Tag Archives: conversation

Borrowed Time


Entry to this week’s FFfaW! Image courtesy of Louise with The Story Teller’s Abode! 

Tis a gift to all the unborn,
to dreams and to desire,
to futures that seek to pass.

But can they will it?
Knowing that their journey must end,
and their efforts naught for themselves.

Endure they must this contradiction,
for their time given must be returned in kind,
transformed into innumerable forms realized,
to buttress the chasm from which they came.

And if they succumb to the wasteland?
The profligates and the sloths,
those who dismantle and coast.
What of their fates?

Tragedy, for they hasten the end.
Time wasted, time revoked.


One Way




Entry to this week’s Friday Fictioneers!  Back from a long hiatus 🙂

“The plebs. Why do they leave? Don’t they know all roads lead back to Rome?”

“Their shepherd understands this but he must delay, lest slaughter and slavery reach his people.”

“So exodus he proffers but revolution he disguises. Marching in circles to cull the weak, breeding the strong to fight the stronger.“

“Would the empire be so blind? Wolves can smell their sheep a hundred leagues away.”

“The empire let them go for they no longer desire food but a challenge.”

“And the shepherd?”

“A sheep-wolf or a wolf-sheep. Makes no difference.”

The Bluff


Entry to this week’s Sunday Photo Fictioners! Off to rewatch the pirates trilogy now!

“But no one approaches The Lagoon by broadside. Four tiers of guns, two hundred in all. Furnishes holes in both ships and coastlines. It is suicide!”

“She’s a formidable Galley. Fended off five sloops one time and they were no small fish. Now I hear rumors of Spanish gold. A quarter of the King’s vault emptied.”

“A quarter! And you suppose she’s fetching the full haul. What a mighty weight to bear!“

“Too much weight me thinks… Less she plans the crew to push. Would probably still see port by day’s end.”

“How much did she shed? A hundred tons? Two hundred?”

“More. Probably had to toss the essentials. Food, water, and … guns.”

“Guns? We counted the two hundred this eventide.”

“Aye, guns for show. Who points a gun in both rain and shine?”

The Casket


Entry to this week’s Friday Fictioners! Image courtesy of Al Forbes

“The funeral procession starts tomorrow and you’re driving this?!”

“I’m placing John in the back-seat and taking the front wheel.”

“Don’t you think the chassis is a bit… gaudy?”

“It’s vintage and I think quite fitting to his instructions.”

“He did say that he wanted to be buried in style; I took it to mean well-dressed. Did you ensure an open-casket?”

“Open-casket? The entire automobile is the casket. He asked to be buried with style!”

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The Leap!


Entry to this week’s Sunday Flash Fiction! Had some fun with this one 😉

“And there I was, munching on some long-greens by old Benny’s fence when I saw her. Iggy Longhorn… the most beautiful lass ever to set hoof on these grassy plains. Jerry who saw the whole thing can attest to that.”


“Anyways. Convention dictates that I greet her proper, usually at some gathering by the waterhole near family. Those channels were unavailable given the circumstances.”

“What happened next Jack?”

“Well after initial shock wore off, I realized that she’d been running. Behind her, Looney’s lionesses, about six of them, had been in hot-pursuit, taunting and trying to nip at her tail.”

“Unbelievable! To think that Looney’s crew had the gall to harass Miss Longhorn, especially on our lands!”

“Well not exactly. Iggy had accidentally wandered into the open territories and tried to find a way back. She was on the OTHER side of old Benny’s fence when I first saw her.”

“Gasp… Is Miss Longhorn ok? Did she get hurt? What did you do?”

“Instincts took over and I backed up maybe twenty or thirty feet.”

“Did you run and get help?”

“Even better. I charged and LEPT as far and high as I could right on-over old Benny’s fence. Must have scared the Savannah out of those cats cause they high-tailed it right-on out of there. Then I escorted Iggy back to her family and we’ve been together since!”

Miss Longhorn who had been eavesdropping the whole time silently crept up from behind.

In a booming voice, she announced “funny you should mention THIS story Jack!” before biting his tail, causing him to leap five-feet up into the air. “Looks like you could of made it back WITHOUT my help!”

The Session


Entry to this week’s FFfAW! Sorry but went over the word limit this time 😉

“And then I saw myself in the rear view mirror of another car…”

“What did you see?”

“I was hideous! My front bumper lay torn, half drooping over one wheel like some appendage. Headlights shot to pieces, and my front hood… mutilated!”

“How did it make you feel?”

“The worst. Like I had been discarded, tossed aside into the rubble after so many winters had passed. That will never happen right, doc?”

“Can you describe the car that you saw yourself in?”

“Oh, it was shiny, modern, luxurious even. Maybe a black Mercedes. It never turned to face me.”

“How‘s the relationship with your mechanic?”

“He does a great job. Never had any complaints although sometimes he takes these photos.”

“And the relationship with your hosts?”

“Hmm. Sometimes I feel they don’t acknowledge me. Like I’m just a tool for carrying them from place to place. They don’t even offer to take the wheel from time to time… Always glued to their smart-phones as if eyes couldn’t bother to turn. And then there was the incident with the latte…  Left a stain for half a year on the back-seat until the mechanic finally pointed it out! Then he started taking pictures again.”

“I can see that you feel neglected, under-appreciated for your work, and resentful for not receiving any love after so much giving.”

“Yes, it just seems so unfair. Sniff…”

“I understand, but not everyone will be so reciprocating. Do you think it is fair to demand love when love is unconditional?“

“No… it isn’t fair either. What should I do then? Lower my expectations?”

“Get rid of them. But don’t stop yourself from giving out of gratitude. It may help to find some other clients in the meantime.”

“What about the mechanic?”

“Get rid of him.”

Big-Rig Hunters


Entry to Sunday Photo Fiction at https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com

“Quiet Billy”, Joe placed his hand over his mouth to mask his voice. “That right there is a Monster-Rig, one of the few rogue AIs still in the wild that had mixed with an incompatible persona”.

“What do you mean Joe?” Billy’s voice rasped within the metallic shell. “I thought the government had done away with all those self-driving agents ever since THAT incident.”

“Well THAT incident was just the tip of the iceberg. Foogle corp. had lost control of its entropy-net and the military intervened by manually shutting down its subsidiary systems.”

“Ha! Manual would be an understatement. Those self-driving cars were like feral-animals who found themselves without a pack-leader. We had to practically use anti-tank rounds to disable them.” Billy quieted for a moment to recollect his old car-hunting days.  “Why is this one called Monster-Rig?”

Joe paused to think for a minute before answering. “Foogle’s entropy-net was self-aware. Its consciousness emerged from several autonomous systems that had been designed with specific directives in mind. However, resources were limited and so these systems wound-up competing over against other, even forming temporary alliances to further their ends. For example, big-rigs were originally designed to ship large quantities of goods without incident over long distances. However, its greatest impediment en-route would have been other vehicles. When it merged with the Monster-Truck rally simulator, it must have learned how to maneuver over other cars. Conversely, the simulator acquired the specs of the big-rig and gained a means of collecting real-world data.  A symbiotic win/win situation so-to-speak.“

“Huh. But wouldn’t the increase in damages factor into the Monster-Rig’s risk/cost assessment curves? I can’t imagine how the Monster-Truck simulator managed to skew the numbers so greatly in its favor.”

“Hard to say. Things like value and worth are not always reducible to numbers to the individual. Humans for example tend not to assign numerical weights to every decision they make. But over a large population, these decisions turn into trends that can be modeled vis-a-vie statistical processes.”

“Do you think these Monster-Rigs are individuals who have developed value-systems beyond their programming? This one doesn’t seem to be freighting any goods nor is it behaving like a dog in a puddle.”

“It’s possible. After all… You and I were once Big-Game Hunters.”

The Committee



In Jack’s mind, a committee gathered to decide his best course of action.

Scotch: “It should be obvious that scotch is the way to go. Refined men drink scotch with money to spend.”

Beer: “Except Jack is neither refined nor rich. Just go with the Bud Light. Quantity beats quality tonight!”

Rum: “More like pissing away the night. Rum is clearly superior with coke. Oh crap, someone stole the coke!”

Vodka: **hides the coke**. “Mixers are for the weak. Real men take Vodka straight.”

White Russian: “The dude isn’t Russian enough. Go with the Caucasian mannn…”

Absinthe: “…”

Tequila: “He doesn’t have a death sentence yet. Let miss Tequila cheer you up 🙂 ”

Jäger: “Did I hear Tequila? Wait for my boys! Shit, we’re out of Redbull.”

Long Island: “How about some iced tea, hmmm, hmmm, hmmmmmmm”

Wine: “He’s not falling for that again. Just buy some red wine and leave.”

Gin: “Agreed, and pick up some aged gin along the way.”

Martini: “Yuck”

After much ado, the committee still couldn’t reach a decision. Jack got a glass of water and left with a headache.



Entry to Sunday photo fiction at https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com

“Time is so fickle” exclaimed Celine. “You waste it when early, lose it when late. Yet it lags when you try to count it and flies when you don’t pay attention to it. Why do we have such a hard time pinning it down?”

“Well there is downtime, or dead time as we Americans call it”, smirked Jesse. “Time is like spacing between words or short pauses of silence. One has a hard time counting silence, no?“

“Your French is little behind the times J but I see your point. Maybe time is like a road-trip. One remembers the landmarks or the events along the way but hardly the drive. Extending this analogy, life would be a race against time, to fill the silence despite knowing that it ends with the one final event of death.”

Jesse’s face held a contemplative look. “Yet, one can borrow, share, and spend one another’s time together. Others can help fill the silence but ultimately, it is one’s own burden. Maybe this is why the young aren’t much bothered by it whilst the old feel the strain.”

“Indeed, the young have novelty on their side. The old who are burdened with the repetition of living don’t have that luxury.” Celine paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. The sound of her wristwatch filled the silence. “It’s getting late and I have to wake up early for work. Thanks for hearing my thoughts.”