Six Sentence Story- The Sin of Broad Brushes


PROMPT WORD:  SIN


He’d gotten away with a bald-faced lie and Jonathan knew that was a sin, but weren’t refusing to render aid to someone ‘in need’ or failing to keep a promise also sins?

It had been a fitfully long night as Jonathan continued struggling with his own conscience until the first morning light turned the two-man tent cover from black, to pea soup green, and he hadn’t slept a ‘wink’.

Duncan moaned and smacked his lips but wasn’t awake yet and Jonathan realized he preferred that to the 8 hours of tooth grinding that he had had to endure.

The two young men had become fast friends over the last 2 months at the papermill; The same mill where Jonathan had just ruined his perfect 5-year work record with a tape-recorded “call-out” message stating that he had a ‘family emergency’- all inspired by a most desperate call from Duncan who was insisting that he’d have to leave town “Right away!”.

Duncan had jumped into the car all wild-eyed and sweaty last evening claiming that the cops were after him for an armed robbery he hadn’t committed just because he was the only black man who lived nearby the mini-mart and from all the racism horror stories that Duncan had marinated Jonathan in, as well as, the recent eye-opening workplace ‘equity training’, Jonathan’s promise to protect his new friend from the growing scourge of racism that America was “built upon”, was now dramatically playing out.

Once Duncan got up and staggered away from the tent to relieve himself, Jonathan knew time was still ‘of the essence’ and set about breaking down their hastily built, remote, campsite- that’s when he discovered the bag of wadded-up cash and the handgun…

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First Line Friday: July 16, 2021 Progress

It is First Line Friday! Welcome and let’s get writing.

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“I summon you, the beasts of war!”
That was an extraordinary statement for a School Board meeting. In fact, Latrelle had never even heard that statement during his 25 year service in the U.S. Army!
But, he was there in support of the message that Critical Race Theory was poisoning his grandchildren’s chance at a harmonious future so he applauded his neighbor, and lifelong friend, Jerry, after his impassioned call to purge it from the public school curriculum.

When it was Latrelle’s turn to speak, he decided to calm the discussion by simply describing the definition of racism and drawing attention to the, not so long ago, goal of educators to offer useful skills to kids rather than their current “save the world” through indoctrination mania.

His heart sank as Jerry was escorted from the venue by police for ‘supposedly’ threatening everyone’s safety. Yeah, Jerry was so dangerous, alright. He was the guy who’d lost an arm defending his ‘brothers in uniform’ in Afghanistan.
So much had changed since he grew up in that neighborhood!

Jerry used to joke about Latrelle having more rhythm and liking fried chicken while he always told Jerry that if chaos broke out, all he’d have to do is outrun his ‘skinny white ass’. Good times!

But since his return, Jerry’s exchanges weren’t the same. They were guarded, actually, borderline robotic. Even the direct eye contact they’d shared all their lives was now minimal.

Latrelle, initially assumed that Jerry had been changed by the war but, more and more, he suspected that it was something even harder to describe. His whole hometown had lost its warmth and cohesiveness.
Progress?
He certainly couldn’t see any.

First Line Friday: July 16, 2021 | Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie (wordpress.com)



First Line Friday: May 21, 2021

Your line for this week is:

A perfectly brewed cup of tea can’t fix everything.” Fanny retorted.

Nan had done all she could do and threw up her hands. She’d waited on Fanny ‘hand and foot’ since her ‘accident’ without one ounce of gratitude.
If you asked Fanny, the world was about to end! But, her prognosis for a full recovery was solid and her needs were being met by her lifelong friend, Nan.

Nan decided to clip out a series of tragic stories and obituaries from the newspaper. Her friend’s gloomy attitude needed a dose of reality!

The next day, Fanny wasn’t treated to her tea and croissant precisely at 8:00 am. Instead, she was handed a folder and told to read its content before Nancy would do a ‘darn thing’ for her.

Forty-five minutes later, Nan found a red faced Fanny in the kitchen preparing her own breakfast. She’d been crying. Fanny motioned to Nan to sit and hobbled to the counter. After a brief pause, she gathered enough strength to present Nan with a cup of tea and croissant on a tray then, a bit unsteadily, retrieved her own.

Nan started to get up to help but Fanny waved her off.
“A perfectly brewed tea can’t fix everything but a loving friend certainly comes close. Thank-you Nan, for everything.”


First Line Friday: May 21, 2021 | Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie (wordpress.com)

For our souls…

My husband and I had many differences. One centered on our music preferences.

As an ex-naval man, he’d had a few unfortunate instances where black friends felt the need to abandon friendship (his and theirs), in favor of, their racial affiliations. He was hurt by this, and therefore, felt discrimination of a different kind. He talked of having really wonderful “buddies” who acted as if he were an “enemy” when grouped with “their kind”. You know, I don’t think he ever had a prejudiced inclination until this occurred.

Well, my affinity for Motown, didn’t make him happy. My goodness, R&B is awesome and sensual. I’d never considered it a racial statement but dang good music.

He aged and mellowed, a bit, before I put my foot down. I loved R&B and his unfortunate experiences, had nothing to do with whether I could continue to love it.

This post is for anyone, black or white, who has felt the “heat” and ugliness of racism. Grow-up! Rise above the hurt and embrace our humanity. We can only adjust our own attitudes, but that’s a great start.

The Confederate Flag was not all about anti-black sentiment and Motown is, truly, all about soul…. Not black soul or white soul. The human soul.

Random Word Story #23-Bromance

English: Rainbow trout
English: Rainbow trout (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Another in my series of short stories.

I’ve yet to write it but sit armed and ready.

The random words are generated at creativitygames.net

My words are:

beer…champagne…TV…hammer…tapestry…fish

Here’s my story:

The fish cleared the water’s surface and sparkled in the sunlight then disappeared, head first, back to the black depths. The fishing pole reacted just  like a divining rod, as it tipped and touched the surface pointing out exactly where the fish re-entered. Dale couldn’t believe the exhilaration involved in this wonderful, brand new activity.

He’d made friends with Chuck quite accidentally. Chuck was the first responder when Dale’s compact car had become wedged beneath an 18 wheeler with Dale pinned inside. Chuck’s reassuring voice had kept him calm. Chuck’s skilled hands had saved his life and their friendship was taking him places he’d never considered.

It was while Dale watched the heroic news video on TV at the hospital, that he had decided to thank Chuck personally.

They met at a local pub for drinks. Chuck ordered a draft beer and Dale had a celebratory glass of champagne since his hospital release had been only two days before. Their choices of beverages pretty much described their backgrounds. The odd, yet colorful, tapestry of a wonderful friendship had been started in that meeting. Some would call it a” bromance “…just two guys who really enjoyed each others company.

Dale had offered Chuck a guest membership at his country club. To Dale’s amazement, everyone liked Chuck immediately. He was in one word, genuine, and that transcended all social preconceptions of his worth. Crowds gathered ’round him to listen to stories, in improper grammar, of what he considered “just a job”.

Now off of the lake, Chuck was frying Dale’s prize catch.  He was not at all intimidated by social status. In fact, Chuck seemed happily unaware for the most part. Their wives had encouraged their outings and Dale was feeling a weight, greater than that semi, lifted from his spirit.

“Maybe we should invite your buddy Jackson next time old man? I’d love to see him baiting a hook with those pink gloves of his.”

“I don’t think he’d come , Chuck. He wouldn’t know what the proper angling attire is.”

“Neither did you and I’d say you are doing alright.”

They sat down to the fresh trout dinner and realized that they had forgotten to bring eating utensils.

“Use your fingers Dale. The fish won’t bite cha. We’ve got soap and water you know.”

Dale ate the best tasting meal in his memory, with his fingers.

“Here, try the eye. You fellas would pay big money for those if they were served on a plate with capers and a fancy sauce. Go ahead, old man.”

As the sun dropped behind the trees and long shadows reached their retreat, Dale reached for his cell phone. His wife wasn’t going to believe the wild adventure that he was having. There was NO service. He was disconnected.

As Chuck handed him an ice-cold beer, he could see the angst in Dale’s face. He casually reached into an old toolbox and approached him with a hammer. Dale suddenly felt as though it had all been a mistake. He was with a crazy man, a Neanderthal, maybe a serial killer. Why hadn’t he listened, why had he trusted?

Chuck laughed out loud at the sight of his new friend in total panic. What a boob!  His work with Dale was far from over, he could tell that for sure.

” I can fix that phone. Let me at it. ”

Later that evening they sat by the campfire and laughed until their sides hurt.