Front Porch Rambles

One minute. I had to adjust the settings on my phone so I could type manually. The iPhone 8GT had legendary talk to text. Perhaps it was the pulsing radiation from the anomaly he had discovered.

Happy birthday is sung, mom sings may the dear lord bless you verse by herself. Newly 33 year old Jeremy blows out the candles, maybe there are 33 of them, a tame dad and brother prank. There are kids. Young kids and Jeremy is Daddy. Kelly as Mommy tries to run herd on them, but ultimately the boys do what they want. Meanwhile, someone has asked Jeremy what he wished for. He thinks 'I  wish I knew.' Title card Music trumpets heralding and mocking Narration I've never really fit in. Don't get me wrong, I've had plenty of friends in my life, and no trouble making them, but I do tend to like them weird, just like I like my coffee. I've fit in lots of places, but rarely stuck with any one thing for too long.  I'm what you might call a free spirit. I know what you're thinking, the mental image that's forming here... (visuals of Jeremy beginning his day, wife leaving for work before the sun is up, she kisses him, but he's really still asleep, toddler b...

Sick and tired Immune system fired Feelin so bad  But gotta be dad Gotta stay on my feet Watch listen repeat Repeat repeat repeat My life is complete Now if I could just take A five minute break A snack you say? It's right on the way (If you say please And ate all of your veggies) Have some cheese No? How bout these? Try using English And not childese. There you have it Happy now? Take a bow  Exit quick To the room Listen for big booms By myself  Check the shelf Where's my lukewarm soda? Where's my Yoda To teach me the ways of the force Of course, I've got skills Force of will I will see all those teeth brushed No rush Take your time It's your stories we're losing, not mine Lay your heads  In your beds So I can hack up a lung It's fun Rest my sons Time is borrowed It's a big day tomorrow

I just started writing and this came out, I hadn't planned on going here yet. I kinda like it though, and it opened up the possibility to me of working scenes from the future to inform the writing in the present tense of the story, if that makes any sense. Either way, here's a glimpse of a possible future for one of the Outer Space Adventure Saga boys. I hope you like it. ------- The ravages of time were evident on the old weathered stones. The dull gray winter sky was echoed in the faded granite that jutted from the rippling field of blue grass. Wind whistled and moaned as it rushed past the ruined monument. Axar and Ziva stepped down lightly from their hovercraft. The rustling grass rose to their knees, tickling where it reached past their boots. It was a quiet place, and they hadn't spoken a word since they spotted it across the gently sloping grasslands.  Ziva reached the shattered pillar first, though neither of them was in any hurry. This was their honeymoon after all...

Death of Snow-A Haiku Dripping dying snow Sounds an awful lot like rain Because it is rain

Tracy pushed open the door and stepped inside the dark office. The lights came on automatically, and turned on full. Charles. She grimaced against the false daylight and slammed her palm against the panel on the wall beside the door. The room was dark once more, only the last light of day crept through the blinds. The room was painted in red glow. Tracy was in no mood to appreciate the beauty of the moment. She was on a frustrating case, and it had been a most unproductive day.  She tossed her sling pack onto the floor and slumped into her worn leather chair. Some of its buttons were AWOL, and the leather was faded and cracked by sun and age. She told clients that it had been her father's if they lifted an eyebrow, but the truth was she'd had the chair since she rescued it from the curb when she was sixteen years old, and it had never left her side.  She pulled out her iDesk and unfolded it. It neatly covered the desk calendar she kept meaning to use. She palmed the screen, an...

The continuous roar of the wind through the trees was only muffled by her heavy coat, not silenced. The sheer inescapable noise of it threatened to drive her insane. Even if she could sing now, if her lips weren't cracked and frozen, the howling storm would have buried her song in snow. She didn't know how to go on, but she knew that she must. That old animal instinct was all that was left of her. Keep moving. Survive.  Some part of her wanted to curl up and die here, lost until spring. Let the animals feed their young through the harsh winter with her body. It would only be fair, after all.  She thought of her children. They were all grown to big for the cabin, and had moved out into the world. They'd all be able to say they'd tried. They'd tried to move her to the city, and they'd tried to stop her from her hunting expeditions. None of them expected to succeed though. They knew their mother. She couldn't feel her left arm. Her coat had been torn through in...