1917

A movie clip...

Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

Welcome to my movie!

So we’ve come to the point in the story where we turn everything on its head. The say you’re supposed to do that when you write a story. I kinda like that point of view. Life can be so unpredictable. Imagine, you wake up in the morning and go downstairs where you put the coffee on and make two cups; you bring the second cup upstairs but the person you brought it for is in the shower getting ready for work. You put the coffee on the dressing table. Later, that person puts the cup down, kisses you on the cheek, and reminds you to take some chicken out for dinner…and that’s the last time you see them.

They die.

I think it’s safe to say a great many of you, my readers, have known this to have happened to someone in your life. I remember a stranger came to the mill at lunch time on the afternoon shift to get a load of fire wood, and had a heart attack. Can you imagine? He went with his neighbour who said he knew a place where you could get free firewood, was he interested? And then he has a fuckin’ heart attack? What’s that about?

I had to go to the doctor today, a new doctor, and had to explain to her that when I say I’m a little bit fucked up, I don’t mean I’m a recovering alcoholic, or part time junkie, but that it’s trauma. And though I had rehearsed it going in, I couldn’t look her in the face and say it without breaking down…”I was driving the machine and work, and my best friend slipped on a sheet of ice…” Hopefully no one’s ever had to do that, and then go to the widow’s house and tell her it was you.

But life does that to you sometimes. She asked me when it happened and I said last year. Then I said: “That why I’m self-deprecating to wards life; it’s why I say have that second piece of cake. I’m fatalistic. I’m not afraid of dying. I never have been. I look forward to it because I could use the rest. But judging by all the water works, I’m not over it yet , am I?” “When did it happen?” “Last year.” “Not that quick.”

This is the part where I charge admission

This is where the paywall starts. If you want to know what happens, you’ll have to pay the $5/month, or $50/year admission. I want to remind you that when I hit 1000 subscribers, I will be going PAID here. The only thing that’s going to be FREE is my SHORT STORIES AFTER 8, which I’ll probably keep reading out loud. Donating to my ‘Stack will mean I don’t have to be one of those seniors that has to go out and find a job because he can’t quite make ends meet. Just think of it as sitting in the local Starbucks with me, sharing a cup of coffee, your treat. You can listen to me every week if you want, but only have to have a coffee with me once a month. (A lot of people in my family would say that’s the best part of the deal.) It’s not easy asking if you want to upgrade and pay to read my stuff, but if you like what I write, and you want to show me your support, then by all means, do.