Fiction Friday

This is a new thing for me. I've decided to give fiction-writing a try. I'm inspired for two reasons.
  1. On our way down to Kingston one weekend, Steve and I started talking about what the next wave of world-changing breakthroughs might be, something grand, along the lines of the Renaissance, the Industrial Revolution, or the Information Age. I won't tell you what it was -- you'll have to read to find out!
  2. A friend shared a "Friday Fiction" post from her blog. What a great way of getting started! It's not a big commitment, like writing a novel, but it's a start.

The Walker Series

Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Walk: It was one of those stinking hot days when you could see illusions of water on the roadway ahead. The trees and hills in the distance shimmered in the heat waves.

I pushed a cassette tape into the player and felt my mood rise as Joni Mitchell strung a thousand syllables into a single note.







Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Building a Mystery: Bettany absentmindedly flipped her hair over her shoulder, again revealing the bruises around her neck. This time I didn't look away fast enough and she caught me looking. She dropped her hair, hiding the marks as a flush rose to her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Is that the reason you're heading to your sister's?"





Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Tapestry: Even with music playing, we could hear gentle snores from Michael in the back seat.

I was itching to ask Bettany more questions about her situation. Not because it would make any difference, but because I'm curious. I'm always trying to imagine people's stories, and here was one that had just landed in my lap. Besides, I might be able to help. Who could tell?

"You sure you'll be okay at your sister's?" I asked. "I mean safe."


Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Maneater: I couldn't sleep that night. All I could think was: what have I gotten myself into?

After tossing and turning for twenty minutes or so, I turned on my bedside light and grabbed my book. I always have a book on the go. In fact, most nights, it's a struggle for me to close the book and go to sleep. I've been known to read all night, even on work nights.






Dead Weight: I hung my purse on the hook in the front hall and peeked into the living room where Bettany and Michael were draped on the couch watching TV. As expected.

A small collection of (my!) nail polish bottles and manicure tools smattered the coffee table, along with an old magazine, some flyers, and an issue of the local free tabloid. An assortment of bowls, plates, glasses, and cups perched precariously among the debris. I dreaded going into the kitchen, where I could be sure there was even more mess - and no signs of dinner being prepared (let alone planned).

French Toast: When I came downstairs the next morning, Bettany was just serving up French toast and a pot of coffee.

"Morning, Carla! Thought I'd surprise you with a hot breakfast!"

I knew this was typical abusive remorse behaviour, but damn if I didn't crumble like a cracker for that French toast with maple syrup. She sat down with me and, as I had expected, apologized.

Release Me: I should probably have contacted the police immediately, but I didn't because I kept seeing those strangulation bruises on Bettany's neck and, not to say that Jim deserved to die for what he did (or threatened to do) to her, but I could understand how she might have done something in self defense. Especially given how volatile I knew her to be.


Out of the Frying Pan: Things improved slightly over the following weeks. Bettany was better about making dinner and pitching in to keep the house clean, but she still had no job and hadn't gone down to register for welfare.

I girded my loins to talk to her one night after Michael had gone to bed.





Methuselah


Chapter 1

Part 1:  Surprise!

Placing her mug of coffee on the table, Agnes tapped the glass screen on the desk in front of her and swiped her finger along the scanner on the monitor so she could log into her gene account. Pulling a blonde tress behind her ear, she winked at the "Submit a Reproduction Request" icon and completed her submission, a flutter of fear and excitement surprising her as she did so. The odds were so much against her, and she had forgone this option in the previous Sesqui - and even the one before that! - but it felt like now was the time. This relationship was the right one.

Part 2: Complication

The Reproductive Request notification icon grew to fill the screen and then was replaced by the figure of a fine-boned brunette.

"Hello. Please scan your finger for confirmation of identity," the brunette asked. Agnes scanned her finger.

"Congratulations, Agnes! You're going to be a mother! My name is Marta, and I am absolutely delighted to be your Reproductive Liaison."



Part 3:  Bad News


They made up. Of course they did. And, as Marta had suggested, they called for appointments with their Genetic Counsellors. Because she had been offered a reproduction permit, Agnes got her appointment within days; Glen was still waiting for his.

Agnes hadn't seen her counsellor since her renewal decades earlier. Since she'd chosen career paths with her two previous Sesquis, it hardly mattered. So long as she could afford it, she could undergo indefinite renewals without genetic screening. Genetic counselling only mattered if you were considering reproduction.


Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 4: Moving Forward

Weeks later, Glen was still trying to track down his request. At first, assuming it had not gone through, he tried to submit a brand new one, but received an error message indicating that he had already submitted the maximum number of requests for this Sesqui. No one in the Department of Reproduction was able to track it down, however. Because he was of indeterminate status, his request for an appointment with his Genetic Counsellor was considered low priority. So he waited.


Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 5: Renewal

By the third week of recuperation Agnes began to feel better. Her tissues healed, her gums stopped bleeding. The beneficial effects of the injection began to appear and they reduced her anti-rejection medications. Her reflection showed taut skin, no wrinkles. Along with the appetite effects of the immunosuppression, her metabolism went into overdrive and she lost weight. She felt lithe and energetic. 



Chapter Two


Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 1: Renewal

"All right there, Agnes? Come on. Open your eyes. That's a good girl."

Agnes was annoyed. The last thing she wanted to do was open her eyes (or be spoken to as if she were a toddler or a puppy!). Her head felt like it weighed 50 kilos, the breath in her chest felt heavy. She just wanted to go on sleeping and dreaming forever. She rolled onto her side, away from the persistent voice.




Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 2: Ouch!

Glen sprawled on the bed with a latex glove, filled with ice chips, tucked up against his scrotum as his testicles throbbed with pain.

He took another long swig of whiskey to wash his over-the-counter pain reliever down. Aside from fear of infection and concern that he was being ripped off, this was the worst part of having a black-market vasectomy reversal: no prescription meds to get him through recovery. But next to the fear of losing his balls, this was a relatively minor consideration.



Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 3: Empty Apartment

Agnes pressed her thumb to the reader and then picked up her bag just as the door opened. She almost dropped the bag on her foot as soon as she saw the disarray of the living room.

Every cushion had been lifted off the couch, ripped open, and tossed aside. The desk drawers had been pulled out and their contents dumped. The place had been ransacked.





Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 4: What's wrong with Mara?

Mara rolled onto her side and swung her legs over the side of the bed. As she stood, she felt a tingling in her feet, like pins and needles. The pain of each step reminded her of the fairy tale about the mermaid whose "tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked," a price she paid gladly for love of her prince.



Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 5: Barfly

Glen stepped through the doorway, removed his sunglasses and waited for his eyes to adjust to the scant light that managed to make its way through the grimy windows.
The bar was long and narrow, with a scattering of tables and mismatched chairs and a couple of booths. The table tops had that look of ill-wiped stickiness that he loathed. He stopped at the bar to order a beer with a whiskey chaser, then made his way to the back, as he'd been instructed, and took a seat near the door to the kitchen.




Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 6: Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make me a Match

Agnes winked to close the comm channel with her mother. She slumped in her chair and gazed dumbly at the monitor for a few seconds. That may have been the least satisfying conversation she had ever had with Mara. Possibly worse even than the vitriolic exchanges they had had during Agnes’ adolescence.



Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 7: Morning

Glen leaned in close, his hands on either side of Agnes’ face, and kissed her, softly. Agnes responded hungrily and before she knew it, they were stretched out alongside each other over a blanket in a soft meadow.




Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 8: Truck Stop

"Thanks for the lift, man," Glen shook hands with his unnamed driver and hefted his rucksack onto his back.

"No worries. Be safe." 




Chapter Three


Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Part 1: Retirement

Looking out from her vantage point, Agnes could see infinity. The villa was on a crest of one of the mountains that ringed the lagoon, and her lounge area was a flagstone patio. A wrought-iron railing protected from falls without impeding the view - framing it, rather. A perfectly blue sky reflected turquoise in the ocean, gentle waves strolled in with an occasional foamy caplet of white. White sands dotted with lounge chairs and umbrellas.  


Alternate Endings to Methuselah


Spoiler Alert 1: A Violent Death 

Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
Finally, with the fire crackling, she jammed in the two proper logs that had been left in the wood bin, and watched as the bark began smoking and the logs caught. Then she set about moving in.

She'd packed hastily, focusing on survival: dried and canned foods, basic clothing and blankets (though she knew there would be some up at the cottage). Books -- that was a scramble as she hadn't used a paper-based book in decades -- a few small toys for Gisela, some sewing supplies. A water purifier from the camping kit.





Spoiler Alert 2: A Peaceful Death

Fiction Friday | Wynn Anne's Meanderings
She heard boots stomping on the porch.


"Morning, Mom!" Gisela called from the kitchen door, placing Mara's safety seat on the floor before popping back outside for her bags - so many bags! Babies certainly didn't travel light, and the groceries added to the load. These days, she thought twice about leaving the house, but this was one excursion she wouldn't miss. 
 

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