Two gents - Last fiction of the year

"My dear chap. This has been our most fruitful year."
"Aye, gov, aye. We've had, what? Ten of them?"
"Eleven, with this one."
"Aye. He's too fresh and I forgot."
"Naughty boy. Too much juice does that for ya."
"Aye. Especially red."
"Now let's cross 'im off the list. Blond with rosy cheeks and cleft teeth in front. Do you wager he'll fetch a pretty penny?"
"Aye. If the coppers will not find us."
"They dare not. After all, we are protected."
"Aye, gov, aye. Live long and prosper."
"Cin Cin."

Mirrors (for Friday Fictioneers)

I moved in here three weeks ago hoping I'll grow as a person. However, things didn't go at all like that.
Day, night, it doesn't matter when, two mirrors high atop a tower that's ten feet away from my apartment light me up.
Their brightness seeps through the window, shades, even cardboard stand, and burns me.
I've been to the hospital twice, to get a check-up. Health deteriorated between visits. Probably since then, too. I haven't had the money to go a third time. Eyes are shot.
Heard the last owner died.
Shotgun and shells are in closet. Better use

Friday Fictioneers

Talks (for Flash Friday)

You're the one who told me to create, right?
Then why are you yelling at me for no reason?
What's that? I blew up the ecosystem and now there's only one big ball left?
Yeah, so?
I'll make a new Earth there, a different one. Maybe even better.
Unacceptable? Hah. You're one to talk since you messed up the original Earth and left the people without any hope.
Oh, oh... Now you deny it you wily fool. That's why they stopped believing in you. That's why I have to build a new one.
You want to make one, again? Sure, I guess. There's always room for aliens, right?
Mine'll be the aliens? Fine. They'll be better anyway. Without a poop hole and defects, they'll be the perfect creatures.
Ah... Can't wait till mine conquer the world and yours will sulk without a reason.



The theme was the picture on the left, while I had to incorporate the one on the right somewhere.
Flash Friday

Just another winter - 100-word drabble (Fiction Writers Group)

As the first jingles ran through his cotton earmuffs
and his nose drooped like an icepack about to melt,
he popped up his black eyes and jiggled his oval head.
“Shoo, you darn birds. Get off.” He lashed out
fog from his lipless mouth and scared them away.
“Another winter, another chill. Lonely times
sure do come fast, but only once a year.”
He rotated his round body to a tree and picked up
a muddied, bent cardboard piece. He rolled it
into a cone and scooped snow from the pile beside him.
“Nothing beats nectar,” he smiled as he took a bite.


This little tidbit appeared in the anthology "Twas the Night Before." A collection of 100-word drabbles about the festive spirit.
You can read the rest below.
Jovial Christmas

Twas the Night Before

Relaxin' - Friday Fictioneers challenge

The sparkling blue water graces me with its presence. So fun to be alive and roam freely. No barriers. No walls. Not even bretheren.
Wait... There's a sound coming from the west. Maybe I should... It stopped. What gives?

Bah. Must've been a seagull. Bloody things always disturb me when I'm sleeping.
Now where was I? Right. Basking in this jovial sun. Cheeky guy is smiling at me in full effect.

Something just grabbed me. I can feel how it pulls me away, yet, as much as I struggle, I can't seem to get loose.
What's this sharp thing I...


100 words for this week's Friday Fictioneers

Merry Christmas, Santa - Trifextra's 33 word challenge

Christmas cookie, oh, Christmas cookie
Crisply burnt, but turned the other way
Appealing to the Santa, who'll bite.
Then he'll down the glass of milk beside
Asleep to fall, for the final time.

For this week's Trifextra

Bright light - for Trifextra's 33 word challenge

"Why'd you have to dazzle me?"
"I'm surprised you can see since you're myopic."
"There's a flicker near my eye sockets. Stop it."
"You're no fun. Gonna blind the tortoise in the basin."



For Trifecta's challenge. Had to use "myopic," "dazzle" and "basin".

Aunt Renie - for The Future Of Storytelling MOOC #AuntRenie, #StoryMOOC

Aunt Renie is a peach of a gal.
She dances rumba like no other.
Drinks anything, but only two glasses.
"My limit, deary."

Despite her frail physique,
She is stronger than girls
A quarter her age.

"I was born to see the world."
And shows us her tickets.
From Amsterdam to Paris to Bucharest
All visited in less than a week.

Then tells us of her regret.
"That my best friend passed away,
And didn't get to see the sea.
But with this water from the Mediterranean
It's as if she came along."

And off she goes,
To her next destination.
"Brazil, to see the Rio Festival."

Me, myself and I - 100-word flash for Friday Fictioneers

This weeks theme for Friday Fictioneers

I know it says "no trespassing," but maybe I should go over the wall.
No, no, no. What am I talking about? Last time I stepped on a man's property, he ran me off with his shotgun. Almost left me headless.
Yeah. But that's how old goats are.
True. Still, there are mad dogs beyond.
That's why I'm armored to the teeth and have a baton. Just in case.
If five mutts jump me, I won't be able to withstand it, well-knit leather suit or no.
So, I should go away and be a coward?
Yes.
No. I'm the hero.

Buttocks - flash for Trifecta

Oh, my poor buttocks.
It was fine yesterday, but today...
I itched and scratched at it all morning, yet it wouldn't go away.
Not after a bath, nor after sauna.
Now I have a rash the size of a watermelon all over my lovely tush.
Can't even sit to drink my tea.
Oh, Sweet Lips. You said your soap was crab free.

Just a pat - 33 word dialogue

"Come on. Give yourself a pat on the back, Jack. You deserve it."
"No, I don't. And you know very well."
"But you do."
"I just killed your woman in the O.R."
"Exactly."




A 33-word dialogue piece for Trifextra.

Diary entry #2 - flash series

So, I went to the market square earlier because I had to buy some fruit.
But when I got there, the sellers and the passers-by gathered in a circle.
I managed to make my way in and saw a man twitching on the ground.
His fingers moved in every direction as the moronic mob sucked out his air.
It's inexplicable to me how they could act like that.
Nobody called for an ambulance, so I did it, but by the time they arrived, twenty minutes or so later, he drew his last breath and they were all do-se-do-ing around his lifeless body.
I wanted to throw rotten tomatoes at them, but there were none around, so I just left.

Admiring the greats - poem

Look at all the greats.
They overcame problems,
that would've put
regular folk down.

Thrived through the pain
to become a
success story for
years to follow.

Admired.
Never to fade away.

Diary entry #1 - flash series

I’ve read that starting a diary might make something good happen to you. I’ll have to see if it's true or not.

Anyway, it's now ten p.m. and a few hours ago a creep jumped me.
After I finished my nightly run on my usual --beach-- route, a guy tiptoed from behind and grabbed me.
First, he put his hand over my chest, then covered my mouth with his other one.
Next thing I know I closed my eyes, inhaled and pulled him over with an uchi mata, a judo technique. Then I punched his nose and thrust my knee in his neck. He fell asleep right away. 

Although it crept me out at first, it was a good practice for my judo, as I felt rusty these past few days.
And to think he caught me off guard. Me, whose hearing is top notch. Guess I have to re-learn it.

Leaf - haiku

Falling leaf;
no wasted motion
in the air.

Bullied boy - poem

A little boy found a little toy over by a boulder.
He picked it up, glanced at it, then smashed it over the rock.
Another little boy joined. Blinking with his mouth wide, he sobbed.
The first boy threw the toy in his face and laughed as he walked away.
A tooth fell down along with snot, tears and his knees.
He threw dust aside, wiped his bloodied mouth and left the ground.
Another victim of the toy destroyer.

Another delightful day - flash fiction

Journal Entry #65427

Another delightful day.

It started absolutely smashing. The alarm should have gone off at four a.m., but it didn't and I woke up at fife-thirty. I was supposed to be at work then. So I had to explain to the boss that a neighbor came by with her child and I had to take care of it all night. Obviously, I was out clubbing with the girls.

Moving on, it was pretty uneventful at the office. A woman in her mid-twenties strolled off the elevator wearing nothing but green stilettos. She said she wanted to have sex with everyone inside, but offered no real reason as to why. The chief and his lackeys pounced on her right away.
Hours passed and we didn't see her back, then we heard a bang, a window getting smashed and plenty of screaming.
We rushed to his office and saw blood. The two lackeys jumped out, while the chief was dead, with his face in her crotch. The woman was hysterical in her soundless laughter.

A slight dizziness overcame me, so I went back to my desk, put my head in my cupped hands and closed my eyes.
When I opened them, it was nighttime and I was alone at the office. I even shouted, but only heard my echo. Hah, what fun I had with that. Anyway, I went home right away and turned on the news.
Apparently, the woman had a disease that drove people bonkers. And yet, it didn't affect me, but it hit the others some way or the other.
My eyes were hazy on the way over, and they still are. I think I'll get some sleep bef...

Mock book review - flash fiction

"Dear Michael,

Thank you for making me your first book reviewer.
I remember when you said you spent five years on it. I was stunned.
When I opened the package, the cover jumped out at me. Red flames engulfing fog, and a shiny ring in the middle, as if it was ruling over them. I never pictured "Flaming Rings" could be so vivid and genius looking.

Those 230 pages flipped by so fast. It took me less than a minute, actually, since that's how I read.
But, to put it bluntly, I didn't enjoy it. You used too many stuffy words like "pompous," "inadmissibility," or, my favorite one, "scrumptioulicious."
I understand the need to "spread out" your vocabulary, however, this is not the way to do it. At least not in an autobiography.

I would suggest a thorough rewrite of the work before submitting it to the press.

Your sweet bean pasta,
Edgar

P.S. You little smoocher, putting kisses and hearts on the first page. Made me giggle."

Roommates don't mesh - Dialogue only

"Rapturous."
"What?"
"That move. Are you blind, or what?"
"Can't you see I'm reading a book?"
"Bah. Sports are more important than those silly words."
"I beg to differ."
"Of course you... Goooaaalll!"
"Ugh. You're so noisy."

Watching - Dialogue only flash story

"Like I was saying, this guy's watch was taken right off his hand."

"So? People steal daily, from money to clothes to objects like that."

"Yeah, but this guy...when he realized, he put his hand on his head and started chuckling."

"He found humor in a theft. Nice."

"No, not really. He had a band-aid plastered over his wrist."

"And?"

"These ones spread laughing gas once you remove that thin plastic or paper, whatever it is."

"Isn't it illegal? What's the world coming to? How the heck did they pull that one off?"

"Beats me. All I know is that a bunch of other people started going hysterical as they passed by him, then they fell on the ground, switching their hands from their bellies to their cheeks."

"Did they die?"

"According to the paramedics, they became amnesics for life. Basically, their memory was wiped out and they can never make new ones."

"I can't even fathom that thought."

"Neither can I. Good thing I was on the other side, grinning at the beautiful time ticker I found in my pocket."

Deflated balls

Coming out of the gym, Frank saw a deflated basketball on the street.
"Looks like some idiot punctured it," he said as he picked it up. "Right in front of a field. Man, I'd like to play, but nobody's around." He threw it in bin as he walked away. "Looks like that little spurt of adrenaline made my thigh muscles sore. My injury's picking up again."

Two days later, there was another deflated basketball, at the same minute he came out of the gym.
"Can't be coincidence, right? It's seven-twenty-seven and nobody else is around. Someone's tempting me for something," he sighed, then hooped the ball in the bin; his lips widened and started whistling.

Same time-frame, same minute, similar basketball.
"Hey, Frank, get over here on the court, we've been waiting for an hour," said a pencil-like man.
"Josh?  I thought you were away."
"Idiot, I knew you birthday was coming up. Wouldn't miss it. Besides, I saw your faces the other two days, when you grabbed the balls. I knew you'd have that reaction."
"But why blow them up?"
"You used to blow them when we were younger. I thought you'd remember that."
"Oh... So that's what it was."
"And don't tell me you're still injured. Stacey kept me up to date with you condition, and I don't think you'd go to the gym if you were hurt, right?"
"Well, I kept it easy because I still want to be in shape."
"Yeah, I know the feeling. So, dice?"
"Sure, but only one half of the field. Every time I go in the gym, the wound's acting up. The bathroom."
"That's what you get for dancing on a slippery floor," he chuckled and passed him the ball.
"So, the time is my birthday, huh?
"Yeah, even though it's p.m., it's still seven. And since you're turning thirty...."
"You know you gonna lose, right?"
"We'll see about that."

Yo-yos - Flash Story

Jumping up and down was Michael. Mike. Mikey. Michaelson. His grandfather called him that. He said it reminded him of an Italian, nothing more.
The nine year old boy was gleaming because of his first toy.
"Papa, papa, look at what pappy gave to me."
The father glanced and smirked. "Boy, I wish I had your joy. Off you go and play. Tonight we pack."
"Must we, papa?" His eyes turned teary. "We moved here a few days ago."
"Afraid so, sport. People don't want us here, either."
"It's my fault, I knew it." He threw his toy and whimpered.
"It's the people's fault, not yours. And don't you do that to your toys. You don't know how long it has been since I saw your grandfather smile. Now, go along and play."
Michael crawled away to the gift.
"Stupid people. I wish I had two legs to kick a ball, then I'd show you. With this yo-yo I can't play much, but at least I have my first toy," he sighed and knocked himself out at the first spin.

Cat's jumps - Under 140 characters story

Cat with broken paw wrestles every day with jumps. Falling after every landing, it meows, but goes on.

First published short story

At the start of the month, one of my short stories has been published.
My first published piece.
You can check up at the link below. And you can look at the whole issue, which is the magazine's first one; there are some nice works there.

Black Mirror Magazine - Carelessness

Problems with concentration

"So, now I'm gonna write and I won't go on Facebook, or Youtube, or..."
And thirty minutes later you still haven't even opened your file, or took out your pen and paper, or even your typewriter (although, if you'd use one, you probably won't use the PC.)

Problems like these happen all the time, regardless of what you're doing.
Why are they happening? Perhaps you're a lazy git who just doesn't want to. Perhaps you're afraid to discover. Or maybe you're in a great position at a video game and you want to beat it. Or you like to eat and...

Well, you get it. There's isn't a specific answer, because not everybody is hardwired the same.
The only answer is to write down (uh-huh) why exactly you're doing what you're doing then and see it for yourself.
Maybe you can't change on the spot, maybe not the day after, but change will happen.
And when it'll happen, you'll be smiling.

Cruel side-effects

About three months after I started writing, something happened. I tried to write a novella of about 22.000 words in a month for JanNoWriMo, a similar site to NaNoWriMo (for those that don't know, you have to write at least 75,000 in November to pass). Despite being at my inception, I managed to do it, but afterward, I felt so depleted that for the next two month I only wrote a flash fiction piece.

I felt tired and depleted whenever I wanted to write. Actually, my whole energy went away and lacked it for almost five month. Quite a lot, I know.

And now, I am a little glad that I encountered that because it made me stronger as a person. It made me want it more. During the break, I read blogs, tips and books on various subjects which made me discover some things about writing and the writing business and I may not have had the time to do it while I was writing.
But the most important thing I discovered is that you shouldn't push it right from the get go. Well, unless you feel like you can and it's not really a strain, but I wouldn't advise it.

Nowadays, I trick myself into writing at every step. Whether it is a mail, a message or what I did and ate that day. It all adds up.
Also, I made myself a thing where I write six words a day; two in the morning, two in the afternoon and two in the evening. While sometimes it's annoying because I cut it mid-sentence, it makes me think and write differently.

Pearls

Looking over his shoulder, Owen noticed a splendid, slender woman, with fiery red hair. He wanted to see more and turned around. The woman stood there, looking at him, her mouth giving him a big smile and her eyes telling him to come in. The red hair was dangling in the solemn wind that came once every three-four seconds.

Her pale beige dress made her face stand out even more, but something else captivated his attention. Her pearls. 

They were big and round, almost to the point that they were engulfing her neck and leaving marks underneath, yet she didn't care for she played with them, toyed with them in such a way made him think of naughty things.

Then he noticed something else as she rotated the pearls around her neck; attached to them was a green ribbon. Rather small in size compared to the pearls, it made him ponder if it was a reminder.

The cobblestone ground that they were on, that seemed crowded mere seconds ago was now void of other breaths but their own.

He mustered the courage to take one step forward; the woman winked with her perky eye, while continuing to smile and play with the round stones.

After three more steps, they were separated by only one step.

His courage dissipated at the sight of her growing beauty, that seemed to get better with every second.

She licked her lips, then her teeth, then reverted back to the smile.

Owen began sweating, thinking of what might come, but didn't know what to say to start the conversation.

The woman winked with her other eye, then stopped playing with the pearls. She lifted her hand and slapped him hard, then turned around and began walking indignant. Owen's cheek was red and his ego dead.

Coursera class collage

As I am currently in "Introduction to Art: Concepts & Techniques" in Coursera. I had an assignment to do something with surrealism and collages (and some other forms, but collages interested me.)
I hope someone understands the message I'm trying to give.

The power of no

Do you know those times when you write something or say something and you expect to get praises upon praises?
Sometimes it happens, but other times we hear NO.

Unless that person is simply trying to be a bully (or an internet troll) and doesn't say anything else, you shouldn't listen to it.

However, those two letter may sour your mood, they may weaken your mental state, heck, they may make you a disbeliever in your own strenght.
But instead of doing all that, simply smile, say "thank you" and move on.
Then there are the ones who give constructive criticisms. Sure, they may say it well at times or bad at other times, but they're taking time to explain something to you and you should listen. What you do with the information afterward is entirely up to you.

Remember, the only one who gets to say the true NO is you.

The object of desire (poem)

A girl and a boy were raring to go on a toy, but this one was for her and for her only. He could not understand why the thing was for her alone. Their romance made them feel as one, yet the item made him feel... The boy did not know sufficient words to express his feelings of immense distress. For he lamented with utter contempt because their relationship was now a mess. The object in question, long, silvery and pointy, was sent with dedication and she stroked it gently. The boy was mad with envy because he wanted to feel that pleasure and excitement, only every day he spent on the mat wearing a bright yellow hat that made him stand out in this century. Their relationship was tarnished and all because of one toy. She teased him on occasion by wearing it in her pocket. The boy with no arms was annoyed by that. She enjoyed writing with the silver crayon. He sensed her being giddy and went head-on But she paid no attention to the one with a yellow hat. For he was her first love, drawn on paper. Once she stopped, he was but a vapor.

Mute Dating (Not dating between mutes)

They spoke through text messages, discussing everything about their lives, guilty pleasures and preferences.

As it was bound to happen, they fell for one another and decided to meet face to face, for the first time, and see if they actually got along as well as through phone messaging. 

They met during a jovial evening, where fireworks were lit and sprung up in the sky, where kids and grandparents were laughing out loud, eating sweets and getting into rides, and all that warmth transposed itself unto them, unto their eyes and lips and gestures, yet, despite knowing what to say, they lacked to courage to do so.

In a spontaneous moment, he grabbed his cell phone from his pants pocket, opened it and texted her a message "Want to hold hands and go inside the fun park?" She smiled -a pretty smile, one that brightens your mood in an instant- and nodded, then came toward him and grabbed his hand; they were both smiling.

Once inside, the multitude of items they could buy or win, the multitude of rides they could enjoy, the multitude of... well, it overwhelmed them, so much so that she texted him a message, "Let's go to the horror house," he turned to her and  nodded.

Inside the spooky place they were both afraid -one of the dark, the other of the ghastly noises- and texted each other at the same time, using the other hand, then, upon reading the messages, they looked into each other's eyes and... they kissed; the tense situation was relieved from their bodies, and they were, once more, only smiles, with some giggles this time -"Thank you," she said, "You're welcome," he replied.

Extremely Bullied #4

Despite being a dweeb for most of his teenage life, Jackson decided to change his appearance during the summer, new clothes, hairstyle and overall look, but something was missing from his supposed greatness, a frat club.

When he stepped foot inside the college campus, he passed by a table of a fraternity that wanted new pledges, called "Marco Polo."

The name beckoned him and he signed on the file; later that night, he and several others were inside the house, waiting to get instructed on their chore.

Jackson followed the leader -who gestured to them- and arrived at the pool; they were told to strip to their underwear, which they obeyed.

Several seconds later, the members gave them paper cuts all over their body -some even fell to the ground because of the sudden pain- and pushed them in the pool; which contained water, lemon juice and salt.

The whimpers came in an instant and some of them said they quit, but not Jackson, who -despite his lanky body- stood there with a smile on his face and when the leader saw this "act of impudence" as he put it, he forced him to stay in there for the next three hours, unsupervised; when they returned, Jackson was dead. 

Extremely Bullied #3

A flyer was scurrying its way to him, dragged by the wind despite the paper's unwilling decision to move.

He picked it up and read "Alpha Beta Gamma Radiation wants you; if you'll eat our food, you'll be a member;" it made him giddy with delight, since his belly growled, although he ate an hour ago.

Matthew was a chubby guy of almost twenty years and loved food, so much so that his parents banned him from the house and told him to live on campus, despite living in the same city.

When he knocked on the fraternity's door, a guy came out -a chick was dangling by his neck, caressing his ear and chin- and when he heard that he wants to join, his smile rose and told the woman to go and fetch his colleagues.

Invited in the house, another member came with his meal, something that looked like things put together and burned "I call it the Gammaloaf, and it's only for those willing to join," said the guy that let him in.

Matthew didn't ask what it was made out of, instead he dug right in -without fork or spoon- and ate about half of the four-pound beast before he stopped, took a big breath, stared the guy in the eyes and passed out; five minutes later, he came to and puked all of that garbled, tasteless concoction made out of meat, veggies and a bunch of other stuff that almost poisoned his intestines.

Extremely Bullied #2

Flute, the flute, his favorite instrument in the world, and Jody became leader of his high schools band, a momentous occasion that he celebrated by drinking root beer and singing on the flute, cherishing this as it was the best thing that happened in his life, as he was always a bullied boy due to his acne and four eyes.

One morning, after P.E., he was in the shower, drenched in soap from top to bottom and humming some jingle that stuck in his head for some reason, when the water stopped, he tried to turn it on, but it did not, then he asked around; no answer came and it made him nervous, despite his calm nature.

Footsteps were heard -coming from the changing area- and they stopped at the shower entrance -a couple of feet away from Jody.

He asked the guys about water for his face, but all he heard was "69, 32, 48, hut hut hut," followed by louder footsteps, then someone picked him up by his arms; and despite moving and trying to get free, he was outmuscled by them and was content with that.

"24, 53, hoowah," sound and the next thing he knew, a sharp pain rose from his ass, followed by a whimper from him and laughter from them, and when he put his hand down there, he could sense something big; it was his flute.

His friend was stuck deep inside -giving him sharp pain- and when he pulled it out, he fell hard on the cold floor, and their sniggering became silent because blood came out from within his hole; and not one of them tried to help him.

Extremely bullied #1

Yesterday was John's birthday -13 years, unlucky as some might say- but that only made him merrier and full of life, hopeful that today, Monday, would be a great day at school, a day where he would see things with different eyes.

Although not popular in class and being picked on, he decided to bring a box of chocolates to give to his classmates and all of them took one, however, the box was so big that almost all of it was full. Not knowing what to do with the rest, he left the box on his desk and went out, on break.

Upon his return, John saw his colleagues talk and laugh loud, louder than they did during his birthday song, but it didn't affect him much; he went back to his place and sat down, looking with hungry eyes at the chocolates, as he wanted to taste one since they were bought.

They looked very tasty, but he was sad that the ones with white chocolate were gone, even so, he grabbed a bigger one from the box, put it in his mouth and closed his eyes.

Rummaging through it, the taste was nowhere near as good as he expected, then, as he opened his eyes, he saw their faces, red and black, bursting with laughter, and hearing someone say "Ewww... Johnny, you just ate doggy poo;" the laughter increased and he left in a rush -livid, almost teary eyes- with the faux chocolate still inside.

Not the night the mayor wanted

One late night, Harris was sitting at the diner counter, discussing things with the bartender when a message popped up on the TV news-band.

"Donna Paul, the mayor's daughter has been found dead. More news to follow."

- What the hell was that? said Harris.

- Blasted children smoking and abusing themselves until they die of everything and anything, said the bartender, who sounded grumpy, despite being in his 40's.

- I kinda agree with that. You make 'em, you grow 'em, then you pay for 'em. Such a S.O.B. thing to do. Can you imagine the mayor, or his wife, now, all in tears and such?

- Well, I can and can't, because I don't have children, but I lost a pet once and it tore me to shreds.

- There ya go. And I bet it took you a while before you recovered. I say we let them mourn their loss and move on with our lives.

He drank his remaining beer and left the place, saluting the bartender with his hand.

Harris knew there was something afoot with this whole shindig, so he jumped on his motorcycle that was parked in the alley next to the diner, and left to the mayor's place.

However, on the way there, he knew that the mayor was at Marin County, and the only possible route to that was through the Golden Gate Bridge; well, the fastest, at least.

Once he stepped on it, he crossed the bridge with a new personal record, especially because there were fewer cars on the track than usual, most people coming from the county toward San Francisco, and he wondered why.

He called his source on the cell phone to find out the reason.

- They're saying the mayor has a bomb, but nothing is certain and I can't see squat from my position. Where are you?

- I've crossed the bridge and people are coming at me like I'm giving them free money.

- Funny. If you've passed the bridge, that mean you can see a hospital.

- Yeah.

- Turn right after it, then a left and then another right.

The man on the phone hung up and Harris followed the instructions, arriving to the place where he was. He parked his bike and entered the building. Although with no time to spare, he wanted to preserve his energy and pressed the elevator button; it didn't work, which meant he had to go up the stairs, all the way to the top; the 8th floor.

A little out of breath when he arrived, and cussed the man for taking position in such a high place, he went in.

- That took a while, said the one in the room, who was looking out the window through his binoculars.

- The elevator's broken, man.

- Crap, I think you might go back down again.

- No.

- Yes. The car the mayor was in is moving this way. Go and get it.

That frustrated him, but he had to do what was needed.

After running the stairs, the gasps for air were bigger and it made him feel older, but that was because he hadn't trained in a month.

He heard the engine of an approaching vehicle and figured it was the one. In five seconds, the bike was started and moving in pursuit.

Harris couldn't do anything because he was too far, but was gaining speed by the mile.

The car was nearing the bridge, and the bike the automobile.

Approaching... approaching... motorcycle right in it's tail, hitting it, and he jumped on the car.

The mayor heard and panicked, while the scattered people were running away, all over, in fear of getting run over by the now reckless driven vehicle.

Harris, although almost balanced off of the trunk, he leveraged himself and punched a hole in the windshield, shattering it to pieces.

Almost cutting his hand there, he was lucky the leather gloves helped with the bits and pieces of shard. Barely climbing in, due to the off-balance driving, he began telling the mayor to stop the car.

- I can't, or my daughter's going to die.

- Isn't she dead? They announce on the news a while ago.

- That was just a hoax.

- What do you have to do?

- Blow up the bridge.

- Does the bomb have a timer?

- I don't know.

- Where is it?

- Under my chair. I found out when I sat down and I heard the first beep, that's when they called me. That was four hours ago.

- Do you know their location?

- They're in my office and have something to track me.

- Okay, listen to me. Slow down. The bomb doesn't have a timer, but it will explode if you get up from the seat, so stay there. I'll make a short phone call.

In it he explained to another partner about the circumstances and the terrorists. The other line hung up.

Five minutes later he called to say the job was finished.

Harris told the mayor to slow down even more because his daughter was safe, and that to follow his instructions in order to be free.

They went back to Marin County and the man from the building fixed it.

The mayor was going through the motions, not knowing what to do first. Harris knew what. He drew a smoke grenade and dropped it on the ground. They were gone from sight, while the mayor was in tears, in both ways.

First day, bad day

   Gabriel is starting his job today. He is excited to be a plane attendant and he gets to do it in a big company that flies across the seas. He waited for this big opportunity for the past two years, doing all sorts of menial jobs to pay for this real one.
   Everything went smooth with the passengers, he and his coworkers showed everyone to their seats and made sure they were comfortable.
   The plane took off and a state of relaxation set foot across the compartment. Gabriel was all smiles and interacted with several children who were energetic enough to tire their parents. But they annoyed the wrong people as well.
   A bearded man stood up and threatened everyone with his AK47 machine gun. Some screamed, some panicked and he approached several of them with a knife, shoving it in their faces to make sure they kept quiet.       Then, a stewardess who was having hysteria shouted "We have to get out of here," which only alarmed the hostage taker. He went to that woman and put his gun in her mouth and threatened to pull the trigger if she wouldn't stop, but she fainted instead. Then, the man went into the cockpit. While he was in there, Gabriel tried to keep to situation calm, and as expected, some shouted at him, but he said that if they weren't calm, they couldn't capture the man. They then looked at one another and decided to keep quiet until the hostage taker returned. Once he did, he liked that the people were silent and didn't think for a second that they wanted to apprehend him.
   He said that the plane was going to crash in the ocean, and that made Gabriel jump him, only to fail in saving the day.