Winter is forever

Hi everyone, and thank you for reading. Although I have several short stories in the queue for posting, I thought that this week I would have a change and do something completely different.

Instead of a flash fiction story, I decided to post the lyrics of a song that I wrote way back in 1985.

The song is sung in a similar, but very slightly faster and more upbeat lilt than Bob Dylan's “Tomorrow is a long time.”


WINTER IS FOREVER

When I could no longer see that rainbow,
And clouds hid the beauty of the skies,
Your song could make my shadow touch the ground,
And the words bring the colours to my eyes.

And when silence broke those walls I'd laid around me,
And all I'd left was feeling disinclined,
The echo of your voice was there to guide me,
And I couldn't help but read between the lines.

* * * * * * * * * *

Refrain:
But I don't mind if winter is forever,
And I don't mind the cold morning rain,
I don't think at all about tomorrow,
When I hold you to my breast once again.

* * * * * * * * * *

I've heard the sound of full-grown men crying,
And I've heard the sound of rivers running dry,
I've heard the sound of castle walls falling,
And I've heard so many different reasons why.

I've seen mountains turn to sand while I was climbing,
And I've seen the truth, of living in a lie,
And yet all those spectral memories still haunt me,
Like the broken wings I tried so hard to fly.

* * * * * * * * * *

I held you in the night while you were sleeping,
And stayed awake to catch you should you fall,
I carried you through darkness 'til the daybreak,
And you didn't seem to weigh anything at all.

We walked those golden fields and silver beaches,
Sailed our magic carpet across the sky,
Though I never really thought it was forever,
I don't think it was a waste of time to try.


©1985 Stephen. J. Green.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Colours

She spoke to me in blues and greys, in dull shades her voice droned on and on.

She could tell I was becoming bored, restless and beige.

Her voice lightened a shade, brightened a shade, the occasional flicker of yellow lifted the mood, piqued my interest.

Richer hues tinged her words, bright greens swirled to the surface mingling with vibrant oranges and dazzling pinks.

As she leant into me her face transformed into an iridescent kaleidoscopic beauty.

We kissed deeply, turquoisely, tongues an intertwining, shifting, glittering rainbow.

We made love in shattering purples and blinding reds.

Eventually, sated, we fell asleep, soothing pastel shades crowded our dreams, eased our hearts.


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Coping

Hi everyone, and thanks for dropping by. I'm going on holiday next weekend, so I won't be posting a #fridayflash for the next couple of weeks.

Have fun...


PS.
Although I won't be posting a story for the next two Fridays, and I won't be taking my computer with me, I'll try to find time to read #fridayflashes next Friday before we set off, and on the following weekend when we get back.

* * * * * * * * * *


COPING

I picked up the phone on the second ring, glad of the distraction, something to take my eye and mind away from all the black clothing, the chatter, and the buffet appreciation.

It was an old friend, Simon, his voice was a welcome oasis amidst this desert of emotional pretence.

Simon apologised for his absence, family commitments plus the sheer distance involved made it impossible for him to get here. He offered his condolences and asked how I was coping with the day. Just knowing that he cared helped, it helped a lot.

We chatted for a few minutes, then left each other with a promise to get together some time in the near future.

I hung up the phone and glanced around the room at all the people, the little huddles playing catch-up. The sound of occasional laughter further deepened the pain in my heart.

Janine had never been one of the popular relatives, she was thought of as loud and brash, they hadn't known her as I had, she used volume to conceal lack of self confidence, to paper over the emotional scars of childhood abuse and the stripped away self esteem it brought with it.

No amount of talking or counselling could ever make her see her own beauty, and she was beautiful, inside and outside, and yet she took her own life.

A hole had been ripped into my life that none of these present would ever believe she was capable of leaving.

Soon all of these people would be gone, away to resume their own lives, and I would be left alone with my memories.

Maybe, given time, the hole would become smaller... Maybe.


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Ink

Hi, and thanks for dropping by.

Once again I have the honour of writing a guest post for John Xero's blog, this week I am at his second blog which is called 101-FICTION

This is where John posts a story each week consisting of a 1 word title, and a 100 word story, hence the title of the blog.

Lately John has opened up 101 for other writers to try their hand at this very short, and word-limited fiction, and I am delighted to submit my own story for publication there.

You will find John's 101 blog here:- 101-FICTION.
My own 101 word submission is here:- INK

I hope you enjoy it.

Anyone who is not familiar with John's work are missing something very special, he is an excellent writer, mostly of genre fiction, Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror, and is always well worth the visit.
John's main blog where he posts his longer fiction can be found here:- XEROVERSE.

Thank you for reading.

Steve Green.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

INK

The idea for the story came to me in a dream.

Today I would give it life.

Several hours later and the words are still gushing forth, the story is like an irresistible force, compelling.

The computer had frazzled out after only a few hundred words, so I continued with a ballpoint pen and notebook.

When the ballpoint dried out I reached for my trusty old fountain pen.

When the ink ran dry I had to find another writing source. This story simply had to be written.

I only hope I can complete it before I run out of blood.


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Going grey

When I was younger the lines were so sharply drawn, everything was either right or wrong, good or bad, legal or illegal, moral or immoral, black or white.

The blackest of blacks, the whitest of whites, separated by a razor-thin divide.

As I grew older the grey began to creep in, and the lines became blurred, indistinct.

As I approach the winter of my days, the grey area has spread further, become all-encompassing, black and white no longer seem to exist any more.

Now I find it almost impossible to venture even the smallest opinion, or make the most trivial decision.


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Pigmentation

I wasn't too concerned when the first blotches appeared on my skin, a small cluster just below my right armpit. As the weeks passed the cluster grew until it covered the whole side of my body, and upwards towards my shoulder.

Several visits to the Doctor, and a variety of creams and balms had absolutely no effect on the skin problem, week upon week the invasion continued.

“Who the hell wants to go out with a freakin' leopard man?” My now ex-girlfriend had laughed at me as she walked away.

The following months saw me visiting a succession of consultants, skin specialists, scientists, until eventually I was admitted to the Military Sciences Unit for tests and observation.

That was where I learned the rest of it.

No-one told me anything directly, I just put the pieces together from overheard snatches of conversation and surreptitious peeks at momentarily abandoned medical clipboards.

The coloration was occurring on a genetic level, my skin pigmentation was somehow altering of its own volition. And the doctors had no answers as to why.

I was not the only one to be stricken with this curse, across the world the average was approximately one in fifty thousand people, and although I never saw any of them, there were another seventeen patients somewhere in this facility, all with identical symptoms to mine.

All of the reported cases were evenly divided between male and female, and all within the age group of fifteen to twenty two years old.

I had been in the Unit for several months now, and the whole of my body had been affected. The blotches, which ranged in size and shape, were varied in colour, just now they ranged from light caramel to dark chocolate, the skin between them a rich shade of ochre. Some days they seemed to alter, to reflect my surroundings. One day after strolling round the gardens for a while I noticed the blotches had taken on shades of greens and browns, and lately theses changes seemed to take effect more quickly than before.

There wasn't a day went by that I didn't rant at the doctors, at the world, at God, for my predicament. Why the hell had I had this damned curse forced upon me?

The answer was on its way.

* * * * * *

When civilisation fell, it fell hard, it fell fast, it fell all the way, and to all intents and purposes it fell permanently.

I hunt naked now. The useless encumbrance of clothes long since discarded.

The Pinkies are easy to spot, easy to catch, easy to kill... and easy to eat.

After the collapse it had soon dawned on me just what my curse was for.

A blessing in disguise, so to speak.

Camouflage.



©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

No laughing matter

Hi, and thanks for dropping by.

This week, along with seven other writers, I have the honour of being invited by John Xero to write a guest post to help celebrate the 2nd anniversary of his blog XEROVERSE.

Anyone who is not familiar with John's work are missing something very special, he is an excellent writer, mostly of genre fiction, Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror, and is always well worth the visit.

The party can be found here:- XEROVERSE.
My own contribution is:- NO LAUGHING MATTER.

John also has a second blog, where he posts shorter stories consisting of a 1 word title, plus 100 words of story, these excellent flashes can be found here:- 101 FICTION

Thank you for reading.

Steve Green.

* * * * * *

NO LAUGHING MATTER

Well, I tell you, I've dished out a few punishment beatings before but never in my life have I ever come across anyone as tough as Big Bernie.

Bernie was one of those guys just born to be a goon. He was massive, strong, totally loyal to his boss. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, in fact his thought processes and emotions were nearer to those of a child than an adult.

Jimmy had winched him up on the block and tackle while I held the gun on him. Bernie, naked, hanging by his wrists, started looking a little nervous as I put down the gun and picked up the baseball bat.

Jimmy walked past me and leant against the wall behind me, just a spectator now.

If I had wanted information from Bernie I would have been wasting my time, he would die before ratting on his boss. No, this was a pleasure trip for me, last week Bernie had kicked the living crap out of one of my guys, he would be out of commission for weeks, and now it was payback time.

I swung the bat straight into his shin bone, the resultant thud, and the shockwave along my arms gave me a warm glow of satisfaction.

Bernie burst into fits of hysterical giggling.

“Okay, let's see how funny you find this.”

I swung the bat again, harder. This time I heard the bone crack. The bat sank a good two inches into his leg, making sickening squelching sounds as I yanked it back out again.

Instead of screams, and pleas for mercy I was rewarded by further giggling, which increased in volume and intensity until it turned into outright laughter.

Now usually I keep my calm throughout these kind of situations, stay detached, it adds a little more menace to the punishment, but Bernie's laughter was getting to me, it was as though HE were the one punishing ME!

I put real anger behind the next swing, I think at least three of his ribs must have collapsed under the blow.

One of the bones must have gone through a lung. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he threw his head back and guffawed at the top of his voice.

“Right, that's it, you big stupid dummy.”

I set about him with a vengeance, raining blows hard and fast all over his body, all control gone now. I beat him harder and faster, a blur of mindless violence.

The sound of pulping muscle, cracking and splintering bone, dull thuds and liquid suction echoed off the walls, and rising above it all, sometimes drowning it out completely, Bernie's loud, uncontrollable, and almost continuous laughter.

I let the bat fall to the floor, I was drenched in sweat, exhausted, I just didn't have the strength to hit him any more. He had beaten me.

I picked up the gun and pointed it at his face. His grinning, laughing face.

His head and arms were the only parts of him left that you could call human. The rest of him was just a battered, smashed mess hanging above a large pool of blood, guts and bits of skin.

“I'm sorry Bernie, it should never have gone as far as this, I have to finish you off, there is no way that you can be fixed up again.”

Bernie just carried on laughing, and for the first time I noticed that he was looking over my shoulder, and when I think back, that is where he had been looking most of the time I had been hitting him.

I spun round to look at Jimmy, whose face seemed to be struggling to maintain a serious expression.

I turned back to face what was left of Bernie, who immediately started laughing again.

“Okay Bernie, you know I have to do this, but before I pull the trigger, just what the hell do you find so amusing?”

Bernie looked down at me with a twisted face as he fought to control the mirth running amok inside him.

“You know I don't like to rat on people, but it's all Jimmy's fault. He keeps pulling funny faces at you behind your back.”


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Dangerous words

The story was an absolute killer.

As he read the opening line the hook sank deep into his nose, puncturing gristle and cartilage and slicing completely through to the other side.

He was drawn kicking and screaming into the plot as the storyline developed.

As he reached the end of the final paragraph, his face split, bones fractured, snot and blood geysered, iron-hard knuckles repeatedly slammed into him as he was beaten to death by the punch line.


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

The file on Alicia Fieldstone

I had only been working at the Ministry of Information for a few days, and was still finding my feet, so to speak. As the newbie I was given the trivial jobs to do, the drudgery, the crap that the more important guys couldn't be bothered with.

My task for today was debugging the Fs, trawling through the F files searching out typos and such, I skim read as fast as I could, not absorbing any of the data that was scrolling past my eyes, assessing the threat level of any individual was someone else's job, I wasn't qualified to process any of it anyway.

Then there she was, right there on my screen... FIELDSTONE. ALICIA.

I sat there a little shocked, Alicia lived only three doors away from me, a very pretty woman, twenty four years old according to the file, and single. I had seen her several times, we exchanged occasional smiles on the street, truth be known I was more than a little interested in asking her to go on a date with me.

And here she was, on file in the M of I.

I began reading the file, hungry to know what kind of super-terrorist or criminal had been living in the same street as me for the last two years.

The file proceeded to lay her life bare across the screen.

Every school she had attended, and links to the files of every pupil and teacher there. Her work history, friends, family, acquaintances. And again links to every one of these, and their acquaintances, and so on, like an ever widening spider web.

The file delved deeper and deeper into her life.

Her taste in clothes, make up, art, books, food, television.

Even the minutest details were not overlooked.

How thickly she spread the butter on her toast, which direction she stirred her coffee.

And into the very intimate side of her life.

Her preferred sexual positions. When she experienced her first orgasm, and who with. The links were there to every man she had dated, or slept with, and their acquaintances etc.

It even listed the brand of sanitary towels she used.

There was not one single shred of her life that the file didn't cover, even down to how many times she visited the toilet each day.

When the M of I targeted the bad guys, they certainly did a thorough job of it.

Jeez, I'm just glad that I never got up the courage to ask her out.

I kept reading, looking for the bombshell, for the list of criminal activities either past, present, or suspected for the future, but found nothing, not even a late library return.

To all intents and purposes Alicia was as clean and pure as the driven snow.

I must be missing something.

I leaned backwards in my chair and called over my shoulder.

“Hey Bill, this file I'm looking at, there's nothing incriminating in here that I can see, but she's some kind of terrorist or criminal, right?”

Bill leant across and glanced at my screen.

“Oh hell no, that's just a basic info file, we have those files on absolutely everyone.”

The cold tendrils of fear began creeping along my spine as my mind wandered to the skeletons in my own closet.


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Positively negative

“I am such a negative person.”

“Are you sure?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you if you were sure, about being negative that is.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely positive.”

“You just said you were negative.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“But you said you were absolutely positive.”

“Huh?”

“So, are you positive, or not?”

“Oh yeah, yeah I am.”

“About being negative?”

“Uh. Yeah.. I think so. Look, you're confusing me now.”

“Okay, let's try a different tack. Do you generally see the dark side of things?”

“Oh sure, yeah, sure I do.”

“And from most scenarios you see the worst case happening?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess I do.”

“And does it?”

“Does what?”

“Does the worst case usually happen?”

“Yeah, mostly it does happen, yeah it does.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Well, it make me feel right of course. I expect the worst to happen, and it usually does.”

“So that makes you feel right?”

“Yeah! What are you, stupid or something?”

“And being right is a positive experience, is it not?”

“Huh?”

“If your negative assumption proves to be correct, then it has positive consequences, yes?”

“What? Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Then you are more of a positive person than you thought you were, right?”

“No, no not really.”

“Why?”

“Cos I'm such a negative person, that's why.”


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.