These are bothering me and so here’s a little bit of each one – three so far and for all I know they’re connected. They just get stuck in my head until I get them out. Sorry to bother you all. Continue reading
In 2028 the US Government took a dramatic swing from Democrat and Republican to Technocrat. After over twelve years of decline into the superstition of religion and the fear it breeds, the population rose up and replaced those running on old ideas and replaced them with those who had scientific knowledge and acumen to change the course of the country.
Technocrats and the Technocracy movement abolished old ideas keeping the country from progressing. Instead of interfering with scientific progress that might offend the religious we jumped into the deep end and made real change. One of the first major changes, after hard fought years was the removal of tax-exempt status for any religious organization involved in politics at any level. There was first outrage yet afterwards the populace found progress, real progress towards fixing the country and the world was happening. What faith and fear held back inquiry and investigation into the worlds of science blossomed new generations and ideas. Continue reading
Another year has come and gone – this one seemed to go by very quickly for me. I had a lot going on, many changes began here and continued.
It was a while in the making. I finally saw the inner workings of the service side of AA, what I assumed would be the most spiritual was the most sick I guess. It seemed all anyone wanted was what they wanted, not what was best for AA as a whole. So to me I had lost a second part of the triangle, the one I believed in most – Service. Between that and the “fake it til you make it” dishonesty in an honesty program. I’m really an atheist and cannot swallow what others do in its entirety. Don’t miss it, gives me lots of free time and less to be resentful at. I did go to a meeting with Flo when I was in Albuquerque but that was for him, I was just along. No one from AA has really reached out to me asking me about it – some have said they want to leave too, so that’s interesting. Continue reading
Somewhere over the Atlantic ocean a man named Eric john listened to the ice cubes hit his glass as he swirled his drink over the sound of the droning of the aircraft and the various conversations by the other passengers. The brandy waters down by the ice cubes but would have to do, it was a last minute flight he was lucky to get a first class seat at all.
He hadn’t had time to shave before departure, as always his face by the end of the day looked like it had been a day or two, many men admired the speed he could grow a beard but he found it tiring to have to shave so often. The salt in his dark beard bothered him more than he could explain – age had caught up with him before he was ready. That’s what the old always claimed, time goes faster as you get older. He should have listened.
He closed his eyes set his seat back and focused on his destination, he was finally going to put this all to rest. The boy had been found after all these years, in just a few hours this journey would reach it’s conclusion. That woman… that woman would pay for her interference and meddling.
He was still lost in thought when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, assuming the flight attendant must have something very important to say. Across the aisle was a pretty blonde woman, she was dressed as a professional would be and was smiling at him.
“Do you know the time?” she asked
Eric John couldn’t quite believe the question, the interruption to his own thoughts and her rudeness. He stared at her with a cold glare, reached into his pocket for his ear buds and lost himself in his music. He overheard her mumble something but just closed his eyes, focusing on the music.
Women, he thought, were always a bother. This one was just another in a long line of nuisances he’d run across in the last few years. Not to be trusted, not to be held close… only to be used and then very carefully, so as not to get caught in their schemes or let them ruin his plans.
In just a few hours the plane would land and he would finally retrieve the boy – that was all that mattered now, nothing else can interfere with that.
Earlier chapters of this story begin here: Eric John
I do a wide variety of tasks at the office. I like to think I do them all pretty well. One of the things I do that others think I do well is train people.
All I really do is share what I know. It’s akin to Alcoholics Anonymous – someone shared with me so I can do this better so now I’m sharing it with you. I may on occasion have to modify my message to be heard by someone who can’t relate to it a certain way or other but still share the same message. AA gave me that and I’ve been using it for quite a few years now.
It works for me with the people that have come into the office to be trained. I don’t lecture, or teach I share. I’ll sometimes say “this is the problem, and here is how I found a solution” and then show them how I did it. Action (that’s another thing I learned from AA), take the steps to show others how to get past an obstacle. This has worked time and time again.
But now I have a new problem. Continue reading
The beginning of this story can be found here: Eric John
Eric John had been missing two days now.
The police had questioned Mrs Smithton, but she had slipped into a shock where she couldn’t seem to talk at all. She would just stare straight ahead at nothing. Once in a while a tear would form in her eye and run down her cheek. The cheery, helpful Mrs. Smithton that had helped so many children was gone, she might never make it back from this nightmare.
The police also placed an APB and combed areas between the Smithton’s house and the school but nothing turned up. They were already talking about the length of time the boy had been missing. They started wondering if Mr. Smithton had been part of a larger child sex slavery ring that they should be looking for.
Also were questions of the boy’s father, who was he and did he just come back for the boy and the mother. The missing mother was a quandary – where was she and why hadn’t she come forward after hearing of the boys disappearance on the news.
Children’s services were trying to stay out-of-the-way. This was now a police matter, they decided, and the best resources available were being used – they had other children to look after. Continue reading
I had a conversation tonight with two gentlemen I respect – well mostly I listened 😉 We were talking about how the American way apparently is to take and keep taking. It isn’t about give and take or about giving until your heart bleeds – the American way is about pleasing yourself. No more being nice, no more helping for helping sake, no more old softy. I don’t really take them seriously, we’re hurt right now after this election.
Many people are already tired of the talking and sharing on social media and at the water coolers. This is big stuff folks and will be here until America’s Next Top Model or naked photos of some celeb show up to make us all forget – ‘Murica!
It’s been an emotional day for me – I’m sad, mad, and scared of the future. I would like to disown some friends and my older biological sister. I would like to deport half the country.
I’m mad at the gays for being so behind Hillary before the race even started they refused to see her as anything besides the winner. I’m mad at the Democrats for fucking Bernie Sanders (yes, they did). I’m mad at the Democrats for not recognizing that Bernie’s followers wants and needs mattered.
My friend Randy, he’s a nut really but sometimes he has good moments, said “I don’t think this was so much “for” Trump as it was about being “against” the status quo. I think if Bernie were in the race he would have won. I think the majority of the nation wanted a Bernie, and odd as it sounds, Hillary is soooo career politician, that Donald was the closest thing to a Bernie.” and I think that hits it pretty much on the head. Many will disagree with me – that’s ok, you still have a couple of months of free speech before they take that from us.
I voted against someone – rather something – else. I voted against Bush and Bush Beta. I voted for Bill Clinton twice, I voted for Obama, also both time. I rather liked that. It was rather nice to have something to vote for rather than against. I didn’t vote for Hillary (never really liked her, don’t have to have a reason but it has nothing to do with Bengazi or emails it’s just a feeling) rather I voted against Trump (hate, fear, intolerance, rudeness, insensitivity). Continue reading
You can read earlier parts of this story starting here: Eric John
Mrs. Wirsing was worried sick when Eric John didn’t show up for class after the second period. She just knew something bad had happened, the children’s services worker that she had met had assured her he would be in the same school district. Time just seemed to drag as she waited for lunch so she could call him.
The call was answered right away and she expressed her concerns, which actually gave the children’s services worker some fear himself. Kathy was very reliable with the kids placed in her home and would have let the school and children’s services know if Eric John were sick or unable to come to school. After getting off the phone with Mrs. Wirsing he rang the Smithton’s but all he could get was a busy signal. After several tries with no difference he decided it would be best to head on over there to check on the boy’s safety. Continue reading
One of the things I don’t think I do well when I write a story is dialogue. It just doesn’t seem to come off well and I don’t like it. I’ve done it a few times where it seems ok but when I look at it I have doubt about what I’ve done and if it should be there at all.
I remember reading one of my favorite writers (of course I can’t recall who) writing that everyone thinks their dialogue is horrid, and they’re right. With practice, they said, it gets better and they understand how to make it flow more. Anyway.. I’m not doing that Ha! But maybe the next project I start working on.
When I started writing Eric John I had some initial dialogue between he and his mother – and it just didn’t sit well with me. The initial chapter where she says good morning to him is the only real quotations in the whole chapter. I don’t bring it back until chapter six either and then briefly so.
I think it’s actually worked out nicely – I’m able to get across what I want to without any real trouble and without anyone having to figure out what who said to who and when all in quotation marks and commas with a thesaurus full of “said” words.
I’m unsure what’s all going to happen next really – I haven’t thought the whole story out. Parts of it come to mind and I get them down and see where they lead me. I’m really not sure what’s going on with a large thread but I think it’ll become clear soon (lets all hope so) but most of what Eric John will experience I know already I just have to finish the journey there.
The foster home story I pulled good things from my memories and twisted them. Its horrible to think like that as I know that for me the experience was a good safe one. But I wanted to try to convey the fear that I felt on the first day and some of that I talk about – eating a big bowl of cereal and a large pantry with a hundred varieties of food and a very nice loving mother type… but all the bad imagery is just make believe. I’m a supporter of foster homes and getting people help when they need it – most foster families are good and help families.
In my head this is all taking place in some English town – never been to an English town so it’s probably all wrong but this is what I’m picturing. When I’m writing I can see their odd streetlights and different looking cars on the streets. Even the houses in my mind are more European than American… I should work on describing those more.
Anyway, I’m not sure how much more story there is but I’ll share it on here with you folks. Thanks to my readers and sharers I appreciate you and your comments.
This story begins here: Eric John
A light knock on the door as it opened followed by a soft “Good morning dear” and Eric John thought it had all been a nightmare. But he looked up to see Kathy, not his mother, in the doorway. She had changed into an orange ensemble for the day so she was a blob of orange in the door – she was still smiling and urged him to come down for breakfast as she left.
The horrors of the previous night flooded his mind as he felt an ache in his bottom. He rushed to the little bathroom and found blood and feces in his pajama bottoms. He had a sudden urge to vomit and just made it to the toilet before it came up. He cried again and tried to hold back the sobbing but it just wouldn’t so he let it all out. He took a shower, got dressed and headed to the dining room. Continue reading