three characters, no story, weak author
fiction
edward w pritchard
Trailer park whore
Small nondescript antiquated diner. Food good. Owners struggling. Building run down, equipment kept running by grandson, two daughter's waitress, ex-son in law cooks; Son in law lives in the trailer park behind property.
Enter, Molly the traveling trailer park whore. She sits at counter on the bar stool. Several of old, old male customers notice Molly for she is a full breasted woman. Forty five to fifty Molly has a faded glory about her. Molly orders the full eggs special, with meat and potatoes. Several of customers stretch themselves back to former times and hit on Molly. Molly waits patiently. Molly will sit at the bar until she finds some one from the trailer park to spend the next day or two with before she is on her way. Molly is the traveling trailer park whore.
Enforcer:
Small nondescript antiquated diner. Food good. Owners struggling. Building run down, equipment kept running by grandson, two daughter's waitresses, ex-son in law cooks; Son in law lives in the trailer park behind property.
Big man, fat but powerful. First he collects five twenties from the cook. He counts the money carefully and puts it in a crinkled envelopes and writes a few notes in a mini notebook. Work done he eats and eats. The waitresses joke with him. The cook doesn't talk with him after he is paid except to hand him his food.
The man is the enforcer. He collects money from small business owners. It is an antiquated practice but still very necessary.
The preacher gets the calling right now:
Small nondescript antiquated diner. Food good. Owners struggling. Building run down, equipment kept running by grandson, two daughter's waitresses, ex-son in law cooks; Son in law lives in the trailer park behind property.
Preacher sees enforcer pay cook five twenties at diner. The fire of the lord enters the Preacher that instant. Preacher decides to start his Church in trailer park behind this diner. Preacher walks up to trailer park whore and starts to preach.
Showing posts with label mosaic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mosaic. Show all posts
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The rise and fall of Boswell Shayes
The rise and fall of Boswell Shayes
fiction
edward w pritchard
part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
part 1
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Cage Fighter who grew to be afraid of the dark
The Cage Fighter who grew to be afraid of the dark
fiction
edward w pritchard
One could only endure a cage boxing match against Boswell Shayes. Boswell had a fierce nature, even for a competitive cage fighter and Boswell looked a thug. Boswell's body, his countenance, and his physiognomy were menacing and intimidating. None of the other cage fighters enjoyed sparring or cage boxing with Boswell Shayes. When Boswell walked down the street even groups of three or four teenage men sensed his truculent and aggressive nature and they pulled aside instinctively.
The only person who knew a gentler side of Boswell was his girlfriend Lillian. Lillian was a single Mother with a six year old daughter, Megan. The little girl, Megan was very sick and for the last six months while Lillian worked if Boswell wasn't working at his day job he was by Megan's bedside at Children's hospital reading to her or watching cartoons. It was only because of Lillian's insistence that Boswell continued to workout with his cage boxing training for he was inclined to spend all his extra time at the hospital with Megan, who was a sad sick little girl.
Boswell continued to train for the kick boxing and because he wanted to hurry to the hospital he made every minute of his workouts count. The gym became a refuge for Boswell and he approached his workouts with a fierce intensity. Boswell became trained for cage fighting to a proper sporting edge and he was at his peak of conditioning.
Although Boswell was in peak physical shape he developed severe insomnia about the time Megan began spending more time at the Children's Hospital cancer ward than at her and Lillian's small house. Repeatedly Boswell the cage boxer began to have horrifying dreams of terror and death which woke him promptly at four AM. Boswell would then be unable to return to sleep and would fret and suffer for Megan's safety. The fears continued to creep on into Boswell's day as well. Boswell began to fear the night time hours and Boswell the fierce cage fighter came to be afraid of the dark.
fiction
edward w pritchard
One could only endure a cage boxing match against Boswell Shayes. Boswell had a fierce nature, even for a competitive cage fighter and Boswell looked a thug. Boswell's body, his countenance, and his physiognomy were menacing and intimidating. None of the other cage fighters enjoyed sparring or cage boxing with Boswell Shayes. When Boswell walked down the street even groups of three or four teenage men sensed his truculent and aggressive nature and they pulled aside instinctively.
The only person who knew a gentler side of Boswell was his girlfriend Lillian. Lillian was a single Mother with a six year old daughter, Megan. The little girl, Megan was very sick and for the last six months while Lillian worked if Boswell wasn't working at his day job he was by Megan's bedside at Children's hospital reading to her or watching cartoons. It was only because of Lillian's insistence that Boswell continued to workout with his cage boxing training for he was inclined to spend all his extra time at the hospital with Megan, who was a sad sick little girl.
Boswell continued to train for the kick boxing and because he wanted to hurry to the hospital he made every minute of his workouts count. The gym became a refuge for Boswell and he approached his workouts with a fierce intensity. Boswell became trained for cage fighting to a proper sporting edge and he was at his peak of conditioning.
Although Boswell was in peak physical shape he developed severe insomnia about the time Megan began spending more time at the Children's Hospital cancer ward than at her and Lillian's small house. Repeatedly Boswell the cage boxer began to have horrifying dreams of terror and death which woke him promptly at four AM. Boswell would then be unable to return to sleep and would fret and suffer for Megan's safety. The fears continued to creep on into Boswell's day as well. Boswell began to fear the night time hours and Boswell the fierce cage fighter came to be afraid of the dark.
Monday, May 23, 2011
turtle release
turtle release
fiction
edward w pritchard
see also
The Cage fighter who grew to be afraid of the dark, Feb 11, 2011
The little girl's voice was excited and carried to where I was standing fishing. I had watched the two of them get out of their car up near where mine was parked by the baseball field about 200 yards from where I stood fishing. Despite the strong wind I could hear every word the little girl said.
He was Boswell and must be her Mother's boyfriend. Boswell was carefully listening to her but he was struggling a little carrying the heavy snapping turtle. In spite of the towel that protected him from the snapping turtle I could see he carried a monster. Boswell was straining with the weight of the turtle and his neck and shoulder muscles were bulging through his shirt. I thought of Chaucer's miller's tale, the Miller could knock a stout barn door off the hinges with his head. Boswell looked the same as Chaucer's Miller, except he also had large arms and a cage fighters face as he held the large turtle away from his body and face with his hands and arms in a circle.
The little girl was explaining to Boswell where the turtle would swim to when they released it into the Lake.
I continued to fish and I am not sure if they knew I was there, about fifty feet to their right, around a bend in the Lake, fishing in the cold wind.
I listened to the ritual they went through releasing the snapping turtle but I didn't hear where they had found it. After a few minutes and they were sure the turtle was gone they planned a walk along the Lake, mostly to distract the girl from worrying about the turtle which now that it had disappeared she was fretting over.
I had caught a few fish while they were releasing the turtle and I heard him tell her that they should say something to the fisherman. About then I got a bite on my second pole, the one I was fishing with tight line for cat fish and I had a premonition that it was the turtle. I was using bacon for bait and it was plausible although maybe unlikely that I had hooked their turtle.
As the girl came around the corner with the man I cut the line and grabbed the other pole and began to fuss with the reel. Boswell was somewhat shy but the little girl, Megan talked up a storm. She told me about the turtle and talked until she got cold.
For a variety of reasons I don't do much fishing anymore.
end
more to follow on Megan and Boswell
fiction
edward w pritchard
see also
The Cage fighter who grew to be afraid of the dark, Feb 11, 2011
The little girl's voice was excited and carried to where I was standing fishing. I had watched the two of them get out of their car up near where mine was parked by the baseball field about 200 yards from where I stood fishing. Despite the strong wind I could hear every word the little girl said.
He was Boswell and must be her Mother's boyfriend. Boswell was carefully listening to her but he was struggling a little carrying the heavy snapping turtle. In spite of the towel that protected him from the snapping turtle I could see he carried a monster. Boswell was straining with the weight of the turtle and his neck and shoulder muscles were bulging through his shirt. I thought of Chaucer's miller's tale, the Miller could knock a stout barn door off the hinges with his head. Boswell looked the same as Chaucer's Miller, except he also had large arms and a cage fighters face as he held the large turtle away from his body and face with his hands and arms in a circle.
The little girl was explaining to Boswell where the turtle would swim to when they released it into the Lake.
I continued to fish and I am not sure if they knew I was there, about fifty feet to their right, around a bend in the Lake, fishing in the cold wind.
I listened to the ritual they went through releasing the snapping turtle but I didn't hear where they had found it. After a few minutes and they were sure the turtle was gone they planned a walk along the Lake, mostly to distract the girl from worrying about the turtle which now that it had disappeared she was fretting over.
I had caught a few fish while they were releasing the turtle and I heard him tell her that they should say something to the fisherman. About then I got a bite on my second pole, the one I was fishing with tight line for cat fish and I had a premonition that it was the turtle. I was using bacon for bait and it was plausible although maybe unlikely that I had hooked their turtle.
As the girl came around the corner with the man I cut the line and grabbed the other pole and began to fuss with the reel. Boswell was somewhat shy but the little girl, Megan talked up a storm. She told me about the turtle and talked until she got cold.
For a variety of reasons I don't do much fishing anymore.
end
more to follow on Megan and Boswell
adbright
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
vagrant
vagrant
fiction
edward w pritchard
for officer Johnson APD
I try to be kind to people, not always easy for a policeman. Boswell sits down at the Lake and stares into the water for hours and hours. He makes the restaurant owners across Manchester Rd nervous when he comes around, they are afraid he scares off their customers.
I met Boswell when I worked over at the Children hospital as a security guard when I was finishing my criminal justice degree. He came everyday to see the sick little girl and I came to respect him as I got to know him a little. I recognized him; he was well known locally for his cage fighting. I was interested then in martial arts and we used to talk a little. It was odd because he stood outside in the cold and smoked cigarettes. He was very anxious over the girl's health. Her name was Megan and because of her he broke his training and smoked.
The night Megan died my supervisor at the hospital radioed me to come up to the cancer ward. Boswell Shayes was sitting out in the hall on the floor. The little girl was dead. Several of the Doctors were afraid Boswell might blow up. I walked with him outside and talked to him for twenty minutes. After, he went back in with his girlfriend, the girl's Mother.
One of the fishermen told me about the Turtle release Boswell and Megan did here at the Lake. I was talking to the fisherman when I was playing softball up at the field.
Sometimes when I am driving home from work from my duties as a policeman I stop over at the dollar burger place across the lake and buy three or four hamburgers and take them over to the lake and share them with Boswell. We eat one each and always throw the rest to the snapping turtles.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
for officer Johnson APD
I try to be kind to people, not always easy for a policeman. Boswell sits down at the Lake and stares into the water for hours and hours. He makes the restaurant owners across Manchester Rd nervous when he comes around, they are afraid he scares off their customers.
I met Boswell when I worked over at the Children hospital as a security guard when I was finishing my criminal justice degree. He came everyday to see the sick little girl and I came to respect him as I got to know him a little. I recognized him; he was well known locally for his cage fighting. I was interested then in martial arts and we used to talk a little. It was odd because he stood outside in the cold and smoked cigarettes. He was very anxious over the girl's health. Her name was Megan and because of her he broke his training and smoked.
The night Megan died my supervisor at the hospital radioed me to come up to the cancer ward. Boswell Shayes was sitting out in the hall on the floor. The little girl was dead. Several of the Doctors were afraid Boswell might blow up. I walked with him outside and talked to him for twenty minutes. After, he went back in with his girlfriend, the girl's Mother.
One of the fishermen told me about the Turtle release Boswell and Megan did here at the Lake. I was talking to the fisherman when I was playing softball up at the field.
Sometimes when I am driving home from work from my duties as a policeman I stop over at the dollar burger place across the lake and buy three or four hamburgers and take them over to the lake and share them with Boswell. We eat one each and always throw the rest to the snapping turtles.
end
adbright
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
fisherman's tale
fisherman's tale
fiction
edward w pritchard
Somehow my wife always knows things and as usual she figured out I was feeding the local vagrant at the lake. I fish up there again and I had been taking food to the man I had met releasing a snapping turtle one day.
The man was named Boswell and he was releasing a turtle with a little girl, Megan. She died about a year ago.
One day recently while I was fishing I had called police officer Johnson to stop up at the baseball field near the lake where I fish. Dispatch said Officer Johnson was on another call and wasn't available. I asked Boswell, who people now call the vagrant, to say something to the one team for me. The players had been drinking and were using a lot of very vulgar language. There were a lot of children up near the field and they shouldn't hear that kind of bad language. Boswell had been a champion cage boxer here in town, I am too old for such a confrontation and I asked Boswell to say something for me. That's when I noticed he had lost weight. As he walked over from his usual spot at the lake he took his shirt off. I saw he had lost about twenty pounds of muscle through the chest and shoulders. Of course he had no trouble getting the drinking baseball players to behave. After that I started taking Boswell food when I went fishing.
Out of the blue my wife started making me a basket to take up to the Lake with a double order of food. She is a great cook and Boswell and I enjoyed the fare. I might ad I am not much of a cook, I was a chef's helper in the army but my skills as a chef are very limited. I figured out that my wife had heard about the turtle release story with Boswell and the little girl Megan when she started putting a lot of bacon in our basket for the lake. I can't eat bacon. Somehow my wife through her network must have found out about the little girl who had died of cancer and the turtle release I had witnessed a few years ago. She put in the bacon for me and Boswell to feed to the snapping turtles.
My wife is a good egg I guess.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Somehow my wife always knows things and as usual she figured out I was feeding the local vagrant at the lake. I fish up there again and I had been taking food to the man I had met releasing a snapping turtle one day.
The man was named Boswell and he was releasing a turtle with a little girl, Megan. She died about a year ago.
One day recently while I was fishing I had called police officer Johnson to stop up at the baseball field near the lake where I fish. Dispatch said Officer Johnson was on another call and wasn't available. I asked Boswell, who people now call the vagrant, to say something to the one team for me. The players had been drinking and were using a lot of very vulgar language. There were a lot of children up near the field and they shouldn't hear that kind of bad language. Boswell had been a champion cage boxer here in town, I am too old for such a confrontation and I asked Boswell to say something for me. That's when I noticed he had lost weight. As he walked over from his usual spot at the lake he took his shirt off. I saw he had lost about twenty pounds of muscle through the chest and shoulders. Of course he had no trouble getting the drinking baseball players to behave. After that I started taking Boswell food when I went fishing.
Out of the blue my wife started making me a basket to take up to the Lake with a double order of food. She is a great cook and Boswell and I enjoyed the fare. I might ad I am not much of a cook, I was a chef's helper in the army but my skills as a chef are very limited. I figured out that my wife had heard about the turtle release story with Boswell and the little girl Megan when she started putting a lot of bacon in our basket for the lake. I can't eat bacon. Somehow my wife through her network must have found out about the little girl who had died of cancer and the turtle release I had witnessed a few years ago. She put in the bacon for me and Boswell to feed to the snapping turtles.
My wife is a good egg I guess.
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