My Fiction – Page 4

The Good Doctor

Dean let out a sigh as he settled himself in front of the old IBM Selectric. Completing death certificates could be tedious, yet there was something rewarding about getting every last detail correct. There were so many places to get hung up, but decades of small-town medical practice had refined his skills. He’d been working on this one for days, although he’d been anticipating it for some time. Some things were inevitable.

The state of Minnesota had moved to electronic death reporting, and many of the fields he’d been able to leave blank in his early days of practice were now required. The Office of Vital Statistics had streamlined and standardized the documentation of death, but the process wasn’t any easier. As county coroner, Dean had done enough of them, and no one was as familiar with the finer nuances as he. Things would not be the same with him leaving. So few physicians understood the importance of accuracy, and that included his well-intentioned successor. Proper death reporting was an under-appreciated art.

Speed Writing #8 – Good Deeds

“Excuse me.” The young voice startled me, and I looked up from where I was hunched into the trunk of my car, rummaging for the jack. She looked Japanese and about fourteen. Her black and silver clothes made me think of the night sky. She stood in the center of the sidewalk, a hopeful expression on her face.

“Do you have a map I could borrow?” she asked.

“Uhh…” It took me a moment to pull my brain from the track it was on, to one that could answer her question. Poor kid was lost. I realized she wasn’t alone, though. Another girl, similarly dressed, stood in the grass several feet back. She was holding what looked like a couple of brooms behind her back. “I don’t have like a paper map or anything,” I said, wondering what happened to the one I used to keep in the glove box. “But I could pull one up on my phone, if that would help.”

She looked puzzled. “You can do that?” she asked.

Speed Writing #7 – Intimidation Gone Awry

I leaned against my elbows on the high top table and gazed at the stage. The between set curtain was still down, and I could see tennis shoes moving back and forth while the roadies set up for the next band, and real reason I was even here.

Clubs were not my scene, but once in a while there was a band I liked enough to endure the crowds and noise. The Fratellis fell into that camp, so here I was, at First Avenue, by myself, waiting. At least no one had spilled their beer on me, and my feet were relatively unscathed so far. Unlike my friends, who dressed up to go out, I preferred to wear clothes I didn’t care about.

I felt the table jiggle a bit and turned my head to see the guy who’d taken the stool next to me.

“Is it okay if I sit here? ” he asked.

I shrugged. “It’s a free country. “ Usually sounding bored and disinterested worked on those few who decided to hit on me.

He looked puzzled. “I mean, you’re not saving it for anyone or anything like that, are you?”

I shook my head. “Nope. “

He smiled, and I cringed internally. Instead of a friendly expression, it showed his ego, in all its glory. Ugh. I wondered if he practiced that one, thinking it looked sexy. Then I wondered how many other women agreed with him, or at least went along with it.

Peony

Birth does not always call attention to itself. It is not necessarily a thing of beauty. There is not always screaming, although sometimes that simply comes later.

The stainless-steel kitchen sink was half full of water so cold the bare sides above were fogged and condensing. The shiny silver faucet was dotted with sweat, and droplets slid one by one into the pool of water below. Two recently clipped peonies floated on their petal heavy heads, their stems sticking straight up in the air like some sort of backward bouquet. Small groups of ants gathered in the green cup where the stem joined the blossom. Some had climbed the stem to hang precariously on upside-down leaves. Floating lifeless in the water were the casualties who had not made it from their places deep within the flower before the deadly flood reached them.

Speed Writing #6 – Pannetone Papers and Poor Choices

He had just dropped the last of the bread dough into a pan when his cell phone started to vibrate in his back pocket. He quickly brushed his hands off on the front of his apron before reaching back to blindly turn it off. It was his five-minute warning. She was like clockwork. While she’d only lived in the upstairs apartment for about two weeks, he already had her morning schedule down.

“I’m going out for panettone papers, do you need anything?” he called to Elise, his boss and the owner of the bakery.

“Can you bring me two dozen eggs?” She responded from behind the double-decker oven on the other side of the kitchen, her usual location this time of day.

“Sure thing.” He pulled off his apron and hung it on a peg near the back door, then went out into the alley.

When Elise first opened the bakery, she’d converted the old garage into storage. Anything that couldn’t handle the heat of the kitchen, especially consistent heat day after day, and perishable supplies were kept out here. In the winter, it was a nice break from the heat to walk the fifteen feet to the store room. Normally the alley was quiet and empty. But that had changed about two weeks ago. He hadn’t actually even met her yet, didn’t know her name, but somehow just the sight of her could turn even the worst day around. Sure, she was pretty, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else about her, and he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

Speed Writing #5 – Fairly Artistic

She looked down into the swiftly flowing water of the tiny stream, imagining her troubles flowing away with the water. If they bumped into a couple of rocks and cracked along the way, so much the better.

“Excuse me –”

She shrieked in surprise, turning so fast her feet slipped on the gritty limestone. Her arms pinwheeled desperately in an attempt to catch her balance. She felt her hand hit something, then everything stopped for just a moment.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You’re not going to fall.” Though a Germanic accent colored his speech, his English was perfect.

Speed Writing #4 – Night Swimming

There was nothing more perfect than gliding through the water at two in the morning, under a cloudless sky with a sliver of a moon. This was when everything was calm. The annoying mosquitoes and even more annoying drunks had all gone to sleep or passed out. The bats, who were active early on, had settled in for a few hours. The surface of the lake was still, glassy, with the exception of the small ripples spreading out from her body.

Having a restaurant and bar right on the edge of the lake was a novelty, though it had worn off after the third or fourth karaoke night. It wasn’t that she minded the music. She was all for expressions of happiness. But the off key howling of hammered patrons hurt her sensitive ears. Her evening swims had moved later and later. And it seemed she had finally stumbled upon the perfect time.

Teeth in Soft Places

Bee was a vampire teddy bear. While his plush siblings clamored to frolic with children in the sun, he preferred the shadows and shady areas. It wasn’t that he was in danger of bursting into flames or abruptly deteriorating, because that’s one of those vampire myths that just isn’t true. He was simply of a darker nature and preferred a habitat to match. He often found himself grossly misjudged by his appearance. Baby blue fur and a pelt-matching satin necktie did not fit the stereotype of a vampire. Sharp functional fangs didn’t fit the expectations of a teddy bear.

No other vampires were produced at the facility where he was made, and it seemed his state was accidental. Still, quality control had passed him through, possibly because a despondent man was responsible for ensuring that each plush animal, of the type produced that day, was as free of flaws as the next. The man never had his own teddy bear, and had since been conditioned to believe he didn’t need one. Despite his on-site training, he was not an expert on appropriate features for stuffed animals.

Speed Writing #3 – Sleepy Traveler

The thing about traveling solo is that you never know who you’re going to meet. Meegan’s parents perpetually expected her to run into rapists and murderers, compliments of hyperbolic media. She’d encountered some really nice folks and a few incredibly rude ones, so really, just people being people. She expected this trip to be a lot of the same.

She hadn’t been to Minnesota in a couple of years, not since the meeting where she’d landed these particular clients. Most of the time she was able to work with them over the phone or online, but they had a new CEO, and he was the sort who liked to meet everyone in person once. All that being the case, she’d decided to tack a little vacation on to her trip. Her co-workers assumed she would spend most of her time at the Mall of America, but she’d seen it on her last trip, and it was enough to know it wasn’t really her thing. She’d heard there were really nice trails both in and near the Twin Cities, and that was what she was really looking forward to.

Autumn

It was quiet in the big woods these days. From atop her great pine, Zenza could see over most of her neighboring trees. Holding two branches for support, she leaned out, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She smiled as fallen leaves, wet from a recent rain, filled her senses.

“Don’t do it!”

The horrified shout broke her out of her reverie and she looked around for the source.

“For the love of maple sugar, don’t do it!”

She knew that voice. She looked down into a young maple that had barely begun to change color despite the season. Darja stood on one of the uppermost branches and, even from the distance, Zenza could see fear on the girl’s face.

“Oh Zenza, it’s only autumn.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. Why did she always have to get the nervous neophytes?

“It’s not worth killing yourself,” she said gently. “You’d be missed far too much.”