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In the Morning You’ll begin to See the Light

26 Aug

100 words for Friday Fictioneers inspired by the photo prompt below from Claire Fuller, she of Our Endless Numbered Days. Though flash fiction ought to have a beginning, middle and an end, my story has an end and a beginning, but no middle. Think of it as a coda to a long and beautiful piece of music and please forgive me my taking liberties with the format.

 

(To all those of you who continue to read my work despite the above, and who have kept the faith with me these past months, thank you, always.)

 

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(Copyright Claire Fuller)

 

 

 

A familiar and catchy tune issued softly from speakers somewhere in the room. Two men stood before a ponderous filing system, deep in conversation.

“The problem’s all inside our heads, it seems to me. The answer’s easy if we take it logically.”

Still, unexpected from such a long-termer. How did he leave?”

Slipped out the back…”

Don’t say it….. Did you see him earlier in the day?”

Briefly. We didn’t discuss much. He dropped off a key.”

What files were taken?”

Solitude, Mystery, Love and Beauty.

Sounds like he has a new plan.”

 

 

 

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“He’s got away from us, Jack.”

“Yes, I think you’re right, Mr. Helpmann. He’s gone.”

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The Windlass of Time

4 Jun

A hundred words for those who are still left and for those who have gone before, based on the photo prompt below. We walk in the shadows of giants. D-Day. June 6th, 1944.

 

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(Copyright C. Hase)

 

 

A stooped and wizened man stands behind a bench at the end of a pier, supporting himself with both hands as he watches liberty boats ferry passengers to the beach from a cruise ship anchored offshore. Long years have extinguished everything in his life except the fire in his eyes. Through them he sees soldiers in a maelstrom struggling in crimson surf beneath a dull gray sky.

A car backfires and he flinches, then squares his shoulders and turns to walk resolutely inshore, sure that today will be his last. Another day, another turn of the wheel. Maybe tomorrow.

 

 

 

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Following Seas

22 Jan

I’ve been helping a friend drain a swamp and feel the need to apologize for being behind the curve last week in reading and commenting. Going to fix that now as the swamp is drained and the alligators are all suitcases now.

Mahalo and Aloha, D.

 

100 words for Friday Fictioneers inspired by the photo below from Georgia Koch.

 

boatpilxr_ antiqued

(Copyright Georgia Koch)

 

“I could call the Coast Guard.”

“And tell them what? An old man is going rowing?”

He wondered whether he’d made a mistake in sharing his plans. After half a lifetime spent at sea, this last voyage seemed only natural.

“I won’t have you watch me die a slow death in one of those homes, son.”

“It wouldn’t be like that…”

“It’s always like that. They just don’t put it in the brochure because it’s bad for business.”

Ebb tide. The sea beckoned. Time to go.

“I love you, son.”

“Fair winds, Dad.”

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

Kansas City Wide Open 2014

24 Jun

The 2014 Kansas City Wide Open Disc Golf Championships are over. Paul McBeth took Open Pro at Swope Gold Course and way at the other end of the card, over at Blue Valley Park, I took Pro Senior Grandmasters. The courses were tough and long with big elevation changes. It was hot as Missouri in Summer, but our card had really wonderful players all three days. The first two days Mike Maness and I  played with the Pro Women Masters and on the final day we played with two Open Pro women.

KCWIDEOPEN!st

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Top left, Senior Grandmaster Mike Maness (2nd place) and Pro Master Tavish Carduff (2nd place)

Bottom row from left Pro Masters Women winner Peg Berry, Sheila Kirkham (third place), and Douglas MacIlroy (the trophy is ceramic, very heavy and shaped like a disc. Cool.)

 

One tournament down and one to go. Next weekend I will bang my head on two courses for two days in Jefferson City, Missouri, at the Mid-America Open and see what happens.

Now it’s off to find the Disc Golf World store in downtown K.C. and see what swag I can find to jam into the plane for the flight back to Hawaii when all this fun is over.

 

Aloha,

 

Doug

Going Disc Golfing

18 Jun

There’s only one thing I love more than writing and that’s Disc Golfing. I try not to go on about it lest the very mention of the sport turn into something like this….

Disc golf

…but I’m off to the mainland tomorrow to compete in the (Halt and the Lame Division) 32nd annual Kansas City Wide Open Disc Golf Championship. The following weekend I’ll travel east to Jefferson City, MO. to play in the 30th annual Mid-America Open (Same division). In my brain the two weekends will look and feel sort of like this (a shot which resulted in a birdie)…

Going disc golfing

…but that’s another story…

Disc golf stories

…and I just wanted to let my regular readers (to whom I am quietly grateful and deeply indebted in ways they may never know) where I’ve disappeared to for the next two weeks. I’ll be back with some swag and two trophies (That’s the spirit, laddie!) and some blah, blah, blah-bitty-blah, disc golf stories to share.

Aloha,

Doug

The Tears of Cassandra

16 Apr

What mischief compels me return here and write?

 

ULUA GONE

 

If Cassandra could live her life over, would she yield to Apollo to save herself from Ajax and the pain of never being believed whenever she tried to warn her fellow man?

Would we listen to all that escapes her lips, aware that a nameless menace lurks inside the wooden horse of our own complacency? I think not.

Troy fell.

Troy will fall again.

This time our role will not be to doubt Cassandra. This time we won’t even hear her warnings.

When death comes before our time, we can look to the sea for answers. There, in the name of survival, we killed all that we could of the myriad creatures that lived in her embrace and  sowed the seeds of our own diminishment. We will follow the whales, sharks, tuna, sardines and plankton and fertilize a future devoid of us in a sea that has nothing but time in which to grow new mysteries.

We will be a dead branch on the evolutionary tree, a layer of sedimentary rock full of riddles for archeologists (not human) somewhere in time.

It is happening now.

Cassandra weeps.

 

Cassandra and Ajax