Shards and Phractures

NOTE:  This is an entry for The Friday Challenge, which can be found Here . Rick leaned on the balcony overlooking the bay, and took a long pull on his cigar.  Behind him, inside the house, the raucous noises of a birthday party were still blasting.  His party.  But at his age, he felt the need for a little quiet. The quiet didn't last long. "Grampa Rick!  Grampa!  Come on, tell us a story!" "Yeah!  You always tell good stories!  Tell us how you made all your money!" "Story! Story!" Nine grandkids--plus a handful of their friends--makes for a very intimidating, albeit small, army.  So, Rick reluctantly put out the cigar, but he refused to abandon the brandy snifter, and allowed himself to be led back inside, to the fireplace.   "Come ON, Grampa!  How did you get to be rich?" He looked over to the table, where the remaining adults were cleaning away the mess and lost in their own conversations.  This was just him, and the munchkins...not that ...

Okay, let's see if we can bring the ol' Pix of the Day thing back to life here. She-who-must-be-obeyed signed me up for a photography class at the Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha a few months back, before I broke my camera. The instructor, Pasquale Mingarelli, or "Pat," was laid back, very knowledgeable, and made sure we got a lot out of the class. Make sure to drop by and check out his pictures, too, at www.wildheartphotography.com Hope everyone is enjoying the rising temperatures, vanishing snow, and increased rain...*grin* -=ad=-

NOTE:  This post is an entry to the Friday Challenge, which can be found here . The shooting star arced across the sky, leaving a trail that must have been miles long, shooting sparks in all directions.  It was easily the longest shooting star he had ever seen, awake or dreaming.  He was dreaming, wasn't he...?  He looked around, seeing the children playing basketball with an inflated frog next door.  Across the street, there was a horse and carriage in the driveway, instead of the Honda that was usually parked there.  And he was getting ready to leave for work with bright, fluffy pink bunny slippers on his feet. Yes, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. He let the dream carry him across the street and around the block, and where there should have been an elementary school, he instead found the quiet neighborhood where his grandmother lived.  If he hadn't already known he was dreaming, this would have cinched it, because her home was a forty-five minute drive away--more during r...

I got my first paying gig here in Nebraska. My client wanted "lifestyle" stuff...sunset over the lake, kids playing, shoppers outside a store... I knew from last year that there was snow coming, and I wanted to get some of these pictures before everything was frozen and white. So, I went off to shoot the neighborhoods the client suggested...in 35 or so degree weather. On the seventh, or maybe eighth stop, I saw these two guys in a rowboat, with this brilliant red sunset behind them. Great lifestyle shot, if I could get it, so I leaped out of the car with the tripod in one hand and the camera in the other. Well, you can't adjust a tripod with a hand full of camera, so I decided to loop the strap around my neck. I missed. The strap passed over my head, and my fingers were so cold I lost my grip on the camera. It fell...from, oh, head height or so...landed on the (cheap kit) lens...on concrete. I found shattered pieces of plastic inside the camera body from the lens bod...

Note: This post is an entry into the Friday Challenge, which can be found here. Deep inside the bowels of the Starfleet Personnel Division, Ensign Quackenbush bounces his head in time with the Martian speed metal blasting through his Ipod 2e37. The cybernetically implanted music station allows him to listen to any music he likes, without disturbing his neighbors, and his assignment is so tedious that he needs the jams just to get through the day. His printer ("printer" was a misnomer, since it didn't actually print anything; what it did was use transporter and replicator technology to create a full blown paper report from raw molecules) spit out a fresh set of orders, and he pulled it to read while another set was printing. Temporary duty assignment, he read, for someone named "Piker." The music in his head reached a crescendo, and in his chair-dancing escapades, he dumped coffee in his lap. Cursing in Romulan, he dashed off to the head, cleaned up t...

Note: This post is an entry into The Friday Challenge, which can be found Here . The retro rockets made for a barely serviceable landing, albeit a rough one. The fuel cut out, completely spent, just a few feet from the surface, and the resulting drop crumpled the landing gear. The scoutship was left stranded on the tarmac, leaning at a drunken angle. Twenty seven missions, all but two without a scratch, only to drop it like an empty beer dispenser on this airless pebble six million light years from nowhere. Honey, I'm home, Flix thought, as he prepared to leave the ship. He gathered up all of the nutrient bars he could find, his blaster, medkit, and personal bag. He hesitated on the bag, knowing how much it would slow him down--but then slung it over his shoulder. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving it behind, because if something happened to his survival suit, he might never make it back out to the ship. Everything he could carry was attached to the suit or slung o...

The Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha, that is. We picked the worst possible day to go, unfortunately--during the NCAA College World Series, which happened to be playing right across the street from the zoo. We were stuck in stop-and-go traffic, moving at something less than 1 mile an hour, for nearly two hours...just trying to get from the freeway to the zoo entrance...only to discover the zoo parking lot was full. We finally ended up parking almost a mile away and walking back to the entrance. -=ad=-