Fiction Fridays - Riding the orange bus home
Feb 18, 2022 8:01 am
“Exploring life through fiction, together.”
Our daughter’s first cry made my heart leap for joy. The whole pregnancy had been complicated. The delivery followed suit. I sat holding my wife’s hand as a crowd of begowned medics moved with clinical haste. The baby was born. Then there was a hush as I waited, not breathing, for the joyous cry. The siren of new life, calling to me.
A month later, I was fed up with the sound. I’d pace the corridors into the early morning, the same screaming in my ear, unsure if I could stop myself from crying with her.
Fiction Bite - Riding the orange bus home
His hand drummed on the rail of the chair in front, beating time with the rhythmic croaks of the rusty bus’s engine. He’d spent the last hour watching the dusty yellow landscape crescendo green.
“Quit tapping,” shouted the guard for the umpteenth time, “it’s pissing me off.”
But he didn’t, and the guard didn’t stop him. The handcuff clink added a melody. On the way in, back when he was a young man, they’d mourned a dirge. Today, they rang like wedding bells. Funny how time changes things.
Quote of the Week
“Sound is the most absorbent medium of all, soaking up histories and philosophical systems and physical surroundings and encoding them in something so slight as a single vocal quaver or icy harpsichord interjection.” ― Geoffrey O'Brien
Book of the month
Courage is Calling by Ryan Holiday
Final Words
“It’s just a phase.” I could have strangled the kind hearted individuals that would use that to cheer me up. They were right, of course. But it didn’t help. Knowing it will end is different from feeling it will end. And no logic helped me, when all I heard in her cry was unending pain. It wasn’t the cry I was reacting to, nor the situation. I was pinned by the story I’d written into the sound.
What stories are you writing into your surroundings? What would life look like if you could change just one or two? Would you be willing to hit reply? It’d make my day to hear from you.
With Love,
Josiah
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