Unless You Give Up

Grant dutifully signed the electronic notice declaring that his son was getting mostly C’s and two D’s—in English and Math of course—on his mid-term report and wondered what it felt like to not fail. Not that grades meant everything, and C’s were respectable enough, especially considering Jon’s disabilities. But he could hardly meet Ms. Berg’s direct gaze.

He nodded in all the right places. “Yes, mam. He has a quiet study place. No, we don’t allow that sort of thing in the house. Uh-huh…his sister helps him all the time. Yes, I know. She’s a bright little thing.”

Named after the General who helped to win the Civil War, Grant vowed at the age ten, when he read a biography of the hero, to never drink. But as the Parent-Teacher Conference wrapped up, and he gathered his two kids from the gymnasium, he wondered if perhaps the General had the right idea. After all, why not take the edge off reality?

Judy was a bright little thing. For some reason fathomable to God alone, she never grew beyond four feet six inches, but her brain—as well as her mouth—outran everyone in the eighth grade. Jon respected her academic abilities but hated her bossy “tude.” Grant dearly sympathized.

The drive home remained quiet as Judy was shushed every time she started extolling the virtues of her teachers, her wonderful grades, or the fact that school made life worth living.

It wasn’t until bedtime, while Grant sat on the edge of his son’s bed, folded his hands, and listened to their prayer time routine, that he realized that Jon was upset.

“And God, if you could just make me good at something—anything—I’d appreciate it.”

Grant frowned. He watched as the lanky young man, a freshman whose brain got stuck somewhere along 5th grade, climbed into bed. “You’re good at things.”

Jon reached for a dog-eared comic book. “My dad is still putting me to bed. How good can I be?”

Grant climbed to his feet and stared down at the boy. “What? I just figured that since I hardly see you…what with work and school…and sports…and…” He shrugged. “Praying with you hardly means I’m putting you to bed.” A flush burned his cheeks.

“You think that you have to check on me all the time.” Jon shook his head and slapped the comic book on his lap. “You don’t do that with Judy.”

“I never have to worry about Judy. She always brushes her teeth, puts on clean clothes, says her prayers, and gets up on time.”

“And gets all A’s.”

Exhaustion warred with frustration. Grant had suffered through a tedious meeting at work, waited through long lines at the grocery store, mentally calculated the years until his retirement, knowing all the while that he’d probably die in harness, and blindly stuffed aching loneliness to the furthest reaches of his mind. He started for the door.

The muffled words, “As usual.” stopped him in his tracks. He turned around. “What?”

Jon crouched forward peering at the comics like the nearsighted kid he was. His whitened fingers crumpled the edges so fiercely it would never lay flat again.

Grant stomped back and towered over the bed. “Say that again.”

Jon threw the comic book across the room. His eyes blazing, red-rimmed with tears, and his cheeks flushed, he thrashed his way free from his sheets and pounded to the other side of the room. With shaky hands, he rattled through his dresser drawers until he slammed one open and pulled out a sketchbook from between dingy pairs of socks.

Grant felt his heart racing. His latest story—unsold—sat quietly on a writer’s blogging site with only a handful of comments. He bit his lip.

Jon tossed the notebook at his father.

Too stunned to react, Grant watched the book flutter to the floor. He raised his eyes to his son as he picked it up. Then he leafed through the pages. The pictures were good. Not great…well…there was one. It held promise. Certainly creative. He frowned and looked up.

Jon had retreated to the far end of the room, leaning against the wall. The mast listing to one side after the bulk of the ship has gone down.

Honesty was hell. Vulnerability was worse. But watching his son die inside would kill him.

Grant dropped his head to his chest and exhaled a long slow breath. He lifted his hand in a wait-a-moment signal and left the room. He retreated to his room, picked up his laptop, and returned to his son’s room. “Here.”

Jon glanced over. Bored. “What? A new learning tool?”

Grant felt the smile even though he knew it probably wasn’t showing on his face. He needed to cry too much. “No.” He shoved three plants he had never noticed before aside and set the computer on Jon’s desk. Clicking on a link, he pulled up the writer’s site and scrolled through until he found his name. He clicked it, and his most recent story popped up with comments attached. He turned the computer so Jon could see.

If spent balloons could walk, they would look like Jon as he approached the table, flopped down, and crouched forward for a quick read-through.

But he wasn’t quick. He returned to the top and read the story again.

Grant’s heart clenched so tight he wondered if he was facing cardiac arrest.

Jon’s fingers hovered over the curser at the bottom of the page. He peered up at his dad. “You never told me.”

Grant shrugged. “I’m not very good.”

Jon shook his head. “But it’s creative. I think it’s good.” He pointed to the last comment. “This guy thinks so too.”

Grant swallowed the ache of loneliness and wondered where it was going. He crouched beside his son. “You know, there’s an art site where you can post your work. It helps to get other people’s opinions. Usually.”

“But I fail at everything.”

Grant rubbed his hand across his mouth and smothered a chuckle. “You won’t fail—unless you give up.”

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter—Chapter Three

—Hill Land—

Not Set In Stone

Lud, skinny but stalwart, watched his eldest son, Gilbreth, as they trudged over flat grassland.

Though small for his age, Gilbreth’s heavy frame gave him a robust appearance. His little brother, Ham, bumped into him and fell backward, sprawling flat on the green expanse. Gilbreth stared at his brother and smiled. He plucked the little boy out of the grass, easily swung him onto his hip, and continued his march. “Ham, look where you’re going. This is the third time you have run into me.”

As his little brother’s dark eyes filled with tears, Gilbreth’s voice softened. “I can’t be picking you up all the time. We have to travel far today.” By the last word, Gilbreth’s tone had lifted to a gentle croon.

Lud stifled a laugh. He dared not look at his wife.

Dinah clasped a hand over her mouth while a grin peeked out from her eyes. She carried her baby, Deli, in a sling wrapped over her shoulder.

Lud wrapped his arm around his son. “You’ll make a good father someday.”

Gilbreth rolled his eyes. “More than that, I hope! The new boys will think I am a nursemaid.” He met his father’s gaze. “Please, keep Ham and Deli away from me when we arrive.”

Lud grinned. “You think I’d be so cruel? When the others see what a good-natured boy you are, the whole community will speak of it. They’ll say, ‘Gilbreth is a boy to be trusted!’” Lud pointed from Ham to Deli. “Besides” —he cringed in mock fear— “what would they do to me if I kept you away?”

Gilbreth pursed his lips, set Ham on his feet, and readjusted the bag slung over his back. “You can at least tell me why we’re leaving. Did we do something wrong?”

Lud glanced at his wife, the dull thud of reality dragged his soaring spirit back to earth.

With an understanding nod, Dinah strode ahead. A sack strapped across her back bounced with each step. Deli swayed on her hip, and she gripped Ham’s small hand.

Lud cleared his throat and clasped his staff tighter. “My father thinks I’m soft in the head because I’m so friendly with everyone. I told him that we want to see the world, but that’s not the whole reason we’re leaving.” He peered into the distance. “My people won’t last much longer. They’ve refused visitors, and they view every new idea with suspicion. They cloud their minds with doubt and fear. Even their blood grows weak because they allow no new members to replenish the spring. They’re dying.” Lud sucked in a deep breath and hurried his pace.

Gilbreth frowned, gazing at his feet as he kept pace with his father.

“That’s why your mother and I decided to leave—so we could join with a different clan. They’re kind, like to travel, and they’re willing to learn about the world. Despite her upbringing, your mother has an adventurous heart. Look at her. Does she seem in the least bit afraid?” A warm burst of joy spread over Lud as he stared at the woman marching before him. “With each step, she soars—an eagle on an updraft—like an old friend I once knew.”

Gilbreth bit his lip. “But will I never see my grandparents or the rest of my family again?”

Lud glanced away and picked up his pace. “I can’t say. The future is not set in stone.”

Gilbreth glanced from his mother to his siblings, grief entering his eyes.

Lud pressed his son’s shoulder gently. “It is hard, but we must grow into a new life or die in stagnant waters. I’d not have you endure such a fate.” Hurrying forward, Lud caught up to Dinah and grinned in her direction.

Dinah smiled back.

As Gilbreth ran ahead, Lud watched him. “You’ll enjoy meeting Eoban. He came to visit just as your mother and I made our decision. I never saw a man so well pleased.”

When Ham tripped and squalled, Lud scooped the little boy into a comforting embrace.

With a harrumph, Gilbreth lifted his arms like a bird with wings slicing through the air. His bag bounced across his back.

Lud murmured under his breath, “Nothing is set in stone.”

 

A new chapter of OldEarth Ishtar Encounter coming every Tuesday and Thursday.

Enjoy,

Ann

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” ~Jeremiah 29:11

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter Chapter One

—Planet Lux—
Test a Theory

Ark, his fleshy white potbellied body encased in a somber gray bio-suit and brown boots, stood aside from the main crowd in the domed Luxonian chamber. He blew bubbles through his breather helm, wrapped his four tentacles behind his back, and tried to ignore the bright light streaming in from above. Planet Lux has altogether too bright a sun. They ought to shield us from the blasted thing. He squinted and averted his eyes.

The Luxonian meeting hall, punctuated with purple-veined marble columns and glorious fountains shaped like creatures from every planet in the district, was filled to capacity with representatives from four races: Crestonian, Bhuaci, Luxonian, and Ingoti.

He studied a Luxonian Lightbird sculpture, as it appeared to fly into the air, spraying clear water from its beak. With a shrug, he shifted to the more fascinating Crestonian Sandfish, spouting green liquid from its razor-toothed jaws. A shiver rolled down his spine.

Dragging his gaze away, Ark nonchalantly shifted his stance and waited for his superior to approach. It would never do to appear hasty.

Ungle, a Crestonian with bright red cilia swaying on top of his plump head and dressed in a spring-green bio-suit and matching boots, meandered the circuit of the room with two tentacles wrapped behind his back in a contemplative manner. A third tentacle held a long-stemmed glass filled to the brim with blue gelatinous goo. With his last tentacle, he shook appendages—or mechanical armatures—as the occasion required, with various Luxonian and alien representatives. His perpetual smile never wavered.

Ark slumped and caught the eye of a young Luxonian who stared directly at him. Ark patted his breathing helm as if stifling a yawn.

The Luxonian’s gaze delved deeper, his obvious curiosity breaking to the surface.

Annoyance broke Ark’s placid mood. He discharged a narrow-eyed glare at the Luxonian, who soon turned away. Idiot.

“So you finally made it.”

Ark’s head jerked so hard as he twisted around to face his superior that he felt a crackling in the bone holding his spine erect. Blast. I’ll have a muscle spasm from that. He clasped Ungle’s tentacle from which dangled a gaudy bracelet. Ark blinked and swallowed. Better not expect me to kiss that thing—like some weird Bhuaci sign of obeisance.

“Not for kissing, just admiring.”

Ark swallowed convulsively. Uh-oh.

Ungle laughed, nearly spraying liquid over the top of his breathing helm. “I can’t read your mind—but really—Ark, you’ve become practically translucent. Been among humans too long in my opinion.”

A Luxonian waiter in humanoid form, as befits the theme of the meeting, and dressed in an embroidered gold tunic and lavender leggings, glided in close. With a bow, he offered a tray of pink, blue, and green drinks.

Ark glanced at Ungle.

Ungle poured blue goo into his breathing helm, slurped, and shivered. “Not bad. But I’d recommend the green. Not authentic green, you understand, but less of a kick than the blue.”

Ark swiped a blue drink off the tray and poured it daintily into his breathing helm. Like a connoisseur savoring an ancient wine, Ark sipped his liquid while his gaze wandered the room.

Ungle waved the servant away.

Ark turned to his superior. “You were the first to recommend Earth observation. Have you changed your mind?”

“Not at all. I think humanity will have a great deal to offer—in time. But I also realize there are many complications that must be considered—”

A bell tinkled.

“Bothmal those bells!” Ungle tapped Ark on the shoulder. “Meet me in my chambers after the meeting.”

“You aren’t staying for the Balatin Reenactment Festival?”

Ungle gurgled. “I’m a Crestonian. Science, not pleasure, dictates my schedule.”

Ark took the hint.

~~~

Ark settled in a plump chair and hated the hiss of his bio-suit as it wedged between the stiff arms. Dark waters, I’ll never get up without help.

The Crestonian chambers included a mini-pool built into the back wall, cushy, white furniture, and a simple cleansing and dressing closet.

Ark glanced over as Ungle tapped a console, lighting up a holopad.

“Pay attention now. I’ve done careful research, and I think I have just the solution we need.”

Ark grunted as he tried to wiggle out of the chair. “What…is…the…problem?” Popping like a cork, he sprang to his feet.

Ungle straightened, and a hologram of the Luxonian guardian stationed on Earth—Teal—appeared before them. His slim, well-balanced figure, straight light brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and firm jaw emphasized his determined personality.

Ark shrugged and clumped forward, his embarrassment forgotten. “Teal?” His gaze swiveled to Ungle.

“As I mentioned earlier, science dictates the direction of my life. I believe that humanity has a great deal to offer Crestonian studies. Not the least of which is their obsession with good and evil.”

Ark wrapped his tentacles behind his back, arched his neck forward, and meandered in close. “Surely, we understand the concept as well as anyone. Why—?”

“We don’t experience the polar opposites as humans do. It makes quite a difference. Consider—” Ungle tapped the console. Teal dissolved, and Chai appeared beautifully dressed in crimson robes embroidered in gold. “A dangerous—by all human standards—evil force controls this man. It’s a force I’ve rarely encountered before. Yet, this human believes he’ll benefit from the experience.”

Ark’s tentacles wiggled nervously behind his back. “What does he have to do with Teal?”

“This being—calls himself Chai—will cross paths with the one you call Ishtar. It doesn’t take serious extrapolation of data to figure this out. Their paths must intersect.”

“So—”

“Teal will be watching. He’ll care what happens. He might even attempt to interfere.”

“That goes against all his training.”

Ungle shrugged. “Given proper motivation, we all go against our training. Don’t be obtuse, Ark.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to see the natural exchange between Chai and Ishtar. I want to witness a soul damned to—”

“Hell?”

“Yes, I believe that is the term.”

“You want me to keep an eye on Teal—is that it?” Chuckling, Ungle tapped the console. “Not primarily. I want you to keep your eye on her.”

The holographic image of Chai dissolved, and Sienna, a Luxonian beauty with reddish hair, golden eyes, and a slim figure appeared in all her radiant glory on the holopad.

“Sienna? She cares for Teal, but—”

“She’s a Luxonian with a healer’s soul. She wants to help so badly; she could do a great deal of harm in the process.” Ungle tapped the screen and Chai, Teal, and Sienna appeared together on the holopad facing away from one another. “They’re each convinced that they know what’s best for humanity. I’m convinced that they have no idea what’s in store for them.”

“And you want me to observe and collect data?”

“I want to test a theory—about good and evil.”

Ark waited.

Ungle smirked. “You’ll see.”

A new OldEarth Ishtar Encounter chapter coming each Tuesday and Thursday. 

Enjoy,

Ann

“He shook my dozing soul and threw the cold water of reality in my face, so that life and God and heaven and hell broke into my world with glory and horror.” (on CS Lewis) ~John Piper

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

As Mom Used To Say

Richard wanted to kill someone. It wasn’t his usual state of being, but at the present, it was undoubtedly for the best that he stomp into the wilderness and get some space between him and the rest of humanity.

A squirrel scampered across his path, halted, raised itself on its hind legs, and stared as if considering the possibility between a snack and sudden death.

Richard clenched his hands in his pockets, crunched a snack bar in one and gripped his phone in the other. He pounded forward.

The squirrel high tailed it to the nearest tree and clawed its way to the top.

Richard, who normally enjoyed wildlife, grunted and smacked a branch out of his way.

The branch smacked him right back.

The squirrel, chattering from a high limb and holding a couple of notes longer than usual, warned the entire animal kingdom what kind of man approached.

“To heck with it.” His calf muscles burning and his lungs screaming, Richard aimed for a bench set on the edge of the wooded path. As he neared the resting spot, his joints thanking him profusely for the privilege of living through another day, Richard stopped short. A new sound broke through the air. He peered up.

The treetops, devoid of chattering squirrels and cawing birds, had nothing to add to the faint call or whine that Richard was sure he had heard. An injured dog?

“Awww—hell!”

It was a woman’s voice. A woman in pain, by the sound of it. The term “damsel in distress” crossed Richard’s mind. He swatted it away with the autumn insects.

Heaving his robust frame, a little larger in the tummy than he would like, though he had to admit his legs looked great in shorts, Richard lumbered back the way he had come.

Yep. There she sat, crouched like a kid on the playground when the other girls got mean, holding her ankle and…swearing like a sailor?

Richard scratched his head and glanced up. Really? Retirement had been nothing it was cracked up to be. He traveled for the first six months, took up volunteer work for the next six months, and recently got into a tangle with an idiot from his church who insisted that predestination was part of their faith system and would not allow any new members to join unless they had paid-up life insurance policies.

The woman—somewhere in her late forties—stopped rocking, and thankfully, stopped swearing. With a sudden intake of breath, she lurched to her feet, yelped, and hopped on one foot until she smacked into an oak tree, which managed to hold her in a partially upright position.

Richard snorted and practically pulled out his hair as he ran his fingers over the top of his head. So like something his first wife would’ve done. Stubborn as the day was long.

The woman glared at him. “So glad you’re enjoying my plight.”

“Hey, I would’ve helped you up…” Richard looked around. “You want me to call for… assistance?”

Despite an October breeze rustling through the trees, sweat beaded on the woman’s brow. “Sure. My phone is dead as a doornail.”

Richard’s ears twitched. He pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket and punched the keypad to life.

The woman lifted her hand. “Hey, stop. Really. It’s not that bad. My car is only a mile or so back. I can make it. I hate to have paramedics come all the way out here. I’d feel like a fool. Besides, they might have someone in real need somewhere else.”

Richard stepped forward and shrugged. “You can use my arm if you want to hop that far.” He tilted his head, peering at her, and offered his elbow.

She shoved off the tree, balancing on her good foot, and listed like a sinking ship. “Thanks. My name’s Sigrid.” She huffed at his quizzical expression and gripped his elbow. “From a Scandinavian author…my parents were literary fools. I forgave them long ago.” She limped at his side. “Like an idiot, I decided to get in shape and start jogging, and look what happens!”

Richard nodded. Her hand felt firm but strangely familiar on his arm. He always went for women in trouble. Soft heart his friends said. Soft mind his mother told him. Good ol’ mom. Richard chuckled.

“Am I still amusing you?”

Sigrid’s tone carried an edge, but when he glanced at her, there was a light in her eye and a smile hovering on her lips.

“No, mam. Sorry. I was just remembering something my mom told me long ago.”

“Care to share? I love a good quote.”

“Well, my mom liked history. Made me something of an eccentric among my peers since I would quote obscure historical facts while throwing together financial plans for my clients. Anyway, she loved to remind me that those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

Sigrid nodded and stopped, catching her breath. “Just a sec. I’m not trained for the hop-Olympics quite yet.” She leaned more heavily on Richard’s arm.

Richard pointed to a hefty tree trunk lying near the path. “Here, let’s stop a minute.”

Sigrid plopped down on the log and wrapped her fingers around her ankle, wincing. “Dang, but I am such a klutz. My daughters ordered me out of the kitchen because they say I’ll break dinner instead of make dinner.”

Richard snorted. Then, as the mental image washed over him, he laughed outright. It felt so good to laugh again. He peered at her left hand. No ring. “Your husband doesn’t help with the cooking?

Sigrid hooted. “Well, that was subtle!” She lifted her ring-less hand. “Divorced seven years. Then, using air quotes, she smirked. “We’re friends.” With a shrug, she shoved the topic aside. “Two college-age girls and a married son. Their dad sees them when he wants. I keep busy with work and—” She rolled her eyes, “Keeping in wonderful shape.”

Confession time? Richard wondered why he felt like he should order a drink from the bar. “Divorced ten years. Retired one year. Two grown sons who live overseas. Do lots of charity work and slowly losing my mind to boredom.

“Hah! You sound like my ex. Always doing other people a good turn but never satisfied with himself.”

Oh, brother. Richard figured he’d cut this short. “I’m an introvert, Aries, non-denominational Christian, and sleep without a pillow.”

Clapping her hands over her mouth, Sigrid nearly exploded in laughter.

Four birds escaped with their lives from the leafy foliage.

Sigrid stood and beckoned Richard with a sly glance. “Come on, Mr. Aries, you gotta walk me to my car so I can get home in time for dinner and tell my girls that I’ve had the best jog of my life.”

Richard rose and offered his arm. “But what about being doomed to repeat history?”

Sigrid grinned. “Ah. But as my mom used to say, ‘Live and learn.’”

A young squirrel, probably still in adolescence, froze directly in Richard’s path. It rose with a hopeful expectation in its eyes.

“Aw, heck.” Richard pulled the broken candy bar from his pocket, peeled off the wrapping, and slung it at the quadruped.

Duly grateful, the squirrel grabbed the treat and sped away.

Richard slipped the sticky wrapping into his pocket, stuck out his arm, felt the weight her of hand, and strolled back to civilization.

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd0z

And To Think

Stacy stared at the enrollment form and frowned at the first line. She hated her name. No imagination at all. Her parents might just as well have named her munchkin or kiddo.

Perched on the edge of an icy blue cafeteria chair, she sipped from a steaming cup of mud-colored cocoa. She had taken the entire afternoon off from work just so she could sign up for a night class that would inch her one step closer to getting her teaching degree. Not that she wasn’t already teaching. But only as an assistant. If she wanted the title and pay of a “real” teacher, she needed the certificate with her name on it.

Youngsters looking very much like loping trees bustled down the corridor, talking, shoving, laughing in the way that carefree youth usually do. Conflicts with the landlord, insurance issues, and a steamy romance gone haywire probably didn’t disturb their optimistic lives. Her mom, a couple of good friends, and a decent job didn’t a thrilling life make. She wished she were someone else with a better name. She tapped her purple pen, inscribed with a goofy cartoon character down one side, against her mini-notepad. Nothing new to write today.

She took another sip of cocoa, closed her eyes, and sighed.

Two chairs scraped on her right and an on-going conversation dominated the swirling sounds around her. Two trays plunked down on the table, plastic smacking plastic. A woman’s voice—excited, eager, and determined clawed at Stacy’s insides.

Don’t listen! Keep your mind on the cocoa!  She popped her eyes open, clutched the cup like a drowning victim gripping a lifeline and swallowed a burning gulp.

The woman rattled on mercilessly. “And so—I told my husband, ‘You’re so ignorant, and then I slammed the door in his face.’”

Stacy wondered if it would look odd if she pressed her hands against her ears and started rocking in place.

The other woman’s voice piped up, practically breathless. “And then?”

Stacy stared at her pen, focusing on the inane figure. A student had presented this gift as a token of her appreciation for Stacy’s effort to teach her long division using pictures and creative stories. She knew the child would probably be haunted by math for the rest of her life, but apparently, the kid appreciated sincere efforts. Stacy glanced aside, hoping the two women had evaporated.

The first woman clearly liked bright flowers for she wore an eye-catching blouse that would have put a landscape artist to shame. But unfortunately, her language was as loud as her clothes. “So, the idiot slept on the couch!”

A psychic warrior battling for peace of mind—jabbing at judgments, parrying insinuations, knocking off observations, and blasting conclusions could not have fought any harder. But never the less, a picture of a man’s sad, pathetic face as the door closed on him…and then his drooping figure trudging to a sagging couch and flopping down in a bundle of husbandry despair filler Stacy with red-eyed rage.

A little voice tried to reason with her. You don’t know these people, woman!

She whirled her gaze around the food court. Uncaring neon signs glared back: Asian Delights, Mexican Combos, All American Platters, and a Salad Bar.

Inhale. Exhale. Mind your own business!

Stacy slurped her cold cocoa and then mopped up the dribbles dotting the table.

The lively chatting continued though the voices dropped an octave.

New pictures formed in Stacy’s mind. A shoe sale, something about church services, and a trip to the airport with a secret admirer?

Enough! Stacy jumped to her feet, wondering if it was possible to have her imagination disconnected from her brain. She dumped her Styrofoam cup into the trashcan and headed for the door.

Once out in the late afternoon sunshine, she prompted her feet toward the football-field-sized parking lot. Her car was out there…somewhere.

A child’s scream turned her attention. With a hand blocking the slanting rays of the sun, she scanned the area. There, next to a table and bench on a grassy field, stood a lanky man wearing jeans and a black hoodie, gripping the arm of a young girl in a pink skirt and an oversized sweater. The child struggled to pull away.

Stacy’s heart constricted. She fumbled for her phone, but as her panic increased, she hustled toward the child faster than her fingers could unzip her purse. She halted before the pair, staring or glaring, she wasn’t sure.

The child glanced at Stacy, cut the scream dead, and slammed herself against the man, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing her face into his stomach.

A burning blush tingled from Stacy’s face to the roots of her hair. She scratched her head and wavered.

The man waved as if conducting an orchestra. “She’s being dramatic. Like always, eh, honey bun?” He peered down at the child, and a grin played on his lips. “Not too happy that mama is taking a class, and you can’t be in on the action?”

“Oh.” Stacy hadn’t a clue what else to say.

The girl pulled away, propped her hands on her hips, tilted her head, and accused Stacy. “You’re a teacher here!”

Stacy lifted her hands in surrender. “Oh, no ma’am. I do help out a school, and I want to be a teacher someday. But right now, I’m just taking classes, like your mom.”

The child nodded in defeat. She leaned comfortably against the man. “Daddy? Can’t I at least draw something? It’s so boring out here.”

Now it was the man’s turn to flush. “Sorry, baby. I left your pencils at home.”

Stacy plunged her hand into her purse and pulled out her notepad and purple pen. “Here, kiddo, take these. You can draw pictures for your mama and give them to her when she comes out. I bet she’ll like that.”

The man tried to wave off the gifts, but the child took them with eager hands and a surprisingly charming grin.

Once she found her car and started the long drive home, Stacy glanced in the mirror and laughed. “Who’s the kiddo, eh?”

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd0z

Wouldn’t You?

Henrietta Huber wanted to know why a dead cat lay across her doorstep. Animals didn’t normally pick her abode to succumb to death’s tyrannical fate. Nor humans for that matter, thank God. Still, the fact remained; a stiff body sprawled awkwardly before her front door.

She lifted her gaze and peered around her quiet, respectable neighborhood. She lived in the center of her cul-de-sac. It had always felt like a privilege, being snug in the middle of her neighbors; a dark brown ranch house to the right, and a two-story brick dwelling on her left. Upper middle class. Very. But today, her quaint neighborhood emitted the faintest odor of disease. Or was that the cat?

Not one to let fate have its way with her, Henrietta trotted a few steps down the street.

A fancy board painted with red fruit dangling from thick boughs and fancy lettering which spelled out “Apple Valley,” announced the entrance to their neighborhood, though only one pair of apple trees stood guard on each side of the road and no valley could be seen for twenty miles. Still, doctors, lawyers, teachers, and a pleasant assortment of craftsmen lived here. It was not a place to be sniffed at. Especially not today.

She chewed her lip as she returned to her front step. These simply were not the sort of people to drop a dead critter on a neighbor’s doorstep. On the contrary, Henrietta knew several with speed dial who would gladly report the slightest hint of animal abuse.

She frowned at the insinuation of less than stellar animal care at her feet.

Could this reflect badly on her, perhaps? Had she left some antifungal spray, insect killer, or some other ugly reminder of nature’s imperfect reality in a place where this critter inadvertently killed itself upon her carelessness?

Sheesh! One faced deadly peril at every turn these days.

A neighbor’s door opened and a head poked out.

Henrietta stepped in front of the circumstantial evidence and mumbled to herself. “Oh, blast, Lindsey Jenkins. Good Lord, I’ll be hauled before the county judge and sentenced to twenty hours of community service if this gets out.”

Lindsey, without delay, skittered across her neatly manicured yard, practically leaped over the prickly bush border, and with wringing hands prostrated her forlorn figure before her bewildered neighbor.

Considering that Lindsey was nearer seventy than sixty and usually worked her mouth more than her legs, Henrietta was duly impressed. She dragged her eyes off the thorny hedgerow and interrogated her elder neighbor with her eyes.

Lindsey, clearly in a hurry to immortalize herself in some kind of unforgettable apology, gushed her words. “Henny, so sorry about the cat carcass, but I really had no choice.”

In her attempt to draw her neighbor away from prying eyes, Henrietta tripped over the cat.

Lindsey clasped her friend’s arm and with surprising strength, ushered Henrietta inside the pristine abode.

Once safely ensconced on the beautifully embroidered divan, Henrietta, forgoing common decency, waited for the tale to be told before she offered a morning snack. She arched her brows.

Leaning back with one hand slapped against her cheek like a surprised matron finding the cook and the butler in a compromising position, Lindsey inhaled enough breath to begin. “You see, my grandkids simply adore my cat. Or rather, they adored it. Until it died. When I told their mother, my daughter-in-law, Myrtle, who was bringing the kids over for their usual visit today, that Cleopatra had finally succumbed to old age, she insisted that I tell the children before they arrived.”

Henrietta could not for the world imagine where this was going. Despite herself, she felt intrigued. The morning news could wait. Heck, if the world were on the verge of collapse, she would lift a hand in command that it wait a few moments so she could hear this before falling to its inevitable doom.

Henrietta didn’t need to prod. Lindsey knew what was expected. “And so, I did what any decent grandmother would do. I told a wonderful tale of how Cleo sprouted angel wings at the moment of death and flew off to her celestial reward.”

If someone had actually dropped a bar of hot lead in Henrietta’s lap, she would not have been more surprised. She shouldn’t have been so amazed. But that was the way of things. Being caught off guard by the obvious. They all lived in a fantasyland of sorts. She knew that perfectly well every time she steered her tiny car onto the speeding highway. But this? Angel cats with wings? Ascending into heaven? No wonder children dress up as zombies for fun. Why pretend anything makes sense?

Lindsey shook her head as if in sympathy with Henrietta’s perplexed expression. “When I heard the car drive up…and with Cleo still unburied…I knew I had to do something fast. I had no idea they were in the neighborhood when she called. I couldn’t think what to do!”

Henrietta grunted to her feet and strolled to the front door. She peered through the glass. Ah, yes. The prickly hedge hid the offending lie. She turned and faced her devious neighbor. “And now?”

With a swipe across her brow, Lindsey chuckled. “Well, the kids have gone off with their mama, and I’m in the clear. I told Jake to get the cat as soon as he gets a break and bury it out back somewhere. Maybe under that sugar maple we all love. It’d be fitting. And well out of the way.”

Remembering her manners, Henrietta offered a cup of tea and a little something, but Lindsey supposed that she better get home. She stood on the threshold and stared down at the remains of her once-loved pet. “I know I told a ridiculous tale and made a fool of myself trying to keep the kids in ignorance of the hard facts of life. But,” She glanced Henrietta’s way, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “You’d do the same for your grandkids, wouldn’t you?”

As Jake scooped the stiff body onto a wheelbarrow and then wobbled it toward his backyard, Henrietta considered Lindsey’s question. “Would I?”

 

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00

If The World Were Any Better

“You are so blessed brilliant; it makes my head ache.”

Two adorable brown eyes peered up at his mother. “Yeah?”

“Yep. And you know what happens to brilliant people?”

“They become CEOs and run the corporate world?”

Maura sighed.

Calvin tapped the keyboard and ran the cursor along the edge like a gymnast ready for his next acrobatic feat.

Not for the first time did Maura wonder why her husband chose the name Calvin for their only son. There couldn’t be two more polar opposites than her husband, Calvin I, the exact replica of the comic book Calvin who constantly dangled poor Hobbs over the edge of reality, and their son, Calvin II, a child whose precocious intelligence and unassailable good sense often knocked the wind out of both their sails. What parent dared to misbehave when they had a responsible eleven-year-old eyeing their every move with a cunning appraisal? They knew darn right well he’d tell Santa Claus. God, too, for that matter.

But really, she wondered, what on Earth would her little boy do with his good sense and brilliant intellect when he grew up. Who wants to run a major corporation and make a ton of money when every other mother’s son (or daughter) will elbow him aside in an effort to outdo him? Why invent cool stuff, when some evil despot will use his research to blow up the planet? Or discover the cure for cancer when an insane scientist will incubate a deadly virus in order to wipe out even more people in less time?

“Mom, quit that. Please?” Calvin huffed. He hated it when she sighed.

Maura hugged him like it was their last day on the planet and pointed to the door. “You’ve saved my computer from an early demise once again. Now get outside and save your cardiovascular system. Go run around in the fresh air.”

Dark thunderclouds swirled out the window and Calvin grinned. He liked storms. A snack called from the cookie jar, so he snatched three packed with raisins and chocolate chips and swung out the back door with all the pent up energy of a kid who has been released from mortal combat with a cyber monster.

Heaving another long sigh, Maura swiped crumbs off the counter, frowned at the jam drips she had missed at lunchtime, and bit her lip when her husband charged through the door with a huge grin on his face.

“Hey, Sweetie!” He jerked his thumb backward. “Calvin looks like he’s ready to do battle with a Greek god. He’s got that look on his face.”

Maura knocked the cookie bits into the garbage pail. Depression settled in; even a clean counter couldn’t soothe her spirit. “Greek, Roman…or New Age. He could battle them all. The boy ought to get some kind of reward for sparing my computer yet another breakdown.”

A puzzled frown spread over Calvin I’s forehead. “I’d think you’d be thrilled by our son’s intelligence and generosity. Isn’t this the third time he fixed your computer this month?”

Maura straightened and locked eyes with her husband. “He’s terrific. That’s the problem.”

No rest for the weary cookie jar. Calvin I fished around, and by mere good luck, pulled out the two largest and promptly began to chomp.

Maura poured a glass of milk and slid it across the counter.

The milk followed the cookies to their natural destination.

Calvin II’s voice pierced through the evening stillness as he raced a neighbor boy around the backyard.

“So, why do you want our son to be dumb and lazy?”

Maura turned from her husband and wrung the dishcloth with an extra firm twist. “I just wish he had a better world upon which to bestow his brilliance and goodwill.”

“Huh.” Calvin I stretched out his arm. Soon the cookie jar would show its bottom. A sad fate for any worthy container.

Calvin I drained the last dribbles from his glass and popped the final cookie bit into his mouth. He spoke around a chew. “Seems to me that if the world were any better, it wouldn’t need our Calvin so much.”

With that thought, Maura’s husband leaned over, pecked her cheek with a brief kiss, peered into her eyes a lingering moment, and grinned again.

A reflecting grin forced its way over Maura’s face, accompanied by a slight eye roll.

By the time Calvin II swung back into the warm house, night and a bit of rain had fallen. A roast chicken with sides of mashed potatoes, carrots, and a Greek salad sat side by side proudly on the table.

Maura leaned against the counter and watched as her son sloshed water across the counter in his efforts to wash his hands before supper.

Calvin II turned and dropped the defeated drying towel on the back of his dad’s chair. “You know, Jensen said that his mom paid a tech guy three hundred dollars to fix her computer.”

Maura plunked sliced bread on a cutting board and set it beside the chicken. “Sad reality that not everyone has a kid like you, hon.”

Calvin II shrugged. “Not really. I already told her that her computer isn’t worth saving—too out of date. But she didn’t believe me.” He peered at his mom. “You know…sometimes people just have to figure things out for themselves.”

Maura nodded. Yep. She knew.

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00