Astro Jump: DJ Pound and Nick Leng bring fresh beats to Whistle Stop
Chad Deal 9:26 p.m., June 19
when the cowpoke's grandson started his trip from San Diego to Ottawa he'd finished a fitful vacation there
why he needed to travel a thousand miles to prowl even he couldn't surmise
he'd left his Stang for his 2nd cousin to use and bring up in a month...he knew instinctively as he drove out of sight of that little greasy spoon in Neah Bay that he'd never see that mystical reader of diverse books again
he really was afraid to... complicating relationships were not his game...but as he leaned back into the softness of a rough corduroy cushion she in inexplicably like Autumn's hush entered his mind
a long held wish assailed him and a sudden smell of burned popcorn filled his nose
in his mind he was thinking no no no...no woman could ever complete him
then slowly his eyelids closed as he drifted away....it was a long long ride on the Coastal Starlight to Seattle ....long but expectantly beautiful all along the coastline
so much of the trip was ocean viewing and he never got tired of seeing it
oceans of water to eventually turn to oceans of wheat barley and rape dancing in the winds or being harvested in Canada's heartland....
mountains getting ready for snow...the jagged sawtooths of the Canadian Rockies far surpassed any view of the Rockies below the 49th
sea terns rolling and gliding thru an overcast sky
soon it would be the transcontinental thru Canada to the right coast and the dreams of a prairie boy eager to both love and hate the small towns of the plains
it was difficult learning to speak French..badly at first...then like a Quebec native
when he jumped on the train in Vancouver he had a slight headache so he didn't fight the drooping eyelids
the conductor noticed he'd dropped his sketch book...he picked it up off the floor and laid it on the table before him...when the supper bell chimed the passenger didn't wake up...but the conductor thought little about it as he leaned in to tell him to head for the diner he noticed a smell
the passenger had wet his pants and couldn't be roused
as he drifted away he'd seen her..his muse...enveloped in deathlike irony with ravens flying out of her screaming mouth
was she sending him the final vicious attack??
he had no time left to think about it!
Comments
richzombie Oct. 2, 2011 @ 4:30 p.m.
quite a story tucked into this snippet -thanks for the sunday enjoyment !!
nan shartel Oct. 3, 2011 @ 1:22 p.m.
yes this mentally mysterious
but oh so ordinary Canadian
is more then meets the eye
and from the sound
of this snippet
it looks as tho
he means to die
quillpena Oct. 3, 2011 @ 12:13 p.m.
and then some
nan shartel Oct. 3, 2011 @ 1:24 p.m.
u wonder what was up Quill
looks as if the Canadian may be down for the count
this guy has been a lover and a villain in my work for years...the only unchanging part of his character has been his tendency to be unreadable in what i always hoped was a very readable way
nan shartel Oct. 3, 2011 @ 5:19 p.m.
by the way Quill...my Canadian's name is Booker
Ruth Newell Oct. 3, 2011 @ 5:27 p.m.
Pshaw!lol
Like the piece and hey--that's MY mystery man's name, too! Whaddya know!
nan shartel Oct. 3, 2011 @ 5:30 p.m.
brilliant minds yada yada yada ;-D)
thx roody
Ruth Newell Oct. 3, 2011 @ 5:29 p.m.
And I loved the line burned popcorn line...by the by...
nan shartel Oct. 3, 2011 @ 5:42 p.m.
the burned popcorn line is real ...it's a smell many people have when an aneurysm burst in their brains
Ruth Newell Oct. 3, 2011 @ 8:46 p.m.
i HAD no IDEA!! WOW
nan shartel Oct. 3, 2011 @ 10:15 p.m.
that's how carefully i do the research on what i write Roody
nah...hhahahahahahahahahahaha...i just have ubermedical expertise from 30 years working in the medical field ;-D
but Booker isn't dead yet
he hasn't died in 10 years and he's not dying now if this writer has anything to do with it
now the damage to his brain...er..um...that's yet to be written
Dadler Oct. 6, 2011 @ 9:07 p.m.
I think that cleared something outta my soul. Clutter. Too many pinecones collected when I was a kid, whom I'd since forgotten I'd even forgotten.
nan shartel Oct. 7, 2011 @ 11:01 a.m.
let's hope a burtsting brain aneurysm isn't the answer 2 long lost or forgotten pinecones Dadler...
perhaps we r sometimes silly squirrels who gather 2 much against the hunger of the coming winter of our souls
considering the difficulties of many of us with the anesthesia drugs (pills and alcohol) trying to forget is an epidemic 4 some
many don't know that if all the liquid was taken out of alcohol it become ether
storing the memories away and then revisiting them from time to time to glean new enlightenment works better
of course Booker won't have that opportunity...
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