Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction, Writing

Christmas Miracle

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The street light glowed brightly at the end of the side street of the dying town. It was Christmas Eve but the homeless men who huddled around the barrel glowing with fire didn’t notice. They were focused on getting warm. It was a frigid winter’s night.

Most of the men didn’t have gloves and held their hands over the fire. Some would probably not survive the night. All would sleep close to the barrel or in nearby doorways. The small town didn’t have funds to help the homeless.

They were hungry but their hunger took second place to the cold. Out of the darkness, a shadow appeared. The shadow approached the men slowly. It was a young girl carrying large brown bags in both hands.

She sat the bags on the ground and walked away. The smell of hot food was  unmistakable. The men slowly walked toward the bags and smiled at their Christmas miracle.

155 words

#amwriting #amblogging #writing #flashfiction #fiction

Photo credit to @Maria@Doodles and Scribbles

Thanks, Priceless Joy!

Posted in Non-fiction

Travel: Mystical Matlacha

 

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Ivy had worked hard all summer and fall. She was a writer and had been working on the first draft of her first novel. A first novel is hard enough. The first draft is a killer. Ivy was ready for a break before she started editing. Writer’s don’t have much money and Ivy was no exception, but she did sell some of her writing so she had some cash to burn. She decided to take her break in one of her favorite places.  Mystical       Matlacha, Florida. A funky little Old Florida fishing village on the little bit of land between mainland Florida at Ft. Myers/Cape Coral and Pine Island, one of the barrier islands in the Gulf. Pine Island is immediately north of Sanibel Island.

Matlacha is definitely off the beaten path. It’s near Cape Coral and Ft. Myers but the road to it runs toward the Gulf Coast and Pine Island. The population hovers around 750 citizens, plus or minus. It is actually one of three islands – Matlacha, Little Pine Island, and Pine Island. Matlacha is the mystical, magical, whimsical one of the three. Ivy felt like she needed a Matlacha fix before she embarked on editing the first draft of her novel. She had loaded up a couple of weeks worth of clothes, her bicycle, and her friend, Shelby, and they had driven from their home in Tennessee. A long drive but worth it. Shelby loved Matlacha as much as Ivy did.

The minute they saw The Bridge, they both got excited.

“Look, Ivy, there’s The Bridge,” cried Shelby..

“Oh my God, Shelby,” “It’s still under construction,” Ivy said, as they maneuvered their truck through the very narrow lane across The Bridge. The Bridge in Matlacha is called “the fishingest bridge in the world.” Day and night, there were always dozens of people fishing off that bridge.

Ivy was tired and just wanted to find their bed and breakfast in the small town. They were staying at Bridgewater Inn. Ivy had stayed there before and she loved the porch that wrapped around the small inn. It was the perfect place to relax and watch the dolphins, manatees, and tarpon. Deep-sea fishing is one of the pastimes in Matlacha. Ivy had plans to fish for tarpon one day while Shelby shopped.

Ivy and Shelby got checked in the Bridgewater Inn and went to the porch to relax and shake off the road dust and noise.

Ivy asked Shelby, “Do you remember the first time we were here and went fishing for tarpon?”

“Oh yes,” said Shelby. “I had never heard of a fish called a tarpon before we came here that first time. Then we went fishing and the damn thing almost capsized our boat!”

Tarpon are huge game fish prized by fishermen but they aren’t very good to eat. Their habits are interesting as they come to the surface to take big gulps of air. They can weigh up to about 280 pounds. The area around Matlacha is prime tarpon hunting waters.

“It’s a good thing we had fishermen with us that knew what they were doing or we would have ended up in the Gulf with the tarpon,” Ivy said, and they both laughed.

After they had their fill of the warm breeze and view of the calm bay surrounding Matlacha, Ivy and Shelby decided to take a walk down the mile-long main street that runs through Matlacha. Not only did they want to walk, but they also wanted to find a place for dinner as they were hungry after a long day of driving.

They first passed the Doll Lady’s house. In her yard, there are hobby horses and dolls that sit in metal chairs. It looks like a whimsical shop should be inside, but there is no shop. There is a sign on the door announcing this. It is a private home and the Doll Lady is just entertaining the tourists.

They pass a number of gift shops. Many are rather high-end gift shops where souvenirs that have an ocean theme can be found. They aren’t junk but pieces of art. There are a number of fine art galleries showcasing local artists work and some showcasing the work of well-known artists. Much of the work is for sale and would look fine in your home. You will also find Trader’s Hitching Post which sells fine silver and turquoise jewelry. There are, of course, the requisite tee-shirt shops, but most shops have goods that are higher quality and higher prices. Most of the shops and buildings in Matlacha are painted in pastel colors so typical of Old Florida.

“There is Bert’s Bar and Grill,” said Shelby. Both women had been looking forward to stopping by Bert’s to eat. Bert’s is an interesting place. You’ll know it by all the Harley’s parked at the curb and the pool tables in the front of the Bar and Grill. If you walk past the pool tables, you get to the restaurant.

Ivy and Shelby sat down and were immediately spotted by a server. They both ordered a grouper sandwich platter, the requisite order at Bert’s, at least the first time you stop by on a visit to Matlacha.

Ivy said, “I have been dreaming about having a grouper sandwich here. Bert’s has the best grouper I’ve ever tasted.” Shelby concurred.

After eating, Ivy and Shelby walked back to their bed and breakfast and got ready for bed. It had been a long drive and they were ready to turn in for the night.

There are other excellent restaurants in Matlacha. There is Sandy Hook’s Fish and Rib House which serves excellent fish and other entrees along with Moretti’s Seafood Restaurant on the water. For dessert, there is a wonderful ice cream shop near The Bridge. There are usually vendors all along the road through Matlacha selling various types of fish if you are staying in a place where you can cook.

There are also other lodgings besides the Bridgewater Inn. Check out Knoll’s Court Motel and Matlacha Island Cottages. Most of all, enjoy this fascinating island whether you fish or shop or sit and watch the dolphins like Ivy and Shelby. It will do your soul good. #Florida #amblogging

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in environment, Flash Fiction

The Demise of Family Farming

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As Ronan trudged to the barn in the crunchy, frosty grass, he continued the train of thought he had all night. He had slept very little last night. Could he really make farming work in today’s world? He and Sherry, his wife of five years, had worked so hard to establish their 100-acre organic farm in the western part of Kentucky. The soil was rich and the conditions were just right to grow any number of crops. But the weather!

Ronan believed climate change was playing havoc with the weather in this area. What used to be lush and green when he grew up here was now starved for water. This past summer, Ronan had to irrigate his crops which cut deeply into the little profit he made.

Other young couples wanted to join him in organic farming but they saw no future in it. They wanted to grow their own food and have enough to sell and support their families.

Sherry was getting tired of having nothing. Everything was so expensive.

Ronan feared the pollution that caused climate change has killed all their dreams. He was thinking of shutting down the farm. Others were thinking of doing the same.

200 words

#amwriting #amblogging #writing #organicfarming

*This post in response to the the challenge from flashfictionfromthepracticalpractitioner

Posted in Creative Nonfiction Essays, Finance, Writing

CQ: What does “Wealth” Mean to me?

 

Wealth. I suppose some would call defining the concept of wealth creative. I don’t. After being a finance professor for over 27 years, I take the word “wealth” in a very literal sense. No arguments! I’m the finance professor in the room.

In a capitalist society such as the one we live in here in the United States, wealth is simply defined as the monetary or exchange value of something. Economic value, if you will. An example. Investors and speculators own corporations. Each part of the corporation is called a share. Each share has a monetary value. If a share of XYZ, Inc. is worth $10, then an investor who owns 10 shares has $100 of value in that corporation. That is called shareholder’s “wealth.” After my own professors in my Ph.D program convinced me of this,, through fear of retribution, and teaching it for so many years, I do indeed believe that wealth can be defined in terms of economic or monetary value.

Wealth is used in a similar manner throughout the quantitative business disciplines. I take the concept of wealth as factual and accurate and as I defined it in the first paragraph.

Can “wealth” and “creative” be used in the same sentence? Some large banks, non-banking institutions, and other financiers certainly tried to do that during the recession of 2008 when they used all sorts of creative financing methods to lend money to homeowners who really didn’t qualify for mortgages. The economy almost collapsed due to such shenanigans. That’s what I call the creative use of the word “wealth.”

Are there other creative meanings to the word “wealth?” I suppose we could say we are wealthy if we have a plethora of kittens or puppies or the love of our families. That is the warm and fuzzy side of wealth and I think there should be another word to describe such states of mind, not the word “wealth” which is clearly so useful in the business world. Maybe we should say we have an abundance of kittens or our cornucopia runneth over with the love of our families instead of using the business-honored word of wealth. We certainly would not describe the state of our corporations’ shareholders by saying “shareholder’s abundance” or “the shareholder’s  of XYZ, Inc.’s cornucopia runneth over,” would we? That would not be correct business terminology. Wealth has to be quantifiable, measurable. It’s hard to measure the value of said puppies or kittens or the love of our families.

Now you know this writer’s definition of wealth. What you don’t know is how much fun it has been writing this post and being the curmudgeon in the room! #amwriting #amblogging #writing #creativequestions

In response to Creative Questions

Posted in weekendcoffeeshare, Writing

#weekendcoffeeshare 12/10/2016

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“Jenn, I’m so glad you’re back for our #weekendcoffeeshare! It’s been a long time since we’ve had coffee together,” I said as Jenn came through the door.

“Oh, I’m glad to be back. I’ve been gone too long. I’m anxious to hear what’s been going on. Let me help you serve everyone.”

“Thanks, Jenn,” I said.

As folks started coming round, Jenn and I served coffee, cappuccino, expresso. We also served apricot, chai, and Indian spice tea, along with hot chocolate. Everyone settled in with their hot beverage of choice. They were all glad to see Jenn.

Jenn started our coffeeshare by telling us about her recent trip to the Ft. Myers, Florida area, which is also one of my favorite areas in Florida. They had actually stayed in Punta Gorda but had visited one of my favorite Florida towns, Matlacha. It is a small, “old Florida” fishing village and one of the communities on Pine Island, FL, a place where Jenn and I have both vacationed many times. Matlacha has some of the best seafood restaurants and bars in all of Florida, in my opinion. Pine Island is also one of my favorite places to vacation, at least on the Gulf side of Florida. Great deep sea fishing and sightseeing to the outer islands. The best grouper I’ve ever eaten. A quiet old Florida culture.

I wish I was in Matlacha right now! It’s getting cold in Kentucky. Last night was in the low 20s and today, we’ll be lucky if the temperature gets out of the 20s. The dreaded polar vortex has decided to pay us another visit as it did last winter. Kicks my seasonal affective disorder and newly-discovered claustrophobia right into high gear! Maybe I’m getting used to winter. I’ve haven’t noticed it as much this week.

I want to tell you about the most interesting book I’m reading. Writers have to read, of course. It’s called Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance. Some of you may know that I come from an area of the country very near to Appalachia. Vance wrote this novel about Appalachia, his home, and it is an excellent story and also a good look at the culture of the area. If you’re interested in Appalachia or just in different cultures, give it a look. It really is a good story. I hear it isn’t terribly popular in the Appalachian region. Vance doesn’t always paint a flattering picture of the culture but what culture doesn’t have unflattering aspects? If you are interested in the Appalachian culture, try books by the author Silas House who is a good writer technically and knows the culture inside and out. House is a wonderful storyteller.

I have gotten very little work done on my novel this week. This novel seems to be so character-driven. The characters have taken on a life of their own and, in any psychological thriller, there are a number of twists and turns. One character has caused a major twist this week. I have to see where this one takes me.

I’ve been really fond of listening to classical music this week in my writing studio. Do you find that music with lyrics disturbs your writing? I surely do. So classical or jazz it is. Sometimes, I prefer silence. I moved out into my writing studio to escape the television in my house. I do have a television in my studio but, so far, I’ve only turned it on for the news. There is so much news, these days, that I sometimes watch too much of it.

We know, as writers, we all need a good printer. I finally broke down and ordered a Brother Laser Printer. I can’t wait for it to arrive. I’ve used a problematic Epson Inkjet for a long time now and I am so tired of buying the extraordinarily expensive ink cartridges. I was shocked at how far down the price of the Brother printers have come. You can also get wireless ones, which I did. If you’re interested, I encourage you to check them out. The price is more than reasonable.

I may have another cool “writer” purchase to tell you about next weekend!

That’s it for this weekend. I have to wrap-up our coffeeshare a bit early. I’m doing something exciting today. I’m going, with my girlfriend, to a performance of the ballet, “The Nutcracker,” at the Lexington Opera House, this afternoon! I’ve never seen it so I’m super excited, I will tell you all about it next week.

Have a great week and a productive writing week! #amwriting #amblogging #writing

*This post is sponsored by parttimemonsterblog.com

Thanks, Diana!

 

 

Posted in Challenges

#SoCS – Dec 10/16

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When I saw Linda’s prompt this week, all I could think about were the East Tennessee fires of a couple of weeks ago and the little baby bears who were left homeless in the wake of the terrible, wind-driven fire in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. [Image here]. So many baby bears were left motherless and homeless, their mothers either perishing in the fire or fleeing from the fire with no chance of reuniting with their babies. A rescue center was opened and each baby bear is going to be saved and raised.

The prompt brought that terrible night back to me. I live north of the fire area but Gatlinburg and the Park is a vacation spot for all of us who live where I do. Many of my friends were married there. We all have a soft spot for that area in Tennessee. It was so close to being destroyed. Many people died – there is not a final death count yet. The last I heard was 40. Thousands of homes and business structures were burned. Tens of thousands of acres of one of the most beautiful National Parks in America were burned. Then, there is the wildlife like the bears. The deer. The small animals. The loss simply cannot be calculated.

The worst part. It was arson. The suspects are, the last I heard, two teenagers. I can’t think about that or I want to start screaming. I also can’t look again at that picture of the baby bear or I will cry – again. Please give what you can to wherever your heart leads. The people who lost their families and homes. The families of thousands of domestic dogs and cats, killed in the fire because their owners had to run fast to get away and couldn’t take them. The bear rescue. The Facebook page for Clarence the Pig, a domestic pet, who dug himself deep in the mud as the fire swept over him and survived. He is in the University of Tennessee Veterinary Hospital with burns and his vet bills will be in the thousands of dollars. In fact, call that hospital if you are an animal lover and see what you can do. Give to the businesses that depend on tourism and tourism will be severely diminished for a long time to come. Give to the National Park Service. Just give.

There isn’t much more I can talk about in this Stream of Consciousness post. Thank you for reading and doing what you can do. #amwriting #amblogging #writing #Gatlinburg #SoCSDec10/16

*This post in response to SoCS Dec 10/16 Challenge.

Thanks, Linda!

 

Posted in Fiction

Killing Her Softly

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He had made the decision. The decision to break off the relationship with her. He was going to have this last little fling and then it was going to be over. He could swing it. He knew how to manage it and no one had to be the wiser. He had convinced her that his wife wore the pants in his family. That she controlled him and everything he did. It had taken an elaborate story but she had bought it. He knew her well enough to tell. She was a gentle soul and she loved him. She’d believe anything he told her. He’d convinced her that he loved her. Anyway, he knew he would not be able to have sex with her much longer. He was flirting with impotence. He wasn’t mature enough to realize she didn’t care about that. He did.

He didn’t want to take the chance of losing his marriage. Not because he loved his wife. But because his wife came from a wealthy family. They had the money to travel and play at whatever they wanted. He didn’t want to screw that up just for a meaningless affair. He just got involved in this affair for a thrill anyway. The thrill was going away so he had to get out of it. He laughed to himself. He got bored easily. He had to put her in her place so she wouldn’t tell anyone, like his wife. She wasn’t stupid, even though she was trusting. He had to make his story complicated so she wouldn’t figure it out.

What he didn’t know is that the girl already knew something was wrong between them. He was a heavy drinker and he had let some things slip when he got drunk. He was also bipolar. Sometimes, he thought he was thinking to himself, only he was thinking out loud and the girl heard him talking to himself. She was already suspicious before she left him at the airport that last time. He was in a manic period and was drinking more than usual so he could sleep. The mania was worse than the girl had ever seen. The mental illness had gotten worse since she had last seen him. She never could have guessed the lengths he would go to in order to get rid of her. She never would have guessed he would try to get rid of her at all. They had seen each other for 35 years, even if it had been off and on.

The man thought he had convinced the girl his wife was a mean bitch. A dictatorial, manipulative woman who controlled him completely. He’d told her that the wife was a computer hacker, that she would ruin her life if she found out about them. He’d forgotten that the girl had known him when he’d been with other women and that he’d never be with anyone like that. If anyone was controlling, it would be him. She knew he’d be sneaky about it.

The girl already knew he was a liar. Even during their current short relationship, he contradicted himself dozens of times. The mental illness kept him from realizing it as did the liquor. The girl remembered every single instance. He first said that he had paid one of his ex-wives off with $250,000. The next day, it became $500,000. Apparently, he didn’t think she had a memory either. She remembered it all. Her brain had not been pickled in liquor and ruined by uncontrolled bipolar disease.

That did not mean that the girl was prepared for what happened next. She had never known him to be cruel. Troubled, yes. A pathological liar, yes. Cruel, no. The years had indeed changed him.

It happened three days after they parted the last time. He was particularly sweet that day, professing his undying love. Over and over and over. Then, suddenly, the girl got a message supposedly from his wife saying that he had been found out and threatening her. It took her a little while to think the whole thing through. To realize that the message from his wife was really a message from him. His cowardly way out of the relationship. At first, she was shattered. It took weeks for her to think straight. She had trusted him in spite of herself. Psychopaths can be quite convincing because they believe their own lies.

He cut off her access to him all the while blaming his wife. At first, all she wanted was an explanation but she couldn’t get that. Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall together for her. He thought he was very smart but he had made some fundamental mistakes. Gradually, she figured out each mistake he had made. She started to realize that his wife probably did not even know he had an affair. He had ended it before she found out but in the most horrible way, the cruelest way, possible. In his very sick bipolar mind, he had to play out an elaborate scenario and hurt the girl badly.

Looking back, the girl shook her head. All he had to do was tell her that the affair was not working for him. He knew that she would never want someone who didn’t want her. She would have just left and he would never have heard from her again. It would have been so much simpler. He even needed the thrill of hurting her. In the process, he probably caused her to never be able to trust again. Cruel and psychopathic people do not care about those things. They care only about themselves.*

#amwriting #amblogging #writing #fiction

*This is an excerpt from a larger body of work.

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Cee’s Photography Blog has a cool challenge that I’ve decided to participate in for a bit. The title is self-explanatory. Cee asks four questions each week:

1. What do I value most in a friend?

That’s an easy answer. Trust. Complete trust. Not just the kind of trust where the other person keeps your confidence, but the kind of trust where the other person can be counted on to be there for you and to genuinely care about your welfare. Some say that you won’t more than one handful of this type of friend in your lifetime. I believe this is true. I would love to get comments in the section below about what YOU value most in a friend. I’ve been lucky. I have friends like this.

 

2. Do you prefer eating the frosting of the cake or the cupcake first? Do you prefer a specific flavor?

I can’t really answer this question because I don’t eat sweets! I know, I’m weird.

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3. Have you ever been in a submarine? If you haven’t, would you want to?

No, I have never been in a submarine. I love the water….the ocean. I love to swim in it, wade in it, get slammed by the waves in it, snorkel in it, cruise on a ship in it, but a submarine. It gives me claustrophobia just to think of it!

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4. If 100 people your age were chosen at random, how many do you think you’d find leading a more satisfying life than yours?

If you look at it from simply a statistical point of review, you can assume that 50% have had a more satisfying life and 50% have had a less satisfying life.

 

 

Share Your World – 2016 Week 49

Posted in Politics, Weekly Discover Challenge, Writing

Tough Questions: The Other Side

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This week’s Discover Challenge is to consider tough questions that we’ve been asked. I can think of a tough question I was asked after the U.S. Presidential Election that is head and shoulders above other questions. I was in the local bookstore which is a gathering place for university folks. Knowing my background was in finance and economics, with a smattering of political science, some former students and a couple of university faculty cornered me. Here comes the tough question.

They asked me what I thought the appeal of President-Elect Trump is to the man on the street. Why is this a tough question? I happen to be a Democrat and I did not vote for Donald Trump. Their questions were a little more complex than that. Most of them were also Democrats and they wanted specifics. I was put in the position of having to look at the other side of the issues in order to explain the thinking of the people who elected him. Tough questions!

Expressing to them that what I was about to say was only my opinion and hoping (to myself) that I was going to convey correct information, we started to have a conversation. I was very tempted to grab my phone and call in reinforcements – my friends who had actually voted for Mr. Trump, but I didn’t.

I won’t go into all the specifics but I will give you the general conversation. I told them that all I could give them was my opinion. Yes, it was my opinion based on fact. My facts were based on those provided by both the media and what I had read and gleaned myself. Since I had not discovered every fact about why the country preferred to elect Donald Trump as President of the United States but had gotten some of the information from the media, I did not feel comfortable answering their questions. I further expressed that I felt my opinions and bias as a Democrat would color my explanation.

The group still wanted me to explain why I thought he was elected. I made a few comments. I was more comfortable answering their questions since I had already told them that I was only expressing my own opinion.

Separating opinion from fact is extremely important when answering tough questions. #amwriting #amblogging #writing #weeklydiscoverychallenge

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction, romance

Desolation

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They unpacked their luggage in the room on the top floor of the old house. The view was magnificent as they looked out onto the flats. Magnificent but disturbing somehow.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

She thought about it and looked at his face. A face that she was just now seeing for the first time in so many years.

“Why did you bring me here,” she asked, “to this desolate place?”

“I need to be with my girl.”

“Let’s relax and enjoy the view. Just be together,” she replied.

He smiled. He didn’t smile much anymore.

 

98 words

#amwriting #amblogging #writing

*This post in response to Friday Fictioneers

Photo Credit to Lucy Fridkin