Ashtrays to Jawbreakers: Christmas Edition Read online



 

 

  Ashtrays to Jawbreakers

  A compilation:

  Christmas Edition

  All rights reserved: Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means or stored in a database or retrieval system; without prior written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction.

  Names characters places and incidents are a product of the authors imagination are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events locals or persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

 

  Copyrighted November 2014

 

  All said property is owned by individual authors.

  June Project Ink holds no claim to any individual rights or royalties

  Photos courtesy of Google Chrome

  Some stories may include adult content.

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please

  return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support

  Some stories may include adult content.

  Table of contents:

  Acknowledgements

  Foreword

  Snow Day by Aaron R Roberts

  On the First Day of Christmas by Viv Drewa

  Snow by Neil McGowan

  Stella by Vive Drewa

  The Mysterious Seahorse Ornament by Lorraine Carey

  Acknowledgements

  We would like to thank you, the readers who make this project possible. It is the ability to shape words into unfamiliar shapes that separates fiction from non-fiction. We hope you have enjoyed reading these stories as much as we enjoyed creating them during this first year of "Ashtrays to Jawbreakers."

  The authors associated with June Project have come together to provide a functional space where writers can feel welcomed and fear-free in making their work available to a wider audience Recognition is what every writer strives for. Our community aims to give readers a fresh approach to familiar writing. If we can touch, move or make you think, we have been successful

  All rights reserved: Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means or stored in a database or retrieval system; without prior written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction.

  Names characters places and incidents are a product of the authors imagination are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events locals or persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

  Foreword

  In a perfect world, all the writers would get a fair break; judged on talent and not how big their wallet is. This is an attempt to give a few authors their just reward for being stubborn and not giving up.

  Writing is something a writer needs to do. It's not optional, it's like breathing. If we don't write every day, even if it's just a few words, we don't sleep due to the characters in our head demanding that their stories are told. When we get it right then the feeling is the greatest high on the planet.

  Some authors say that their work is no good, that it lacks the certain je ne sais quoi to make it with in the world of literature. They are almost always wrong. The big part of any author’s experience is not getting it published but getting it read by the masses. Half the battle of any author is to stride onward, even if it means facing their fear of rejection.

  As hard as it appears to be, it is actually the easiest part of the experiences. Facing the fear of the unknown is more of the nail biter. It takes patience and perseverance. Not every story will be that one that makes the grade. The key is to just take everything in stride and know you made a valiant effort.

  Writers are writers, no matter where they may be from. No matter what their occupation; a writer is a writer. The guy next to you on the bus or that offset co-worker who always looks lost in thought. No matter the region, fiction is fiction. No matter the age of the author, the story remains the same. We as writers strive for that very thing any other non-writer strives for.

  That is recognition. Recognition of our skills and talents to bend words to fit the need of expression intended to bring you into our world we have created or in some cases destroyed.

  The snow had started to fall once again as it has every year since we moved here. The blue spruces look as majestic as the mountains’ do in the background. The kids have yet to wake up this morning. I stand in the front of a wall of glass windows that overlook the snow caped valley below us.

  The year has almost come to a close and what a year it has been. The kids did great in their school works; the wife got a promotion at her job; and I have just put the finishing touches on the latest book. Life is good.

  “Honey can you get the paper?” my wife yelled from our loft bedroom.

  “Yes Sioux, I already got it” I yelled back at her.

  I am still standing in my pyjamas, sipping on my morning coffee when the phone rang. I turn to walk toward the phone when my wife yelled “I got it” That was fine with me. It is still too early to talk to anyone. I am not one for talking any way. I am a writer.

  Words seam to flow right off my fingertips when I write; as for talking not so much. My wife gets so frustrated with me when I let her do all the talking. She has such a way verbalizing what needs said. I just let her talk. I love her voice.

  It is what attracted her to me. We met 13 years ago at a conference for writers. She is in sales and I would let her sale me anything. She has a way about her that makes you follow every word as it flows off her lips. She is the first women that I didn’t look at her boos first. It was her voice that drew me to her from the across the room. She was selling cover art to a group of sci-fi writers.

  “Robert, could you come up here?” Sioux said

  “On my way.” I said.

  I make my way to the stairs. I really wanted a ranch style house but Sioux insisted we do a traditional log cabin so we could blend in with our surroundings. I folded like I usually do. She could sell me ocean front property in Arizona without really trying.

  I reach the top and ask Sioux where she was at? “I’m in the shower.” She replied. What on earth would she need my help in the shower for? I am not too bright sometimes. I walk through the double doors to the master bath and did I ever get a surprise.

  “Would you like to unwrap a gift early?” she asked as she showed off the ribbon that was wrapped around her. As I walked to her we heard, I put my hands on her naked hips and start to kiss her wet lips we heard “Mom I can’t find my snow shoes!”

  “It looks like our number one is awake.” I told Sioux.

  “Rain check” she said with pouty lips

  “Well you know what happened the last rain check I took. Our number two came along nine months later.” I told her.

  “Mom I still can’t find my snow shoes!” Shawnee yelled. Her voice echoed through the house. I am sure if her brother wasn’t already awake he is now.

  “I will go help her.” I told Sioux

  She threw a wet wash cloth in my direction and gave me a raspberry on my way out of the bathroom. I yelled “Where have you looked, Shawnee?” I reach the bottom of the stairs. Shawnee was standing in the living room just watching it snow outside the window. I walk over to her and put my arm around her shoulder. “Isn’t it wonderful.” She told me. “Yes it is” I answered her.

  “So where have yo
u looked” I asked Shawnee

  “Where’s mom. I want mom!” Shawnee stammered.

  “Well, moms in the shower. Is Dakota up yet?” I asked

  “No he is still asleep. He went to bed way after all of us did. He was up with is SIMS until 2 or 3 in morning.” Shawnee told me in a very I know so way. She is so much her mom in every way imaginable. I am so proud that Dakota turned out like me. He doesn’t speak much but when he does it is intelligence at its finest.

  “So you going to help me find my snow shoes or not?” she asked me.

  “I think they are in the garage. They could be by the snowmobiles. Maybe they are hanging on the wall by your snow boots. I don’t want you going out just yet. Neither your mom nor I am ready to go out with you. Why don’t you go into the kitchen and make you some toast and cereal. Your mom should be done by now and then I am going to take a shower.” I told her.

  “See Shawnee I am right here. Now we can go look for your shoes while your dad goes and gets his shower. What would you like for breakfast?” She asked Shawnee.

  I took it as my chance to exit stage left. I made my way up the stairs. I knew how great that shower would feel against my aching body. I grab my robe and head to the shower. No more than I turn on the water I hear laughter coming from the downstairs. I finish my shower, get dressed, and head back down stairs.

  I head toward to where the laughter was coming from and when I get there no one is in the kitchen. Something must be up. I grab another cup of coffee and head out to the windows that overlook the side yard. There my family is; having a snowball fight and making a snow man. I just stand and watch them as I usually do. Their mom is their leader. Where she goes they go.

  I walk away from the windows over to my tablet and start to write the events of the day down. You never know when a story would need a loving beginning. I never pass up a moment to catch life in process. Sometimes nonfiction is way stranger than fiction. Some stuff just can’t or shouldn’t be imagined.

  I hear the door slam. Sioux, Shawnee, and Dakota were all at once in the kitchen chattering. “Robert, could you come here?” I hear my wife yell. So I get up from my seat and take my tablet to the kitchen bar.

  “Robert, the kids want to take the snowmobiles out. I was wondering if you would do so. I have a video conference call at ten thirty and it is already nine forty five with the chamber of commerce. I would really love for you three to go out and leave me alone for a couple of hours.” Sioux stated.

  “I’d like for them to eat some pancakes before we go. I have not eaten yet this morning, could it possible for them to change into dry clothes, too.” I asked

  Sioux looks at Shawnee and Dakota and asks “will you both go get into dry clothes and make sure you put your ski suits?”

  “Thank you Sioux.” I said as I kissed her on the cheek.

  “I owe you, you know that right” Sioux said as she grabbed my ass cheek

  “NO! I owe you the world honey.” I said with a wink.

  “Now you two scoot while I fix breakfast.” I told them.

  They all went their own ways. I turn on the stove, get the cast iron skillet and put it on the burner. I then go to the pantry to get the stuff to make my half dollar pancakes. They are easy to make and even easier to eat. I get the box of pancake mix, a measuring bowl, milk and an egg. The egg makes them fluffy. No sooner do I get the mix mixed the kids come in like hungry badgers.

  “Shawnee if you would grab the syrup from the pantry, Dakota you grab the orange juice and I will grab the plates and the silver ware” I asked.

  “Dad can we take the ridge path this time? Last year you said it was too dangerous for us to do it. Please we both are a year older and it should not be that covered with snow yet.” Shawnee pleaded.

  “Yes, that is true Shawnee, you both are a year older and yes since the snow has just started to fall it shouldn’t that unpassable. It would mean that we would have to take the long way back because the hill is too steep to come back up. Are you both up for the challenge? You can do rock, paper, or scissors to see who gets to ride in the sled.” I told them

  “I rode in the sled last year.” Dakota shouted. He then crossed his arms in disgust.

  His mom went over to him and ruffled his hair and told him “it would be ok. We have been practicing remember.” An evil smile came across his face. He then said I am ready sis.

  They put their fist in and counted 1, 2, 3 tie. 1,2,3 again tie. 1,2,3 Shawnee threw a rock and Dakota threw up his palm up and said “talk to hand I win”

  “Dad that’s not fair. He is such a little twerp” Shawnee said.

  “Well you can ride there and he can ride back” Sioux said

  “That’s a great Idea but we don’t even know if the pass is passable yet or not. I didn’t have any one to work that side of the property this last year. We don’t even know if the pass is suitable for snowmobile. We can ride out and see but as far as going down it may wait until there is more snow on the ground.” I told them both.

  “I want you both to go put warmer clothes on. That pass is a good distance from the house and if something were to happen either of you I don’t know what I would do.” Sioux said as she hugged them tightly.

  “I will go get the snowmobile ready and put my ski suite on while you guys and your mom go get you different clothes.” I told them.

  They went as they were asked to do. I went to the garage to get the snowmobile and sled ready. I went to the first one and it wouldn’t start. I then went to Sioux’s snow mobile. It wouldn’t start. Dead batteries are the culprit and town is forty five minutes away. I will just have to tell the kids dad goofed once again. We may have to settle for making a snowman and drinking hot cocoa. I go back into kitchen. Go to the sink and wash my hands to realize I may have cut my hand in the process of looking at the batteries. I have blood in the sink and no paper towel to wipe it up.

  “Sioux can you have one of the kids bring me a roll of paper towel” I yelled I got no answer. “Sioux ? Shawnee? Dakota? Anybody? Is there anyone here? I was just talking to the walls. I walk into the living room and there are coats and shoes but no bodies to go with them.

  I continue my search for my family. I quietly climb the stairs to Sioux and mine bedroom to see if they were hiding. I get to the top of the stairs and no sounds. I walk around the corner from Sioux’s office and she is holding her finger to the mouth as to tell me to be silent.

  She walks over to me and whispers in my ear “Dakota was so wore out from playing SIMS all night that Shawnee and he fell asleep waiting on your slow butt.” She turns and motions me to follow her. I do as she asks.

  “I am going to take my video conference call in the den. Afterwards if you want we can go over your latest book cover. It needs something more.” She informed me.

  “So while you are on your video call what shall I do?” I asked her

  “I just want you to work on your next book.” She told me.

  All in all it was a good day, so far. I sit down at my laptop and out of the corner of my eye I spot Sioux coming down the stairway. She was doing her best sexy walk toward me. I spin around in my chair and caught her off guard.

  “So I am going to guess that the call went ok” I asked her.

  “Did it go ok? It went fantastically. I got another four years contract with a bonus at the first of the year. I so love you. Your books and my photography we can’t be stopped.” Sioux said.

  “How did you get the kids talked out of going snow mobiling anyway?” I asked.

  “Um, well I told them after they got done with the movie, aka nap, we would start a fire in the fire place, make s’mores and play mouse trap.” Sioux told me.

  “Wow, you could sell ice to Eskimos couldn’t you?” I asked.

  Sioux just stood there with a smile on her face. I love that look. She just has a way about her that makes every word sound so seductive. I am glad she said yes.

  I don’t ever want to think of a time she wasn’t in my lif
e. There are life points where a person can look back upon and definitely say that this was a moment that changed my life.

  I sit there at my desk and just watch her move to and fro. Sioux can float about and not make a noise you wouldn’t even know she was in the room. Shawnee has the same ability. Dakota on the other hand is not like his mother, he is all mine. There is not a silent move about him, but they are my family and I would be nothing without them.

  The End

  Brandon “Bub” Porter

  5/6/88-4/16/08

  Usually this is where I give my bio, but for this issue I am giving a shout out to a lost friend. He was taken away from us way to soon. We miss you “BUB”. I miss you Porter!

  On the first day of Christmas my warlock gave to me,

  An owl in an old oak tree.

  On the second day of Christmas my warlock gave to me

  Two screeching bats and an owl in an old oak tree.

  On the third day of Christmas my warlock gave to me,

  Three black cats, two screeching bats and an owl in an old oak tree.

  On the fourth day of Christmas my warlock gave to me,

  Four howling dogs, three black cats, two screeching bats and an owl in an old oak tree.

  On the fifth day of Christmas my warlock gave to me,

  Five garlic cloves (EEK!), four howling dogs, three black cats, two screeching bats and an owl in an old oak tree.

  On the sixth day of Christmas my warlock gave to me,

  Six ghosts haunting, five garlic cloves (EEK!), four howling dogs, three black cats, two screeching bats and an owl in an old oak tree.

  On the seventh day of Christmas my warlock gave to me,

  Seven vultures circling, six ghosts haunting, five garlic cloves (EEK!), four howling dogs, three black cats, two screeching bats and an owl in an old oak tree.

  On the eight day of Christmas my warlock gave to me,

  Eight mummies moaning, seven vultures circling, six ghosts haunting, five garlic cloves (EEK!), four howling dogs, three black cats, two screeching bats and an owl in an old oak tree.