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 |    A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination. |
 A log of our magnificent journey. |
| Brian Booker was going bonkers. At work as a customer service clerk for a shipping company, he was constantly besieged by disgruntled customers complaining about misrouted shipments, misquoted rates, delayed deliveries, and all the other factors that applied under Murphy's Law. At home, his wife was always harping about the "to do" list, which never seemed to get any shorter no matter how hard he worked. In between those two harried worlds of persecution was the hassle of log-jammed traffic--bumper to bumper on the way to work, bumper to bumper on the way home, noise, pollution, impatient people, frayed nerves. He needed a break. One day, as he was creeping along in traffic on the way home, inspiration struck him like a bolt of lightning. He saw a huge balloon depicting a dinosaur floating over a used car lot with a banner which proclaimed: MONSTER SALE FISHING CARS DIRT CHEAP A few days alone at a fishing camp on the lake were exactly what he needed. He had vacation time coming at work, and his wife was going to visit her sister for a week. Why not? He flipped on his turn blinker and pulled over into the car lot, where he was greeted immediately by a salesman wearing a flashy Hawaiian shirt, straw hat, and Bermuda shorts, presenting exactly the kind of casual image that Brian intended for himself. After checking out several cars under the enthusiastic guidance of the boisterous salesman, Brian finally settled on an old sedan selling for $500.00. The door panels were rusty, and there were a couple of holes in the floorboard. But the engine seemed to be in pretty good shape. Good enough to get from here to there. He wrote a check, and the salesman gave him a bill of sale. After filling out the paperwork to apply for a new title, registration, and insurance, Brian called a neighbor to help him get the car home. On Saturday morning, as he was preparing for his fishing getaway, Brian popped the trunk on the sedan to stow his fishing gear. There, lying in the trunk, he discovered a man's body and two suitcases. From recent news coverage, he recognized the body as that of a notorious drug kingpin who had disappeared about a month ago. Opening the suitcases, he found one with bags of white powder and the other full of cash. He called the police, and they came out to retrieve the body and the suitcase full of dope. That night, he went to an old dive that he remembered from his bachelor days and found an old acquaintance of questionable repute, from whom he procured a new driver's license and passport. First thing next morning, he went to the airport and bought a one-way ticket to the Cayman Islands. 470 words |
| Through my lens, a soldier's life is portrayed, along with all the sacrifices made. I see such vile atrocities unfold, recording them for others to behold. Sensor captures barbaric carnival, preserved in powerful pictorial. My photographic memory retains the gruesome scenes with battle's bloody stains. When hero's flag-draped casket is conveyed down ramp from C-17 cargo hold in solemn military ritual, I document family's grieving pains. Notes ▼ |
| The ghosts of Hemingway and Poe abide here and cavort with folks like Bonnie and Clyde here. Habitat for adventurous spirits, Huckleberry Finn meets Sally Ride here. Across the ages, tongues of many scholars speak their piece and become amplified here. Their voices echo down fertile valleys from the mountain of books sanctified here. Insatiable curiosities try to have their inquiries satisfied here. History, opinion, and fantasy are washed in the literary tide here. Fantasy writers take eager readers along for a remarkable ride here. These stacks of books form a mystic labyrinth, which will lead you to the truth inside here. Among the congregating kindred souls, Granddaddy met his lovely bride here. Notes on the Ghazal form of poetry ▼ |
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