Single-Syllable Story – The Dream

by cjdamico on March 23, 2011 at 7:00 pm
Posted In: Blog, Single-Syllable Stories

I said I would be back by the time it was dark. Then time skipped six years and I saw a glimpse of me on a warm shore with bright hues, and then time threw me back to the past.

I tried not to use a lame lie, like I was “off to buy smokes.” That would have been too trite. It had been done. I just left for work and had a bag stowed in the trunk of my car. My bag was blue. I tied up some loose ends at the job, got all my cash from the bank and caught a train to the coast. I hate to fly, so then I hopped on a boat for the rest of the trip.

I ran. I don’t know why.

Then the boat was a bird and I flew, and I looked down and I knew that the fall would not kill me. It would be the fast change in course.

There were lights, and I was on land. Waves crashed.

I did not leave a girl or kids at home… I mean, I’m not a dick. I just left friends and loved ones. Then time skipped six months once more and I had a pen and pad and told all the folks back home I was safe and sound and well.

It rained now and then, but at night. The moon was out at night too, on clear nights though, and there was more than one moon and they were close to the point where they took up half the sky. And the food! The fresh fish and shrimp. There was a plate of shrimp in sweet sauce that made me hate home more.

It all glowed. All the plants and fish and trees glowed in the night, through the rain too, like bar signs on a main street.

Most of the time I had no shirt on, and I kept a gun strapped to my chest, but there was no need to fire it. I just liked the way it looked, I guess.

I wish I knew what the train ride to the coast was like. I love the train and half the time that’s the best part of a trip. The cars and track sounds and snores and laughs and booze. The air gets a little stale, though, so I like to chew gum so I smell that.

Time skipped back to when I was six years old and my mom told me that I had a gift and that I should share it with the world and that I would be… but the words blurred. I would be.

I was back on the beach. It was day now, so it was hot and light out. I sat in a cloth chair and drank beer, and watched the birds that brought me there dive and call. Toy boats sailed past close to shore, but I was the sole soul on the beach.

I sat and basked and smiled in the sun.

The waves crashed, and the rain and the moons peeked from out of the blue.

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Drinking Buddies

by cjdamico on October 18, 2010 at 8:52 pm
Posted In: Blog, Flash Fiction

Dear Whiskey,

Hey, man. It’s been a few weeks since we’ve last seen each other so I thought I’d drop you a line.

I hope everything’s okay with you. I mean, I’m sure you’re fine. A lot of people like you, so I’m sure you’re not bored or anything. You’ve always been sort of a wild one! We’ve had some crazy times together.

I’m going to cut to the chase – I know I haven’t come around lately, and it’s just… it’s because I’m trying to change some things. I’m trying to get to a different place, and you know what happens when we hang out. Like that time we were hanging out and got caught by the cops pissing in that school parking lot at 3 a.m.! Ugh, shameless. Luckily they just gave us a ticket… that could have been a lot worse. Or when we went off on that girl at the bar and just started screaming to everyone in the place that she had her eyebrows painted on. She looked creepy, but we were out of line.

Man! Some of those times make me laugh a little still.

But Whiskey, I need to grow up. I’m getting to old for that shit. After those nights, it takes me two or three days to start feeling normal again. Almost every time we go out we get in trouble together and I wake up the next morning bruised. Literally, like that fucking sprain that left my ankle black and blue for three months!

I’m not saying we can’t ever hang out again. I don’t want to give you that impression. But, only on special occasions. And we have to act like adults.

I’ll be honest… do you remember Wine? Actually, I’d be surprised if you do. We were all hanging out at a party a couple months ago. It was a great time, but we were pretty hammered. Well… I’ve been hanging out with Wine a lot more lately. She’s nice. She’s refined but she can also be casual too. She’s the kind of girl that can be a cheap date, but still makes you feel like you’re living like a king, you know?

Like any relationship, she can be sort of bitter and dry sometimes. She changes with the seasons and I like that about her. She’s an adventure.

I’m going to be spending more time with her. By choice. This is what I need to do. You knew this day was coming. If we keep living as we have been, insanity or death are the only options we’ll have in our futures.

Wine gives me truth.

Take care,

Alex

P.S. – Give Brandy my best.

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Single-Syllable Story – The Edge of Town

by cjdamico on July 16, 2010 at 4:06 pm
Posted In: Blog, Single-Syllable Stories

Gregg Redd sped down the street that ran past the park where he would go and make out with that one girl in high school by the oak tree. That was years ago, now. He drove north for a while to the edge of town. The homes and shops and the glow of the street lights changed to fields and farms and stars and dark.

When his speed topped out, he closed his eyes and turned off his lights.

The crash was swift and loud.

He was thrown from the car through the glass that sat strewn on the road. It made a path to the ditch a fourth of a mile up. The car rolled five times and the leaks seemed like blood that poured out of a corpse in the night. Gregg lay in the ditch near the road. His eyes were still closed.

A car passed by the scene and the man saw the wreck. He called for help and a flight for life came to take Gregg to St. Joe’s. Clouds hid the stars and it snowed.

“You should be glad he still has a chance. You should be glad he’s still with us. Thank God for his sake, and yours. By all rights his neck should have snapped.” said the nurse to the Redds.

“Do you think he’ll make it?” asked his mom.

“How’s his brain? Will he… will he be the same?” asked his dad.

“There’s no way to know. We just have to wait,” said the nurse.

“Why?” his mom asked his dad. “Why do you think… do you think he was drunk?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s worth the thought right now. Let’s just hope things work out for the best. Let’s hope he lives.”

Luck was on Gregg’s side, if you see it that way. In two weeks he could talk, though he did not have much to say. His mom and dad asked him how he crashed. He said he lost the wheel and it all went so fast that he could not be sure.

Gregg did not know how to feel. He did not feel blessed. He watched folks be rushed to his ward that died, both young and old. He did not know why he was the one who lived. He kept his eyes peeled for drugs he could take to try it once more. He knew he had to.

Gregg thought by now they would have found what was in his trunk.

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