My Christmas Story “Kris and Me” is on Green Spot Blue

Mele Kalikimaka readers!

My Christmas short story “Kris and Me” is being showcased on GreenSpotBlue.com for the holidays (and if you haven’t visited that site before, you should. It’s an interesting mix of literature, parenting, and hip finds on the internet). Here is an excerpt from the beginning of the story:

Let’s get this out of the way first. Kris has always had a magnificent beard. Even as a freshmen, when the rest of us were dreaming for just the hint of a stubble, Kris had a full rich beard. Yes, the girls would giggle about it behind his back, but all of us boys were jealous, because we thought it made him look rugged and a little dangerous.

I once asked about his beard. “How can you stand it, Kris?”

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t it drive you a little crazy? Isn’t it scratchy? Don’t you want to shave?”

He merely shrugged in response to it. “I like who I am.”

Strangely, that response made me a little jealous too.

You can read my entire story here. I hope you will check it out!

Advertisements

Upon The Ground: Rise Up And Kiss The Wind

It is Tuesday and GreenSpotBlue.com is sharing another short story from my collection Upon The Ground. Today is the story, “Rise Up And Kiss The Wind.”

Here is the beginning from the story (here):

“Rise Up And Kiss The Wind”

He was back. Again.

And even though he returned once every five years something was final about this one. He knew it would be his last visit.

The old man could tell he was not long for this world. It wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t in the greatest health. He was in fine health and people in his family were known for long lives. It was a mental struggle. He no longer wanted to live. He was ready to shake off the mortal coils and move on.

And this was the place he was going to die.

It was perfect.

It was beautiful and serene.

It was more than just a cottage near the beach; it was part of his life. It was part of his being. It was the place where his life changed and led him to this destiny.

It was the place where his wife died.

Many people in the area have theories of why he always returned. He even heard two little boys yesterday call him “Old Man Death” when he was visiting his wife’s grave. But when he turned around to see the children, they were gone.  It’s amazing how cruel people can be when they don’t know what they are talking about.

You can read the rest of the story here. I hope you enjoy it.

Upon The Ground: Breathing Lessons

A new short story from my collection Upon The Ground is available via the literary Web site, Green Spot Blue. This is the sixth story from the collection (You can read the other stories via the links on the Upon The Ground page on this site).

This week’s story is entitled “Breathing Lessons.” You can read it here. Here is an excerpt from the beginning of the story.

“Breathing Lessons”

She has asthma. And sometimes it could get really bad. Especially when she was very nervous and scared. When she was a little girl, bullies would tease her because of it. They would watch her face turn blue and laugh when she started making wheezing noises through her throat. Then she would start to hyperventilate and once she even passed out from the excitement. She remembers waking up later in the nurses’ office with a cold rag held to her head.

But all that was so long ago and now it was very rare when it would get that bad. The last experience she had with it that bad was during her wedding. She remembers vividly the old feelings running through her mind as she tried to keep standing on her feet.  “Try to keep calm. You’ll be fine,” she said in her mind throughout the ceremony. She could feel the attention bearing down on her. His hand reached out at just the right moment….

“He did this to me,” Stacy said as she rubbed her enlarged stomach. “This is all his fault.”

She sighed. That was a lie. She wanted to have the child. He felt it was too soon, but he didn’t argue the point. So really it wasn’t all his fault. It was her decision. Well, it was her choice. She just forgot to worry about the pain aspect of it and what that would do to her nerves.

“I have too much time to think,” she said to herself. Her doctor ordered her to stay in bed (she felt something that didn’t feel right) and she had as many days as it would take of not moving to look forward.

You can check out the rest of the story here. Thank you for reading!

Upon The Ground: In Wonderland

A new short story from my collection, Upon The Ground, is up on Green Spot Blue (You can always catch up on previous short stories from the work via the Upon The Ground page above).  This story (here) is entitled “In Wonderland.”  Here is a snippet from the beginning…

“In Wonderland”

A Beginning

The theme for freshman week was “Alice in Wonderland.” So the halls and the rooms and the campus were covered with copies of the drawings from the Lewis Carroll books. Events were planned around the stories from “Meet Your Dorm” card games night to a live chessboard on Saturday for the amusement of the first parents’ weekend.

Alan Milne was proud to be the first one to tear down one of the ridiculous signs (It looked like nothing more than a bad photocopy of a page anyway). He stuffed it into his coat pocket, picked his bags back up and headed for his dorm room.

Milton Thinks

Ugh, another normal mortal. He will breath my air and make everything complacent. He gawks at my black suit and black coat and tries to see behind my sunglasses. God, let them be a mystery, commoner! But question me. Learn to accept the immortal that stands before you.

I am art.

“So what’s your major going to be?” The mortal asks me awkwardly. He’s trying to have a conversation with me. How cute! How quaint! Makes me feel like having a glass of milk and watching a sitcom.

“I’m a poet, my major is life,” I say with a scowl. I love the sound of my voice. It rings through the air like the clearest bells.

“So you write poems?”

“No I write a poem.”

You can read the rest of the story here… And by the way, if you like this story and my other writing, why not check out my amazon.com page (here). You can find my novels My Problem With Doors and Megan there for your reading pleasure.

Thanks for reading!

One of My Favorite Finds of Last Year: Graphic Audio’s DC Titles

I have a new review up on GreenSpotBlue today.  This one is a find I am really excited about, as you will see from my review. In many ways, Graphic Audio are bringing life to an artform I thought was dead and that is, in my humble opinion, awesome.  Here is the beginning of my review:

This may sound like the beginning of a bad country song, but when I found Graphic Audio, I was not looking for love just a way to pass the time.

See, in 2011, my daughter was born and after the experience of her older brother I knew I needed something to help keep me awake and focused during late night feedings… or even afternoon feedings (something about holding a sleeping baby that knocks me out every time). Continue reading

The Price is Bright, an online novel by Henry Williams

Henry, one of the creators of GreenSpotBlue.com, has started serializing novels on the Web site.  The first to be presented as a serial is entitled The Price is Bright and is his own creation.

I’ve always found Henry to be a great poet, with an amazing vocabulary and skill in pacing. Much of this is very evident in this first selection from his book. If you like good literature and beautiful writing, I highlighly recommend you check it out.  This link is for the first part. New parts of the book will emerge on the site every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

The New Kid in the Audience

 Hi, my name is Scott and I’m a Christmas-aholic. It has been two hours since I last listened to Nat King Cole sing “The Christmas Song.”

I love this season.

I always have.

I look forward to putting up the tree and buying presents (many times I have been known to do this in September and October… the presents, not the tree). Continue reading

Mush

My brain has turned to mush.

I can’t say exactly when it happened, but somewhere between the long sleepless nights with a newborn and the obsessions of a toddler (who is convinced he is a racecar, and tells everyone. I don’t even understand how Nascar is a sport!), this fine-tuned tool I have always been so fond of has become permanently muddled. Continue reading

Losing Raiders

This weekend I turn old…

Well, older than I am right now and each year it always feels like it is has more of an “umpf” than the previous year.  I’m only 36 (if I do the math right, I’m about to be 37), and that still puts me at what could be considered my healthy, cool, and on a good day, possibly sexy years.

Yes I’m older, but I’m not voting Republican yet or watching Fox, but my back does bother me from time to time… but that may be more related to the 32 lbs., three-year old who expects to be carried on my back, or shoulders, or in front in a flying-type formation as if he is Superman (He also likes to make “zer” noises while he does it, making me wonder why Superman has a motor).

But 36 for me represented one thing…

This was the same age Indiana Jones was when he fought the Nazis in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Yeah, it is Indiana Jones age!

That gave the age a certain slickness to it that I didn’t consider before for the other years.  Could I stand up to snakes or be chased by boulders?…

Maybe…

OK, probably not, but it is the same age and look at all of the cool stuff Prof. Jones did!

That was the age he was called upon to save the world.  And he did it with flying colors (Let’s be honest, he really didn’t do much to stop the Nazis and actually helped them find the Ark, get the Ark, and open the Ark, but he still fought them along the way and that should count for something, right?).

I know it is only fiction, I get that, but for a kid who remembers vividly seeing the movie for the first time (and attending the same college George Lucas did because of it), it resonates.

This was the age when bad-ass stuff could happen.

And now that age is going away and only 37 remains.

37… Three years until 40… and then 41, the same age Jane Austen died.

When I accepted the fact I was an atheist (with some leanings towards agnosticism on a good day), time seemed to mean more. It is precious. It is not a test, with a reward at an end.  It’s a moment to relish.

This is it, there is only this one shot each year and then…

Brr… I feel a little cold.

On Wednesday I had to get a new Driver’s License and picture, capture the image of my new age, my new time in life. And I even checked the box for an organ donor, darkly thinking of a part of me living on after my brain has stopped functioning. Yeah, this is what birthdays do to my thoughts.

Yet, being a parent, has given me a new way of looking at time.  Seeing my boy, get taller, vocabulary increasing, etc., the time there impacts me in a different way. I can understand why some would find faith at the moment of a child’s birth, but for me it seemed all very natural.  Like an instinct kicking in.

And that instinct, relates also to my parenting and how I view the little Superman flying in my arms.  There is an immortality there.  No, no, not the idea of heaven and judgments, etc., but of meaning.  See a part of who I am is there, I can see it behind his eyes and with what he does.  Oh, he is his own person, but I can still see some of myself there, along with my wife, and even some of his grandparents.

But it is more than genetics.  It’s in the things I take time to really give him. The things I emphasize in teaching him, or exposing him to.  That stuff carries on too.

So having my son, does help some with the whole aging thing.  And when they sing the Birthday song to me and bring out the cake, I’ll smile.

But I will also fight back at least one tear for losing Indy.