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The Sleeper Wakes

30 Nov

100 words to greet the dawn for old time’s sake and my friends at Friday Fictioneers based on a photo below by Jan Wayne Fields.

camping

(Copyright Jan Wayne Fields)

I rise at dawn and stand by the temple bell to give thanks and greet the morning. Gold paints the forest ridges that rise to the mist shrouded summit of Totokoroa. Calls of bell birds ring across the valley. A breeze ruffles the fabric of the tent. I strike the bell softly. It’s deep, resonant note sounds, and joins the music of the day’s beginning.

I make tea and return to bed. The smoky fragrance of Lapsang Souchong causes a figure sleeping there to stir. I whisper in her ear.

“The sun is on the mountain.”

And she smiles.

 

totokoroa-dawn

Low Brows and High Art

1 Apr

100 words for Friday Fictioneers based on the photo prompt below from Lauren Moscato.

Lauren Moscato

(Copyright Lauren Moscato)

Who was the artist?”

Salguod Yorlicam.”

How long’d it take?”

Three days. Dude asked could he put a mural on my wall, slept on the scaffolding I rented when he wasn’t painting, then signed it above the air conditioner when he was done and walked off. Some gallery owner just offered me three-hundred grand for the whole building. Said an original tromploy by Yorlicam was well worth it.”

A what?”

Tromploy. Means fool the eye. He did a good job, don’t you think?”

You going to sell?”

Shark fart in the water?”

The Dog House

14 Jan

100 words for Friday Fictioneers based on the photo prompt below from Jan Wayne Fields.

 

Dining Room

(Copyright Jan Wayne Fields)

 

“What are you in for?” asked the old-timer.

“Disappointed my wife,” replied the new guy.

“Rough.”

“Failure to live up to expectations, failure to change and failure to be her first choice for a husband.”

“Rough again. How long you in for?”

“Life.”

“Double rough.”

“No, that part’s not that…”

“Rough.”

“I’ve got a roof over my head, some good company and best of all, she’s not talking to me.”

“Good point.”

“What’s your crime, buddy?”

“Humping your mother-in-law’s leg every time she visits.”

“Good boy.”

 

 

 

 

dog-humping-leg

Long Time Coming

24 Dec

99 words for Friday Fictioneers, a caravan of sorts. People come and go at will, but their stories remain. The good ones are like rain in the desert.

 

Long Time Coming

 

After walking for an eternity over endless dunes, he came upon salvation in a verdant glade nestled between green valley walls shaded by long white clouds. Kneeling in reverence and gratitude, he placed his hands on either side of a slick fosse and inhaled the fragrance of moss-furred walls.

When his lips met wetness, warm and tremulous, he waited, savoring the moment. It was a sweet thing to be so close, to feel the wellspring of life tremble beneath him, and to know that he could drink deep until sated.

That night he slept and dreamt of geysers erupting.

 

Geyser dreams

A Four Monkey Day

1 Nov

three monkey day copy

Bonnie Carini never reads my blog.

She goes a mile a minute and has a lot on her plate so of course, I forgive her. We met in the late eighties when she was a diver for Atlantis Submarines and I was a green Co-Pilot. She moved on and we kept in touch through the intervening years. In June of 2003 I met her by chance at the Keahole Kona airport departure lounge. I was seeing off a friend and she was headed to New York for a week before going to the Faroe Islands with a small crew to film a documentary about life there. As they called her flight, she said I should come along as a camera operator, gaffer, interviewer and jack of all trades. They called her flight again, we hugged, I said I’d think about it….and off she went.

A week later I called her room at the Palace Hotel in Copenhagen, Denmark, from my room at the same hotel and told her I’d see her at the airport the next morning for our connecting flight to Vagar Airport in the Faroes. She was only slightly surprised.

We spent three weeks that summer shooting footage and meeting people and finding our way around some of the most beautiful group of islands on the face of the planet. At breakfast one morning, sitting on the lanai of our rental house in Leynar and close to the end of our trip, we decided that we needed to tell a larger story about the islands and the people that grace them.

Next summer we returned for six weeks and began writing Pilot Whale Fog, a story of a musically gifted boy befriended by a pilot whale in a country where the whales are most often referred to as ‘dinner’. We returned to Hawaii and tried to market our nascent screenplay but truth be told, it needed a lot more work. The seed was there, but it needed water and care. In 2010 through 2012 we spent many days meeting in Kona at the Royal Kona Resort to rewrite, reshape and reboot the screenplay. During those long days, if we found lightning in a bottle and the work went well, we would ask the waitress at the oceanside bar for one of their little plastic monkeys they used to decorate Mai Tai’s. I’ve got a drawer full of them now and the result is a finished product that is a hundred times better than the original. Since then Bonnie has done what she does best and pushed the work, getting it out into the wider world and in front of as many people in the business as is humanly possible.

This October we received word that the screenplay for Pilot Whale Fog had been made an Official Selection at the 2014 International Family Film Festival to be held in early November in Los Angeles. This is thanks to a lot of perseverance on her part and I want to thank her for it on the pages of this blog. That way if she ever does read it, she’ll know that it means a lot to me to have been on the journey with her. I know it’s not the Oscars…yet, but it’s pretty cool. (You can’t get there if you don’t try and if you don’t ask, the answer’s always ‘no’.)

So, thank you, Bonnie. Today’s at least a four monkey day.

Aloha,

D.

 

Official Selection

Five after Whatever

15 Oct

100 words for Friday Fictioneers based on the photo prompt below.

Five after Whaever

(copyright Douglas MacIlroy)

 

I was building a cuboctahedron when a packet of hot peppers fell from an opening and onto the workbench. I peered inside and found myself seated in a restaurant opposite a beautiful woman with sparkling eyes and a sunny smile. Across the street sea met sky beyond a pristine white sand beach.

“I was strolling on the boardwalk when a craving for Calimari alla Griglia came over me.” she said.

“And I was….Oh, never mind.”

“This is going to be an unusual relationship, isn’t it?”

We meet at Scalini’s in St. Heliers every Thursday at five after.

Scalini's

Clam Eating a Lolipop

1 Oct

One-hundred words for Friday Fictioneers based on this week’s photo prompt, shown below, graciously supplied by Kent Bonham.  Titles are an art form, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and agents are a necessary evil. Don’t neglect the former, remember the middle and never antagonize the latter.

 

Ick on a Stick

Clam Eating a Lolipop

 

“Don’t demean yourself. In our world there are certain things one just does not do. I refuse to be a party to it.”

I stare at my latest piece of pretentious bullshit, nicely framed on the gallery wall, and try to think of something that will satisfy my agent. Soliloquy in Sand 47, perhaps?

“I think my choice of title is rather distinctive.”

“My dear, I make my living, and yours too, I might add, by elevating art and artists. Don’t throw away your present success on such frivolity.”

 

“How about Ick on a Stick?”

.