Virgin Island. We flew into St. Thomas, just as we did for St. John, took a long ferry ride because Virgin Gorda is much farther from St. Thomas than St. John, and rented a rag top once again. It is a British Island, so driving on the left is normal. It is a beautiful tropical island, and famous for The Baths. The Baths are giant boulders resting on beautiful sandy beaches, with boulder caves to explore. They are above ground caverns. Exploring the caves is like nothing else I have done in my life. You need to be able to climb around rocks, duck through small places and wade through crystal clear water. One of the areas inside The Baths is called The Cathedral. Looking up says it all. It’s a tiny peek at God’s heaven on earth that will make you say “Ahhhh.” Contentment.
So, if I should ever be down and out I need only to recall all the content moments that I have experience so far in my life. I hope there are many more and I hope all of you can rely on your Ahhh moments too.
Lauren stomped on the breaks, but it was too late. The deer’s head came crashing through the windshield. The front of the car buckled against the deer’s massive body and the driver’s seat door flew open on impact. The air bag deployed, but that wouldn’t help Lauren. She wasn’t wearing a seat belt and her body was thrown twenty feet from the car.
“Holy shit! Dodger shouted. He brought the beamer to a screeching halt.
“Oh no,” Jordan yelled. She ran from the car and to where Lauren was lying on the side of the road.
Frank and Haley crawled out of the back seat of the beetle through the passenger door. Blood ran down Haley’s face. Frank examined the top of her head and found a deep gash along her hairline.
“Dodger,” he yelled. “Bring me the kit.”
Dodger brought the first aid kit from the trunk. He immediately went running to Lauren. She was unconscious.
“What do we do?” Jordan was pale.
Dodger felt Lauren’s neck. “She’s got a pulse.”
Jordan pulled out her cell phone and began dialing 911.
Dodger snatched it from her hands.
“What are you doing?” she screamed.
“You can’t call for help,” he said,
“We’ve all been drinking.”
“It doesn’t matter. She needs help.”
“Give me a minute.”
Jordan watched in horror.
Dodger felt around Laruen for any broken bones or open wounds. The exposed skin on her body was covered in road rash. Blood swelled to the surface.
“Give me my phone,” Jordan demanded.
Dodger ignored Jordan and continued to work on Lauren.
This time Jordan screamed as loud as she could. “I said, give me my phone.” She was about to attack Dodger when Frank grabbed her from behind. He put his arms around her so she couldn’t move. She squirmed in his arms but was unable to break free. Haley slowly came to them and sat on the ground. Frank had bandaged her head and she held her chin in the palm of her hand as if she were holding it up.
“Let me go,” Jordan yelled.
“Shhhh,” Frank tried to calm her. “Dodger knows what he’s doing. He’s had training.”
“What is he? Some kind of doctor?”
“Not exactly,” Frank said.
“Then she needs one.” Jordan stomped as hard as she could on Frank’s foot.
“Shit!” he yelled but didn’t let go; he tightened his grip. “No need for that. I’m telling you, he knows what he’s doing. Think about this for a minute. If we call the police we will all be arrested. You don’t want to go to jail tonight, right?”
“No, but I don’t want to see her die either.”
“She’s not dying,” Frank said.
“She sure looks like it.”
Jordan was weak from drinking, her muscles like gelatin. She was unable to get free from Frank’s grip. What took ten minutes seem like an eternity. Lauren finally opened her eyes.
“Hey Lauren,” Dodger said. “Good to see you. Don’t move just yet. Do you know where you are?”
It took a minute for Lauren to answer. “Yes.”
“I had an accident.” She thought for a minute. “I hit a deer.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“She’s sitting right here beside me, but don’t turn your head just yet.”
“Haley,” Lauren called out.
Haley, still in shock, looked toward Lauren.
“Haley, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
“I hit my head.”
“Is she okay? She sounds funny.”
“She’s fine. You’ll be able to get up in a minute and see her. You don’t have any broken bones that I can tell. I’m going to sit you up gradually. You can rest against me.” Dodger helped her up and she instantly looked at Haley.
“She looks worse than she is, I assure you,” Frank said.
“Is the ambulance on its way?”
“Not exactly,” Frank answered. “We are going to leave here on our own.”
“We’ve all been drinking.”
“Oh, right.” Lauren looked behind her at her car. The deer still hanging through it.
“What will we do with my car?”
“I’m going to call a friend. He will come and get it and bring it to a nearby auto shop. Then you can call your insurance company and tell them you hit a deer and had the car towed. Do you think you can stand up?”
Dodger helped her up. He held her steady on her feet and helped her walk to the beamer. Once she was in the back seat he went for Haley.
Frank let go of Jordan, who remained steamed over the entire situation. Dodger and Frank talked to the girls all the way to Lauren’s apartment, sizing them up for serious injuries. Jordan fell asleep for some of the ride and had no idea where they were when she woke. She was alone in the car and parked in front of a high-rise apartment building. She reached for her cell but remembered that Dodger had taken it. She rummaged through all the compartments in the car in hopes of finding either her cell or someone else’s phone. Her head was pounding from all the alcohol and probably from whatever pill she popped. She fell back into the leather seat to think. She must be at Lauren’s apartment. She assumed the guys were helping the girls inside and would be back soon. Her choice now was to stay or go. It was 5:00 a.m., still dark and cold outside. She could take off walking but she didn’t even know which way to go since she didn’t have a clue as to where she was. She wondered if the guys were going to take her back to her car or would they want to do something else. She could hardly believe it, but she just wanted to go home. She was thirsty and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. She had gum in her purse, but it was then that she realized she didn’t have her purse and she hadn’t see it since she had been at The Byre. If she took off now, without her purse, she would be without money, credit card or identification. She could see the guys coming from the apartment entrance. In a split second she decided to go it alone. She got out of the car and ran away from the complex and the car. She was hoping to be out of sight by the time the guys got to the car.
Jordan ran until she became winded, which didn’t take too long considering the night she had been through. She wasn’t used to such partying. The complex must have been on the outskirts of a city because there was nothing around except factories and shops; an industrial area. Car lights approached her the front. The car turned into one of the factories. It was just about shift change, she thought. She began to see more cars, one at a time, coming from all directions driving into the factory parking lots. A van with a loud muffler approached her from behind. It seemed to slow as it came near her. It slowed down to her walking pace and stayed right behind her. She was a little frightened. She became so afraid that she decided to walk through one of the parking lots and enter a factory. Surely it would be safer inside with other people around. But she didn’t get the chance.
It was no secret that my dad wanted boys. Instead, he got two girls. He didn’t love us any less but we all knew he would have loved to come to attend his kids baseball games, show his kids how to use his tools, and show them out to fix their cars. Instead, he had to tell stories of taking us camping in our little pull-behind-a-car trailer and spend the entire weekend filling the water tank up so my sister and I could wash our hair, do our nails and so on. Instead, he had to endure the fights between sports on TV or beach party movies, you know, chick flicks. My sis and I weren’t born with any sports genes. None.
My adult daughter just came to the house to pick up her soft-ball and glove to play catch with her boyfriend. It’s funny, but my sister’s two kids and our daughter have plenty of sports genes to go around. It must have skipped a generation, or come from their dads. My dad lived long enough to watch my nephew and niece play soccer, and they were good! He didn’t live long enough to watch our daughter play soft-ball and help pitch the city league team to the win, or come to her cross country and track meets where she received lots of medals.
My sis and I laugh when we talk about what our names would have been if we had been boys. We can only remember Jeff, not the other name, so we fight over who would have been Jeff. When I worked at the plastic factory, as an adult, the employees there started a softball team. I always joined in things, pot lucks, home décor parties, la-la-la, so a lil ‘ol softball wasn’t going to stop me from joining in, even if I had no idea what I was doing. My foreman, and my friend, also encouraged me to play. She was certain she could teach me skills and I would be somehow be an asset.
Well, this tickled the heck out of my dad. He was finally going to get to see a son play some sports! He was so excited he took me to purchase my glove and bat. Helped me soften my glove and got just the right weight bat for my weight, which at the time was around 103 lbs. soaking wet.
We had practice after practice and I was beginning to see that my foreman/friend was having a bit of difficulty on placing me in the game. I ended up in left field, w-a-y out in left field. (I think I was still on the field) Luckily, no one ever hit a ball my way. I did my ready stance and looked good on the field. This was easy. A couple of games in, dad came to see me play. Well, alright. Now he was gonna be real proud of his daughter/son.
Half way through the opposite teams turn at bat, my foreman yells, left-hand batter. I nod like I know what this means. She says, “Cindy heads up.” I looked puzzled. Was this different somehow? She yells, “Coming your way.” What’s coming my way? Or crap! I get it. Okay then, Dad’s watching and I can do this.
A swing and a miss. Another swing and a miss. One more she’s out. She hits the ball and hits it hard. Hard enough to come all the way out to the very back of the field where I am standing. I run up to get it. I scoop it up from the ground (didn’t make the catch) run in one-two steps because I can see it’s a l-o-n-g way to my team mate at third base. I can do this! For dad! I heave back my arm with the ball and throw it. Throw it as hard as I can.
I throw under-hand. CRAP. Like a real girl. The ball goes straight up in the air and comes straight back down in front of me. The hitter runs home and scores a home run. I yell out a very bad word and throw my mitt to the ground. The third baseman runs out to meet me half way where I can manage to throw the ball to her. Gee-whiz, that was embarrassing. I can see my dad is trying his hardest not to laugh out loud because he knows I am upset. I am upset because I have disappointed my dad. Full circle. My foreman/friend walks out to me, puts her arm around me and tells me it’s okay. “Good try.” She always was good for my morale. She said in some ways I was her best team player because I showed up for all the practices and all the games. Nice.
Well dad never got his boys, but he sure got a lot of good stories to tell the guys at work. I’m sure my sis and I were often the reason for laughter.
How many of you were intrigued by the title? How many appalled? Anyone, annoyed because you thought; not this again? Anyone embarrassed?
I’m watching the b-ball game with my husband when a commercial about erectile dysfunction comes on. It was around 4:00 o’clock in the afternoon on a Sunday. We’re not 30 years old any more so we make fun and think of all kinds of jokes that go with this hot subject. We are mature adults that understand just exactly what that means.
Now, that said, there are a huge number of teens that watch b-ball at 4:00 0’clock in the afternoon too. I’m sure the boys, with their youth, think of even funnier stuff than my husband and I do, and I’m sure the teen girls are just disgusted by such a topic.
Now, that said, I remember once a long time ago, like 13 years ago, when the 12 year old boy I was watching was at my house and we were watching a daytime game show when guess what? A commercial came on about erectile dysfunction. He immediately buried his head in a book and his cheeks turned red. There was nothing I could do. It wouldn’t do me any good to change the channel, the damage had been done. I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
Same year, different day, a commercial pops up about feminine odor, yep. How embarrassing. I know that 12 year old boys, and girls, know things. That’s all good, but I also know that those types of commercials are NOT for mixed audiences. I know this is America and freedom of speech and so on, and so on. I’m not a prude either. There are many commercials that I think are not for mixed viewers; erectile dysfunction, tampons, and adult diapers; and I feel if one needs products for such things, they will be able to find it. I really think that if I were suffering from erectile dysfunction I wouldn’t be waiting for a television commercial to come on to tell me of the best product out there. If I needed adult diapers, I wouldn’t be on my sofa waiting for a commercial to come on so I can find that in the drug store and believe –you –me, every young going through puberty is getting help from their mothers, or order girl friends that already know what’s-what.
I’m not trying to be the commercial police, I just wish I could have watched that game show with my 12 years old friend without having to have been embarrassed for him while he was embarrassed. That’s all. ‘nough said.