Is Earth Doomed? The Lost Command – Flash Fiction

The supreme commander lamented. One expected loss, but the losses in arriving at the target planet were significant. The supreme council divided the invasion force of 1400 ships into four modules to travel the 640 light years to the target. After leaving warp space, the command center determined that two of the modules had disintegrated in hyperspace losing 700 ships.

Entering the target solar system, one capsule spun out of control crashing into the frozen wastes of the eighth planet from the star. The remaining squadron had proceeded toward the objective, the third planet from the sun.

The supreme council had determined the target planet contained the raw materials the home world desperately required to alleviate the overcrowding which threaten their survival. Prior to launching the mission, the analysts studied the broadcasts of the microwave transmissions received in the lower communications band. These transmissions indicated that the inhabitants were on the verge of creating a viable civilization which could resist an invasion.

Once determined that this planet was suitable, the leaders in the supreme council made the decision. Before the planet evolved further, they would invade, destroy the life forms ruling the planet, and then settle and colonize it.

The mission proceeded. As the capsule prepared to disperse the remaining squadron of 350 ships into the waters of the ocean, flames erupted and only a hundred ships escaped into the Northern depths of the planet’s ocean. Radar did not detect these craft because the home world had miniaturized the attacking ships.

After some confusion, the commander was able to rally the ships into a recognizable formation and adopted the disguise of small marine crustaceans that abounded in plenty in these northern waters.

The fleet began preparations for activating the Incubula. This Incubula, once activated and dispersed through the atmosphere of the planet, would carry the seeds of destruction for every living being on the planet. Then, his fellow travelers from home could make the journey and colonize the planet in earnest.

As the commander began to prepare to give the activation orders, he noticed that the formation was becoming very ragged. He paused and gave orders for the ships to align in a chevron formation.

Suddenly, the command ship began to roll and tumbled through a fine mesh-like affair. Then the ship and all the other ships of the squadron traveled down a long dark space. The occupants of the craft began to scream as powerful acids ate through the walls of each ship dissolving it. All the ships were destroyed before the Incubula could be activated.

The mission failed.

The planet, called Earth, was saved.

The two Arctic whales swam side by side. One whale let out a powerful belch.

“What’s the matter?” one whale asked.

“Dunno, must have been a bad bunch of krill.”

The End

June 14, 2022

I Miss Looking For My “PLUCK” – It’s Making Me “Feel So Lonesome I Could Cry

A Personal Note

My wife and I just finished binging the ten-episode Public Broadcasting System (PBS) series Country Music by Ken Burns which chronicles country music from the beginnings through the early 2000s.

It is really a fascinating 20 hour long series. While watching something resonated inside me. It reminded me that earlier in my life I had been looking for my “PLUCK” and still haven’t found it. Most importantly and sadly, I have given up looking for it.

First, let me mention my definition of “PLUCK.”

It’s when you listen to a piece of music, read a poem, read a passage from a book, watch a painting, see a memorable scene on television or a movie and something PLUCKS that core within, like a guitar string inside you that seems to connect your soul to your spinal cord, heart, gut, your nerves, your blood vessels — all at the same time. As that inner guitar string vibrates from the pluck, your mind — your soul — moves to a transcendent space — pure emotion, yet beyond emotion — this space in the world of spirit wells up within you — triggering something pure — melting the world inside you — around you — causing your soul and your insides to tremble — melting you so you either cry or wish you were crying — as that inner guitar string plucks — and the feeling vibrates — the pure emotion RULES!

And you know you just experienced something extraordinary and special.

I got reminded of the PLUCK when viewing that “Country Music” documentary series because, even though I have never been a music enthusiast, I did remember some songs which had evoked the PLUCK within me. One song, by Hank Williams. “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” has plucked me for years… plucks me every time I hear it … when Elvis sings it, it plucks me almost as much as hearing Hank Williams sing it … Small wonder to me the series dubbed its episode featuring Hank Williams as the “Hillbilly Shakespeare.”

The series pointed out songs by other artists which have also plucked me in the past.

When I heard those songs, I remembered that at one time, I felt there was a PLUCK inside of me, and if I kept writing my fiction, maybe someday the PLUCK would emerge. Nothing spectacular — a passage, a scene, a phrase or a couple of phrases which, when read, might pluck something inside me and if I’m lucky, someone else.

After all, I think that’s what every writer wants to do. Yeah, some write to make money and that’s what I do sometimes even when I dabble in my fiction, but deep down, my goal is to find the PLUCK, capture it and then share it. If I can do that, then stuff money.

I am a technical writer who writes a specialized form of technical writing, but my heart leans toward admiration for the creative side. At times in my smallish fiction writing career, I have come close to writing stuff which I thought might develop into a PLUCK, but I have never achieved a PLUCK.

Since COVID limited my movements, I started accepting more technical writing gigs and disavowed my creative side until it feels like I don’t have the time or energy to pursue my fiction. It doesn’t hurt I am good at the technical writing in my little niche.

In these days of inflation, I hesitate to pull back on my technical writing gig and the six figures I finally earned last year (best year ever). But I must admit the yearning, the desire, the pull — to start once again working on my fiction in search of the elusive PLUCK is very, very strong.

One part of me wants to end up like the person in the country song, “Today, He Stopped Loving Her,” where the narrative goes: “Today, Ed Stopped Looking For His PLUCK.”

That would mean I had made the decision and acted upon it to cut back on my technical writing so I could once again start searching for the PLUCK with my fiction.

Do I have it in me to refuse financially comfortable (“paid”) technical writing assignments or not?

I frankly don’t know the answer but do know I am facing one of the constant deadlines always contained with my technical writing, so for today, it is back to the wonderful world of seeking Government contracts for my clients.

I honestly do NOT have the answer as to whether I will begin that search again.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Dear reader, if you have made it this far, what about you?

Are you able to search for your own PLUCK?

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — –

Thank you for reading.

And please, always,

Stay In The Light!

June 9, 2022June 9, 2022

Care Repaid – Father and Son

Taking care of those who took care of us

I adapted this story from a post I saw on FaceBook.

A son took his father to a restaurant to enjoy a delicious dinner. His father is quite old and also a little weak too. While eating, food occasionally fell on his shirt and pants. The other guests watched the old man with their faces contorted in disgust,but his son remained calm.

After they both finished eating,the son quietly helped his father and took him to the toilet. Cleaned food scraps from his wrinkled face and attempted to wash food stains on his clothes, graciously combed his gray hair and finally put on his glasses.

As they left the restroom, a deep silence reigned in the restaurant. The son paid their bill but just before they leave, a man, also old, got up and ask the old man’s son , “Don’t you think you left something here?”

The young man replied “I did not leave anything.”

Then the stranger said to him,”You left a lesson here for every son and a hope for every father.”

The whole restaurant was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop!

Being there for them as they were there for us.

One of the greatest honors that exist, is being able to take care of those who have taken care of us too. Our parents and all those elders who sacrificed their lives with all their time, money and effort for us, deserve our utmost respect

June 6, 2022

Path to Redemption – Hardened Special Operator Mercenary Finds the Secret

A “Captain X” Flash Fiction Story

As a citizen of a European country, I left the university in my third year without a degree. I wanted to see the world and experience adventure. I joined the military service and became an Army officer in my country’s service. They trained me in Special Operations, and I served several tours in the Middle East. After ten years, I left the military and became a mercenary. The company sent me back to the Middle East.

In my country’s service and as a mercenary, I saw many immoral and illegal acts of war occurring around me. I participated in some of these acts. Initially, when I took these actions, I wasn’t proud of them. I was appalled at what I did. But, as time wore on, my spirit hardened.

I stopped worrying about the things I did, and they became second nature to me. I committed acts of violence without a second thought, or so I thought.

I betrayed people and I killed people, even though it was always in the line of duty. I had seen friends and comrades die, sometimes in my arms. My thoughts turned to revenge and sometimes I acted out of a spirit of revenge rather than military necessity.

Then, things began to creep into my dreams and haunt me in the netherworld of sleep.

So one day, listening in to a wiretap we had planted inside a Mosque, my interpreter translated the message from the In-man. The Imam spoke about God in a general sense and his lesson centered on spiritual rewards. He did not spew the message of hate — of jihad — I expected him to teach. His message was so loving, and it seemed incongruous in the middle of the military actions and conflict ongoing in the region.

I attended church services very rarely when young and I had stopped attending church services altogether when I turned 14 years of age. I was disillusioned because all I remembered from church services was the dogma the clergy kept repeating. Once or twice, the minister would say something which touched me but there was no follow through. To me, their overall message was full of fear.

That day, hearing the Imam speak of spiritual rewards and hearing him recommend to his followers to treat the “infidels” with kindness resonated within me. It reminded me of one or two messages I had heard as a youth when the minister’s message had lifted my young soul.

I realized at that moment my spirit had soared. Later, I had tea with my interpreter and asked him to repeat the message we had overheard. I do remember he had looked at me strangely at that request, but he complied.

I was intrigued. I thought that maybe this was my chance at redemption. Maybe if I could do some acts of kindness, I could make up for all the bad things I had done.

So I started doing good deeds wherever I went. I helped people who were struggling, both physically and emotionally. I gave them food and shelter, and most importantly, I listened to them. I let them know that they were seen and heard and that they mattered.

And as I did these things, I started to feel better. The weight of my past started to lift off my shoulders. I began to see the good in people again. And I realized that this was my redemption. This was how I could make up for all the bad things I had done.

I left service as a mercenary and now work on a retail store as a salesclerk. As I wait on customers, I sometimes see myself in the mirror and noticed I am smiling.

By doing acts of kindness, I found redemption.

And in so doing, I found peace.

The End

Thank you for reading this Flash fiction story.

June 3, 2022

Smiles All Around

A Good Laugh or Smile For You

Some days, you just need to smile.

Below is a list of puns I stole from a FaceBook post.

Enjoy and SMILE!

The fattest knight at King Arthur’s round table was Sir Cumference. He acquired his size from too much pi.

2. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.

3. She was only a whiskey maker, but he loved her still.

4. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class, because it was a weapon of math disruption.

5. No matter how much you push the envelope, it’ll still be stationery.

6. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.

7. A grenade thrown into a kitchen in France would result in Linoleum Blownapart.

8. Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.

9. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.

10. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.

11. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.

12. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other: ‘You stay here; I’ll go on a head.’

13. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.

14. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said: ‘Keep off the Grass.’

15. The midget fortune-teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.

16. The soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.

17. A backward poet writes inverse.

18. In a democracy it’s your vote that counts. In feudalism it’s your count that votes.

19. When cannibals ate a missionary, they got a taste of religion.

20. If you jumped off the bridge in Paris, you’d be in Seine.

21. A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at him and says, ‘I’m sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger.’

22. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. One turns to the other and says ‘Dam!’

23. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can’t have your kayak and heat it too.

24. Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says, ‘I’ve lost my electron.’ The other says ‘Are you sure?’ The first replies, ‘Yes, I’m positive.’

25. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal? His goal: transcend dental medication.

26. There was the person who sent ten puns to friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh. No pun in ten did.

Have a GREAT day!

June 1, 2022

Glass, Lake, Salt — Become a Lake

One day I was having a leisurely breakfast in a diner when I met a young man called Mike who appeared to be in great emotional pain. I talked to him trying to help him feel better to no avail. He was obviously unhappy and despondent and nothing I could say appeared to give him any relief.

Then James, an ancient automobile mechanic next door, walked in for his morning coffee. Everyone called James the old Master because he always knew what to say to people in most situations.

I asked James if he could talk to Mike and help him. He worked a miracle without even asking Mike what it was he appeared to be in such emotional distress over. Anyone could see Mike was grieving over some wrong.

James instructed an unhappy young man to put a handful of salt in a glass of water and then drink it.

“How does it taste?” James, the old Master, asked.

“Not good at all,” spat Mike.

James laughed and then asked the young man to take another handful of salt and put it into a nearby lake.

The two walked in silence to the lake. When Mike swirled his handful of salt into the lake, James paused and said, “Now drink from the lake.”

As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, James asked, “How does it taste?”

“Good!” remarked Mike.

“Do you taste the salt?”

“No,” said the young man.

James then sat beside this troubled young man and said, “The pain of life is pure salt, no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same. But the amount we taste that pain depends on the container we put it into. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things. Stop being a glass. Become a lake.”

“Become a lake!”

Thank you for reading.

May 30, 2022

Finding Inspiration — The Day a Waffle Iron Changed Running Forever

Do you know why there is an ordinary old waffle iron — pulled out of a backyard garbage pit and now broken and brown with rust — sits displayed in a protective case like the Hope Diamond in Prefontaine Hall in Oregon?

The answer has nothing to do with breakfast food.

In 1971, college track coach Bill Bowerman’s team was having a heck of time adapting to the relatively new (and expensive) urethane track that had been installed at the University of Oregon.

Traditional metal spikes were ripping it up and athletes struggled to keep their traction.

Bowerman became obsessed with searching for alternatives that wouldn’t destroy their new track and could work on other surfaces, like dirt, grass, and bark chips.

He looked for inspiration anywhere he could find it.

He constantly asked his wife Barbara to search through her jewelry for anything “that had stars on them or things that we thought would indent or make a pattern on the soles.”

One Sunday morning. Barbara decided to stay home from church to help Bill find an answer to this perplexing question. So she started making breakfast on an old waffle iron that was a wedding gift back in 1936, distinctive for its old-fashioned Art Deco design.

The epiphany came as Barbara was serving her husband breakfast.

Bill saw one of the waffles come out of the iron. He looked at the pattern on the underside of one of the waffles and thought, you know, if I turn this waffle upside down, revealing where the waffle part would meet the track — I think that might work.

He got up from the table and rushed into his lab and got two cans of whatever it is you pour together to make the urethane and poured them into the waffle iron.

In his excitement, Bowerman forgot to spray a nonstick substance into the waffle iron. Unable to open the waffle iron back up, Bowerman abandoned it and went into town to fetch new waffle irons for his experiment. Barbara, meanwhile, threw out the now-ruined wedding gift.

Seven years earlier, Bowerman had entered into a handshake agreement with one of his former track athletes Phil Knight, to start an athletic footwear distribution company called Blue Ribbon Sports.

The company, you’ll excuse the pun, had very little traction in the sporting goods industry. No one seemed aware of them.

They changed their name and paid a freelance graphic designer $35 logo to design their logo.

The new name was Nike. And a simple, distinctive swoosh became their new logo.

“I don’t love it,” Knight told the graphic designer, “but I think it will grow on me.”

Nike launched their new shoe with the waffle iron-inspired sole.

Embraced not only by passionate runners but also, as Time magazine put it, “the army of weekend jocks suffering from bruised feet,” the Waffle Trainer became a part of American history and cemented Nike’s place as the iconic brand it is today.

Bill Bowerman became a shoe legend; Knight pronounced him in his memoir as “the Daedalus of sneakers.”

Some years later, the Bowermans’ son Tom was digging alongside the house and came across a curious looking pit of forgotten belongings that never quite made it to the landfill. Included in the pile were crudely cobbled-together shoes, old prototype metal plates, cracking rubber soles, peeling molds …

… and one rusty old waffle iron.

In 2011, Nike’s self-proclaimed “Holy Grail” was put on display in Prefontaine Hall, where it has remained ever since.

Says Nike historian Scott Reames: “It’s a perfect example of how we find innovation, where we look for it, how it can come from the most mundane or unlikely sources. That’s an important message; we can find inspiration in literally anything.”

Right Wing White Supremacists meet Letty Davenport

John Sanford strikes again with a new series

One of my favorite authors has done it again with the start of a brand-new series featuring Letty Davenport, the adopted daughter of his main protagonist in the Prey series, Lucas Davenport.

In The Investigator, young, twenty something Letty Davenport, an aide to a powerful Senator yearns for something different. The Senator assigns her to the Department or Homeland Security to investigate why someone is stealing stolen oil. She then becomes mixed up with a bizarre group of American, white supremacist terrorists who have a monstrous plot envisioned. Letty uncovers the plot piece by piece and soon finds herself with her sidekick, an special operator, Kaiser, in the center of the action.

You can check it out here.

I am a fan of John Sanford and read every adult fiction novel he has written including

— — The Prey series featuring Lucas Davenport

— — Computer expert and sometimes criminal Joe Kidd novels

— — The hippie detective, Virgil Flowers novels

(Note: Links are amazon affiliate links)

If you have not experienced the enjoyment of reading first-class detective novels with compelling protagonists and intriguing plots, then I recommend you check out John Sanford’s books.

Thanks for reading.

May 28, 2022May 28, 2022

MAR – the “Snake” is ready for Memorial Day and summer. Are You?

A look behind the veil at an Iranian fighter pilot

Exciting Read for Memorial Day and Summer

Mar is an Iranian fighter pilot who appreciates the way America honors its fallen war heroes. Even though the United States is an enemy of Iran, “Mar” (the Farsi word for snake) is an honorable man who values military abilities and realizes that his opponents in aerial combat are well trained and honorable people themselves.

Mar’s father was the most highly decorated fighter pilot in the 1980s Iraq/Iran war who received acclaim because of his 14 aerial victories against Iraqi fighter pilots. After “Mar” demonstrated he had inherited his father’s flying genes, his father provided him with some tips and strategies to help him become a better fighter pilot.

He is a true warrior, and like the character, “Maverick” in the new Top Gun movie, he avoids promotion because he knows the promotion will come with a desk job and effectively end his flying career.

If you have ever wanted to look behind the scenes about what a warrior from Iran feels and thinks and some information about his family life, you can read this digital short story (available from several digital retailers) or Amazon. (Note the Amazon link is an affiliate link)

There is another option.

For an even more exciting read this Memorial Day or this summer, Mar’s story is embedded within the full-length novel, Redemption (Amazon affiliate link).

With Redemption, you can read the digital book for free with Kindle Unlimited or order a print book to read while lying on the beach or relaxing in a chair during your summer vacation.