Friday, March 13, 2009

"Saturday" (pg 1)

(Please imagine the little girl from Poltergeist) It's baaaack.

Yes indeed, it's back. After a two month hiatus, the short story makes a reappearance on the blog circuit. For only a limited ten week run, a short story that I created especially for this blog, will make an appearance for your reading pleasure.

I present to you, my reading public, my first attempt at writing a fantasy. When all is said and done, if you don't think it's a fantasy, then by all means, please tell me what you think it should be. I'm open to any and all suggestions.

"It looks really windy out there."
"Make sure you bundle up and don't forget your gloves."
"When will you be home?"
I looked at my watch and thought about what errands I needed to do today.
"A couple of hours I think."
"Okay, see you then."

A few minutes later, I stepped outside and was met with a cold hard slap to the face.
"Shoot, that's cold." I said to myself, before taking my glasses off and stuffing them into my jacket.
Zipping it up, I then left to do my morning errands. Instead of taking my usual route, which took me through a troubled section of town. I cut across the yard and took the scenic route.
Normally a pleasant walk through in the spring and summer, it was downright brutal in the autumn and winter. And today was no exception.
The minute I stepped onto the street, I knew that there was gonna be trouble. The wind from last night blew hard and cold through the barren mountain, coating the roadway with a thin sheet of black ice.
In some spots where the sun poked through, the ice had melted and the walking was easy. Around my section of the street though, the stripped down trees were grouped tight enough to let in about five percent of the sun. Good enough to de-fog my glasses, but crappy enough not to melt the ice.
This I found out the hard way.

I had taken off at my usual brisk pace, covering the side yard in less than several seconds. The minute I placed a foot in the road, I wound up (in rapid succession) reaching for the sky, inhaling tar and gravel, squashing my glasses and kissing the earth. Adding insult to injury, a car drove by and showered me with dirty water.
While I was figuring out to do next, my cell phone rang. Rolling over so that I was safely out of harm's way, I then dug out my cell and answered.
"Quick trip?"
I paused for a good moment so as to wait for the laughter to die down.
"Done?" I said rather sarcastically.
"No. Tell me," said the wife in between peels of laughter, "did it taste good?"
I shoved the phone in my pocket, and threw such a dirty look at the house that the house shrunk upon reception.
(c) 2009 GBMJr. All rights reserved.


  1. I enjoyed that. Felt very real. I'm not sure what genre it fits in but it was good.

  2. Thanks.

    Trust me, it gets stranger as it progresses.

    I'm not sure what genre either. I started writing it and when I got to the pothole is where I really started going off the deep end with it.

  3. Ouch, I could really feel the tar and ashphalt myself. Well done.

    And that last line is very imaginative.


  4. Thanks.

    In all honesty, the road next to my house is actually like that.

  5. Black ice will get you every time. I could feel that fall right with the poor guy. I like the last line too, instead of describing the withering look, seeing the house as the recipient.

  6. That seems to be the prevailing sentiment with everyone who has read it.

    It's funny how one line can sometimes leave a lasting impression on someone.

  7. Thanks for compliment and thanks for stopping by today.

    Hope you continue to check back in periodically.


Go on, give me your best shot. I can take it. If I couldn't, I wouldn't have created this wonderful little blog that you decided to grace with your presence today.

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G. B. Miller

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