69 - Phobias - J.F. Hire

I am afraid of losing control,

So I created my own world.

In this reality, there are programs.

In this system, there are flaws.

I am the IT Guy in The Sky who fixes them.

I am the Judge who writes the Law.

It took me seven days.

It took me seven nights.

It took a flood of emotion,

And sacrifice.

 Once, they revolted for proof of me,

And I respond with devastating loss.

They, my children, will do as I say.

They are under my control, to this very day.

Today there are people living for me,

And whorshipping my image.

I can't say if it is truly free will,

Because though they will be free,

It is I who wills it. 

68 - Short Story on Writing a Book - J.F. Hire

So they told me to write what I know,

But when I wrote about my family, they laughed.

I threw those stories in the trash, and took another tip:

Write what you love. Well I love to write, so I'll write about that.

College professors called me Sophomoric and gave me bad marks,

I threw those stories in the bin as well. I don't love it anymore.

This task is becoming daunting, and I just want to write.

Once I did just that, and wrote about what came to me,

I found that my writer's voice was soothing and fresh, not trite,

Like a cup of Earl Grey tea.

67 - When Man Lost Arrogance - J.F. Hire

"I have worked TOO hard and TOO long to be treated this way!" The suited man continued to gather the groceries from the ground, having been clipped by a bike messenger moments before.

     He shouted after this fast-moving cyclist: "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?"

     With a flip of his middle finger, the cyclist turned a corner and went on with his business.

     The man in the suit was Tim Jones, and irate. All day people had been stepping on him, giving him crummy service, and pushing him aside to get their work done. At the coffee shop, as he was ordering his Cafe Latte with Skim and Nutmeg, the barrista had the nerve to ask if he could wait for her to finish up two previous orders, apparently she was the only one working. He didn't deserve that, and grumbled loudly the entire time, tapping his loafer and fingering his PDA violently.

     Afterwards, there was a moment in the elevator where someone was getting off, and he was getting on, both in a hurry, and both checking their watches. The person exiting didn't have the decency to hold the elevator while Tim raced toward it. He missed it, and was kept waiting for nearly three whole minutes.

     This cyclist was the final straw. After he managed to pile his groceries into the trunk of his SAAB, he locked the car, and ran after the man's direction. Sure, he was on bike, but Tim had been through enough today, and a good run would certainly take the edge off-- especially when the outcome would be knocking this kid's block off.

     Traffic ignored him, nearly hitting him several times. Pedestrians looked concerned for fleeting moments, before returning to their business. Tim ran, and found his eyes affixed on the cyclist, two lights down from him. He would push on, reach this kid, and pummel him. He was certain of this.

     When he made it to his destination, the brown jeep was riding over him, and left him a crumpled mess in the intersection of Olive St. and Fifth Avenue. He deserved better than this.


    He woke up with a start, asking the nurse: "where the fuck is that kid?"

    Taken aback, but rather used to undeserved outbursts like this, she told him where he was, and that he had been in a coma for six months and ten days.

    After this outburst, he seemed to lose any semblence of who he once was. When the nurse retold him that he asked about some kid, he had no clue what this meant.

     On the mend, and on multiple medications, his doctor came to him and sat him up for a talk.
"Well, Mister Jones, you seem to have amnesia. There's usually a pretty sure-fire way to cure this with time and the company of loved ones, but your files indicate that you don't have a next of kin, nor do you have any contacts which would consider themselves 'close' with yourself. It seems that this will be a waiting game, and one which we must hope for the best."

     Tim was chewing this over, trying to figure out who he was, trying to figure out what this all meant, and searching deep within to gain some insight. At the end of their conversation, he asked the doctor: "Do you think that there's a chance for me?"

"Mister Jones, you've survived ten broken vertabre, a collapsed lung, shattered ribs, and a severe laceration to the jugular-- This is your chance."

     This made Tim smile, and he shook the doctor's hand in agreement. As the doctor left, Tim sat up in his bed and stared out at the bustling city-scape before him.

     His medicine was that of patience, hope, and carpe diem. With no certainty as to who he was or what he had done before his accident, he was left with the knowledge that, in the light of almost losing everything, he was privileged enough with another day in the sun.

    Interrupting his revelation, a nurse came in with his dinner-- and  ended up spilling the cup of juice over the front of his robes, apologizing profusely. He laughed, a jovial sound from his ragged throat, and helped her clean him up. "It's fine. Hah, I'm sure you get told this all of the time, but this food is rubbish." After apologizing again, she relaxed too, and offered to sneak him some outside food the next time she came up to him.

     And in the end, things were looking up for Tim, because he had finally stopped looking down on everyone else.

66 - Dream House - J.F. Hire

     They had moved into THE dream house. It was long, spacious, with modest ceilings. Never before had either of them seen such a luxurious and fully-furnished home, at least not beyond that of magazines.

     One would marvel at the tiling behind the stove top, while another would spend hours rearranging the clothing in the closet to best suit the space an design concept. Much to their she-grin, the other kept disheveling these clothes, even leaving some scattered on the floor. It felt as if they were living with an animal.

     Re-touched and organized, the closet in pristine condition, they walked to the living room to admire (for a third time that morning) the mural upon the Eastward wall. To one of them, it was bright, sunny, and elegant. Akin to the Birth of Venus. To the other, or at least from the different angle, this mural was penetrating, haphazard, and more like Bosch. They both enjoyed it greatly, of course. This was a dream house. No matter their differences in taste.

     Their kitchen allowed for multiple people cooking at once, as well as a lofty bar for guests to enjoy a cocktail and conversation with their hosts. Some days they would cook a nice rum cake for their delight, other nights they would prepare mac and cheese for their toddlers.

     In the bedroom, when all of the lights go dim, they would pull down the curtains, tuck into their sheets, and don their proverbial nightcaps in an empty bed. At least one of them did, she was a single female, living happily alone with her four cats and frequently inviting her college pals over.

     John and Tristy, on the other hand, were in the same room, happily married, with two kids and a dog, who frequently tugged down the clothing in the closet. They didn't mind-- Dogs will be dogs.

     The true dream about this house, is that multiple people lived in it at the same time. Even if some of he drawbacks were moments where the family's space intermingled, causing 'ghostly' apparitions and phantoms on the couch.

     While the world was suffering from overpopulation, John Hillgrud had invented a multi-family, trans-dimensional living space.

     Hillgrud is the true frontiersman to the Open Concept.

68 Short Story on Writing a Book - RT Shores (Fiction)

Interview With An Author

Reporter - How did you pick this subject for your book? Isn't it overdone?

Me - Intelligent zombies? Overdone? I don't think so. I think that if there ever are zombies, they will be government made and there will also be some missteps, so why not venture into what could be?

R - You write in many genres. What is your favorite?

Me- Science Fiction! It saved my life as a child, so it has a dear place in my heart.

R - How did it save your life?

Me - I was an outcast in the fifties and discovered sci fi when I was about 12 years old, so 1962 and it showed there could be other worlds and other types of beings, so I felt better.

R - It helped that much?

Me - Oh, yes! I always wanted aliens to come and get me.

R - Do you still feel like an alien?

Me - Not as much... there are many other crazy people now, so I feel right at home most of the time. What is your crazy?

R - I am the interviewer, but I guess I am just neurotic.

Me - So normal...

R - I guess so. Now, where were we? Oh yes, zombies... you have special zombies in your book.

Me - Oh yes, but you have to read the book to see how special.

R - Do you have any advance copies?

Me - Not yet, but I will send you one as soon as I do.

R - Where is the setting?

Me - Right here in Charlotte and mostly at the Duke Mansion and that area.

R - Have you been inside the mansion?

Me - No, I just made it up, just like I did the CDC and the Pentagon.

R - This is sounding exciting!

Me - I hope it will be.

R - What about the characters? Are they from life or made up?

Me - Both. Neither. They are characters. I gave myself a role, but one a bit different than now.

R - Who wins at the end?

Me - Like I would tell you that!

R - I tried... I have a feeling I know though. You seem like 'an underdog has to win' kinda person.

Me - Do I? Hm, interesting.

R - Thank you for your time and I look forward to reading the book.

Me - Thank you. I look forward to your opinion.

67 When Man Lost Arrogance - RT Shores (Fiction)

Move The Woman

"Stephens! Move this woman. She is blocking my path." The haughty man stuck his nose in the air and waited for his chauffeur to move the offensive woman.

The woman screamed as Stephens bent to move her. It was a scream of pain.

A crowd began to gather and someone called 911 for police and an ambulance.

"Can't you see she is injured?" An older woman yelled at Stephens.

"I didn't know... " He bent to try to help. "Where are you injured, Miss?"

"My hip, I think, or my leg. He knocked me down and stole my briefcase. Can you help me?" Stephens nodded.

His boss yelled again. "Stephens! Move her! We will be late for my club meeting!" The rich man had yet to look down or even acknowledge the woman on the ground, other than as a hindrance.

"Sir, she is injured and was attacked. We have called for help."

"Oh my word, Stephens, let these other people help her. Pull the car up so I can get in and we can leave."

Stephens stood, pulled the keys out of his pocket and handed them to his boss. "No, sir. You can do all that yourself."

"Stephens, if you do not assist me immediately, you are fired."

"No, sir. I already quit. Now shut the hell up and get out of here so we can help someone really important."

The rich man stared down at Stephens and then looked at the woman.

His eyes bugged out. "Marcia?" He knew the woman.

He took a knee next to her. "Marcia? What has happened?"

"You know her, sir?"

His boss hung his head. "Yes, yes. Marcia is my sister. Where are the police? Where is the ambulance?" He demanded.

"I am so sorry, Marcia. I had no idea you were even in town."

"Martin, it wouldn't have mattered. Any woman on the ground would have been nearly invisible to you." She softened her words with a smile and held his hand.

Martin looked at the faces around him, seeing them for the first time, and was ashamed for the first time in his life.

65 Solve World Hunger - RT Shores (SciFi)

The Additive

The board members sat and waited for the red phone to ring. They represented every fast food restaurant and packaged food maker. 

The phone rang and soon they saw the President on the large screen. She looked exhausted, but she spoke calmly and with purpose.

"Members of the board, thank you for attending this vital meeting. I have decided that we should activate the food shortage contingency plan immediately. Are you prepared?"

The room was polled and all were ready.

The screen went black and a huge sigh sounded in the room.

"How will we begin?" Asked the chairman.

"With the new seasoning blend until we can prep the factories." Said the logistics manager.

Nods were counted and the manager dispatched orders to every franchise. 

"How long until it takes effect?"

"It will start tomorrow. Two bites of food usually does the trick. The patron is suddenly full, satisfied and happy." The room approved.

***

Day One

"May I take your order please?"

"Gimme a triple with large fries and large coke."

The customer pulled over to eat his food and after two bites, was full. "Man! Must have been my breakfast. I am so full." He said to no one. He dropped the food at his house to save for supper.

Phase One had begun.

***

By the end of week one, people started talking. Fast food was more filling and tasted better. The problem for the corporations was that sales were down, for folks were saving their leftovers and eating them for two or more meals.

The board reconvened. The President was on the screen, but was not patient this time.

"What is it?"

"Our intake of funds has dropped drastically and our revenue will be that of the seventies soon. What are we supposed to do?" The head of McBurger's asked angrily.

"This was discussed fully with you, and here is your signature." She tapped at a lengthy contract.

He paled and nodded. The others knew they had not a leg to stand on, so said nothing.

By the end of week two, revenue was increasing again, for word of mouth was spreading. 'Buy one meal there and it will last for two or more meals!'

Now the grocers were upset. 'We are losing customers to fast food!' No one said a word. They had signed away their complaints.
***

Six months passed and the corporations continued to complain, but the public was delighted. Their food bills were way down as were there waist sizes. Excitement traveled the country and began to spread to Europe.

Food stores were full again and there was no longer a food shortage.

There was only one minor side effect, as noted by the CDC, people could no longer concentrate as before. Many were fired, or died in traffic accidents on the way to work. The 'happy' part of the recipe was making everyone lackadaisical, so they did nothing, or cared about nothing.

The people who began to rule, were those who ate whole foods, organic foods or home made foods. They thrived on the fresh new crops of produce.
***

The board met one last time, for all that were left were so out of it, they had no idea what was going on. The chair was handed to the director of the organic gardening consortium for Tennessee.

The consortium decided to rule the board full throttle and ejected all the old members. Now there were Vegans and Vegetarians ruling the meat eating continent. They waited for the fall out.
***

There wasn't much of a fall out, really. Fast food addicts died. Busy moms who only cooked packaged foods died as did most of their children.

The lucky ones were those with allergies to gluten and lactose, for they often selected better quality foods.

There was now a glut of healthy food being flown all over the world. The hope was that no one would starve one more day. Sure, there were strongholds of militants, but air drops of food marked 'For US Military Only' were scarfed down and soon the leaders wandered aimlessly through deserts and jungles.

The world was changing; for the better, for once...

65 - Solve World Hunger - J.F. Hire

     Dean Jenger was the first to synthesize bamboo into sustainable and attainable food for the entire world.

He was thirteen when he submitted his product to his local state science fair. This was in 2087, the same year as the rise of our race's first twenty Sub-Orbital Weather Stations.

     An unknown government agency contacted Dean after he won both state and regional science competitions.

After his discovery, and a deal struck with the agency, he moved to Italy to an unknown villa to visit his aunt Cheryl.

     Since the rise of the sub-orbital weather stations, the tension revolving potential Spy Stations has risen to the point of attack between Greece and Ireland. Military action between these two has bred suspicion throughout the world.

     He has not been seen since, and multiple hoaxes of his death have been reported.

The US government now owns all rights and formulations for the bamboo sustenance.

     Each world government has agreed to distribute this synth. food for free to its people.

Nearly 15% of the world hunger has decreased within two weeks of distribution. The population has obtained this food, and has begun to distribute it within ungoverned third-world civilizations.

-

     A shipment of the BambooFood has been derailed and crashed off of the East coast of the US, reporters have images coming in now.

In other news, the International Weather Stations are reportedly going over-budget, and scheduled to be shut down within the next year.

     Citizens of Southern California have reported sightings of Dean Jenger, but no proof has been provided.

-

     Since the lost shipment of BambooFood, the world has experienced a lull in this abundance of food-- riots are breaking out in Uganda and those of Mali have begun to encroach on nearby treaty boarders to scavenge.

There is now speculation that a bad shipment of BambooFood has been distributed in rural parts of China. A recall is ordered, but those in those small villages have little to no means of being notified. Symptoms of the small shipment are primarily vomiting, dizziness, and in some cases, even death in he elderly.

     There are now reports that this shipment has reached as close to home as our own impoverished and homeless. Since the discovery, the effects are now known to include fatigue, ravenous appetite, and even coma.

Due to recent events and strict budget issues since the declaration of war in the East, the multiple abandoned space stations have been re-outfitted with means to support micro-communities of the homeless, elderly, and abandoned children. 

The government has given a statement today that they will be investigating this recall, and urges the public to stay away from BambooFood as much as possible. Due to the non-profit nature of this product, they cannoy afford a physical recall.

     Scattered instances of madness and blindness have been heard, but the government states that there has been no substantial evidence that this is caused by the recall.

A factory manufacturing BambooFood has been bombed, the fire still blazes and there is little hope for any survivors. Reports indicate that the CEO of BambooFood Inc. was inside of the building.

-

     Today is the anniversary of the discovery of BambooFood, and a dark day it is. This food alone has eradicated 70% of the world population, in a single-most terrible act of bio-terrorism that our race has seen.  Though Dean Jenger is reportedly deceased, he is forever a wanted man.

It has been 23 years since I began this logging. I'm running low on the food I've stored since the BioDepression. Farmers stopped farming, everyone ate BambooFood. The soil is barren and cannot be saved-- at least not by me.

     I hear that the people in the Weather Stations are still alive-- not that I can tell. We haven't been able to contact them since before the BF pandemic. But sometimes I think that I see flowers floating down from the heavens on Sundays. Always Sundays.

-

As I near my end, all I can wonder is this:
Is there anybody out there?

-

"Why is the ground so brown?" Joan asks her father, elderly but spry, as they lean over the lip of their Sub-orbital home.

"Well, some say that it was bound to happen, global warming and such." The two of them sat on the edge of their island in the sky, feeling the lush grass between their fingers.

He continued, "Some people think that it was just the end, or war ravaged the planet."

"Do you think they're okay down there?" She whispered, as if speaking too loudly would disturb the cloud-break that allowed them to gaze down upon the Earth.

"I don't know. But we're okay."

64 - Self Preservation - J.F. Hire

Re-up on ammo.

Reload often, save game.

Stick to stealth at all times.

When there isn't any cover to take,

Bring up the shields.

Avoid prolonged exposure to the elements,

You can get sick and alert enemies to your location.

Avoid moving too slowly toward checkpoints.

There is always a Raker in the wings.

There are always Flyboys,

Ready to implant you with the very thing that you're trying to eradicate.

When you reach the final checkpoint of this level, you have to make sure of something:

Don't look back. This will reset everything that you've fought.

You will see The Recklessness and forget everything.

Keep looking forward, and reload often.

At the final checkpoint, you will have mastered BottleBlast,

And you will have the ability to defeat our nemesis.

You'll recognize it by the orange tendrils leading up to its domicile.

These are tendrils of rancid grease and oil,

These lead you to the red and white bucket of fried chicken.

Shoot to kill.

     Jona wakes up with a start, gripping his sheets, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. His watch reads Five A.M., and there's no telling how long he has been asleep. 

     Even though he felt unreasonably tense, a cold sweat evaporating in the summer heat of his back room, he was elated. Finally he had received the dreaMail walk-through that he had requested from GamerFAQ months ago.

     He was off to beat the time-consuming game he had been gifted nearly a year before. The worst thing about technology these days was the utter delay. Instant gratification was so passe since the Age of Patience. Once in a while, he really resented their movement from the Sun.

64 Self Preservation - RT Shores

Save Yourself First

"Mom! Stop!" My daughter hissed at me in the restaurant.

"What? I paid for the food and the leftovers are going home with me! It's called a doggie bag, remember?" My daughter was such a snob now that she was rich.

"I make plenty of money and you don't need to walk out of here with leftovers."

I waved her off and grabbed my take out bag, walking ahead of her to the car. I was very glad we arrived separately. I drove off hoping she wouldn't follow me home.

I stashed my leftovers in the fridge and then fed the cats, hoping they wouldn't play all night. My daughter was exhausting. She was 'new money', so a snob. If she had come from old money, she would know that they did the same thing, even to extremes, like taking sugar packs and more right off the table.

Sighing, I sat to watch a mystery show, hoping she would take another trip to Europe and leave me alone. I dozed with the show, tired from her lecturing at the table.

A pounding at the front door awakened me with a start. I jumped up, suddenly dizzy from the quick movement. I walked to the door, making sure to bring my cell phone, on a cord around my neck, and my cane.

"Who is it?!" I demanded. No answer. I yelled again, but nothing. I peeked out the peep hole and at the same time the back door crashed in.

I jumped and ran to the bedroom with the solid wood door and the deadbolt lock. Slamming the lock, I tried to pull out my phone but something hard hit the door and I froze.

"Open the door, old woman!"

I ignored the taunt and punched 911, leaving the circuit open. Even if I couldn't talk, they could hear.

"Get out of my house!" I yelled. I headed for the closet and listened to the 911 operator. 'Home invasion... ' I heard her say my address and sighed. They would be here soon.

The door was slammed and slammed again, but wouldn't give way. Silence followed. I breathed quietly and tried to slow my heartbeat.

Both bedroom windows crashed in and I hoped the cats were in the sewing room.

They still couldn't get to me, for I had barred both windows with iron. I had the only key and it was around my neck at the moment.

Bullets danced around the room, but I was deep in the corner of the closet.

Sirens rang out and tires squealed to a stop. I picked up the phone again to listen.

"Ma'am, the police have arrived. Stay where you are until I tell you that the area is clear."

"I will." I felt very faint and my right leg hurt and itched.

"Ma'am? Ma'am! You can open the door now. She isn't responding. Break down the door, she may have been hit by one of the shots."

I could hear it all, but was too weak to respond. I looked up into a kind police officer's face. I was soon in his arms and I smiled.

"We got you now, Ma'am." He said.

"Put her on the stretcher! That leg is really bleeding!" Commanded another voice.

The officer lowered me, but I held on. "You single?" I asked and then the world darkened.
***

In the hospital, the same police officer was in attendance. The room was large and filled with flowers and stuffed animals. What the hell? I didn't have this many friends.

"You never answered me, officer." I smiled.

"I did, but you just had to pass out on me." He laughed and patted my hand.

"Oh, I see, the hand pat. I must be too old for you." I grinned.

"Just maybe a year or two." He held on to me.

"Okay, a decade or four, I know. Thank you for saving me."

My daughter stormed into the room with an entourage to rival only the biggest celebs. She started barking orders to everyone.

I held the officer's hand even tighter and asked him to sit with me. He sat.

"Mother, how are you today?"

"I am fine, Marisa." It used to be Marcia, but she changed it to fit her new social standing.

"I am so relieved, but so guilty too. They were trying to kidnap you to ransom you to me." She looked excited, but put out as well.

"So! You are moving in with me!"

"Hell, I am!" I said loudly. The hand helped. "Officer, I never got your name."

"Nate, Ma'am, Nate Washington."

"Nate? You ever do any moonlighting for old women?"

"Not until now." I smiled.

"But mother, he's, uh, well, he's... "

"What? Black? Very observant of you, Marisa!"

"Uh, no, I mean, busy. He is busy!" She tried to recover, but failed.

"Will you come home with me while your house is repaired and upgraded and your leg heals?" I nodded.

"I will need to see the plans though and I need my cats too. Nate needs to review the plans too."

Marisa agreed to all my requirements and Nate would be working with me when his schedule allowed, but refused payment. I wouldn't talk to him until he agreed that Marisa could pay him and this he agreed to and even increased his rate; a little joke between us.
***

Marisa went to Europe for an extended tour.

My house was iron clad now, it seemed, and Nate was ever vigilant and even had other cops cruise the house when he was busy.

Nate's mother, my age, was being evicted from her condo since a developer couldn't raise her rent anymore, so she moved in with me in the extra bedroom.

Now I had a roommate, as crazy as I was, an adopted son and life on my own terms. Life was now fun.

One more thing, Nate and his cop buddies were building us a panic room, but don't tell anyone, especially Marisa!

63 Darkness in an Abandoned Sanitarium - RT Shores

Time Passes Slowly in the Dark

I leaned against the door hoping for just a sliver of light. Nothing... slowing my breathing, I searched for my pen knife and found it deep in my left pocket.

I began to chip away at decades of old paint, probably breathing in lead flakes, but I didn't care. I hated the dark.

Time passed. How much? I had no idea, but it seemed like hours. I heard sounds, too many sounds, but they were all small and sounded like birds or rats or maybe squirrels. Nothing big...

Why had I volunteered to investigate sounds coming from the sanitarium? Why?

I must have been trying to impress the new detective at the time. She was a looker, for sure. Now she will know I am a wuss. Someone will show up when I have been missing awhile, but how long? Would she notice?

This was embarrassing! I was tall and fit and strong and young and a wuss. Crap! I slowed my breathing again and tried to remember what the police shrink had told me about phobias... irrational fear... slow your breathing... irrational fear...

The door was broken down right on top of me and light poured in! I crawled out and into the daylight. I gasped for breath and looked around at the many police cars and even cameras. What the hell?

She was standing there too, but not smiling or laughing like the others. I lowered my eyes and stood slowly. The smiles began to fade and cars began to fill with cops and leave quickly.

My partner came up to me, a fresh black eye caught my attention.

"What the hell, Marsh?"
I asked my partner.

"It was a setup, man. They wanted to bring you down or drive you crazy or some crap. I kinda tussled with the ring leader and you know who that was."

I did; the one I had beat out of the detective job, William 'Wienie' Watson.

"Uh, listen, what about the attractive new detective? Did she get all the lowdown on me?" Marsh shook his head.

"No, she got the real story from me and was disgusted that they had done that to you." I nodded.

"Well, one thing is for sure, I am getting a grip on this phobia!" I slapped him on the back. "How long was I in there, anyway?"

Marsh hung his head. "About twenty minutes... "

"Oh... crap... well, it's a start. I didn't die like I thought I would, right?"  I was ashamed and glad everyone had left.

We left separately and I headed home with a plan brewing for 'Wienie' Watson. I seemed to recall that he had a fear of birds... 

62 In A Village - RT Shores (Mystery)

Grand Prize Winner

Winning a brand new house in a micro-village sounds ideal, doesn't it? It is. Of course they don't tell you that a micro-village is treated like an old fashioned village and has many rules.

Most rules I was exempt from, since I was over sixty and also a bit disabled. There were some, however, that no one was exempt from...

"Time for church, Mrs. Rutland." Came a yell at my front door. At least it was locked this time. There is nothing ruder than some busy body walking in on you when you are dressing.

I walked to the door and rolled my eyes, taking a deep breath before I opened it and pasting a smile on my face.

"Good morning, Mrs. Johnson." I said with only a bit of sarcasm in my voice. Mrs. Johnson was the head busy body and gossip, so the head hypocrite.

We walked to church together, a protestant church. I had been Catholic before, but was nothing now. I was a God believer, but hated organized religion. I was told quickly that church on Sunday and Wednesday nights was mandatory for all members of the village.

Let me back up a bit... I won a contest to live in a brand new home in a brand new village in downtown Charlotte, NC. It was called, Queen Charlotte Homes and was just a few minutes from any venue of importance; theater, sports, etc. I had been very pleased and excited, but then I moved in and there were so many restrictions. Had I read the agreement before I moved in? No. Did I regret it? Yes. Did I regret it enough to not want to live rent free for the rest of my life? Hell, no!

I had a deluxe, first floor apartment that was fully handicapped accessible and had two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Could I have company? Maybe, if they were approved first by the board. My children were pre-approved in case I became ill and there really wasn't anyone else, but it was the principle.

My Social Security checks were now socked away in the bank and I was able to have wonderful and healthy food and even help with housework. I could shop, go to museums, shows and anything I wanted to do.

So what is my beef?

It is the screams in the night...

At first I thought it was just the new location, but it continued. I even had the kids stay over a few times, but I wasn't screaming in dreams and they didn't hear the screams. I was scared, not for me, but for the screamer.

I joined every club and activity that Mrs. Johnson wasn't part of, helped in every class that needed me, cooked for bake sales and anything I could think of to see all the villagers, for we were all ages and all socioeconomic statuses. We were a village.

I looked for injuries, never saw visible bruises, but I knew too well they could be hidden. I did see strange behavior, but this was a strange place. Mandatory religious service attendance was archaic at best. How could they get away with it since some of the incomes were government subsidized? I didn't think they could and I had the kids researching just that. 

The estate attorney I retained was young and also lived there, so I was hesitant to ask him what he thought of the place. He was always nervous and jumpy though. 

Anyway, life is pretty good, all things considered. I live in safety, plenty of places to walk and shop and even a park to watch the children and their dogs. I was going to adopt a dog, maybe right before Thanksgiving.
***

Halloween was coming and I prepared a door decoration, as required and bought all the 'acceptable' candy from a list. It was all laid out; no thinking needed. 

On Halloween night, after the trick or treaters were sound asleep, the screaming began again and this time I called 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Someone is screaming!"

"I see your location, ma'am and you have your own security force, I will dispatch them." The line was disconnected.

Great! Now the security people would come and think I was crazy. I made sure they knew I was fully awake and even freshened my lipstick.

A tapping at the door announced their bored response.

"Mrs. Rutland, what is the problem?" One actually yawned.

"I heard someone screaming. I wanted to help." I knew to play this carefully.

"It IS Halloween, Ma'am." I nodded.

"But the kids are long asleep."

"But the teenagers sneak out sometimes, right?" The larger one said.

"Well, I bet you are right about that!" I said, like this would explain the problem.

He patted me on the head, like I was a good dog and left. I was relieved they left and knew calling 911 wouldn't help in the future. I closed up the house and turned off the lights and hoped the screams were over for the night.
***

My housekeeper quit right before Thanksgiving, so I set up an ad and had it approved, of course.  A young man answered the ad, and I figured I would give him a try and maybe I would feel safer.

He handed me a letter as he arrived, flashed a badge and put a finger over his lips as he scanned the house for 'bugs'.

The letter said to carry on a casual conversation and an interview while he checked things out, for he was here to help.

"So, what experience have you had in housekeeping, young man?"

"I was the oldest of eight kids and my mom died young, so I learned with my dad how to take care of a house." He nodded for me to continue.

"Oh, my goodness, how sad. I am so sorry... "

"No, no, it was long ago, but thank you. I feel I could help you and I need the extra money for tuition at college."

"What are you taking?" 

"I am going to nursing school, ma'am."

"I was a nurse, actually still am, just can't work anymore. I will be glad to help in any way I can, which seems to mean, you have the job."

"Why thank you! I won't let you down, Ma'am. Would you like me to do a few things today while you show me around?" He nodded.

"Please, that would be great." I walked him through the place and he showed me notes as to what was really going on.

'I am Josh Hedren FBI.' Said the first note. I nodded. I kept talking about the house and appliances as he went on.

'I am here to investigate the village.' I nodded and mouthed 'good'.

"Do you get along with dogs, Josh? I am getting a dog this week." 

"Yes, Ma'am and I love them." 

'We actually have a dog for you, as well.' My eyes bugged out and I smiled. I hoped it was a German Shepherd.

'I will arrange with your children to deliver the dog with my guidance. They know what is going on, but don't trust phones or anything, really.' I nodded again.
***

On Tuesday, Josh arrived at the same time the kids did and the dog. I had noticed a large German Shepherd sitting stock still in the back seat, so assumed he had been commanded to be still. I laughed to myself wondering how long he had been like that and how scared the kids looked.

Josh went to the car and whispered to the dog and he was soon walking around freely, smelling trees and watering a few. We all went inside and there was small talk, but note writing as well.

We began the early prep for the meal on Thursday and I showed Shamu, the police dog's name, outside to my fenced in back yard. I sat out there a while with him, for he was one gorgeous creature, but I knew they would never let me keep him. He came to me, looked me in the eyes, turned his head sideways and then put his paw in my lap.

I saw then that he was an old dog, many scars on his body. Maybe they would let me keep him. I hugged him and we stayed that way until Josh walked outside and rolled his eyes.

Shamu was suddenly alert and at attention. "Rest, Shamu, rest." He settled at my feet, head on my Crocs. I loved this dog!

Josh handed me a note, but said, "Do you want the sweet potatoes baking?" He said aloud.

"Please, that works great." The note said, 'Shamu will protect you with his life.'

I nodded and tears filled my eyes. I would do the same for Shamu.

We were perfect for each other; scarred and tired, but enough life left in us to seek and have fun. I stood and reached in my apron pocket. I pulled out a tennis ball and showed it Josh, he nodded.

"Shamu?" He saw the ball and his eyes gleamed. I threw it, not far, but he ran for it and we did that for about thirty minutes and then went in to eat.

As the night ended, I read from the notes Josh hand handed me.

"Josh? I know your family lives in Raleigh, so would you eat dinner with us Thursday?" The kids chimed in and asked him also.

"Would you mind if I bring my roommate? He won't eat much." We all laughed.

"Please do! There will be too many leftovers otherwise."

We said good night and then I realized that I had a dog. He was right next to me and put his head under my hand. We sat and then he went to the back door about eleven. After his nature visit, we went to bed.

I was glad I opted for the Queen sized bed or I would have been on the floor. Shamu was a large dog. I slept wonderfully and if there were screams, I never heard them.
***
Thanksgiving morning was cold and clear. The leaves blew in the slight breeze and I watched as Shamu chased them. He just wanted to play and relax in his old age. Heck! So did I.

Josh and his roommate showed up about noon and we got to work. Jim, I was told, was also FBI and we all passed notes, until I found a dry erase board which was much faster.

"Jim? Are you in nursing school too?"

"No, Ma'am, I am a machine kinda guy, so studying to be a mechanic."

"We always need good mechanics. Tell me, could you take a look at my scooter for me? I love to use it to go to the market, but it keeps stalling."  It was no problem, but a good reason for him to go to the storage building, outside and the garage areas. 

"Yes, ma'am. I am better at that than mashing potatoes." He left and took Shamu with him.

They were back quickly and Jim began writing so fast on the board, it squeaked, so I began to sing and then Shamu began to howl. It was hilarious!

The notes on the board were not hilarious. My whole house was wired, it seemed. There were cameras in the living room and listening devices everywhere else, even the land line phone. The main discovery, which explained the screaming, was a speaker in the bedroom heating vent. They were trying to run me out.

I patted Shamu on the head, not for his sake, but for mine. He took my hand in his mouth and led me to a chair.

'Why me?' I mouthed. They shook their heads, but I knew they were here for that reason as well as others with the village.

Many messages came across the board: Are you rich? Hidden funds somewhere? Property? Stocks? Your kids? I shook my head to all questions. We were stymied.

They figured it was the property then. Someone was definitely trying to get rid of me. Jim pulled out his laptop, he was really a computer expert, and began to investigate the contest company.

Answers began to surface... the contest company was affiliated with the village company and it was a huge scam, perpetrated many times before, in other cities, but always under different names and circumstances.

They hooked folks in with the contest, moved them in, had them declared incompetent or worse and then took over the property and repeated the process. The hidden part was that people were allowed to enter the contest by paying as well. Each entry cost a thousand dollars, so they needed to be able to repeat the contest often.  They couldn't do that with someone in the houses.

"Whew!" I exclaimed. The men looked at me. I recovered quickly. "Cooking is hard work!" I blushed at my mistake. They smiled and agreed verbally.

"I think Shamu and I will go out back and play a bit." They nodded, for their was much work for them now and the kids would arrive soon.

We played and laughed and them Mrs. Johnson literally stuck her head over my privacy fence. She must have climbed a ladder.

"What is that beast?!" She demanded.

"This is Shamu."

"Well! I will be taking this up with the board! He is much too large a dog for our community!" I opened my mouth, but she was gone.

Josh had been listening at the door and shook his head. He said loudly, "Shamu meets the requirements of the board. Your kids checked first. Don't worry about that busy body." I gaped at him and he patted my cheek gently.

The kids arrived and we had a wonderful dinner, providing Jim with plate after plate as he tapped computer keys. By evening, I was dozing on the couch with Shamu by my side.

The kids left and the men continued to work. They finally said good night after ten PM coffee and dessert' Shamu and I had no work to do, so we went to bed.

While I drank my coffee, prepared my Josh. We watched the morning news which he had made a point of selecting for me. 

'We have Breaking News from the Queen Charlotte Homes in downtown.'

'The owners and managers of the prestigious community have been arrested for Federal, State and even City violations. The mother company, Divine Contests, is also under investigation and we are told that arrests will be forthcoming there as well. More at six PM.'

I cheered and Shamu danced. I mouthed to Josh, 'Can I talk now?' He nodded.

"Yes, you can talk all you want and Shamu can bark and all the wires, bugs, and speakers have been disconnected. You are free again."

"Whew!" I hugged Shamu. "Oh! Uh, I love this dog, by the way... is there any way I could keep him?" I donned a sweet old lady smile.

"He is yours. He was ready for retirement and this was his last job. I will give you his list of commands though, just in case Mrs. Johnson wants to bother you again." We laughed and I looked at Josh as he said good bye to Shamu. Shamu seemed to understand.

"Mrs. Rutland, would it be possible if I came to visit you?"

"I was going to say that you, and even Jim, better come visit me and, well, if you know any retired cops who might like an old woman, bring them along too." I blushed and Shamu pushed my hand.

We hugged good bye and he slipped me a card with commands for my retired police dog, Shamu, trained to kill, but now rolling on the carpet in front of the fireplace, tongue hanging out, looking like a puppy. I loved this dog!

62 - In A Village - J.F. Hire

     Today was the day that Julia moved into a new city.

"I am originally from Fort Hood." She told the truck driver who has offered to give her a ride. He was passing through anyway, and he didn't mind some eye-candy the likes of Julia. He had a soft spot for curly-headed blondes. His daughter was cherubim in the same way.

"I've been through there a few times," he replies. "I think I may have dropped off some lumber in that area, even. Get many logging trucks around there?"

     She wasn't typically paying attention to the trucks passing through. Her typical daily agenda consisted of training, working for the mess hall, and sleeping. She'd left just in the nick of time. 'Her Day' would have caught up to her, had she stayed.

"So why are you headed to Johnsonville?"

 "Why not?"

"Well, no need to get snippy. I'm just wondering if you have any plans."

"I have family." She didn't.

"Oh, that's good. Don't like the the thought of seeing a young woman like you travelling the country without a livelihood. You must be sixteen, right?"

"Yea, about that."

     He gathered that she wasn't in much of a mood to talk about it, and stopped before she bit his head off.

     It wasn't long before they arrived at city and he dropped her off on the main road nearest to the university. He waved her off and went on his way.

     Onward, he headed to the next city, where he would meet his next daughter, and she would resemble many others from his past.

     Perhaps a village in Texas would bare him more toe-headed sweethearts who he could try to save.

    But, just like his late daughter from years ago, none of them listened, and all of them were lost.