Riders

Fri, 06 Jul 2012 21:53:49 -0400

A short fiction story about some teenage punks and what they do in their spare time.

A cool, brisk, wind was blowing, uncharacteristic for what should have been a still summer night. The boy walking down the street popped his jacket collar up against the insidious chill permeating the evening warm. He stopped under the sodium yellow light at a street corner and took out a cigarette. His hand cupped against the wind, he flicked open his lighter and with a few strokes managed to get the cigarette lit. He inhaled deep. Smoke trickled out of his nostrils on the exhale. He leaned back, resting his head on the streetlight pole. A hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Hey, Mikey, how are ya?” Michael rolled his head towards the voice. He had to look up quite a bit in order to make eye contact with his accoster.

“Hello, Christopher. I’m doing alright.”

“Excellent,” said the tall boy. “Same here. Dad got carted off for another fight and Mom’s off fucking who-knows-who, so I got the night to myself.”

“Do you know when Daniel is supposed to get here?”

“Naw, man. Do I look like I keep track of that kinda shit?”

Michael shrugged. The whipcord and leather that was his friend didn’t lend itself to revelations of personal nature. He gazed past the circle of light they were standing in. “I think I see him.”

“Oho, I see he’s brought a friend. Think this is the replacement for Zeke that he was talkin’ about?”

Michael said nothing. A study in contrasts stepped into the light of the streetlamp. One was short and squishy, the other one long and gawky. The only similarity was that they were both sniveling – one from fear, one from an excess of snot leaking from his nasal passages. The snot-nosed one stepped up to Christopher and reached to shake his hand. Chris responded with a punch in his arm.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” said the heavyset kid, rubbing his shoulder.

“You know damn well, Dan,” said Chris. “Who knows what sickness you got nowadays, or what barnyard animal it’s named after. I’d prefer not to be stricken down with a case of the goddamn filly flu, alright?”

“You shouldn’t exaggerate so much,” said Daniel. “It’s a really stupid habit.”

Chris snorted. “Ah, shut the hell up. Oh, and nice job on Mr. S last week. The old bastard was going to fail me on my final, I just know it.”

“Don’t mention it. I needed someone to kick off the season. Besides, you’ve been busy yourself. That gang shooting is going to be on the news for a few weeks.”

“Heh, wasn’t anything. Those assholes were wound up so tight, I barely had to move before they were at each other’s throats. Anyway, is this the new guy?”

Daniel glanced backwards at the scrawny kid standing behind him. “Come on up. Meet the fellas.”

The kid looked the part of Zeke, thought Michael, a stick of a guy who gave off the impression that it’s a serious struggle to support the weight of his own hair.

Michael straightened up from the pole. Interrupting the overenthusiastic handshake Chris was treating the kid to, he spoke. “You’re here about joining.”

The kid’s gaping pupils danced sidesteps. “Um. I suppose so. Daniel told me you had an opening and that I was the right guy for the job but I, uh, don’t really see how that’s the case, I mean I’m not very strong or fast or tough or anything so I don’t know why you’d want me to be part of your ga-”

Michael raised a pacifying hand. “We’re not a gang. Do you want to join or not?”

The kid looked like he wanted to disappear. “I…guess so, I mean no one messes with you guys and that’d be a nice thing to be part of but like I said I don’t know why you’d want me an-”

Michael raised a hand again. “Did Daniel tell you at all what it is that we do?”

“No,” said the kid. “But I thought you were just another gang like you just banded together for protection or whatever I mean that’s what I thoug-”

Michael again raised his hand, this time to rub the bridge of his nose. This kid was starting to get on his nerves, and that was not a good place to be. “Listen. Normally we wouldn’t even bother with a kid like you, but Ezekiel got taken out a while back. You’re his replacement.”

“But what would I do?” asked the kid.

Chris interjected. “Well, we represent a local extension of a much more well-known organization.” He cleared his throat. “To put it delicately, this organization was founded by four individuals with very specific talents and a common fondness for equestrianism.”

The kid stared. “Uh, what…”

Daniel sighed. “Four individuals. Equestrianism. Specific talents. Sound familiar?”

“Um, well…kinda?”

Christopher butted in. “Jesus Christ, kid. It’s the fuckin’ horsemen.”

Michael looked the kid dead in the eyes. “Certain things don’t happen on their own. They need people to watch over them, to make sure what needs to happen, happens. Sometimes the people who do the watching need help. When they do, we provide it.”

The kid looked slightly confused. “How…how could you guys possibly help them with their stuff? You’re only human, right?”

“Let’s just say, there are some perks to this line of work,” said Daniel.

Michael stared the kid down. “Our benefactors provide certain benefits to ensure we can complete our jobs fully. The problem currently is that one of our members is out, and we need someone to take over his duties. Either you accept the offer, or we move on.”

The kid sniveled, glanced from face to face. Finally, with a tense voice, he said “I’ll join.”

Michael leaned back against the pole and took another drag off his cigarette. “Let’s get you set up.” Christopher pulled out a cell phone while Daniel congratulated the kid on a choice well made. Michael noticed that the kid was careful not to make direct skin contact with Daniel. A quick learner. Good.

Chris finished muttering into his phone, closed it, and smiled menacingly down at the kid. “You like horses?”

“Um…I’m not sure…” the kid stammered out.

“Well, I can’t fucking stand the things,” Chris said. “Luckily, our benefactors have means of transportation more suited to our modern day and age. Looks like your ride’s coming up now.”

A black pickup crawled its way up the midnight-drenched street, and came to a rest beside the boys. The once-pristine exterior had now been riddled with holes, some the size of a clenched fist, ringed with orange-grey rust. The boy looked askance at the others, and they stared pointedly at the passenger door of the cab. Swallowing hard, the boy reached out a trembling hand. The interior lights failed to come on when the door opened, revealing a darkness that screamed out a need to be filled. He glanced back once more. The streetlight stood alone.

The boy climbed in, closed the door behind him, and the truck rode off, carrying master and new apprentice.

Thoughts from the Altar as I Wait to be Wed

Fri, 06 Jul 2012 21:50:00 -0400

Tumblr messed up the formatting on this one, so please go to the actual blog page to read!!!

A freeform poem about a man weighing his past regrets against his current decisions

A lifetime (twenty-odd years) past,

a girl and I had begun with plans to spend

the rest of our time on this earth

together, and finished with tears.

She had been the first to love me.

Now, facing my bride as she strolls

down the long scarlet path,

my heart pounding against my ribs,

pearl waves behind her,

I still can’t help but remember

the girl from ninth grade.

We were to be wed. A rash childhood oath

sworn between people far too immature

to love responsibly.

I take my bride’s hand in mine, help her up

the few steps leading to the podium.

She beams up at me.

I smile small.

Eyes rain pain and sorrow.

She turns, runs, doesn’t look back,

I don’t call out as she flees.

The priest begins reciting the script

which will forever bond us.

Too late for second thoughts.

I had tried to let her down easy.

Impulse never leads to good decisions.

There are more words

than I think necessary.

We’d agreed it would be a short service.

chicken scratches

Riders

Thoughts from the Altar as I Wait to be Wed