LitBit #6: Thursday in Tacoma

The challenge: to write a story in less than 500 words.

The rules: It must be less than 500 words, it must be complete and it must be clean.

Why not write your own LitBit? Email info@alderway.com with your story.

Today’s LitBit comes from Jesse Butcher. 495 words. Enjoy!

THURSDAY IN TACOMA

I haven't tasted freedom in nearly three years. This house on Chinook Avenue sags beneath the weight of a half-century of rain-soaked Tacoma winters and I sit, endlessly counting the bars separating me from liberty.

As always, Thursday night marks his arrival. Although she conceals my cell, I sometimes catch a glimpse of his entrance. He is worn, too many miles driven on an endless highway, too many dreams buried beneath a numbing diesel-roar.

Hours pass and I hear his cries, not hers. Later he flashes past my portal; always leaving with more certainty than he exhibited when he arrived. Could it be she cares more for me than this Thursday-night visitor? God, what agony! Sometimes I think I might love my captor … but most times I simply hate myself.

*

This rainy place is the last leg; Houston to Fresno with Chiquitas, Fresno to Tacoma with oranges, Tacoma to Philly with apples. I start all over in Philly; my Houston-outbound is margarine in little plastic tubs. I make money on this run and spend most Sundays at home.  And then there's Tacoma.

She never sees anyone else on Thursday night, setting this special time aside for us to savor. She knows we have something special but she never acknowledges it. I suppose she's been hurt too many times before.

'I'll always love you, Ada,' I whisper to her as her head rests on my shoulder. I think she hasn't heard me and decide the moment has passed when she suddenly looms above me. 

'You don't love me,' she says, her face close to mine. I can smell her last stale cigarette. Her silhouette is zebra-striped, slashed white then black by the street light streaming through the window blinds.

I'm always sad when I leave Tacoma but the regret fades as I get closer to Philly. After sixteen-years and two kids, I suppose my wife knows I'm no damn good. Sometimes I think I might really love Ada … but most times I simply hate myself.

*

I suppose I should get rid of that bird.  He long ago stopped singing, or screeching, or whatever it is that birds do.  Anyway, I cover his cage when I have a visitor. I know it seems crazy but somehow I feel he's watching me, judging me.

Thanks to Roy from Philly, Thursdays are a breeze. He drops a trailer-load of oranges at the pulp plant and arrives at my place before dark. Roy's big and dumb but he is a Godsend. Every day but Thursday I have to work the Great Western truck stop just to make enough to buy a rock. These days a smoke is all I have, except for Roy … and that damn bird. 

Each time he visits, Roy tells me he loves me. I know that's crap but I suppose I like hearing it. Sometimes when I'm alone, I think I might love Roy, too … but most times I simply hate myself.

Jesse Butcher

Jesse Butcher is the author of the Mike Bishop thriller Muleshoe and the short story anthology, Final Thoughts. Visit Jesse Butcher's Amazon author’s page here and Facebook author’s page here.

LitBit #5: Clueless in Seattle

The challenge: to write a story in less than 500 words.

The rules: It must be less than 500 words, it must be complete and it must be clean.

Why not write your own LitBit? Email info@alderway.com with your story.

Today’s LitBit comes from Lisa Hall Deckert. 492 words. Enjoy!

CLUELESS IN SEATTLE

‘OMG!’ Kara squealed, staring at her i-phone. ‘Nali, do you think that Don might have been cheating on me when we were in Seattle last month?’

Denali sighed. ‘I don’t think Don would invite you along with his family to their annual family reunion if he planned to cheat on you, Kara.’

‘Yeah well, look at this picture,’ Kara said, handing Denali the cell phone.

The picture was of a couple with their arms around each other, posed with the Space Needle in the background.  It was kind of hard to see their faces because the sun was behind them, long shadows reaching toward the camera.  Still, the tall, broad-shouldered guy was clearly Don, and the almost as tall chick with the long blond hair was just as clearly not Kara.  Kara was short, with wavy golden brown hair and cocker spaniel eyes. 

‘I can’t believe he would do this to me,’ Kara wailed.  ‘Sometimes he flirts a little with other girls, but I’ve never know him to be sneaky about it.  We were together the whole time we were in Seattle, except for once when Don’s mother and aunt and a couple of cousins and I went out for a girly lunch downtown.  But we were only gone from about eleven-thirty to two or so.  Other than that, Don and I were together at the reunion or the ball game or something the whole time. 

‘Do you think he was just waiting for me to leave so he could sneak over and see this girl?’ Kara continued. ‘If she is an old friend or something, I don’t really mind if he met up with her, but his not mentioning anything about it looks suspicious, don’t you think? I wonder who she is.’

‘Slow down, Kara,’ Denali said. ‘Who sent you this picture?’

‘It’s from Don’s cousin, Tina,’ Kara answered.  ‘Actually, I’m surprised that she would send this to me because I got the feeling that she didn’t really like me, but still. I wonder how she got the picture, though, since she was at the lunch with us. I guess whoever took the picture might have sent it to her. Anyway, the point is that Don sneaked off to see some other girl while I was at lunch and he didn’t tell me about it.’

‘Kara, relax,’ Denali said.  ‘Just ask Don about it. This picture wasn’t taken at lunchtime.’

‘What do you mean?’ Kara asked, looking at the picture again.

‘This picture clearly wasn’t taken between eleven and two.  Look at the shadows, Kara. The sun was low in the sky. It must have been taken in the evening.’

‘Ooo, you’re right,’ Kara said.  ‘I’ll forward it to Don and ask him.’

A few minutes later, Kara’s phone beeped.  She looked at the message and smiled. ‘You were right,’ she said. ‘It’s a picture of him and another cousin from last year’s reunion. Stupid Tina. Thanks, Denali, see you later.’

Lisa Hall Deckert

Lisa Hall Deckert is the author of two Denali mysteries, both available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes and Smashwords.

They Called It Moosicide can be purchased here for Amazon Kindle in the UK and here for Amazon Kindle in the US.

Denali’s Dozen: Twelve Little Mysteries You Can Solve can be purchased here for Amazon Kindle in the UK and here for Amazon Kindle in the US.

LitBit #2: To The Last

The challenge: to write a story in less than 500 words.

The rules: It must be less than 500 words, it must be complete and it must be clean.

Why not write your own LitBit? Email info@alderway.com with your story.

Today’s LitBit comes from Nigel K. Hammond. 498 words. Enjoy!

TO THE LAST

I struggle to open my eyes, it take several seconds to open them and a few more to focus on anything. Try as I might, I just can’t see as clearly as usual.

‘Maybe, if I just sit up.’

The words rattle around my head as I think them, followed by a sharp pain somewhere deep inside my skull. As I lift my head I start to feel woozy, the room spins and I am, again, defeated. My body is fighting my commands.

‘Something is wrong!’ again, a reverberation in my mind.

I try once more, this time with some success. I make out a clock above a door frame; I’ve not seen it before. The light is bright and is making it difficult to see much of the room in which I lay but, as I scan it, things become clearer.

‘A hospital room, I’m in a hospital room. Why? How did I get here?’

Thinking no longer hurts or takes much effort, although the awkward way in which I have put most of my weight on to my right elbow is causing fatigue so I ease myself back down on to the pillow.

The door edges open and a face peers at me, then disappears. I hear a shout but I do not understand the words. I move back on to my elbow trying to shift my weight so that I might sit up properly but this simple act seems beyond my ability. The door swings open, two, no, three people rush in. I lose my balance and my top-heaviness starts to take me over the side of the bed. Another unintelligible shout, this time, I assume, directed at me as one of the three rushes over to stop me falling. They place me carefully back on to the bed and start to talk. There is a man; I think he must be the doctor, and two women, one a nurse and the other … the other? I feel I should know her but …

I try again to sit but I’m met with more forceful words. I recognise some of them this time but my mind seems fractured. The nurse pushes me back down on to the bed and holds me there. My heart starts to race, I wrestle for breath as panic sets in. She keeps talking but I can barely understand a word as we struggle. A mask is put over my face, at first it makes the panic worsen but quickly helps me to catch my breath.

I’m so tired now.

The second woman is sat by me, she takes my hand and her gentle voice begins to calm me. I don’t know what she is saying but I feel the warmth of her tone wash over me.

I’m so tired.

Her face has sadness and desperation yet beams with love.

Then ... I know!

I muster all the strength I can.

“Jennifer, I ...”

A darkness falls over me, I hear weeping and then.

Nigel K. Hammond

Follow Nigel K Hammond on Twitter (@mrsmokestoomuch)

Read Nigel K Hammond's blog here.

LitBit #1: The Overcomer

The challenge: to write a story in less than 500 words.

The rules: It must be less than 500 words, it must be complete and it must be clean. 

Why not write your own LitBit? Email info@alderway.com with your story.

Our first LitBit comes from Alderway author M.P.Hedley. 497 words. Enjoy!

THE OVERCOMER

Tick, tock, and the baying of hounds will creep and dismay. Yes, I’ve heard it all before and no, I didn’t believe it either. Until tonight. I know what you’re thinking - it’s only a fairytale, told to scare children into obedience and the safety of their beds: the spectral dog that scours the city at night, desperate to quench its thirst for troubled souls, drawn to the scent of a child’s tantrum.

Yesterday I would have agreed with you.  I’d have been the first to shout down such nonsense. But now ... now I know.  

I heard it, you see. Outside my window, just like my mum always said I would hear it if I ever made trouble at night. A wailing in the distance, getting nearer until I could swear I heard its breath against the glass.

I hid in the darkness, huddled under my blankets, but how do you hide from something that only sees anger and fear, only hears despair and torment? But what else could I do? I did what the story always says you must do. I lay perfectly still and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I forced my happiest memory into my mind - the day I finally succeeded in climbing the rope at school all the way to the top (I know, it’s stupid, but there you have it) - and I did my very best to overcome the evil outside with the good within me. But it was not enough. I could hear the danger rattling at the window. The hound was threatening to enter.

If I was to defeat this peril I needed something more. It was a terrible battle of souls but failure was not an option. Everything was on the line and I knew it. And that’s when it happened. I can’t explain it, but as I laid there, my eyes scrunched tight, paralysed beneath the blankets, everything changed. And I knew ... the story was only half right. Yes, I must rely on the goodness within me, but I must also step forward to exercise this goodness. I knew what I had to do. I opened my eyes and sat up. It felt like madness to do it but I was determined. I threw the blankets aside and climbed out of the bed. I walked to the window. I won’t lie - doubt gripped me as I grasped the curtain, but I wasn’t turning back now. I threw back the curtain and I saw ...

Nothing.

There was nothing, except a tree scraping against the window pane; nothing, except the silence; nothing, except the blackness of night. And then for the final flourish of victory I reached for the light and flicked the switch. Now even the darkness was banished, along with my foe.

I never saw the hound but I know it was there. And now I know something else: with goodness and boldness and light, I am the more powerful.

M. P. Hedley

M. P. Hedley's debut novel The Lost Story: The Scroll of Remembrance is published by Alderway and can be purchased here for Amazon Kindle in the UK, and here for Amazon in the US. 

Follow M. P. Hedley on Twitter (@freddyhedley)

Read M. P. Hedley's blog here.

Join in with Alderway!

Welcome to the brand new Alderway Publishing blog. This is going on-line in advance of the Alderway website, which should be up and running very soon at www.alderway.com. So, by way of introduction, let me tell you one brief thing about Alderway and one brief thing about this blog.

Alderway

Alderway Publishing is a new UK-based independent publishing company, focused on the release of e-books. Currently we have published one title - the excellent The Lost Story: The Scroll of Remembrance by M P Hedley, a young adult fantasy adventure novel (available for sale on Amazon here) - but we are planning future releases by this and other authors in the coming months.

This Blog

As the output of Alderway and its authors grows, we will update this blog with occasional news and features, but the main purpose of this blog is to give a voice to writers. Specifically, we are excited to invite writers to take part in writing LitBits. LitBits are stories told in less than 500 words, and the rules are simple: the story must be no more than 500 words, it must be a complete story and must be clean. Other than that, it's up to your imagination! We will consider all genres, including poetry, except erotica.

We cannot guarantee to post every story that we are submitted, and there may be a delay before we post a story, as we work through the number of submissions and also try and give each new LitBit a short time as the newest blog post. But we will try and post as many as we can, and we look forward to reading what you send! To submit, email us at info@alderway.com and include your LitBit, a few details about you and any information you would like to link to (where your books can be bought, your twitter feed, etc).