Tag Archives: life

Hiking in Heels


Hiking in Heels, along with many other works, are available on my Etsy. And don’t forget to check out Capturing a Moment, a book by Wrags Ink that collects around fifty of my images into a nice little coffee table book. It comes with all kinds of free goodies and also can be purchased with original pieces!

1620 Sycamore

“The bed and breakfast should be right around this bend,” Adam said to his new bride, Bertha as he turned the wheel of the car.

“I can’t believe it! I will be waking up with you tomorrow. It’s like a dream.” Bertha was glowing, and he couldn’t believe that just a few short hours ago they’d tied the knot. His friends always bet he would never take that final leap, and yet he was the first of the group to do so.

He knew he would be the second he’d met Bertha. He fell for her on the spot.

Adam smiled at the beautiful brunette as he pulled up to a 1900s farmhouse-turned-bed and breakfast. The siding was painted a pale blue and the woodwork around the porch was a light pink, just as his co-worker described it.

As Adam pulled to a stop his car skidded a bit on the gravel, sending up a small cloud of dust and alerting the owner to their arrival. “Here we are, 1620 Sycamore!” he said. The owner came out onto the wraparound porch and waved to them. As he did so his wire-framed glasses began to fall down his nose a bit and he had to catch them with his hand and push them back into place.

“You must be the Burnses, eh?” he asked them from the porch as they got out of the car.

Bertha giggled. “You’re the first one to call us that!” Adam came around and opened the trunk.

“And you must be Mister Oliver, the owner?”

“Yessir, that’s me!” He fixed his suspenders and let them slap against his oversized stomach as Adam reached into the back seat and pulled out his hat. He placed it onto his head and approached Mister Oliver, hand outstretched.

“Mighty fine place you have here, sir! Lovely. Just perfect for our honeymoon.” The older man smiled and winked at him.

“Haven’t had newlyweds here in a while! Mother and I will enjoy seeing young love again. Here to see the falls?”

“Yes, and possibly a bit of Canada, too.”

“Good for you, son.” Bertha was still waiting by the car and the old man nodded to her. Adam turned, went to the back door of the car and pulled out her small dark blue cardigan.

“It’s a bit chilly, hun, maybe you should put this on.” He started wrapping the sweater around Bertha, who saw the camera in the back seat.

“Oh! Adam, let’s get a photograph. Can we? It will be our first honeymoon shot.”

Adam pulled the camera out and looked hopefully to Mister Oliver, who smiled.

“Let me take that for you, son!” he said as he waddled down the four steps off the porch. As Adam showed him how the camera worked, Bertha carefully placed her purse and sweater onto the porch. Then she fixed her pleated skirt to make sure there were no wrinkles, rechecked the buttons of her blouse, and fixed her sleeves. Adam ran to her and leaned in.

“Hold on!” Bertha said. “You can’t wear a hat in this!” she said, removing it from her husband’s head, placing it onto her belongings on the porch, and then fussing over his hair. Once she got every strand into place, she smiled.

“Ready for this, Mister Burns?”

He smiled at his new wife. “Of course, Mrs. Burns.” And, of course, she giggled a little.

Ritual

Every morning, Albert woke up before sunrise for his ritual. He climbed from bed right into his work pants, replaced the ribbed undershirt he’d slept in for a fresh, clean one, carefully put on his starched and ironed white button-down shirt, and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders.

Like all men of his day, Albert knew the importance of remaining clean-cut. After a quick visit to the kitchen, where he started the coffee, he headed back through his bedroom to the bathroom.

The bathroom ritual, after actions unmentionable in polite society, of course, included a shave, washing his face and brushing his teeth for three minutes, no more, no less. He would then pomade and brush his gray hair, wipe off his glasses on the special cloth he’d bought from the kindly door-to-door salesman, and then return to the kitchen.

Before Helen passed he’d always walked in to find some form of eggs, toast, orange juice and something from the meat group, but since her death he just couldn’t get the hang of making breakfast. He’d tried for about a year, the eggs were always either burnt or too runny, plus he always forgot to get orange juice at the market. So these days, if he even ate, it was toast and a pear from the tree that Helen planted back when they bought the small, suburban home.

The emptiness of the kitchen always got to Albert when he first walked in. The smells of the past haunted him, and he often forgot about her passing because he swore he could smell the ghosts of bacon frying in a pan. But whenever he walked in with a smile, adjusting his suspenders, his expectations were always disappointed. It was always empty, the sound of the coffee machine the only noise in the house and the counter meticulously organized and clean, just as he’d left it the night before.

And so he would stand with his back to the counter, as if talking to Helen like in the old days, and pour a coffee. But now, instead of sitting at the table, he ate at the sink, letting the crumbs of his solitary piece of toast fall directly into the empty sink. It kept him from having to wipe down the table, and since he kept the place immaculately clean, just as Helen did in her day, it saved him some time.

The final part of Albert’s ritual was to put on his tie, his shoes and his jacket. He walked up to the rack by the door, took his hat off the post, placed it on his head and opened the front door. The sun would just be rising as he turned and looked at his empty, dark home.

“I love you, honey. See you at supper,” he always whispered before he shut the door.

Devotion

Devotion, part of Capturing a Moment.

Sunday Walks

Sunday Walks is part of the upcoming book Capturing a Moment, a collection of my flash fiction stories typed onto vintage black and white photographs, published by Wrags, Ink.

Preorder the book today and receive all kinds of goodies and freebies! Or you can purchase it for a few more dollars and get an original print as well!

Magazine Publication, Part II

A magazine for and about artists.

Hello all! Care to see my work in yet another magazine? The wonderful crew over at Racing Minds Magazine have featured me in their August issue.

The online version is here. A paper copy is also available here if you care to purchase it. Please check out all of the amazing artists, photographers and creative minds that come together in this excellent publication.

The Z Word Origin Stories – Kathy

 

 

Author’s note: If you’ve read The Z Word, there was a little confusion over names and there were two women named Kathy in the story. One, a sixteen-year-old, lived with her parents and ran away during the apocalypse. This is not her origin. This is Kathy, the bad-ass late-teens gal who eventually met and teamed up with Zachary. Enjoy!

Click the image to like us on Facebook. And if you haven’t read The Z Word, you should. 🙂

Kathy hit the punching bag over and over as the song Bad Reputation by Joan Jett blasted in the background. She took a break from her workout to play some air guitar. She resembled the old Joan Jett poster she had hung on the workout room wall behind her; her dark brown hair was even cut in a similar fashion. After a few more chords on her invisible instrument, she hit the bag until the song ended and then walked over to the stereo and hit stop as she heard the front door slam.

Sid entered the workout room and smiled. “Quite a sweat you’ve got going on…tough workout?”

She shook her head and smiled. “If you’re asking if I’m too tired to spar a little, I’m up for it.”

He grinned and tried to look at the back of his arm. That’s when she noticed the blood and grew concerned.

“What happened there?”

He saw the rips in the shirt he was wearing and tore off the blood-splattered sleeve. “Nothing, some crazy guy bit me on the way home. It kind of burns a little.”

“I’ll get some peroxide.” She walked down the hall towards the bathroom and yelled over her shoulder, “But don’t think you can use this as an excuse for losing when we spar!”

She returned with the peroxide and a towel and dabbed his arm. “Oh you big baby, there’s just a few teeth marks. You’re fine. Just barely broke the skin. Ready?” she said, smacking the cuts.

“Ow! Jerk. Just for that I’m not holding back!” he said as he put on the gloves. She just laughed at him.

“Yeah…like you ever hold back.”

He walked up to her and put his hands out, which she bumped with her own. “Ready?”

He nodded and she punched him in the jaw faster than he could react. He backed up and shook his head, then laughed. “That all you got?”

Punches were thrown, most were blocked on both sides, and each worked up a sweat as they switched between punches and banter until Sid seemed to slow down a bit and was hit a few more times.

Kathy became worried. “You okay? It’s not usually this easy. And you’re looking a little green.”

He pulled off the gloves. “Yeah, I’m not feeling so hot. I think we’d better stop for now.” She nodded and took off her gloves.

She smiled at him. “Guess I’ll take a shower. Go lie down and I’ll make dinner when I get out! Maybe some soup for you…something light since you’re looking so sick.”

Kathy got undressed and slid the glass door shut on the shower, letting the cold water run over her sweaty body. As she washed the soap off, she noticed a shadow through the glass. She finished up and turned off the water.

“Feeling better already, Sid? Trying to catch a glimpse?” she said with a laugh as she reached out for her towel. He walked toward the door and she slammed it on him. “Oh no, you have to work for it if you want some!” she laughed as she dried off with the towel and wrapped it around her. Sid approached the foggy glass and then slammed a hand against it, scaring her.

“Sid? What the hell?” she said with anger as she opened the glass door. He turned to look at her and she noticed a different look in his eyes, almost cloudy. “Sid?”

He lunged at her and she dove across the bathroom, all while keeping the towel wrapped around her body. He fell through the door of the shower, shattering glass everywhere.  “What the hell, Sid?” she asked as he jumped up, glass sticking out of his chest and face. He growled a little and went for her again. This time she was better prepared and threw a right uppercut, hitting him square in the jaw and knocking him off his feet. She slammed the bathroom door and shoved a chair under the knob so he was trapped.

She ran to their bedroom and threw on a vintage Runaways tee, skipping the bra and underwear to throw on a pair of black skinny jeans. She heard slamming against the bathroom door and then a scream from outside their studio apartment. She ran to the window to see two little kids being chased by a man covered in blood.

She thought about what she saw outside and what was in her bathroom, the man she loved turned into something else, and knew what was going on. She’d seen the movies. It was zombies. She grabbed Sid’s aluminum baseball bat and jumped onto the ancient fire escape. The ladder, rusted stuck, wouldn’t give so she jumped with her full weight onto it and as it clanged loose held on until it jerked to a stop, almost flinging her from it. She jumped the last four feet and landed as the kids ran by her.

The zombie stopped, looked from the children to her, and let out a piercing sound almost like a scream as it started in her direction. One swift swing of the bat to its head took it down and she turned to the kids. “Are you two okay?”

They nodded without making a sound until one pointed behind Kathy and screamed. She turned to find two more monsters right on top of her. She screamed to the kids “Run home and don’t stop for anything! Lock yourselves in!” The two monsters pushed her into the glass behind her, shattering it as she dropped the bat and held both creatures at the throat so they couldn’t bite her. They pushed and clawed at her, one scratching at her arm as she put a foot into each of the monsters’ chests and pushed with all her strength. They both toppled backward and fell as she reached around for a weapon in the window display. The window belonged to an old army-navy surplus store and lucky for her had a crossbow under the splintered glass on the display floor. She grabbed it just as the zombies stood and let loose with an arrow, shooting one in the head. She loaded as the second walked in her direction, firing as it got close but only hitting the shoulder. She quickly reloaded and this time hit the target.

She stood in the display, brushing glass from her body and looking around. The cut on her arm was more of a scratch and hadn’t drawn blood, but she knew she would need more protection, and that’s when she saw the dummy in the window wearing a long, black leather coat. She snagged that and went into the store to see what else she could find for protection. The dark building had the usual stuff, camouflage clothing, camping gear, old army surplus items, but nothing really lethal until she noticed the curtain covering a doorway to a back room.

“Jackpot,” she said as she pulled the curtain back. Guns, swords and all kinds of illegal weapons garnered the walls. She took what she wanted.

Back at her apartment, Kathy used the hidden key to get in the front door. She looked toward the bathroom door, which was now splintered, half of the remnants hanging from the hinges and the rest in small pieces on the floor.  She reached into the backpack she now carried and grabbed the handle of the shotgun she’d taken from the store. A scratching sound came from the kitchen and she turned in time to see Sid, or what used to be Sid, coming at her slowly.

She aimed the shotgun at her boyfriend’s head and fired.

 

The Melancholy Robot and the Hot Dog Vendor

Come back tomorrow for the finale of The Melancholy Robot!

The robot watched the man purchase a hot dog from the vendor. It mimicked the man’s actions – moving its jaw hinge up and down, chewing imaginary food. Its jaw made a grinding sound since it wasn’t created for this purpose. It knew that food would ruin its mechanisms and internal clogs, and that it had no swallowing apparatus. So the robot looked away.

Today’s art was created by Jessica Smith.

The Melancholy Robot and Curiosity

The robot approached a sign that said YMCA and curiosity got the better of it. Upon entering, its glass optical units fogged over and it was forced to wipe them with its robot hands. It had entered a dangerous area with one of its natural enemies, humidity, and it knew this but just had to investigate.  It watched the humans, with much less covering than they usually wore, jumping into a big bluish pool of water. They laughed, smiled, exercised, it seemed to the robot to be a happy place for them.  One ran and a man with a loud implement in his mouth forced the child to slow down with a piercing noise. The robot heard someone yell “Cannonball!” and as he hit the water a little sprayed the robot, and it knew it had to leave. This was no place for a metallic man.

Artwork by Ryan Vecci. Go to www.laserbaked.blogspot.com for Ryan’s website. The last two installments of The Melancholy Robot will come next week, but for now check out the old stories.

The Melancholy Robot and the Dump

The robot reached the top of the hill and spotted a sign that said City Dump; it looked over the mounds of garbage, piled all the way to a distant river. The robot felt as close to sad as it could; it recognized humankind’s vast wastefulness, clearer now than it was in the city. It could not fathom why they refused to mulch what they could, why some ignored recycling when areas like this dump could be so easily avoided.
The robot wanted to do something about it, but what could one mechanical being do?

Today’s art is created by the talented Emily Homrok. Emily is co-editor of Pitbull Magazine and is available as a freelance artist. Email her at ehomrok@gmail.com if you wish to contact her!