June Daily One-Shot Writing Challenge

June 1 - A Bad Day At Work


"I hate this stupid planet!" thought Francine as she caught a whiff of the damp fetid air that found its way through the airlock as an arriving delegation of Terpids made their way into the Federation base on the swamp planet of Maug.

Francine had been stuck there for five weeks as she waited for her boss to finishing negotiating a Federation trade deal with the Terpids, the smelly swamp people who called this disgusting planet home.

Boredom and homesickness had conspired to get her feeling a bit down, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Today however, it seemed that she had stumbled upon the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. While helping her boss, Commissioner Diane Wilhelm, prepare her notes for the days negotiations, Francine had been shocked when the Commissioner casually mentioned that she would need to head out of the base into the foul swamp.

“I’m going to need you to suit up and go out with Colonel Arthur and his sampling crew to help make sure they take good accurate samples so we can determine the quality of the Feldyzium we are trying to trade for.”

“But what’s wrong with the samples the Terpids already brought us?” asked Francine in a definite state of apprehension.

“We need to double check the samples ourselves. We don’t know these…” the Commissioner paused to choose her words carefully, “...these… ...people…. We don’t know these beings or how they operate, so I have decided it is better if we get our eyes on the material and take our own samples. And by ‘our eyes’ I mean yours and Colonel Arthur’s, of course. I know I can rely on you both.”

“Exactly,” replied Francine in a voice just short of desperation, “You can rely on us both, so there is no reason for me to go along, Colonel Arthur is completely capable of doing this on his own.”

“Possibly,” replied the Commissioner distractedly, “but I prefer to have you both out there. Two heads are better than one, you know.”
Realizing it was futile to protest any longer, Francine had acquiesced with a bow of her head and Commissioner Wilhelm had taken her notes and rushed off to the meeting room.

And now Francine found herself struggling into her full body atmospheric shield suit and breathing apparatus and wondering how she was going to deal with her phobia of walking in dark or murky water. She never thought she would have to face up to her admittedly strange irrational fear while working in the diplomatic corps, but her she was, and she could feel the panic building.

Maybe it was time to have a sudden case of the flu…

June 2 - An Accident


Frank sat in the middle of the road wiggling his extremities to make sure everything still worked. Right hand and fingers seemed good… Left elbow was tender but in working order… Left hand looked pretty rough and stung quite badly, but nothing seemed broken… Both legs seemed to be working fine in spite of feeling quite banged up…

...now how about his motorcycle?

He turned his head and saw his beautiful Enfield Bullet lying on its side dribbling gas from around the lid of the tank. He struggled painfully to his feet and cursed as his bloodied left hand brushed along his pant leg in the process.

He hobbled over to the bike and with a grunt lifted it back into an upright position. Everything still seemed to be attached. However, at least one of the forks must be bent, because the handle bars no longer ran perpendicular to the rest of the machine. They were badly skewed, with the right side two to three inches further forward than it should be and left side a corresponding amount back from where it should be.

As he was contemplating this development, he caught some motion from the corner of his eye and looked up from his assessment of the damage to his bike to see the deer that had caused this whole mess eyeing him curiously from the side of the road. He nonsensical scream and waved his arm, but the deer just continued to observe him impassively from about 30 yards away.

Frank couldn’t abide the seemly condescending attitude of this deer so he began remonstrate with it, “You wouldn’t be so smug if I had just hit you instead swerving. Then we’d both be in this world of hurt. Why the heck were you standing the middle of a blind corner at night anyway? You’re an idiot, that’s what you are!”

Despite the force of his words, the deer seemed largely unmoved, and communicated this with a dismissive flick of its ears and light stamp of its foreleg. Frank muttered under his breath and tried the ignition button on his bike.

It roared to life, so he swung his leg over, gingerly gripped the crooked handle bars, eased it into first gear, and slowly continued on his way home, leaving his nemesis still standing at the side of the road wearing what Frank imagined to be a haughtily amused expression on its face.

June 3 - Flipped

There could be no doubt. He was stuck.

He kicked and struggled, but the weight of the tractor pinned his legs immovably to the rocky bottom of the creek-bed.

As he flailed against the unforgiving steel of the tractor’s hood, he tried to remember what brought him here.

In a hurry to get home for supper, he had forded the creek just as he had many times before. This time however, he came down the creek bank just a bit to quickly.

In a rush, he remembered everything that had led up to this moment.

One of the front wheels catching a rut in the mud. The tractor careening to the left. Trying to correct. Being bounced nearly out the side of the tractor. Using the steering column to pull himself back onto the seat. Realizing he had lost control of the machine. A moment of complete calm in which nothing seemed to happen…

...and then blackness. He must have hit his head and momentarily lost consciousness. Because the next moment he remembered was coming to underwater. His legs pinned by the crushing weight of steel.

He stretched his arm in search of a handhold. It broke the surface of the water! He was so close. So near the air his lungs were screaming for.
He gripped a hydraulic line which ran along the frame of the tractor. With all his might he pulled. At the same time he also kept trying to kick his legs. Did he feel a bit of movement?

The surface of the water was only inches away. His strength was fading however. He recruited every ounce of energy for one final desperate heave towards freedom…

...just 300 yards up the hill, his family sat on the porch wondering why it they couldn’t hear the tractor approaching. They had heard him leaving the hay field, he really should be coming up the hill by now.

June 4 - Batumi

A cool and salty breeze sweeps in off the sea carrying with it the hint of an evening storm. The palm fronds rattle overhead. The swell lazily surges and recedes over the rocky beach.

On the western horizon, the sun sets majestically. Lighting up the approaching clouds with a brilliant show of oranges, yellows and purples. The dazzling display is mesmerizingly reflected in the undulating surface of the sea into which the sun seems to be sinking.

From further down the beach come the taunting cries of a group of children who are taunting and harassing the watchman at a seaside concert venue.

Sometimes it is possible to catch the sound of distant, indecipherable music. Probably spilling out of some crowded, overpriced, sea-view bar or restaurant.

During gaps in the breeze, coming from much closer to hand it is possible to catch the mouthwatering smell of shashlik being cooked over open coals, and to hear the low murmur of friends gathering round the fire.

Underfoot, the stones on the beach still radiate the warmth given to them by the sun during the heat of the day. They seem to give off a distinct sensation of welcoming comfort.

And so, as darkness truly falls, in a remarkably short amount of time, a new and strange city has begun to feel like home.

June 5 - A Big Drop

Desperation can lead to taking incredible risks. Such was the case with young Doug McFarland as he clung perilously to the window ledge and listened intently.

Moments before, he had been surreptitiously scouring the desk in the office of the upscale home he had broken into. He was looking for money or valuables that could easily be carried in his small backpack.

He had already found some jewelry in a bedroom and a few hundred dollars of loose cash in one of the many purses in the closet. Next he moved to the office, hoping for some small electronics or even a carelessly unlocked safe.

However, his search was suddenly put on hold when he heard raised voices downstairs. Before he had time to think why he hadn’t heard a vehicle approach or any doors opening, he determined that the voices were ascending the stairs.

It was too late to close the door without it being noticed, so he rushed to the drape shrouded window, slid it gently open, crawled through and let the drapes fall behind him. Almost instantly, the office light was switched on.

Now he hung with his elbows on the ledge and his hands gripping the bottom frame of the window, praying with all his might that the light breeze won’t move the drapes and alert the two men who now stand mere feet from the tip of his nose.

One of the unknown voices is accusing the other of cheating him out of “his share.”

“His share of what?” wonders Doug.

“Don’t worry!” soothes the second voice. “My contact in the Governor’s office still has to grease a few palms. Hopefully we’ll get the transfer in a couple days. When it comes in, I’ll send your share over immediately.”

“Bullshit!” screams the first voice. “You said you would have the money yesterday, so send my share now!”

“I don’t have the money yet. When I do… Oh shit! Man, put that gun away! I can’t send you what I don’t ha-”

The sound of a gunshot splits the night, followed quickly by a second shot, and the sound of rummaging on the other side of the drapes.

Doug can feel the breeze picking up and judges that now is the time to find out if his legs can survive the impact of a fifteen foot drop. He eases his elbows off the edge and silently lowers himself until he hangs by just his fingertips.

He bends his knees slightly so that he will not land straight legged, thinks light and rubbery thoughts, and lets go...

June 6 - The Perfect Crime

A moment of madness led Javier to walk into the bank with a realistic looking airsoft gun and attempt to rob the place.

He didn’t really expect it to work, but he was at his wits end. With bills coming due and having just lost his job, he had no idea how he would take care of his family.

This is what led to him picking up his son’s toy gun, putting on a mask, and walking the two blocks to his local bank. If he was being honest, he would have told you he expected to wind up getting arrested.

When he entered the bank, there was a short line to get to the one open teller window. After about ten minutes it was Javier’s turn, and this is when the series of strange coincidences began.

As Javier reached the counter, the bank manger stepped from the next room to inform the teller that her son’s school was calling.

Because he was distracted by the call, the manager didn’t think of the fact that he was still holding the large cash bag he had been preparing to transfer to the vault when the call came in.

Javier turned his attention away from the teller and lifted his toy gun towards the distracted manager.

“Sir, please empty that bag into my backpack. If you don’t mind.” Said Javier with a broad grin.

The manager was so shocked he just froze up. In two quick steps, Javier closed the distance between them, grabbed the cash bag, and began dumping it into his own backpack.

His eyes widened as he noticed the strapped stacks of bills seemed to be all hundreds. In ten seconds his backpack was full, so he dropped the sack with the rest of the cash to the floor, shouldered his own bag and walked toward the door.

It all happened so quickly that still no one had reacted. Javier’s heart leapt into his throat as he began to think he might actually pull this off!

However, that feeling was short lived. As soon as he stepped out of the bank he saw a crowd of people and several police officers coming down the street straight at him.

It was his turn to freeze, as his panicked mind tried to come up with a plan. However, as he stood there gripping his bag bulging with stolen cash, the officers raced straight past him trying to get to the front of what he only just now realized was a group of… ...could this be right? ...naked cyclists...

He heard shouts of “Lewd and indecent exposure!”

“Save the planet!”

“Don’t make me use my taser!”

Along with a wide variety of further expostulation which he did not understand.

He turned, waved to the bank manager who was trying in vain to get the attention of the cops, and walked off in the opposite direction.    

June 7 - Making Contact

Without even looking Miller could feel the approach of his contact. He didn’t look up, but he caught the flicker of reflected motion in the surface of the puddle he had been contemplating in the middle of the sidewalk.

There was a bump of shoulders, a brush of jackets, and the man was past. Splashing through the puddle and disappearing around the corner toward the old opera house building with all the appearance of a harried office underling late for his morning tongue lashing.

Miller casually lifted his hand to his jacket pocket and gingerly fingered the memory card that had been dropped there by his admittedly skilled contact.

If he hadn’t known he was meant to be collecting intelligence material today, he wouldn’t have even noticed what had just happened, or given the brief encounter a second thought.

This guy was clearly just as good as advertised, and Miller was comforted to know that his contact wasn’t likely to make any silly mistakes that could blow his cover.

That was the last thing Miller could afford. He was already on thin ice with the bosses back in Washington, so he needed to make sure everything went smoothly on this trip. No more stupid mistakes.

With these thoughts bouncing through his mind, he carefully skirted the puddle and made his was across the street to a lovely little café he had noticed. Miller had decided that he deserved to celebrate his successful morning endeavors with a coffee.

As he entered and found a table near the window, he thought that perhaps he should get a croissant as well. After all it had been over an hour since breakfast, and he wasn’t likely to get to lunch any time soon with all the material on this memory card to go through.

He compromised and ordered two croissants with his coffee and settled to contentedly to watch people pass on the street outside.  

June 8 - A Heavy Flight

“Why have I let myself get so out of shape?”

This was the thought that played through my mind on repeat as I desperately ran for my life.

As I heaved myself around another street corner and sucked in a few strangled breaths, I promised anyone who would listen that I was going to start getting back in shape if I survived this day.

I peered back around the corner, and could see the steadily approaching secret police carefully checking each building entrance and alley to see where I might be hiding.

They knew how overweight I was and didn’t believe I could have gotten very far. Therefore, they were in no great hurry.

I took some comfort in the fact that I seemed to be outperforming expectations and plunged forward down the side street I was on.

I knew if I could get to the other side of the river, I could disappear among friends; and the secret police would never be able to find me.

In my minds eye, I could picture the shortest route to the nearest bridge and continued to lumber in that direction. Hoping with every fiber of my being that they didn’t no have a detail guarding the bridge.

After another fifteen minutes of desperate gasping progress, I came to the street across from the bridge. Pausing to catch my breath I carefully scanned the bridge, but saw no sign of the dreaded guards.

Cautiously I waddled across the street, and checked once more that my pursuit was not in sight. Then, recruiting every bit of my remaining energy reserves, I barreled my way across the bridge and into the relative safety of the poorer neighborhoods.

Immediately being washed with an overwhelming sense of relief, my first thought was whether or not I had time to stop at a bakery for a quick pastry before seeking refuge with my friends.

June 9 - Rendezvous

With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I saw the waves thrashing themselves against the rocks.

Despite the impossibility of hearing anything over the incessant roar of the sea, my tortured imagination perceived the sounds of splintering wood and forlorn cries intermingled with the pounding of the surf.

I scrambled to the edge the cliff which rose from the secluded beach below. The murky darkness, however, meant I could make out nothing below.

Two days ago, I had broadcast the distress signal, and according to our protocols, tonight there should be a rescue party at the rendezvous point on the beach.

My sanity was stretched to the breaking point by immense stress and lack of sleep. I imagined I saw my pursuers in every bush. I feared the storm would prevent my rescuers coming ashore from the submarine.

For a few dizzying moments I swayed on the edge of the precipice while my thoughts swirled out of control, driven on by the whipping wind.
Finally, I collected a few pieces of my shattered mind and got my legs moving towards the precarious trail down to the beach.

The desperation to know, one way or the other, sped me on my way, as I slipped, skidded, and stumbled my way down the path and around the rocks to the beach.

As I stared stupidly out to sea in hopes of seeing an incoming boat, a hand gripped my shoulder from behind. I nearly fainted from fright.

However, when I turned, I saw the serious but friendly face of my Service contact. For the first time in days my heart beat normally, and my mind was flooded with relief.

“You didn’t think we’d abandon you to the hounds did you?” he asked with the lift of an eyebrow.

I simply shrugged as two more men I recognized from training dragged the waiting dinghy from the shadows.

The four of us clambered aboard and began the desperate fight against the swell to claw offshore and back out to the submarine.

Despite the extreme danger we still faced, I found myself almost falling asleep under the pelting rain. At least I would not die among the enemy.

June 10 - Bad News

It felt as if the ground shifted under him. A wave of heat passed through him and his vision blurred. His body was shutting down.

He tightened his hold on his phone while also gripping the edge of the counter with his other hand. His head spun in confusion.

Leaning forward, he rested his head against the door of a cabinet and tried to breathe normally. He could feel the joy draining out the soles of his feet. It felt as if pure despair was being poured into him via a hole near his heart.

In a sudden fit of rage, he flung the phone behind him without looking. He heard it bounce off the wall in the hall and skid across the floor.

Slowly he turned his back to the counter and slid down until he was sitting on his greasy kitchen floor. His head sagged forward onto his knees. He felt it was unfair, he should not be forced to bear this new anguish. It was too much for any one man to take.

In an attempt to regain control he sucked in a deep breath through his nose. He was stopped short however, when his nostrils filled with spoiled smell emanating from the nearby kitchen garbage. He slammed his head back against the cabinet behind him and wept.  

June 11 - Waiting

With rain pelting down so hard it stung his skin through the light rain jacket he wore, the traveler hurriedly made his way into the bus stop and waited.

The clerk at the hotel had told him the bus to the capital would arrive at eight ten. She had also said the twenty minute walk to the bus stop would take “Five or six minutes.” The traveler did not hold out great hope that the bus would be arriving soon.

As he huddled under the shelter cradling his small bag of belongings and waiting, he could see a dark figure in a long coat approaching the stop from the same direction he had. Following in his footsteps as it were.

He couldn’t explain why, but he felt sudden dread. As if this figure brought with it some great evil as it steadily drew near.

An unexplained panic spread through him, and he began to raise himself up on quivering legs in order to flee. It was however, too late to run. The shadowy unknown character peered into the shelter at the traveler. The face obscured by the wide brim of the hat that shielded it from the rain.

The traveler stared intently while futility attempting to conceal the ever increasing tremors brought on by the abject terror he felt through every fiber of his being.

The only thing he could make out was what he perceived to be a menacing smile beginning to spread across the lower half of the as yet unseen face...                                        

June 12 - The Opossum

Jake knew something was wrong. He couldn’t say how he knew, but he knew. Without a doubt in mind, something sinister lurked just beyond his perception.

He lay in his bed without moving and listened intently. There was not a breath of wind outside, and the early morning sun peeked through a gap in the curtains to light up the dingy shack Jake called home.

Without knowing why, Jake was sure someone was snooping around outside hoping to find something to steal. With a slight smirk, he thought, “Joke’s on them, I ain’t got nothin’ worth stealin’ out there anyway.”

However, just as he was ready to get up and see about finding some clothes, he heard something shift and a board creaking just outside the door!
Noiselessly, Jake reached for the revolver which lay on the stool beside his bed. In this moment, he suddenly realized he had an almighty need to piss.

Jake cocked his revolver and raised it toward the door. He shouted, “Who’s out there?”

There was no response. “I’ve got the drop on ya, you varmint! Don’t try nothing, or I’ll blow a hole clean through ya!”

Swinging himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, he gave out his final warning, “I’m countin’ to two, then I’m coming out shooting!”
He stood up, and without counting began shooting through his door. After three shots, he kicked open the door and swung the revolver back and forth, looking for a fleeing target. He saw nothing.

“Well, well, I guess I’m gettin’ a bit jumpy in my old age.” Mused Jake as he stepped back to inspect his perforated door. “It ain’t all bad.” He thought. “This ought to let me have a bit more air moving through this place on these hot summer days.”

With this comforting thought in mind, he began peeing on a patch of weeds next to his door. All this was observed by a shocked and deeply frightened opossum which continued cowering under the front step until well after dark that night.  

June 13 - Parking Enforcement

Let’s assume you have just removed the hubcaps from a 2015 Nissan Altima. While standing in one spot, what do you think will be the best method of propelling said hubcaps the furthest distance from where you are standing?

This is the situation I found myself in last week after some idiot parked their Nissan Altima across my drive, blocking me in. What kind of an absolute moron blocks a drive? The clue is in the name, people need to drive there.

I needed to go pick up some groceries so I could cook dinner for some friends who were coming by in the evening. But no! This genius had other plans. I checked with my neighbors, and none of them knew whose car it was.

Apparently some hikers decided it was a great place to park up before heading out on some of the local trails. So, while I thought about a possible solution to my problem. I set up the previously mentioned experiment.

Based solely on instinct I did what comes naturally when holding a disk, and threw the first hubcap like a frisbee. Unfortunately, hubcaps are somewhat heavy and not designed for this activity, and it only traveled three or four yards before coming to rest in the opposite ditch.

The second hubcap I tried to roll down the road like a giant coin. However, it wasn’t evenly balanced. Therefore, it made a large semi circle and skidded off the road about five yards away.

Disappointed in my performance to this point, I let off a bit of steam by turning and flinging the third hubcap into the windshield of the offending car. It perfectly embedded itself in the shatterproof glass like some kind of dystopian modern art piece. It was beautiful but traveled less than two yards.

At that moment, I was struck by truly sublime inspiration as I heard the garbage truck picking up my neighbors trash. Standing on the same spot, I pitched the fourth hubcap into my open trash can. As far as I know the local dump is over 30 miles from my place, so according to my research, this is clearly the best method.

June 14 - The Metro

What is a journey? A state of suspended reality.

This was Jerry’s thought as he rode the metro under the city. He felt this sensation especially on trains and planes. In car, at least you have some control over what is happening.

With a train or plane, you are sealed into a steel tube and hurtled along to some other place in space time. Whereupon, you are unceremoniously vomited forth upon the face of the earth to continue your daily travails. However desperate or pleasant they may be.

For a brief moment on the metro he savored the notion that nothing was happening outside his steel capsule. He knew, however, that this was not true. Outside the bubble the world went on…

They. Went. On.

They were coming for him.

As the train began to slow, he readied himself to sprint. By now, no doubt, those who were looking for him would be closing in on all the stops along this line.

His only hope was to get outside the station and lose himself in the crowd before his pursuers got inside. If they were already here, there would be no escape.

He felt like an athlete, a deeply weary runner. Dragging himself to the start line, and waiting unwillingly for the crack of the starter’s pistol. At that moment, the doors to his imaginary safety bubble slid open.

With his heart in his throat, he was off again...

June 15 - Vagabond

With a grunt Harry lifted his bag onto his shoulder and cast his eyes down the dusty road. “Another day on the road, another day carrying the load.” he thought.

With any luck, he would have caught some type of ride by now, but unfortunately he could not count luck among his meager possessions on this hot July day. So he was left to trudge on alone.

He figured that if no ride presented itself, another day and a half of moving along at this glacial pace should bring him into town.
What would he do then?

How would he find this woman he was meant to meet?

What would he do for a place to stay or food to eat?

At least out here, he could always count on some fruit from an orchard, or even sometimes a meal from a friendly farmer. In town the attitude towards a ragged stranger would be much different.

“No need to worry about those things now.” He reasoned, “Those are problems for future me. Present day me just needs to carry this bag and get where I’m going.”

With that he hunched his shoulders and plodded off down the side of the road as another vehicle whizzed by without even touching it’s brakes or considering giving him a lift.

June 16 - Bad First Impressions

Unless you have experienced it, you may not realize just how brutal the heat on Heli is. The Helians thrive here precisely because of the heat, but to a human nighttime lows of 95° F and daytime highs over 140° are unbearable.

Since the heat is what Helians need to maintain their energy levels, the idea of air conditioning is ludicrous to them.

To further complicate things, H2O is highly poisonous to the Helians. It essentially acts as a nerve agent. Even a splash on a Helian’s skin can cause extremely painful and shockingly sudden death.

As you can imagine, the first time a diplomatic mission from the Milky Way galaxy visited Heli, it quickly turned into a total farce.

After about two minutes the humans realized there was no escape from the heat on the face of this planet. So they promptly returned to their ship and refused to leave during the day.

Furthermore, the Helians couldn’t stay awake aboard the climate controlled human ship for more than a few minutes because of the “severely frigid” temperatures.

Even worse, when the humans did venture out after dark, they carried bottles of water which they constantly drank from and splashed over their faces.

The first handshake between the ambassadors of the two species left the Helian representative screaming in pain as the skin melted from his hand and he violently convulsed on the floor.

Luckily the human’s hand had only been slightly damp from the condensation on his water bottle and the Helian’s life was preserved.

Eventually it was settled that all meetings between the two species needed to be conducted while wearing temperature controlled hazmat suits.

That first meeting is also the reason that even after thousands of years as staunch allies, Helians and humans only bow to each other from a distance, never shaking hands or embracing as humans are known to do when meeting with other friends and allies.  

June 17 - Dan

Dan loved to tell stories, and furthermore people loved to listen to Dan tell those stories.

Why? Because Dan’s stories were always interesting. Dan talked about occasions whereupon he met interesting or powerful people, instances in when he found himself in the heart of some civil unrest or popular revolution, and even the futile relationships he had shared with beautiful and amazing women.

His stories were always packed with hints of intrigue and mystery, colorful descriptions, and often some surprising and unexpected turn of events.

Every person he introduced was “outstanding” at some endeavor, or one the “most interesting” people Dan knew, and invariably they were one of Dan’s “best friends.”

The first hint a person would get that something was a bit off was often hearing Dan introduce them to someone they had just met. It was often impressive to hear things about themselves they themselves had never known before.

Even more surprising though was to hear Dan tell a story about an event he and another person in the room had both been present for.

Often times it was possible to catch looks of surprise or confusion on the faces of those who shared the experience as they learned new and exciting details about what had gone on around them or even entire passages of dialogue they had seemingly participated in without properly absorbing.

Whatever the case, there could be no doubt that Dan lived a very interesting and colorful life, if only in his own mind.                        

June 18 - An Unwelcome Companion

Gary was doing everything he could to be as inconspicuous as possible. He had hunched his shoulders forward and dropped his head while keeping it turned toward the window of the bus.

A deeply annoying acquaintance he hadn’t had the misfortune to encounter in over a year had just boarded and dropped himself into the seat across the aisle.

Luckily Gary had recognized him waiting for the bus doors to open, and been able to avert his face before the man boarded, but now he wondered if he would have to hold his current uncomfortably contorted position until he reached his stop.

And what then? How could he alight from the bus without being recognized? God forbid this loudmouthed fool know where he lives.

As these thoughts cascaded through his mind, Gary felt the back of his neck begin to tingle. Was that just discomfort from the strange configuration he was twisting it into, or did he feel eyes on him? Was the man staring at him waiting for him to turn? Gary feared the latter.

Just as he was resigning himself to his fate and preparing to turn his head, Gary heard the man start braying loudly to his seatmate about the poor quality material that had been used to upholster the bus seats.

Internally Gary sighed with relief, and relaxed ever so slightly. He shifted to turn his entire body more toward the window and began fervently hoping the man would disembark at one of the three stops the bus would make before reaching Gary’s neighborhood.

June 19 - The Hiker

The water dripping on his face woke him from the dream in which his five year old self was losing a water fight to his older brother.

With a groan he moved his head out of the water’s path and realized with a sinking feeling that not only was the tent leaking again, but his sleeping bag was soaked as well.

Why did this sort of thing always happen at the midpoint of a trip?

No matter how carefully he waterproofed the tent. One early morning the rain was sure to find its way through; and, after carefully soaking his belongings, it would wake him up to a day of uncomfortable misery.

Dejectedly he squelched his way out of the wet sleeping bag and started trying to get his wet things packed up. The rain didn’t seem to be letting up, so there was no real point in waiting for things to dry out.

He would just have to break camp and see about drying out his gear after the weather improved.

With all the firewood he had gathered completely damp, he didn’t even bother trying to start a fire to cook some breakfast or even to make some coffee. After he had finished tearing down the tent and stowing it away, he moved off slowly down the trail.

Watching the disconsolate hiker cutting a ragged figure along the trail below, the two watchers snug and dry under their overhang in the rocks smirked to each other while finishing their piping hot coffee and prepared to move off after him under the cover of the downpour.  

June 20 - Stranded

The cold was relentless. Every time he stopped to rest, it crept a little further up his arms and legs. The weariness built up within him and it became more and more difficult to begin moving again.

If he was to survive, he would have to also become relentless. His only source of warmth was motion, he could not afford to stop anymore. As the night deepened and the cold intensified, his only hope was to keep moving forward.

After another hour of trudging along the frozen track, cloud cover had moved in and he no longer had any way to track the passage of time. He longed for the break of day and the marginal warmth the watery winter sun would bring.

Time passed. Had it been an hour? Two hours? Ten minutes? He had no idea. What he did know is that wolves had started following him. He saw shadowy movement from the corner of his eye, and heard their small yips of communication and as they tracked his tortuous progress.

His world continued to narrow. He focused on picking up one foot and placing it in front of the other. Then the other foot would follow the same process. He could barely feel them, but he kept them moving hour after hour.

After what seemed an eternity, he lifted his eyes once more to the horizon, and the tenuous hope he clung to fluttered in his chest. The horizon was lightening! Dawn was coming! He would see at least one more day.

He stepped forward with renewed energy. Still having no idea if he could survive, but knowing he would feel slightly more optimistic about his chances under the light of day.

June 21 - Serendipity

Without realizing how, she found herself lost in the twisting streets of the old town. The first day in a new city can sometimes be a bit frustrating.

Standing on the street corner, she gathered her thoughts. Deciding that the small street to her right looked more promising than any of the other options, she headed purposefully off in that direction.

She drew long stolid stares from locals who instinctively sensed that she did not belong in their neighborhood, but she stuck to her chosen course.

Soon, she popped out of the small street onto a wider, more heavily trafficked avenue with several high end shops and expensive looking restaurants scattered along it.

Almost immediately, she shrank back into the smaller street while dipping her face toward her phone. Her target had just stepped out of the glitzy shop across the street.

With a self satisfied expression, the man stood outside the shop examining what was apparently a newly purchased watch.

She took the opportunity to compare the picture on her phone with the man across the street. There could be no doubt. It was him.

Her entire mood changed instantly. Never had a target so conveniently presented themselves. Usually when someone wants you dead, you don’t spend a lot of time frequenting busy shopping districts or standing in full view on the side of the street.

Nevertheless, here he was, and all she had to do now was follow and wait for a good opportunity to close this contract.

June 22 - Porch Pirate

How would you go about stealing a package off someone’s porch? It seems like it shouldn’t be too difficult, right? That’s what Dave thought too.

Dave’s buddy Joe works as a delivery driver, and he agreed with Dave to let him know if he dropped off any packages that looked like they could be valuable. It seemed like a pretty foolproof plan. If no one came to the door to receive the package, Dave should be able to swoop in and grab it. No problem!

This morning, Joe texted Dave to let him know that he had a large box from a computer supply store. It seemed like it should have some pricey electronics in it. He passed on the delivery address as well, and told Dave to be ready in the area when he made the delivery in a couple hours.

Dave was super excited! He got his car and parked along the street one hundred yards or so down from the house to wait.

It wasn’t long before he saw Joe’s delivery truck roll onto the street, and Joe walk up to the house carrying a big box. Dave’s heart was racing by now. Joe walked back to his rig and drove away. Within a minute Dave had the message he was waiting for. No one was home!

Dave jumped out of his car and headed toward the house. As he reached the front gate, he pulled on a mask in case they had a doorbell camera. He swung his leg over the short chain-link fence and prepared to hop over.

Now, anyone with a brain would have realized the gate wasn’t locked, considering Joe had just gone through it to deliver the package, and it would better have the gate open so that you could make a quick escape while carrying a big box. Dave wasn’t too bright though…

As he swung over the fence, a wire caught in the seat of his pants, and as he moved away from the fence the wire ripped a huge new ventilation hole for him.

As the cool air hit his exposed backside, Dave jumped to the side trying to escape whatever was attacking him.

The mask he was wearing restricted his vision somewhat, so he hadn’t noticed the child’s bike lying in the grass at his feet. He tripped over it and fell to the ground.

On the way down, his head hit the edge of the concrete bird bath in the middle of the yard and he was knocked out cold.

When the homeowner returned twenty minutes later and discovered an unconscious masked stranger face down with their bare ass hanging out of their torn pants, he understandably called the police. And that is how Dave wound up handcuffed to a bed in the ER this afternoon.