What Wives Should Never Do

 (Author's note: This was my first attempt at nonfiction at the Helium.com writing site where I have been playing around with flash fiction again. The gods at Helium did not like my admittedly tongue-in-cheek response to their prompt and kicked it off the next day. As you might be able to guess the prompt was to explain the things wives should never do to their husbands. For those who might cast a disparaging eye at such a topic there was another prompt asking wives to explain what husbands should never do to them.)    


Guys in general rightfully deserve the stereotype that we are tactless brutes lacking any consideration, especially for our suffering better halves. The key words here are “in general” because if you can look beyond the superficial gruffness and false bravado are not we fresh and blood human beings ourselves with feelings that can be hurt? So ladies here is a short and simple list of things you should never do to your husband.

Never force your husband to go shopping. Simply put guys usually hate going shopping for themselves and often can be found sprinting inside a store for something they desperately need like new underwear or toothpaste. Shared common interests notwithstanding the only reason husbands and boyfriends will even begin to enter some dress or candle shop is because they think such attentive behavior might get them sex later.

Along those same lines some ladies think allowing their significant other to wait outside their favorite boutique and hold their pocketbooks while they shop is enough of a reprieve. In some ways this situation is even worse, the male of the human species spent millions of years of evolution roaming the African savanna, to tie him to one spot is akin to those brutal and inhumane cages where some livestock are forced to spend their entire lives. The only possible exception to this predicament is if there are already other guys at the same location holding their girlfriend’s pocketbook.

The funny thing is there is actually an established social hierarchy for guys who sit outside some store waiting for the ladies in their lives. Seniority is based on the oldest male in the immediate area requiring the younger pups to sit and listen to whatever he was to say. Any guy who disrespects the sitting grand poobah is expelled from the group and forced into the store his wife or girlfriend is shopping to stand around and hold her items.

Does this sound like too much whining? Yes ladies, as a man I freely admit my brothers and I complain and whine far more than the cruel and very inaccurate stereotype of woman doing the same thing suggests. What in heaven’s name do you all think us guys did as we strolled the African savanna for all those countless eons?

Do not expect us to read your minds. One of the biggest obstacles I have had to overcome in my own marriage is to develop the talent for reading my lovely wife’s mood or true feelings when she says the exact opposite. How females interact with each other when men are not around is a complete and utter mystery to me. From what I have read though it has been suggested that it is often a byzantine labyrinth of intrigue and deception. Bringing that into a relationship is a dangerous affair. We guys usually, but not always, appreciate the direct approach; remember we are after all just relatively cleaner versions of unrefined cavemen.

About a month after my wife and I were married I could tell she was very upset about something but refused to tell me what was wrong. This went on for nearly a month until she exploded and began to tell me I was the crudest and poorest example of a human being this side of your average genocidal dictator. What brought on this volcanic emotional eruption was my long habit leaving my socks on the floor next my shoes. Of course, it is an immature behavior but I had just spent two years living alone in a small apartment and developed the usual set of male habits when it came to keeping a room clean. The general reason I left them next my shoes was because I often just wore the same pair for several days. Okay, maybe that was more information than you needed to know, I apologize.

On a side note, speaking strictly for myself, but I figure it goes for all guys, if I could in fact read minds rest assured I would have already used it to become filthy stinking rich.

Wives and girlfriends should never attempt to force their significant other to dress differently, unless we ask. One of the worst traumas for boys growing up is when their mothers took them shopping for new clothes. Now some guys do have a fashion sense and enjoy walking around all GQ and honestly more power to them. That being said a number of us males, very much including myself, had to deal with a mother who desperately wanted a little girl to dress up in pretty clothes. When they had a son instead this desire stayed the same with them dragging their boys around forcing them to try on suits, ties, and oddly decorated or strange feeling pants and shirts that we were told not to get dirty.

One of the worst experiences I had along those lines was during elementary school. My mother had gone out and bought a pair of off brand blue jeans decorated with the image of a shiny cowboy hat on one back pocket and a pair of cowboy boots with tiny rhinestones on the other. At the time I was nine years old and when I saw them I knew I would catch the devil from my classmates the minute they saw me walk by. As everyone knows children can be extremely cruel and after just wearing those odd pants to school once I swore I would never go through that kind of abuse again. This bring up the fact that mothers, wives, and girlfriends should never buy the men in their lives clothes that cannot get dirty, paint splattered, and then torn to the point they become un-wearable.

Only if your husband or boyfriend asks for assistance in picking out clothes should such a task ever be attempted. Of course, this all goes all out the window if said man is about to make a total fool of himself, and then it is at your discretion.

Wives and girlfriends should not freak out if their man needs some alone time. This is where things can get messy, the two sexes, forever locked in a strange dance alternating between love and hate, each have segments that are convinced that they naturally carry all the burdens associated with a relationship. Because of this the various injured parties believes that should get the majority of time to be alone to mentally and emotionally regroup. 

The simple answer to all this posturing is that there is not one. Yes, some individuals permanently carry the burden of the relationship they are involved in but most of the time responsibilities shift from one to the other. A rational couple would sit down and discuss what bothers them and when they would like a chance to slip away and enjoy a movie or a cup of coffee before they take a chainsaw to the other. While we are at it we should all come together for a group hug and to sing “We shall overcome.” Truth be told it is human nature try and exploit an advantage to greatest possible extent at the weaker party’s expense.

While ladies are universally viewed as the weaker party in the male/female relationship dance, mainly because men are often jerks prone to quick violence, women get the edge when it comes for the need for some alone time. Ladies who are financially able can spend a day at the spa without anyone thinking anything about it. Now if a guy wants to spend the day fishing or being just being lazy he is open to a world of acid comments about falling short. The truth is that we all need a little times away from the everyday grind to recalibrate no matter how wasteful our lack of purpose might seem to others.

All this boils down to something husbands and wives should do for their spouse, it is ridiculously simple to the point of being so obvious that we often fail to think of it. Just give the most important person in your life a little consideration and take care of them like you want to be treated. 

 

A Little Good News

Going on the glass is half full idea here.


Anyone with a basic understanding about our planet knows that it is being wracked with ever increasing natural calamities brought on by changing climates. Shifting weather patterns, increasing ocean temperatures and acidity levels, rapid sea level rise, famine, and drought are but a few of the consequences we face with the poor of the world taking the brunt of these environmental uncertainties.

The overwhelming consensus by climate scientists is that the human burning of hydrocarbons such as coal, oil, and natural gas is responsible for these rapid and dangerous changes in overall global environment. Add to that unchecked deforestation and loss of animal habitats, pollution from other sources, and runaway human population growth you have a near perfect storm not only threatening the ability of the planet to maintain viable ecosystems but eventually the sustainability of human civilization itself.     

To those wallowing in willful ignorance and certain special interest groups that want to protect their money and power all the evidence that the planet is in trouble is to them either overblown or part of some evil socialistic conspiracy. Even more worrisome, to the religiously deranged apocalyptic climate degradation is something to be welcomed since it is one of the signs that the Rapture is close at hand. Humanity’s others sins such as greed, war, and apathy only aid in painting an even darker picture of the future.

The last thing I want to do is seem childishly optimistic in the face of some gigantic problems but I did learn about a project that restored a little bit of my faith that humans can overcome their barbaric tendencies. A great deal of evolution works on the concept of competition and survival of the fittest and humans have shown themselves adept at cutthroat behavior. But another facet of evolution involves cooperation and the Millennium Seed Bank Partnership is one of the best examples of people from around the world working together to save as much of the Earth’s plants as possible.

Introducing the Millennium Seed Bank Partnership

The Millennium Seed Bank Partnership is the largest ex situ plant conservation project in the world. Our focus is on global plant life faced with the threat of extinction and plants of most use for the future. The seeds we save are conserved outside their native habitat.

Working with our network of partners across 80countries, we have successfully banked 10% of the world's wild plantspecies. With your help, weare going to save 25% of those species with bankable seeds by 2020(nominally 75,000 species). We target plants and regions most at risk fromclimate change and the ever-increasing impact of human activities.

From Wikipedia:

In collaboration with other biodiversity projects around the world expeditions are sent to collect seeds from dryland plants.Where possible, collections are kept in the country of origin with duplicates being sent to the Millennium Seed Bank Project for storage. Major partnerships exist on all the continents, enabling the countries involved to meet international objectives such as the Global Strategy for Plant Conservation and the Millennium Development Goals of the United Nations Environment Programme.


In April 2007, it banked its billionth seed, the Oxytenanthera abyssinica, a type of African bamboo. In October 2009, it reached its 10% goal of banking all the world's wild plant species by adding Musa itinerans, a wild banana, to its seed vault. As estimates for the number of seed bearing plant species have increased however, the current 31,880 species that have been banked represent 9.22% of the global total.

Partnerships exist in Australia, Mexico, Chile, Kenya, China, USA, Jordan, Mali, Malawi, Madagascar,Burkina Faso, Botswana, Tanzania, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon and South Africa. Australiais particularly significant as its flora constitutes 15% of the world's totalof species, with 22% of them identified as under threat of extinction.

It would nice to hope that this type of endeavor could lead to even more international cooperation in other areas where it is desperately needed. Unfortunately, for all of us, that is way too much to hope for right now. But times change and circumstances have a way of forcing species to adapt quickly or go extinct. I just hope we realize what we need to do in time.



 

Cold Blooded

During my active duty years in the army I heard about all sort of cold blooded breakups between couples. Being honest here the vast majority of them were dudes callously ending medium to long term relationships with what I also have to admit were more often than not naïve young girls who somehow came to believe their Prince Charming had arrived. These very situations explain why decent guys often ask the question as to why women can be so merciless in their later relationships with other men. Yeah, it’s a vicious circle that only exacerbates emotional aguish and mistrust, which is good for no one.

That being said there have been times I have heard about women playing the cold blooded vixen and ending a relationship the way a serial killer often sadistically plays with its victim. I left the army behind many years ago but just yesterday I happen to overhear about a breakup that I believe takes the cake in being mean and vindictive.

My daughter, Darth Wiggles, had gone over to her best friend’s house yesterday morning allowing me a chance to get out of the house. I did not have enough time to see a movie so instead I headed over to the nearest Barnes and Noble bookstore to browse the aisles and generally decompress with a drink at their in-house coffee stand. It is a fairly small place and as it can be expected, easy to overhear some conversations.

After buying both a coffee and a magazine I took a seat at one of the nearby tables and settled in to relax and read. Just minutes later two guys took seats at the table to my left joining two other guys who were already there. All four looked to be early twenties, if not a little younger but what was obvious from the start, even for me, was that one of them was very upset on the verge of tears. The following dialog while not direct quotations follows fairly closely what was actually said.

“Michael,” one of the guys said who was already at the table when the other two arrived, “what’s wrong man? You look like someone has died.” Michael remained silent and in fact laid his head to the table and wrapped his arms around himself as if he wanted to go to sleep.

“Leave him alone Tom,” said the guy who had arrived with Michael, “Jenny just broke up with him.”

That information alone was apparently enough to illicit some respectful silence from the distraught Michael’s buddies for about a minute. That is until the third fellow decided to chime in.

“Come on dude,” he said “it can’t be that bad.” Apparently it was because Michael started crying like a baby. Like I said, the coffee area at this Barnes and Noble is rather small so it is easy to overhear conversations even if they are spoken at a normal volume. Have someone start to cry loudly and it will naturally draw the attention of anyone nearby.

“Yeah it was that bad,” the guy who had arrived with Michael said. “Jenny asked Mike here to go with her to buy some lingerie at Victoria’s Secret. She made a point of trying on the sexiest items and giving every indication that someone was going to have their wildest dreams realized later that night.”

There was a pause for a few seconds because the three coherent guys at that table became aware that Michael’s crying had drawn the attention of nearly everyone else. Eventually the individual telling the story kind of shrugged and finished explaining what happened.

“Once Jenny was done trying things on she took the stuff to the check out to pay for it. Mike told me the line was rather long and while Jenny and he were waiting he decided to grab her from behind to give her a hug and a kiss on the head to show his appreciation. That was when Jenny turned around and told him in front of everyone the lingerie was not for him and that they were breaking up. Top it all off the minute Jenny and Mike stepped out of the store her new boyfriend was there and they walked out together.”

I did not know any of those four guys and, naturally, have no knowledge of the type and depth of the relationship Michael and this Jenny must have established but the stunned silence coming from the two who were hearing the story for the first time was telling. Hell, I was blown away, like I said I have heard about some merciless breakups, and been on the wrong end of a few myself, but this one took the cake.

Why I Have Grey Hair

Unfortunately for me a dumbass vaccine to protect myself from my all too regular bouts of stupidity is something that will never be available. I have long since resigned myself to the fact that what few active wits and viable IQ points I have will more than likely always be utilized in getting me out of trouble and generally uncomfortable situations that I seem to have developed an all too encompassing talent in finding. I did have high hopes that my son, Darth Spoilboy, had inherited the bulk of his brain cells from my wife saving him from my often funny but ignominious fate. A very recent event suggests that might not be the case.

This all started a couple of Saturdays ago when my very socially active son actually came and sat down in the living room with my wife, Dragonwife, and I as we were play acting at being American couch potatoes watching some documentary on Netflix. While the idea of our son willingly spending any amount of time with us seems simple his social obligations to his buddies and the two different girls he currently dates in actuality makes it a rare event on par with the proverbial blue moon.

“Hey mom and dad,” he said while typing some text message, “just wanted to tell you that my car is getting hard to start.”

It took me a few seconds to sort out his statement since when he does grace us with his presence it is often just to request that we purchase some item for him at the grocery store. Even though Spoilboy has a part-time job at a local deli my wife and he have an agreement in which he does not have to purchase certain items with his money. When I did sort out the meaning of his statement and asked him what he meant, I was rewarded with a nonsensical description of how his car acted when it gave him trouble starting.

“Alright dude, “I said, “next time you head out stop by Big Franks Auto Parts Palace and have them do one of their free series of tests. They can give us an idea of what might be going wrong and then we can plan some sort of response.” While I am not quoting myself exactly that was pretty much the jest of what I said. Even in hindsight it seems concise and to the point, at least enough that my son should have been able to follow my instructions.

“Sure dad,” he said while still texting someone on the other end of his real conversation. With that apparently settled he informed us that he was going to pick up girlfriend number two, the one he just hangs out with and who likes to play video games as much as him. While it has never been stated to me girlfriend number one I guess is the serious one since he actually cleans up and dresses nicely for her when they go out.

Fast forward to early yesterday afternoon, around twelve-thirty, and Spoilboy storms into my bedroom desperate for me to give him my car keys so he can get to work. For those who may not know I work nights, which makes getting the required sleep during daytime difficult at best, add the fact that this is currently summer break with both my son and daughter home and that makes the issue even harder.

“Why do you need my car?” I groggily asked since, like I said at the beginning I am a dumbass.

“Mine won’t start.” Spoilboy sheepishly said.

It took several more seconds for the worn and rusty wheels in my head to begin to turn. Sadly the hamster whose duty it is to power everything has long since died but I have worked around that issue in some respect.

“Please tell me you stopped by Big Franks and had the car checked?”

If this was a screenplay I would have to insert a prolonged silence here punctuated by a high degree of awkwardness on the part of my son.

“Well Spoilboy,” I said “no, you are not going to drive my car to work for the simple fact that you will not be home by the time I have to leave for work myself. In truth, I should make you walk.”

With that Spoilboy walked away and I plopped my head back on the very comfortable pillow figuring that I would have to play the decent but tired dad and go outside and try to figure out why my son’s car would not start.

Long story short, we pulled out the jumper cables and tried to start his car that way just on the off chance he had once again left his lights on and ran down the battery we had installed just four months ago. No such luck, in fact the symptoms suggested his starter had gone bad. This was confirmed today by the garage Big Frank runs right next his parts palace after we had a tow truck come pick up his car.

This begs the question that keeps running through my mind. Am I a bad parent for starting to dream about the day my son goes off to college? On a side but ultimately related note, I literally tremble in fear with the idea that my daughter has a little over five years before she starts to drive and demand a car of her own.

Cosmic Questions of Alien Mice and Men

One of the joys I had growing up in Georgetown, South Carolina that extended well into the 1980’s was the ability to go outside and see the stars of the Milky Way scattered across the sky at night. Of course these very impromptu observations were before both urban sprawl forced a huge jump in nighttime illumination for safety reasons and damn suburbanites developed the narcissistic need to show off their carefully tended lawns with landscape lighting. Such is the nature of childhood I guess that something so simple and pure can literally be lost in the glare of what some call progress. Truthfully, I cannot blame progress all that much, while my hometown was a very pleasant place to live it would have only been a matter of time before one of the newer neighbors called the sheriff on my ass accusing me of being a peeping tom.

It would be a supreme understatement of criminal proportions to say those quiet nights watching the stars were awe inspiring. In truth I actually felt privileged to be able to see the majesty of creation wheel before me. Couple that with Carl Sagan’s show “Cosmos” that aired about the same time and there were times I could stand outside looking at the stars and almost hear his words describing the birth of the universe.

One of the problems of being overly curious is that you cannot stand outside looking at night sky for any length of time and being to wonder if their might be sentient creatures like us living on alien planets circling those distant stars. The next natural step, fueled by science fiction both good and bad, is wonder if maybe these other intelligent species might be advanced enough to travel the almost unimaginable distance and come visit our small but hospitable world.

Saying that such journeys would be difficult is a monumental understatement and to be fair there are a number of respected scientists that say manned interstellar travel is simply impossible given the energy requirements needed to accelerate even a relatively small mass object close to the speed of light. For them any possible interstellar community would be restricted to a galactic internet with various species broadcasting radio messages to each other, then waiting the centuries, if not millenniums, for a reply.

Of course this stay-at-home attitude ignores such possible propulsion technologies as nuclear pulse, fusion engines, antimatter drive, and the really wild ideas for surfing space-time itself which, some say, would allow us to break Einstein’s law about not traveling faster than light. Except for nuclear pulse, which was actually tested on a very small scale in the 1960’s, all of those possibilities are for the foreseeable future just theoretical curiosities. Yeah, it bugs the living shit out of me.

Not surprisingly there is intense debate among the stay-at-home crowd and those like me who would jump at the chance to “explore strange new worlds.” The former likes to bring up Fermi’s Paradox which says that given the high probability that there are at least a few other intelligent species in the galaxy if interstellar travel was possible even a relatively slow starship, say going just ten percent the speed of light, should have visited already. In other words, even at an interstellar snail’s pace it is possible for an adventurous species to explore the entire galaxy in just a few million years. Yes, the rocket scientist boys and girls have checked the numbers on that one.  

The obnoxious stay-at-homes also like to point out that Earth was prime carbon-based lifeform real estate for billions of years and should have been snapped up by at least one colonizing species. Furthermore, given that complex life has existed on this planet for millions of years if any alien Jim Kirks had stopped by they should have left examples of their visit in case intelligent life ever evolved. Now the stay-at-home get vague here, and never really state what type of evidence any possible aliens might leave. Just off the top of my head some of the junk they might have left behind could be a few burned out warp drives, mounds of alien trash including poo, and just maybe the occasional crewmember left marooned on an airless moon because it would not stop farting on the bridge.

Frankly I am in the Star Trek camp who believes all the stay-at-home are unimaginative poopoo heads. Interstellar propulsion technology is not even in its infancy and while it will obviously be too expensive for nation-states to pursue alone there is simply just too much promise to abandoned research when the human race could end up with the chance to explore the galaxy. Unfortunately, even if we get the chance to “seek out new civilizations” the basic principles of evolution preclude the possibility of someone playing James T. Kirk and bagging some smoking hot green-skinned Orion babe. Yeah, you can probably begin to imagine what my childhood was like but don’t go there.

Now there is sort of a bridge between the Star Trek types like me and the aforementioned unimaginative poopoo heads. The idea is that even if manned interstellar travel is impractical bordering on impossible an adventurous species could send self-replicating probes on the long and very slow journey. Once these robotic emissaries arrive at a promising star they radio back what it has found and then go about building copies of itself which in turn begin the journey all over again.

From Phy.org, posted July 19, 2013:

The robotic probes could explore our galaxy and self-replicate themselves from interstellar dust and gas, after which the parent and child probes would each set off for a different star, where they would look for signs of life and then self-replicate themselves again. The probes would therefore disperse themselves radially across space.

In all the scenarios the scientists looked at, exploration timescales were reduced when the probes were self-replicating, and they concluded that a fleet of self-replicating probes could travel at only 10% of the speed of light and still explore the entire Galaxy in the relatively short time of 10 million years. This is a tiny fraction of the age of the Earth and the scientists say the results reinforce the idea of the "Fermi Paradox."

The Fermi Paradox, proposed in 1953 by physicist Enrico Fermi, suggests there is a contradiction between the high probability that civilizations exist elsewhere in the Universe and the fact that there has been no contact between ourselves and other civilizations.

Dr Forgan said that the fact that we have not detected or seen any evidence of alien probes in the solar system suggests there have been no probe-building civilizations in the Milky Way in the last few million years or that the probes are so hi-tech we are unable to detect them. Another possibility is that probes could be programmed to make contact only with civilizations that pass a set measure of intelligence, which could be the ability to detect the probes.

Now even this compromise opens up its own can of alien face hugging worms. If alien robotic probes are hanging around our solar system wanting to make contact with us hairless primates what are they waiting for? The disturbing idea I cannot shake is that they do not consider us an intelligent species, and who in this great big wide cosmos would blame them? Even hamsters know not to make a mess of where they live and do not get me started on humanity’s other sins.

Secondly, it only takes one Nazi-like alien species suffering from paranoid delusions to send out fleets of self-replicating destroyers whose only purpose is to listen for other intelligent lifeforms leaking out television broadcasts of their versions of The Tonight Show or I Love Lucy then drop by their home planet and nuke the living daylights out of them. Think I am crazy? First, my mother had me tested and second even Stephen Hawking has said pursuing alien contact might be a very bad idea.

In my opinion humanity making first contact with another intelligent species might be the best thing that ever happened to us. It might just be what is needed to make the bulk of our species realize there is more to existence than just our civilization’s perpetual idiotic games of empire building, destroying the environment for a buck, and some nation making an attempt at global domination.

The incident that sticks in my mind though happened to me on was on one of those star gazing nights back in my hometown. It was during one summer night after a particularly bad thunderstorm had knocked out power to the neighborhood. The storm cleared out quickly leaving my backyard almost pitch black and the stars an unimpeded stage. Looking through my granddad’s old army binoculars I had gone into serious geek mode after catching the sight of Jupiter and at least three of its Galilean moons.

My reverie was destroyed when out of nowhere I heard someone shout, “What the Hell are you doing boy?”  Out of the darkness emerged a man I called “Uncle Boo”, he had heard someone talking to themselves and came over to see what sort of fool was outside after a thunderstorm. Uncle Boo literally scared the Hell out of me, it was like he came out of nowhere. Once I explained he went back home and got his own telescope and we spent about an hour looking up at clear night sky before the lights came back on. While these days nighttime illumination prevents me from seeing the stars like I use to but I still look up and like Enrico Fermi, who was one of the smartest men of the twentieth century, wonder where in the Hell everyone is, or if  they are lurking somewhere out in the darkness watching us, or if maybe they are all hiding from something. 

This is for those damn Stay-at-Home shitheads.

Helium.com Flash Fiction ---Playing The Game

 (Author's note: Another Helium.com flash fiction with the prompt being "skull and bones." Same as last time, they strictly enforce a four-hundred word limit and I wanted to expand my idea. "Joining the Established Order" is the shorter version at the Helium website.) 


 Michael Garcia leaned back into the comfortable leather chair enjoying the culmination of all the years of discipline and grim determination he had spent working towards his goal of making a real mark on the world. The realization that everything had finally fell into place was as if the proverbial impossibly heavy weight had been lifted from his chest.  

Dressed in his only decent suit he watched the procession of important men wearing elaborate robes and masks solemnly file out of the ceremonial chamber of Yale University’s Skull and Bones Society. The lighting in the chamber had been kept low during the ceremony but along the walls Michael saw elaborate portraits of long dead members that had already reached the pinnacles of power and influence in the United States, an eclectic bunch given their outward beliefs but all ultimately dedicated to the advancement of the Skull and Bones Society above all else. This brought an unwanted and needless realization of the fact that the faces behind the hideous masks that had just welcomed him into their group belonged to several United States senators and congressmen, various fortune five-hundred CEO’s, and assorted other members of established high society. 

The burning incense used in the ritual still hung in the air along with the memory of the strange chants those wearing the robes and masks performed. Michael and the two other individuals seated on either side of him, who were also joining, knew the ceremony was overdone theatrics and each person viewed the activities differently.

The man to the left of Michael viewed the ceremony with a practiced boredom. Coming from a family who could trace their lineage to colonial America his membership was always a foregone conclusion. The man to the right of Michael, while coming from a family with a far more humble history, was the son of a billionaire banker and observed the proceedings with a mild disinterest. Not Michael, he reveled in the fact that the grandson of an illegal immigrant was not only about to graduate Yale University but had become a “Bonesman” and would now join the elite of American society.

The three stayed seated after everyone else had vacated the chamber. A strange silence hung in the air as if each believed to speak first would bring a bloody curse down on them all.

“Greetings gentlemen,” a voice boomed from a hidden loudspeaker, “and congratulations on being accepted to the Skull and Bones. Before we conclude there is one matter that needs to be cleared up. Each of you knows this particular ceremony is well outside the usual procedures of our society. During the normal evaluation of candidates someone in the Society’s inner circle noticed each of your potentials and sponsored your appearance here today. What this means is membership in the most powerful secret organization that exists in the country. Without exaggeration those who belong to the inner circle control this country in a way the commoners cannot fathom and we are offering each of you the chance to sit among us. However only one can go on to realize that prospect.”

Michael was quick to notice that his compatriots began to take an interest in the proceedings the second the gaining of national power and influence was mentioned. Given their backgrounds it was almost a foregone conclusion that the inner circle would chose them if he did not act quickly but he was lost as to what action he should take.

“The inner circle does not offer these privileges lightly,” the mysterious voice said after a momentary pause. “While the Society’s collective wealth is massive all power is ultimately an illusion if it is abused. Before we committee our resources to your individual advancement each of you must explain how you will seize power and hold on to it.”   

For a moment nothing happened, but Michael could feel the two men seated beside him collecting their thoughts getting ready to present their cases to the hidden inner circle members. Acting strictly on instinct Michael jumped up and leveled carefully aimed punches to the throats of the other men which left them on the floor gagging for air.

 “Well now,” the voice said as a door across the room opened,” that settles the issue. Mr. Garcia, please come join us.”

***

Three days later Michael Garcia takes a seat at and open air café. After ordering a cup of coffee he leans back and seems to do nothing but relax and watch the people strolling by. A few minutes later a blonde lady wearing jeans and casual sweater takes the seat at the table behind him. Their back are facing each other and neither makes any movement that suggests the know each other.

“So, you’ve been accepted into the inner circle?” The blonde lady asks as she fishes an item out of her purse.

“Yeah,” Michael says staring off into space, “after graduation they plan on having me spend a year working for some corporation then run me for the Congress. Their plans go as far as the presidency in twelve years. They say my origins are a unique advantage and that they were especially pleased I proved myself at the induction ceremony.”

“Excellent,” the woman whispered, “I’ll tell the council. Stay cautious though, out of all our other attempts to penetrate the Society’s inner circle you are our first.” With that the blonde lady’s cell phones rings and immediately she jumps up and runs off begging forgiveness for leaving her friend waiting. Michael smiled as he caught a glimpse of the ring emblazed with the pyramid topped by an all seeing eye the blonde woman was wearing. It was poor spy craft he thought to himself.

Despite the assumptions of both Michael and the blonde lady their encounter was noticed. The waiter that served Michael his coffee approached an apparent coworker sitting inside the café.” It appears the cabal wars might be restarting after so many years of peace.” The waiter said after exchanging a special handshake with the customer.

The coworker took a deep and unsettled breath after hearing the news. “The last time the secret orders came into conflict with each other it resulted in the country almost destroying itself in the Civil War. We must inform the others immediately."

Helium.com Flash Fiction---Ghosts That Force Us Home

(Author's note: This the first attempt at flash fiction in a very long time. Found a great website called Helium.com that offers a multitude of avenues for wannabe writers like yours truly to express themselves. The one problem is that their flash fiction prompts strictly limit stories to only 400 words. I was able to accomplish that nearly impossible task but I wanted to flesh out my characters explaining the reasons behind their behaviors. Not happy with the results but what the heck? The prompt was "The Lost Love Letter and here is the link to the 400 word version.)   

My wife, Sarah, and I had spent nearly week cleaning out the home of her recently deceased parents when I found the old steamer trunk inside the closet of an unused bedroom. Made of cardboard it must have spent years forgotten in that musty closet because it fell apart the second I tried to pick it up. That is when I found the letter scattered amongst the collection of knickknacks that fell out the bottom to scatter on the floor. Given the nature of the items it was easy to assume they had belonged to my mother-in-law, Lisa Cunningham.

My belief was confirmed when I picked up the letter and saw it was addressed to her in what was obviously a man’s handwriting. At first I just presumed the sender was my father-in-law since the year on the postmark was 1969 but instead of the letter originating from West Germany, where he was stationed at the time, it listed Atlanta, Georgia. With my curiosity piqued, I looked closer at the handwriting, and while I could not say for certain it did not look my father-in-law’s.

That was the moment when I should have dumped everything into the trashcan I had been dragging around tossing the other refuse my late in-laws had left us to clean up. But something just didn’t add up about the letter and before I really thought about it I grabbed a nearby chair and began reading. In four short handwriting pages I learned more about my deceased in-laws than I ever wanted to know.

Written by a man named Frank, I learned that both he and my mother-in-law had been lovers long before she had ever married her husband, Ben. He lamented the fact that bad decisions on both their parts condemned any chance they had to spend their lives together. Frank also freely acknowledged the fact that he was the real father of all Lisa’s children. However, he summed everything up by explaining that while Lisa was the love of his life and that he dreamed of running off with her, his duty to his own wife came first.

Dumbfounded by the revelations, I slumped back into the chair with my mind churning over what I had just learned. I realized if my wife found this letter it would destroy her. Not only was Sarah dealing with the loss of her parents who she idealized but her health had gone downhill since the birth of our child the year before. That night during the drive home, I realized what I had to do.

After pulling into the driveway we both stumbled into our house and collapsed on opposite ends of the couch. “Daniel,” Sarah began, “you think your parents would mind if we let the baby stay with them until the morning?”

I looked over at my wife and for the first time in a long while realized the load she was carrying. Sarah’s two siblings had moved away years ago leaving her the sole duty of caring for their mom and dad. The demands Lisa and Ben put on Sarah created a great deal of friction in our marriage. Both had suffered from various physical and mental ailments requiring almost constant care for five years which Sarah had gladly provided. With the demands Lisa and Ben put on her and my job on me, our time as husband and wife was few and far between during those years but somehow, after long since giving up, she became pregnant with our child.

Sarah’s siblings actually offered to take over the care of their parents when they found out she was pregnant but she was adamantly against the idea since it would have required they be moved across the country and put in a rest home. Only when her water broke did Sarah finally let a hired nurse take care of her parents. This was almost more than I could stand, I still deeply cared for my wife but I greatly resented the burdens she so willingly accepted to the point it endangered her and the baby.  

“Yeah,” I said looking at the exhausted woman across from me,” mom and dad will be perfectly fine keeping the baby tonight. Why don’t you head upstairs and go to bed, I’ll be here for a little while, I want to finish reading the last couple of chapters in my book.”

Without another word Sarah dutifully marched up the stairs, about a minute later I heard her in our bathroom brushing her teeth, after that it was utter silence. I pulled the old letter out of my back pocket and reread it over and over again feeling Frank’s ghostly presence stoically staring at me from across the room.

When I was sure Sarah was fast asleep I went out the back door but not before grabbing my cell phone. The night was moonless letting the stars above shine brightly but somehow the usual comfort they provided was totally absent. Combine that with the lack of any breeze and it created an oppressive mood weighing me down almost like Frank was again standing close by making sure I did my duty.

The cell phone seemed alien in my hand as I looked at it, I chalked that up to the part of me that screamed I had played the part of the understanding husband for long enough and that I now deserved my life back.  But yet I dialed the number and cringed when Donna answered it only after the second ring.

“Daniel,” she said eagerly, “I was getting worried. Will we see each other tomorrow night?”

I knew the words I had to say but they were still difficult.”No,” I said while my other hand held up the letter Frank had long ago sent my mother-in-law. “In fact we can’t see each other anymore.”