Tag: story

Stradivari

James HoganLeave a comment

Good morning, friends!! I’m about to head out for coffee times with Natalie, but thought I’d say hi, since it’s been a little while! And apparently I was trying to write a short story last time I was online – found the below excerpt saved as a draft. Really not much to it, but thought I’d leave it here for posterity(and in case it jump-starts my muse!).

I’ve had a delightful morning thus far…got to sleep in(to 7:30!!), then had my breakfast of coffee and toast while getting some solid reading done. Haggai is a very fascinating OT book, one that looks with grief into the past…and with bright hope for the future. Love it. Can’t wait for the day where the whole of the heavens and the earth acknowledge the name and glory of the Lord our God. Amen and Amen!! Next will be Zechariah. Almost done with Old Testament…so sad. Except not really, because that just means I get to start in Genesis again! Anyways, now I’m on my second cup of coffee, taking care of some online errands and listening to Itzhak Perlman playing Beethoven(on the big TV screen with good speakers!). Probably time to head out now though and…enjoy some more coffee with my dear friend Natalie. Peace, friends!! And enjoy below extremely random snippet.


The rain poured down, straining to be heard over the blare of the neon lights.

Rick risked a quick glance upward and was rewarded for his trouble with a splatter of water in his face from the inn’s overhang. He shook his head in annoyance and ducked back into the lobby. As he closed the door firmly, he heard the electronic chime from the front desk. The security officer masquerading as the receptionist raised her eyebrow at him in silent question. He shook his head in response. No sign yet.

As Rick walked back over the well-worn linoleum of the hotel’s foyer, he scanned the room, looking for anything out of place…

Soliloquy

James HoganLeave a comment

I haven’t written here in a few days, partly because I wanted to make sure this entry was reserved for something special. Because, believe it or not, this is the 500th entry of this livejournal. And I had thought on waxing grandiosely on the history of my writing career or maybe discussing the merits of inscribing portions of our lives on such a public forum as this…but no. No ponderous essay for this beautiful Friday night! As the sun goes down…before I dive into my dinner of leftover spaghetti, I shall just write a little of my heart. Enjoy or not, but either way – just know that I love y’all so.


He opened the door and the thrumming music met the curtain of raindrops draped around his head. As he stepped over the pale metal threshold into warmth and light, he shook the water off his boots and closed the door firmly behind him. Leave the rain outside where it belongs. He took off his hat and shook it as well. It would still be wet, but at least it wouldn’t be dripping in his face. As he lifted his head, his eyes darted around the cozy confines of the cantina. It was a wet and dreary night and so predictably, Brother K’s was packed solid. Two huge men in plastic overcoats sitting at the bar. Table in the corner full of chattering girls, each with different colored hair – red and blue and yellow and purple. Red Hair met his eyes as they swept across her and raised her eyebrows in silent greeting. Table next to the girls had a lone couple, each with a drink in front of them and an electromag at their side. They’d be playing tonight. Table to his right was full of men just off from the refinery. They’d changed their clothes but the stink of chemoflume couldn’t be erased so easily. Table in the corner by the plasteen slots had a few musicians sitting around it, hands protective of their hardware. Table. People. Table. Music. Table. People. All thinking their own thoughts and lost in their own music.

He hit his hat against his side again to shake the last of the damp from it and smiled to himself. More than twenty people, and not a one matched the description.

As he finally stepped away from the door and toward the bar, he heard his name through the swirling tonal storm.

He waved towards the girl at the bar and stepped up to it. “Mittens, how’s things?”

She smiled wryly, “Situation normal. Nothing yet. And you’re late.”

He smiled back. “Hey, I had to make sure the perimeter was secure. Where’s Aeryn? And nice outfit.”

Mittens crinkled her nose at him, “It’s cute. And it blends in!” She did a little spin, showing off her pink shorts and brown corduroy jacket. The jacket did complement her hair and flared off her hips per the fashion du jour.

He shook his head, grinning, and said, “Duty, Mittens.”

She sighed, “You’re no fun, Jim.” As she opened her mouth to speak again, she shut it. Frowned. “Where’s Aeryn going?”

Jim looked past her shoulder to see Aeryn slipping out the door, fedora firmly planted over her flowing locks. “Must have seen something. Don’t worry. She can take care of herself.”

Mittens nodded. “She’s got heat. Still…it’s not protocol.”

Jim laughed. “She’ll be fine. Anyway, aren’t you going to play? We could use a distraction.”

Mittens grinned. “Yeah. It’s one of your favs. Watch my back.”

Jim smiled, nodding. He watched Mittens walk to the back of the bar and haul out her wooden monstrosity. He bet half the people here hadn’t ever seen an actual stringed instrument in real life. As she stepped up to the stage – in actuality only the one space of floor that didn’t have a table latched to it – the music dimmed, then shut off entirely. The barmaid had seen Mittens apparently. Brother K’s was known for good live music, and that reputation attracted those that cared for music of a higher caliber than synth nonsense.

The crowded cantina hushed and Mittens strummed the strings of her guitar and Jim smiled. He turned to the barmaid, “Hey – a Cola with cherry?”

She smiled at him – he was a regular, after all – and said, “And chocolate? You know it’s better that way!”

He nodded assent and watched as she poured a decadent amount of chocolate into his Cola. He took it and passed her his plasteen. She slapped it with her palmreader and handed it back. “Thanks, Mars.”

He turned back to see Mittens still tuning her instrument. He looked to his left and saw a man popping corn kernels into his mouth. Where had he gotten corn? It wasn’t even close to corn season. Jim’s mouth watered. He could use a snack to go with his sweet Cola, but he couldn’t let hunger distract him. Duty, Jim.

He turned back to the stage. And Mittens began to play. Music swelled beautifully and her voice rose to heights triumphant. It was one of his favorites, although he wasn’t sure if anyone else in here had heard it before. “And can it be…that I should gain…”

Jim sighed. Bliss. And then snapped. He had a job to do, and that job didn’t involve being as entranced by the music as everyone else appeared to be.

His eyes swept back around the room. Nothing.

And again.

And then, as he turned back to watch Mittens, he felt the cold touch of steel at his neck. Ever so slowly, his eyes slid to the knife and the man that was holding it. How had he gotten inside without being noticed? That was beside the point. Jim swallowed once. The man’s face was hidden in a cowl, but Jim heard the chuckle. The music was still playing. “…amazing love! How can it be, that Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?!” As Mittens’ voice soared to the next verse, he felt the steel dig a fraction deeper into his neck.

Aeryn, now would be a good time.

And then, he heard the whine. Finally. A flash of light. A scream. The hooded man slumped to the floor and Jim smiled in relief. “Thanks, sis.”

Aeryn doffed her fedora, “You got it, bro.”

Mars and Corn Man were hovering over the cloaked man. He wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. The rest of the cantina’s patrons were starting to notice something was amiss. Mittens was still playing. “Bold I approach the eternal throne…and claim the crown, through Christ my own!”

Jim sighed, the tension finally bleeding away. Aeryn put her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her. Mittens put down her guitar and came over, her blue eyes sparkling. Jim grinned and pulled her into a hug. They stood and they swayed in the music of the night. Soon it would be time to get back to work. But not this moment. This moment, victory. This moment, light. This moment, love.

Merrily, Verily

James HoganLeave a comment

Was there ever a dream so rich, a thought so true? This was a question pondered often by the wanderer. Was there never a moment of pure wonderment so real that all the rain of woe had no strength to wash it away? This man heavily sat down upon his stool. His fire flickered wearily. His eyes echoed the dimming of its flames. His thoughts mirrored the ebbing of its passion. And now it was time. He glanced over at the knife on the table. It was sharp.

Traveler

James HoganLeave a comment

And through the daffodil-sprinkled field did the man slowly trudge. Onward. Forward. His left foot matched what his right foot offered. His calves throbbed, but what was that? Progress towards the goal. At least the the grass was soft and the sky was blue. There could have been rain. Or worse, darkness. The days of sunlight seemed fewer and fewer in these latter times. But for now, the sun shone bright and breeze sang sweet. It was a good day for walking. And he lifted up his head.

Before him, the field stretched on, but not quite as far as it did before. It could be said that the field stretched smaller and colored brighter. Of course, the field did not change. But the man’s blue eyes perhaps saw with more clarity than before. He was older now, after all.

Past the field and beyond the horizon reached mountains. Not that the man could actually see them, but they were there. They were there. The map was very precise about the mountains. And quite ebullient on what they contained. Mountains were what he walked toward. Yet they were not what he longed for. And though his feet marched on diligently, his heart offered faint betrayal. He sighed. And slowly, oh so slowly, he stopped his walk.

He squinted. No mountains. But maybe, just maybe that smudge against the merry blue of the sky…no, no mountains. Slowly, oh so slowly, he started walking once more.

And as he walked and thought and prayed, he felt the sun warmth slowly fade. Sundown was upon the land. Although he did not like the dark, at least this was a natural dark. A night with stars and moon to dazzle was not so bad. And he slowly adjusted his gait into the saunter of dusk’s music. It was time to stop, he knew. Walking in the dark only led to trouble, yes.

And so he stopped and set down his pack upon the grass. No stream this night to rest by. No stone to lay his head. The grass was soft though. It would do. And sitting down upon the meadow, he lay back to count the stars. He thought he heard the faint sound of music on the evening wind. Could the star song reach so far? All things were possible. Maybe the ones from beyond the mountains sang his name. His name was known, after all.

Songs of hope and light of stars. Drifting into sleep would be easy tonight. He would reach the mountains someday. But now, he dreamed.