Friday Fiction: The Landing

Jessica O’Malley moved to the city five years ago, she drove a delivery truck. She was originally from Boston and as close to an Irish rose as you could be without being born on the emerald isle. She had long red hair, which on this gusty day was swept back into a pony tail and topped with a green woollen hat that the salesperson said brought out her eyes. Jess didn’t care, it kept her head warm. She had a body which like any 28 year old she wasn’t happy with. The guys at the delivery depot from which she was driving didn’t seem to notice any imperfections, but what did they know. Guys eh, she thought.

Guys, or rather, one particular guy was the reason she sat in New York City traffic. She’d moved to the city to be with him. They split after he had a string of illicit liaisons the last of which had been with her sister.

Mike was a jerk and Jess was glad to be rid of him. But she grew to love his city, so she stayed. She found a job and the guys there were fun to be around, no-one date worthy however. She loved her job and people she would meet but sometimes it got all too much so the cab of her truck gave her space and time to herself. An oasis amongst the people, traffic and the elements, a peaceful haven whenever she needed it. Usually.

A huge crash shattered her peace.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, not another accident. Her boss was gonna be pissed, but something was different. The impact seemed to push her cab down rather than the usual forward motion of a fender bender.
“Arrh” she heard coming from the back her truck. The traffic wasn’t going anywhere and people were looking strangely at her and the truck, pointing. So she killed the engine and clambered out to investigate.

A small crowd had gathered. Jess was confused, what the hell was going on? She pushed through the crowd slid up the rear door of the truck and peered inside, along with at least ten strangers.
“Look,” she said. “Back the fuck off, it’s just an accident. Stop being so goddamn nosey” Jess clambered up into the truck and slid the door down behind her, no-one was stealing anything from her truck!

She looked up, there was a hole in the roof of the truck. beneath the hole, in amongst todays cargo, which happened to be mattresses was a balding fat guy, cradling his arm and moaning in pain.
“What the hell man!” Jess said. “How the fuck did you…”
“I fell.” the man stuttered.
“Where the hell from? There isn’t a overhanging branch in this city”
“That apartment block. My arm really hurts.”
“Fuck your arm, look at my truck. How do I know this wasn’t a dumass plan to rob me or something?”
“It wasn’t I promise you, I just slipped.”
“What the fuck are you doing up there anyway?” Jess said. “You ain’t Spiderman, you one of those meth heads tryna fly?”

The man looked at Jess. Took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

“You may not know it, but you just saved my life. My arm hurts like hell, but I don’t regret falling anymore. I have never loved anyone more..”

He passed out.

NY Street Scene

Friday Fiction: The Landing

Late Friday Fiction: The Fall

Who knew?

Apparently it was true, your life does flash before your eyes before you die. I perhaps should have done more, but no regrets eh. Except maybe slipping, that was a major regret. But clumsiness leading to a inevitable fatal fall not the most glamorous way to go out. I had perhaps underestimated  the effects of the wind on the human body at 15 stories high, but I blame her entirely. Her smile, her eyes, her hair..

Why did she have to live on the top floor?

Why could she not have lived on the ground floor? Easy access and a easy route to enable a guy to make silly romantic gestures. A ground floor apartment would have eliminated the need for climbing and indeed falling entirely. A ground floor apartment would have made it much easier for a rotund gentleman such as myself. Mind you the surprise element on the ground floor would have been lost somewhat, hard to make a dramatic entrance through the front door! How mundane.

Why did I never pay attention in science class?

I would have been able to work out how fast I am falling. Even now I’m thinking this a strange thing to think about, with seconds left. Science and the absurdity of thought! Not my Mom and my Dad… well not my Dad, my “special” Uncle. My real Dad is an ass and living in Missouri with someone my Mum called a “brazen hussy” meaning the woman had bigger tits than her. Dad was always a “breast man” ironic really as last time I saw him his were bigger than any woman’s I’ve seen. Still he has the last laugh I guess cos he is safe with this moobs and his hussy and I am currently plummeting to my death.

Will I get into Heaven?

Maybe God will save me, or Spiderman. Who knows they are both figments of someones imagination but as the wind swooshes by I’d be happy if I dunno, Snap Crackle and/or Pop wanted to turn up and catch me. If heaven exists in my wildest dreams, the girl on the top floor should be there waiting for me on a four poster bed covered in maple syrup. Her not the bed cos that would be silly. I dunno religious types down here spend so long going on about how bad sex is, I guess all of it would be be banned in heaven. Hell then!

Will people understand?

I’m a very loving guy. I lived my life meaning no harm to anyone. The girl on the top floor is but the latest in a long line of my loves. Each one I have treated the same, I am very attentive whereas other guys they’d go off to ball games or to bars. Not me, always around. Always looking. Sometimes I’d get rewarded for my patience, a little flash here a little peak there.  They knew all about me, they did. They looked longingly into my eyes. The girl on the top floor, she had the most beautiful eyes. I’m sure she’d miss me, or even feel a little guilty that her silly court order had made me climb to her apartment to catch what I am certain now would be my last glimpse.

SOUTH ELEVATION, VIEW OF TOP STORIES, TAKEN FROM ROOF TOP ACROSS STREET, CLOSER VIEW - Palmetto Building, 1400 Main Street at Washington Street, Columbia, Richland County, SC HABS SC,40-COLUM,17-5


Apologies for the lateness of posting. Please visit the “worth stalking” Captivating Kitten and a man who’s retraining order was a “misunderstanding” The Resident Weeble for their excellent pieces

Late Friday Fiction: The Fall

Friday Fiction: The Lift

“17th floor please.”
“Oh, in to the frying pan eh”
“Well I told them, I said there is no way that was going to work.”
“You got nothing to worry about then have you… Why does this lift take so long?”
“Maybe the hamster died!”
“Hamster?”
“Yeah the one in the wheel that powers all three lifts!”
“Finally! Movement, if you can call it that. When is your meeting? Do you have time?”
“I have about 10 minutes”
“Should just about make it then. You know he won’t let you in if you are late don’t you?”
“I heard that but I thought it was just a rumour”

Fifth Floor, doors closing lift going up

“Morning…”

Seventh Floor, doors opening.
Doors closing, going up.

“God I hate him.”
“Watkinson, yeah. I saw you gazing at the floor”
“The guy is a idiot. Part of the reason it all failed, but will he get any flack?”
“No course not, he’ll get promoted.”
“I’d laugh but it’s all too true. Lets hope no-one gets in from nine!”
“Here he goes again with the totally unjustified hatred of the workers of floor nine”
“Unjustified it’s not unjustified.”
“Steve, if you choose to have sexual intercourse, no less, next to the photocopier and then get caught it’s hardly their fault.”
“Hmm. They got me suspended for…”
“9 months.. Yes I know, you’ve told me. At least once, maybe six hundred times”
“Yeah well it’s not like she was worth it.”
“You are only bitter cos you got toner dust on your bum”
“That stuff doesn’t come off… My wife noticed.”
“What did she say when you got suspended?”
“She didn’t stick around. All because of those bastards on nine.”
“Yes OK Steve. Whatever you say.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Loud wasn’t it? These lifts are clunky but that was something else.”
“Now the lights.”
“Hang on I’ve got my lighter in here somewhere.”
“I thought you’d given up.”
“Anyone would think you wanted to stay in the dark. Here we go”
“Should I press the alarm button?”
“Now would be the very best time I would think.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“Nope. Try again.”
“Still nothing. For fucks sake”
“Don’t worry I’m sure someone will be along in a minute, Watkinson knows we are in here”
“Oh yes!…. Do you have any signal on your phone?”
“No.. I don’t think so..let me check.. Oh fuck that’s hot.”
“Oh well done Steve. The end with the flame is hot! Good luck finding it in the dark down there.”
“Move over I think you are stood on it.”
“I move, it creaks.”
“It’s only creaking, besides it’s not like you weigh anything”
“Ok but I’m scared.”
“I’m sure it will be fine, better when it’s not pitch black eh Suze”
“Ok ok, You found it?”
“Yep got it.”
“That’s better”
“Suze?”
“Yes Steve”
“Are you holding my hand?”
“I’m scared, I hate these lifts. I’m sorry I’ll let go if you like”
“No it’s ok. I kinda like it.”
“Good as long as it’s not weirding you out”
“No not at all….”
“…. Steve…”
“Yeah”
“I have often thought what it would have been like if it were me by the photocopier. With you I mean.”
“Wha… Wait it’s the doors, they’re opening.”

Ponderosa elevator


The beautiful Captivating Kitten has given me a lift this week by participating in #FridayFiction here with another dialogue only story which encouraged me to write this one. My earlier dialogue drama is here if you liked this one. The Resident Weeble has something good in the offing, but it’s not ready yet.

Friday Fiction: The Lift

Friday Fiction: Morning Coffee

Hi Dear Reader,

This is the first in a series aimed at forcing me to write at least once a week. Every Friday I will make every attempt to write something fictional for you to endureenjoy. This is something a little different.


The 90’s has a lot to answer for Luke thought as he fumbled for £3.50 in change to pay for his daily coffee. The shop was strangely empty for a Tuesday morning, in fact as he continued to fumble in his pocket hopping towards the till like some demented antelope on ice, he noticed that he, Luke Russell, was the only customer. His train of thought stopped dead when she spoke.
“Hello Sir.” She said “What can I get you?”
Luke froze, hand still in his pocket. He opened his mouth to reply but no words could be found. She was quite stunning, he thought. She had long dark hair, blue eyes that had Luke mesmerised. He fell in love easily and with alarming regularity. It was happening again.
“Sir?” she repeated, “Are you OK?”
Luke looked down at his pocketed hand, and withdrew it faster than a catholic on honeymoon. He felt his face redden and he was suddenly glad for the apparent decline in Starbucks business.
“I wasn’t…” he began. “….My change.”
She smiled a wide perfect smile which caused Luke to fall in Love all over again.
“What can I get you?”
“Medium Americano” he said amazed finally managed to order.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“…Luke” he said, pausing before remembering why she asked. For the cup.
“Sugar Luke?”
“No. You are sweet enough.” The very moment he felt the words leave his mouth he tried to reach out to stop them, now he was sure his face was crimson with embarrassment, if the floor wasn’t kind enough to open and swallow him he would take his coffee and sit far away, preferably outside. In fact he would never visit the store again yes….. She laughed ending his torment.
“Thank you Luke.” She said brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Sugar for your coffee?”
“No thank you.”
“Take a seat, I’ll bring it over.”

Luke scurried away a corner table. He sat down and watched his coffee being prepared. The shop was still empty and very quiet. Aside from the grind of coffee beans and the gentle pan-pipe musak nothing was to be heard. The beautiful barista delivered Luke’s coffee as promised.
“Thanks.” He said. “Why is it so quiet today?”
“No idea. But it’s good for me. It’s my first day.”
“Oh, I thought I hadn’t seen you before. I come here most days. I’m Luke.”
She laughed again.
“I know I wrote on your cup. I’m Aubrey.”
Luke laughed.
“Pleased to meet you.” He said, extending his hand. “Feel free to sit down with me. I would offer to buy you coffee but..”
“You are silly.” She said as she pulled out a chair and sat down. “But that’s a good thing.” She added noticing the wounded look on Luke’s face.
He took a sip of coffee, remembering too late that, as the lid of his cup warned, contents were indeed hot. The Americano took the consistency of broken glass in his mouth. He felt it burn all the way down. Yet another stupid move, but one he felt he got away with.
“Hot?” she said.
He hadn’t.

“Than holy hell.” He replied with a pained smile.
“96 degrees. Just how they showed me.” She said, again pushing another stray strand of hair away from her face. “But my Mother told me when I was tiny to wait for drinks to cool down before drinking.”
“Smart woman. But then she will have never experienced the thrill and searing pain.”
“True.” Aubrey said and smiled. “Is it always this quiet here?”
“No, never seen it like this before. Usually full of suits with laptops.”
“Looking busy.”
“Yes exactly. “Luke replied, nodding and moving his hand tentatively towards his coffee. “Maybe they are all working from home or something”
“I’d love to do that, you could never be late then.”
Luke nodded and risked another try at drinking his coffee, a sudden dawn of realisation crept over his face.
“Late! Oh crap” he exclaimed and stood up from his chair. “Thank you so much for the coffee, but I am late for a meeting. Will I see you again?”
“Depends if you want coffee. Or if they fire me.”

He was about to reply, but his morning alarm went off in his ear. 6:30am, way too early but plenty of time for morning coffee.

Coffe time

Friday Fiction: Morning Coffee

Rama-ramama-argh

I am far from being a professional writer. Some people actually like what I write, which continues to amaze me. I do favour the macabre, my stories often featuring a gruesome end for one of many of my characters. I am no good at fantasy, story wise of course give me a beautiful american, Karen Gillan a Nun’s outfit and a stick of Celery and I can fantasise all day!

Rollerblading nuns
Sex on wheels.. no?
I digress I have been challenged to write different genres, sci-fi and more recently romance. Now I class myself as a romantic kinda guy, the candles, moonlight, diamonds and poetic serenades have all played a part in my life. But writing romance for me is proving very difficult.

OK so it’s going to be published here. So I try therefore to keep it under 1000 words, otherwise no-one will read it. So that gives me a thousand words to establish at least two likeable (a stretch for me) characters who you dear reader will be championing, wondering will they, won’t they, but knowing that they will for it is a Romance after all. Believable dialog is also required along with  some kind of tension that allows me to twist and turn.

Trouble is, everything I have tried so far is cliché central. “She looked deep into his steely grey eyes and trembled” OK not quite but close. I don’t want trembling in my story, not lips or knees (I have enough trouble standing as it is) I want strong characters. It’s too easy to write about a bewildered woman who cannot exist without a man. I don’t believe these women actually exist (if they do my email is in the about section.. just saying)

I know these stories are supposed to pander to a fantasy. A fantasy where the dragons and wizards are replaced with perfect men who’s farts smell of roses and has baby soft skin with the talent for fucking, sorry “making love” that rivals Neymars skills with a football. The rose tinted quest continues.

Rama-ramama-argh

The Wow Factor

A jaw dropper, someone that makes you have to catch your breath. In the movies, the romantic ones, this is supposed to be an everyday occurrence. Both girl and boy next door are drop dead gorgeous even though they are supposed to be your average Joe and Jane. In real life though, how many of you non single folks went “wow” upon catching a glance at your partner. Not many I would hazard a guess. Of course there will be some physical attraction but this grows usually over time, but “wow” is different, “wow” is almost primal. For women it’s “Please make my babies. Right here, right now” For men, well me at least, it’s staring dumbfounded, slack jawed with drool down my face.

Most of all the wow is fun, for everyone. The married, the gay, the straight, the single, the priest and the rabbi all can appreciate a good “Wow, oh my God” (that one true god obviously) It raises the heart rate, dilates the pupils and if it’s really “Wow” make you walk funny for a few minutes trying to think of Kathy Bates in About Schmitt. The sermon in church was really awkward that weekend.

Now of course you, want to take this amazing guy or girl (or both) and do unspeakable things to them (Even in church). Like I said it’s almost primal, but you don’t, not always. You could be married to someone else, or your “wow” person could live far away from you, or it could just be a fleeting glance. However it happens it brightens your day and if you ever get to talk to the person you are going fruit loops over, done right it can brighten their day too.

Regular readers to this blog.. do I have regular readers? Thank you! May have noticed I’ve been a little more US centric than when I first set out. I wrote a piece about Baseball for christs sake. Well because I like a challenge, the US is where my wow factor resides. She makes me feel like I am in a Warner Bros cartoon, heart beating out of my chest, whacking myself on the head with a big mallet. So my wow factor has been my muse for several pieces here this one included (well duh)

I am aware I’m not the first guy to be motivated by my drooling libido, and I sure as hell won’t be the last. It’s pushed the boundaries of art and creativity more than anything else. Hendrix didn’t learn to play guitar with his teeth to impress “the guys” you know.

In closing, it’s great to look for deep meaningful stuff, common ground, soulmate things. But we all need a bit of a “Wow, oh my” every now and again, to make us feel alive. If you have both they are in the same time zone as you. Cherish every single second.

A doe eyed individual.. geddit

The Wow Factor