 Action/Adventure: August 15, 2007 Issue [#1881] |
  Action/Adventure
This week: Edited by: W.D.Wilcox  
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No man needs a vacation so much as the person who has just had one.
~ Elbert Hubbard
A good vacation is over when you begin to yearn for your work.
~ Morris Fishbein
Babies don't need a vacation. But I still see them at the beach. It pisses me off.
~ Steven Wright
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The Adventure of a Lifetime: Vacation
When your job begins to wear you down, an ingenious plan was devised to help you get away from the monotony. It's called a vacation, and even as I write this, I'm still finding it hard to recover from my escape from the doldrums of employment.
Vacations were originally designed to revitalize us so that we could step back into the workforce (ye old grindstone) feeling fresh and invigorated. But we either need to have a vacation from the vacation (a post-vacation), or a period of time to prepare for vacation (a pre-vacation) where we can practice sleeping on the ground in a tent, or spend a couple of days consuming mass quantities of adult beverages in preparation for the so-called 'most relaxing time of the year'.
I have to admit that not everybody has a vacation like mine: camping, fishing, and playing poker into the wee hours of the night. Some of you actually take your kids along with you, and for that I am truly sorry.
But there'll come a time, when your kids will grow up and you'll be allowed to take an adventurous trip with just your spouse or close friends.
I went with my two brothers, who were determined to show me the time of my life. Of course, my aging body was not quite ready for what they had planned.
I started my trip with a quick two-hour flight from Seattle to sunny California. I have to admit that I don't really like to fly. I don't like the take-offs, the landings, or anything in-between. I guess it's my overactive imagination that keeps seeing vivid pictures of the plane's wings falling off and going down in a fiery ball of flames. Just so you know, there's no amount of Saint Joseph's Wort to alleviate this anxiety.
After the white-knuckle flight, I met my youngest brother, Doug, at the airport. From there, we drove a couple of more hours into the high country (Huntington Lake--elevation 8,000 feet) where my eldest brother, Bob, and his friend met us at a dusty campsite.
It was good to see my brothers again after almost two years, and there were lots of endearing hugs and slaps on the back. Of course, that quickly collapsed into the gibes and teasing we have grown accustomed to throwing at each other.
Then it was time for a celebratory birthday drink (did I mention it was my birthday?). They had a separate table set up to the right of a large ten-man tent with gallons (that's right, I said gallons) of all our favorite adult beverages (it was literally a fully stocked bar: with ice, cups, and mixers). I thought to myself then, that this was going to be a long week.
Anyway, as the days seemed to slip by faster than any of us cared to admit, I over ate, got drunker, and laughed harder than I've laughed in a very long time. But there's never a trip without a bit of mystery, and after talking with some fellow campers, we discovered that it wasn't only the fish that swam in the lake.
Apparently, a fellow had drown the day before we arrived, and in my best accent and superb deadpan delivery (like Quint from the movie Jaws) I said, "Dead body go in the water. Fish in the water. Fish eat the body. We catch the fish. We eat the fish....Farewell and ado, my fine Spanish ladies...farewell and ado, my ladies of Spain...."
We told many a joke at the drown man's expense: every fish caught was the dead man pulling on our line, and every fish we landed in the boat had been sucking on his face. So, it was no surprise to me to find that on our fourth day of camping, a horrible smell had invaded our campsite. It was totally disgusting, and reeked of something long dead and festering.
Can you tick a dead guy off? Yeah, I think so, but fortunately we were packing up the following day and saying our goodbyes.
Camping with my brothers has always been an endurance test, and this trip was no different, except I had to catch a plane home instead of hanging around town.
It was sad, and I already miss them, but I've found that sleeping on the ground and getting rid of a hangover ain't as easy as it used to be. Gods no. In fact, it's downright painful.
I hope you all survive your summer vacations, and here's to dead guys swimming in lakes everywhere.
Until next time,
billwilcox
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Adventures Of A Lifetime
[Excerpt] Fascinated, Nick watched the line feeding out so fast that the big reel was screaming in protest. Friction caused smoke to pour out of the reel. With his left hand, he grabbed the thick shaft of the fishing rod and squeezed hard on the line.
[Excerpt] There were five men that I could see. Then there were the two women. One was naked and laying face down over a log. She was the first female I had heard. She was crying and pleading.
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#676272 by Not Available. |
[Excerpt] "You're done with killin' and rapin', Tatom. That little gal weren't but fifteen years old. Pretty gal 'fore you got a'holt of her," Bartlett said.
[Excerpt] Dan is propped up against the sand bags. He looks down and sees his insides, which are sitting on his lap like some reddish brown puppy. A man jumps in and pushes Bronowski away, who goes back to firing into the wall of noise.
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[Excerpt] I rolled out my bedroll and built a campfire. Then I dug into my saddlebags for my fishing kit. It wasn’t much, just a spool of nylon line, a couple of sinkers and a package of hooks. That’s all I’d ever needed out here. I cut off a couple slivers of bologna for bait and walked on down to the creek.
[Excerpt] A fresh cannon-ball smashed into us as the ship heaved and began to sink inexorably. I saw Father Antonio being lifted into the air. He was mouthing the words of his last prayer even as his dead body flailed and fell back onto the deck.
| | Valkyrie (13+)
A girl is mistaken for a Valkyrie when she is mysteriously transported back in time.
#870141 by W.D.Wilcox |
[Excerpt] The two Vikings met them head-on. Sven impaled the first with his spear even as he pulled his sword to meet the next assailant with a crushing blow. Erik ducked under a swinging club and stuck his spear deeply into his enemy’s belly stepping to one side to let the man fall face down into the snow, blood pooling beneath him. In an instant the skirmish was over and the three attackers were left dead upon the ground.
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FEEDBACK
Deelyte- Chillin' 
Submitted Comment:
You are excellent at using words to create images and feelings! That's why your horror stories are so good! Great examples!
SilverGryphon
Submitted Comment:
This was great! Definitely one of your best... This is going on the wall next to my desk. Absolutely wonderful!
The only one of your descriptions that I didn't like was the wind screaming "like a woman being gutted an inch at a time by a mad man with a blunt knife." It just seems like a ridiculously long description, though it does present a graphic image. It almost adds a sense of sick humor, which I suppose would work for a caustic first person narration. But for an ordinary prose, I can't see how this would work without seeming silly.
But this was awesome. *inspired*
monty31802
Submitted Comment:
This Newsletter adds up to great imagery in all aspects. I like seeing what I read.
A great newsletter Bill.
wryter103
Submitted Comment:
My favorite has always been from Roger Zelazny,
"The stars shown down as cold and distant as the love of God." Now Baby, that's prose.
Seisa-sleepingcatbooks.com 
Submitted Comment:
Bill, you certainly have a way with words! I love all the example desciptions you provided in this week's newsletter. We should all aspire to that level!
Wren
Submitted Comment:
Reading your examples, Bill, is like seeing familiar faces in unexpected places, children who've become themselves in wise, imaginative ways. I especially love the pregnant clouds birthing the rain. Thanks. You woke me up to possibility.
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