In The Quiet of The Night

The young couple rented the old two story house with a roof of hundred year old cedar shingles. The house was located just off the main street of a small town. Their bedroom faced the street, and they were happy with the large double paned window with its view of the mountains and Puget Sound. The young man was home on leave.

The young couple were in bed and they were warm and had only light from the few cars that passed in the late hours and the young man enjoyed the way the light passed through the window for it gave him a show as it reflected off the snowflakes. He was content and had great plans.

The young man held his beautiful wife close and he enjoyed the scent of her; all fresh and clean with just a touch of perfume. She knew he liked it and had taken great pains for this reunion.

She moved to a sitting position and bent and kissed him and he liked the way her long hair tickled his chest. Outside, the wind sent out a gust and their wind chimes beat a steady rhythm. She wrapped the blankets over her slim form and then said, "The test was positive."

The young man felt his stomach knot and visions of lost dreams danced over his mind. "Are you sure? Maybe they're wrong."

She giggled. "No, it's true. Aren't you happy for us."

He reached and placed his hand on her arm, gave it a little squeeze, then brushed her beautiful face. He gently pulled her down and held and kissed her. The old house creaked under the wind's force and the snow gave a show of white streaked lines on the wavy glass of their window.

He whispered to her, "We're so young."

"I know. But if not now when? We have the store and your career. We'll manage."

Over the last year, in between his duty assignments, they'd traveled the state and searched out old pieces of furniture, antiques, and the young man took great care to refinish the pieces. They'd rented a store front in the small towns main street and were fairly successful for their effort.

 He had other plans too. The young man wanted a home of their own and had made an offer on the Victorian he'd found that sat high on a hill with views of the mountains and had a cold wild stream where the seasonal salmon migrations filled it bank to bank. And, he had hobbies. How would he have the time to roam the mountains, rifle in hand, or afford his books, or fish the wild run of Steelheads, or bird hunt the fall season.

"You still with me?"

"Yes," the young man said. "I'm still here."

The young woman read his face in spite of the darkness. She cried.

A week later the young man parked his truck across from the clinic. Curbside was a local schools playground and as he stepped from the truck he noticed the little ones run and play and swing; they were happy and he smiled and even then his resolve was strong and firm. He focused on one little girl as she pushed her swing to skirt flapping height, her giggles filled the air with joy and he didn't really care.

He walked around and helped his beautiful wife step down and took her arm and walked her inside. The older nurse gave him a firm look and took her from him. He waited.

Afterwards she stepped into the room and he rose, all gentlemanly like, to take her arm and she brushed it away and said, "It's done. I'm empty."

Only then did he feel the shame of it. Only then did it hit him of what he'd forced, and that time only moves one way and what is lost can never be returned.

The young man helped his wife back into the truck and walked to the other side. The playground was empty too. The only movement was the gentle sway of the swings in the wind.

Stephen
 

I Want

Confession here....if I weren't already married to my Sweet Wife, and if I were single and say ten years younger, I'd ride to Canada and find Laura Calder and drag her back to my lair and make her mine.

I mean, the lady just made duck confit. 

Let's face it. We all have our fantasies.

Stephen

The Dragunov Saga

Began late last night when my cell rang...I answered, even though the number was unfamiliar.

"Hey, are you Stephen?"

"Yes, how may I help...." He cuts me off with, "Hey, listen. My buddy said you'd buy this rifle."

Like that...

I said, "Back up a moment. First, what's your friends name?"

"Billy Bob."

I searched my memory for any Billy Bob's I might or might not know and came up empty. In the mean time he's still running his mouth. He made mention of where and how he'd met this so called common friend of ours. He continued, "Yeah, man, it's a real good deal and he said you buy it."

"What exactly are you trying to sell?"

"Okay," all breathless, "What I got here is a 7.62x54 Dragunov with a 24 inch barrel with a 8x42 pro mildot scope and two hundred rounds of ammunition and two ten round magazines."

I asked, "What price, not that I'm interested, you understand?"

Long pause.

"Okay, here's the deal. I need $1,350.00 for it."

Immediately I came back with, "No. But thanks for the offer."

Then, "Are you nuts. Hey, man, this is a great sniper rifle. Hey, man, my friend said you'd buy it."

"He isn't my friend. Besides, there's no profit margin in your price."

That one threw him for a loop. For a moment I thought I'd lost the connection and was about to hit the button when, "Ah, what 'ya mean man."

"Just what I said. There's little to zero profit in this deal. I have no desire to add this rifle to my personal collection; it's worthless for practical applications, although fun to shoot. But for me, it's useless. Kinda like tits on a boar."

Silence.

"What will you give me for it. Give me a break, man. Make me an offer."

I thought about it for a nano-second, then said, "Five hundred, and you keep the ammo."

He yelled a few curse words in my direction. I cut it short. He regained his composure and continued.

"Is your cell able get text?"

"Yes, even out here in the sticks of rural River City this Blackberry has the capability to accept text."

"Okay, sure man. Then what if I send you a couple of pictures. Will you think on it?"

I gave it a two beat, and said, "Sure, send them. And, by the way. I don't just purchase every weapon sent my way. I'm funny like that, do you understand, and furthermore, my name isn't, man."

He sent this.

I'm still not a buyer.

Stephen

Good Afternoon

Sorry I didn't write an update last night but yesterday was hectic, to say the least. On my way out the door for my afternoon with the doctors and nurses I heard an awful sound. Do you guys and girls remember the water line leak I had last week - well guess what.

I dialed the plumber as I drove away and told him his repair didn't hold. Informed him I wanted water before I came home last night. He said, "I'll try."  At the doc's office the nurse asked why my blood pressure was so high.

So, I get to his office twenty minutes early, take a seat and wait with soul searing patience. Finally the nurse, all cheery and chatty, screams my name. She takes me to a room and I sit there for one solid hour. Thank God for Kindle. I arrived at one forty-five in the afternoon....left at five. I kid you not. At least I had water when I arrived home. I forget the author of the famous phrase, 'It's times like these that try man's soul.'

kymber, my dear lady, as requested, here's your picture of the soup I built yesterday.

As many of you know I am the founder of a group of like minded individuals. We're all veterans of our country's various military services. A great bunch of men and women. For the last year we've met once a month. Lately we just call our monthly meetings, work days. I, nor Duke, for obvious reasons, could make this month's meeting/work day.

We, as a group, have under construction what we call, The Boar's Nest. Its a combination storage/bunkhouse/kitchen constructed on stilts located far out in the boonies on a beautiful wild river.

Last weekend the guys, without mine and Duke's valued help, finished our power connection. We have lights....and a freshly painted ceiling, in white. They did a great job. Wish I had a photo to share. Well, I do but it's an older picture of a few us on our quest for treasure taken last year. Duke is that big fella on the far left.

Above, a rare picture of yours truly. I don't like cameras. For the curious it's a Glock 27 in my old Galco SOB holster. I remember it was a hot sweaty day and I'd jerked my shirt tail out, and yes, the trousers are old woodland camo. I live in Guy Harvey shirts.

 (snip)

This morning on our way to school I look over to find Little Bit with the trucks visor mirror pulled down and her reflection under careful study. She turns this way and that and smiles. I finally asked, "Honey, what are you doing?"

She turns to me with, "Papa, I'm wearing my new lipstick, and now I'm pretty, and it's pink."

Seems her Nana gave her a stick of that lip balm stuff for her birthday. The brand is geared towards little girls.

I don't know, ask someone else.

"Papa."

"Yes, Honeybun."

"Aren't I pretty?"

"You have always been pretty to me with or without that stuff."

She smiles at me. Then, "I know Papa, I just wanted to make sure you still knew I was pretty."

Girls.

Stephen

Bits and Pieces

Nurse just left and now the house is quiet. The last two days have been fun, and I'd like to thank all of you, once again, for the nice birthday wishes you've extended my Little Bit. She had a wonderful birthday and you, my nice friends, were a great part of her happiness.

I must leave in a few minutes for some extended doctor's appointments and therapy. It will be a long day. Wish otherwise but such is life. 

Our weather is cool. The high winds have moved on to greener pastures. Hopefully, after my chores of the day are behind, I will have time enough to build a nice soup. Just seems the day begs for a thick rich satisfying meal of soup and cornbread.

Have a great day and with any luck at all I'll see you nice folks later this evening.

Until then.

Stephen

Urgent Morning Update

Evil has descended upon my home....my grandchild, Little Bit, love and light of my life, has been taken over by a demon using the name of Justin Bieber...one of the ugliest critters I've ever seen. He squeals in the background as I write.

She's only seven...today. Help me....

Here's a wanted poster of this creature.

If you spot this thing, shot on sight. It's dangerous. One thousand rounds of your choice for proof of capture.

Stephen

To My Heart, Happy Birthday

You, Little Bit, have brought joy to my heart, and peace to my soul. Papa loves you more each day.

Happy Seventh Birthday. You are the light of my life.

My little bohemian last night.

Stephen