The Meaning of Everything

He spoke of tremendous mysteries buried in numbers. “Right under your nose,” he would say. He’d spend an hour on the symbolism etched into the dollar, fill a notepad with calculations of its hidden meanings. He counted everything. Once I found him in the yard counting the needles on a pine tree, convinced the numbers…

It Had to Happen Sometime

She kept right on sweeping, just like it was nothing. Me, I had a harder time. I looked out over where the barn had been, at the orange surveyors’ stakes in the ground. Without meaning to, I let out a long sigh. “People got to live somewhere, Walt,” she said. “Had to happen sometime. Besides,…

Tell Us Again

  Tell us again about the voices. Nothing. I mean, you heard what I said about them. Yes, but we didn’t understand. Perhaps you can clarify? For example, how many are there? Four, five. I don’t know. Male? Female? I don’t know. It’s hard to say. They’re always talking. They never stop talking. Are they…

What To Forgive

This beauty. Her beauty, the beauty of the night, of Barcelona in May. He ran his finger along the rim of the wine glass until it began to chime. “My father will not be moved. I am sorry.” Her eyes glistened, but he saw no tears. Another time he would have said this was because…

Protocol

Friday Fictoneers for this week is a tough one. I stood staring at the picture of the Keck Observatory for a long time. The colonel’s blotchy face turned  salt white as he watched the screen. “Jesus,” he whispered. “Are you sure this is real?” “Absolutely certain, Colonel. We wouldn’t have enacted the protocol if we weren’t. Both of…

You Can’t Go Back

  Only the pain was real. His daddy standing over him wasn’t, dead years gone, dead of some fool accident  that made this one look minor. Yeah, minor. He laughed, more of the pain arriving along with the laugh. He wondered again why he didn’t bleed out. There was blood enough, clinging cold on what was left…

Not For The First Time: Friday Fictioneers

Anther prompt from Rochelle, 100 words based on the picture below. The foreman  cursed and screamed. Jesús understood little, but he took the meaning. The foreman eventually lost all composure, taking Jesús up by the straps of his overalls and fairly lifting him off the ground. His reddening face now inches away, flecks of spittle landing on Jesús’ cheeks…