Chadventures For All

More to come...soon.

the moon tumbles over the ridge
shining beams across the fields.
i is a lonely traveler
watching the great parade of cascading beams,
remembering just a day before
laughing with his brother who smelled like too much gin.

he hears his father coming to comfort him
no--
it's just the wind.

Sorry for the long delay. I try to post the next installment at least one week after the last post. Don't worry, after this week, I'll hop back on the train. Thanks to all who comment and read regularly! I thoughouly appreciate the comments/critiques!

In the midsummer, Nathan took advantage of the glistening Saturday afternoon and strolled to the park just down the street. He saw the small pond, remembering his tenth party at the pavilion just next to the pond. His mother had graciously asked the other boys’ mothers to bring their children of the same age to the party. Luke Geiler and Tommy Haywater saw the swans in the pond and hurled wooden bricks at their necks, hitting one, missing the others. The swan cried out and sunk under the water. Nathan cried for the bird until his mother pulled him aside whispering, “Stop crying or you’re ruin both of our parties.” Nathan couldn’t stop crying—physically; they didn’t discover his overactive tear ducts until he was thirteen. The boys went home with their mothers before he cut the cake. A frisbee landed beside Nathan and awoke him from the reverie.

“Little help!” Nathan grabbed the frisbee and looked up. He saw the guy who threw it, although his blonde hair covered half of his face. Zach Paulus. Yes, Zach had been at that fateful party.

“Hey Zach! I haven’t seen you in a few years!” They had to shout over the distance between them. Zach had been too popular to talk to Nathan in high school, but had never stopped being nice to Nathan. Senior year, Zach swept the senior superlatives: best personality, best dressed and best hair. Nathan thought he deserved best personality, not Zach, but he still voted for him.

“Oh yeah! Sorry I didn’t see you sitting there! I’m just playing some disk golf before I go to work!” Zach hoped of going pro.

“Maybe we could catch up!” Nathan’s hands started sweating.

“Sure! We could do something after I get off work! What’s your number?” Nathan’s mind flashed to the empty spot on his apartment’s wall. Maybe it was time to buy a phone. Nathan blushed—thank God he was still 50 yards away. Nathan just took his number down with pen and paper. After a few tries, he finally understood the whole number and shouted back, “I’ll call you tonight, Zach!”

“Sure! Good running into you, Jason!”

“It’s Nathan!”

“That’s what I said!” No it wasn’t, but Nathan was too excited to care. He folded the paper and put it in his wallet pocket so he wouldn’t lose it. It was time to get a phone. Nathan ran to the convenience store. He didn’t stop to think that not only do they not sell phones, but he also ran a mile out of his way. Next door was an antique store, so he ended up buying an old, plastic rotary phone. Nathan walked home and felt silly carrying a sky blue, plastic rotary phone down the main street. When he reached the apartment, he admired the new addition to the room. It filled it up a little more with the chair, the desk and the TV. Nathan claimed he liked open spaces, but he really couldn’t afford to buy any furniture. Who would he call first? The phone at Maggie’s Old City Doughnuts rang so loud he heard it through his open window.

“Hello, thank you for calling Maggie’s Old City Doughnuts.” He had not been back to the shop since the strange night when he saw the party girl emerge from the back room with balloons. He had forgotten how uncomfortable Maggie had made him feel. She always knew what to say.

“Hey Maggie, I'd like a dozen glazed doughnuts.” It was time to celebrate.

“I’m sorry, we’re too busy to pick up the phone, but leave your business and God bless you dear.” A recording? Nathan hung up. Just his luck. What about his mother? He glanced out the window to look for their house in the distance. He recognized the iconic red van his mother refused to sell. Anytime Nathan brought it up, she’d reply, “What if we needed to transport our family out of town in the middle of the night for some reason? Would we all fit in the Saturn? Honestly, Nathan, sometimes you don’t think!”

“Hello?” Bill answered the phone. Nathan liked his stepfather despite the height issue. He was five feet and five inches tall. Bill often asked Nathan’s mother to help reach things on the top shelf. She was six feet tall. It was an awkward match, and walking behind them always made Nathan nervous. If you squinted your eyes, Bill’s slender build would pass for a woman’s, and his mother’s immense body and cropped hair for a man’s. Visitors who sat behind them at church were always surprised when the couple turned to greet them.

Nathan discussed the weather with Bill. He asked if Nathan liked his apartment. He did. Bill was always so genial. He asked for his mother. “Paula’s soakin’ her feet in that new gadget.” Bill bought his wife a footbath for her birthday. Bill didn’t quite understand what it did, or why people would only like to bathe their feet, but he had come a long way. He just finished reading the Internet for Dummies.

Nathan understood—he wanted to call Zach anyway. They said their goodbyes and he found Zach’s number safely placed in his back pocket. After some rings and anxiety, the voicemail played in Nathan’s ears, “If you’d like to leave a message press one…” Nathan soon discovered that rotary phones and voicemail technologies don’t mix. “Are you still there?” The voicemail asked. Nathan tried to dial one again, but assuming that the caller had mistaken, the automated system released his call. He couldn’t contact Zach.

The phone only let out half a ring before Nathan snatched it—no, not Zach, a wrong number. Nathan stared out the window into the evening sun feeling more like the poor swan: struck and sinking.

It was good that Nathan didn't have many things. He was free to walk to the bathroom without stumbling over misplaced books or shoes in the dark. Nathan didn't have much coordination. There was one bottle in the medicine cabinet. Nyquil? No—just ear infection medicine. Nathan stumbled over his feet as he walked to the front room. The light from the neon sign across the street filled the room with a red glow. He liked to say it looked like Mars. Nathan moved in slow motion across the room and imagined walking across the empty red terrain. He always wanted to be an astronaut.

After rummaging through his jeans, neatly folded and hung in the closet, he managed just enough change for one of those muffins, not another cranberry, those were disappointing. What about blueberries? Aren’t they good for your skin?

No one’s out at 3:30, which means Nathan didn’t bother with finding anything other than his plaid pajamas that had somehow made their way into his wardrobe, once his roommate moved out of the dorms. It wasn’t until after graduation was Nathan able to laugh at what had happened in their room with Jeremy Atkins that year—undergarments were very private items for Nathan.

Apparently, women have always run the entire doughbut store. Since the 1950’s, the radical liberal women suffering under repression of men always had a job waiting for them at Maggie’s Old City Doughnuts. Maggie left Poplar Bluff and her husband after several years of “thinking too highly of himself”. She eventually found her rightful place opening this store as a workingwoman in the suburbs. Nathan learned all of this from a framed newspaper nailed to the wall.

“And there’s more where that came from!” A woman exploded into the store from the back room. Nathan recognized her from the picture in the newspaper article. Maggie still works the night shifts at Maggie’s Old City Doughnuts.

“And what would you like tonight?”

Nathan ordered the blueberry muffin and a gallon of milk. It’s nice to know you can buy these types of things just across the street. Crumbs littered the table.

“How’s it taste? My granddaughter just cooked up the recipe a week ago and we’ve been taking new liberties.” Nathan imagined the mystery ingredient: rat poison, cyanide, Nyquil. Nathan hoped the missing ingredient was Nyquil. But it wasn’t—it was delicious whatever it was.

“It’s—“

“Never let anything stay the same for too long. We change the recipes frequently. It keeps our clients on their toes.” Nathan started to wonder exactly what he was eating. “It’s nothing detrimental! Shame on you for thinking so!” He didn’t know this, but Maggie could read minds. She won the first place award in the state fair of 1974 and 1975 for guessing weight and age for just 50 cents. She was never wrong. Maggie could have gone on to win for the next 100 years, but she felt unchristian for always overshadowing Ed Tucker's gigantic tomatos. Nathan began to worry about the store's safety late at night. But, he still didn't know she could read minds.

“People are never safe at night—at least not as much as we used to be, but we take precautions now.” It wasn’t until now that Nathan noticed the loud music shouting from the back room. “It’s made to make people think there’s a party here." A pretty woman entered from the back room carrying two balloons and a party mask. She eyed Nathan, grabbed a cup, filled it with water and floated right into the back room again. “No one will try anything here, as long as the neighborhood doesn’t go bad like all the rest of them.”

Nathan fought against the urge of falling asleep on the table. What would she think of him? He tried to sneak out while Maggie had her back turned, but it's hard to sneak out with a mind-reader always in your head. “Get some sleep, son. You need it.” Like always, Maggie spoke the truth. It took Nathan a long time to get used to new places. He tripped getting into bed that night and awoke with a start in the morning.

I'm publishing various installments of a short story I'm in the process of writing. Please leave feedback and check for updates. Meanwhile, I'll also post various other short bits of writing and creative processes. Without wasting anymore time, here's the first installment of the story.

He thought it was bigger, but he’s not so hot at remembering details. It had everything he needed. A shower. A bed. A dinning room. But no table. Where was he going to get a table? Who’s ever seen a dining room without a table? Places like this are supposed to come furnished with couches and desks and kitchen tables. He would need plates too. Why didn’t he think of plates?

“Mr. Bowman, you’ll need to sign here, here and here.”

Nathan kept staring into the empty dinning room. Will he need chairs? What are the things that Japanese people eat at? Could he get one of those? The realtor sighed.

“What? Oh, call me Nate.”

She pushed the papers into his hands and waited.

“Right.” Nathan noticed her small hands. She’s pretty. She has soft eyes.

He saw all the fine print. His eyes widened. She looked like he could trust her, but he’s not so hot at reading people either. His sweaty hands smudged the signature. You only live once, right? He felt as if he just locked himself in a cage.

“If you need anything, Deborah will be back next week. She told me to tell you to leave a message. First rent’s due in two weeks.”

“What if something leaks?”

“Put some gum on it.” She turned, walked out and shut the door in one sweeping motion. Maybe the room was too small for her. Maybe it was too late to ask her to stay for dinner. There were no chairs anyway.

Nathan walked to the window in the front of his living room, and looked down on the suburb from the top of the hill. The sun started melting into the horizon shooting pinks and purples over the surrounding houses. Is that his parents' house? It looks far enough. He remembered his dad teaching him how to drive down this street. Nathan heard the owner of the flower shop begin to close the store downstairs. He’d need to eat soon. He thought the doughnut shop across the street sold muffins. Nathan was in the mood for some cranberries. No, he could get some unpacking done and eat later. Besides, it was open all night. He was used to late night snacks.