Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Tidbits and Fiction

There are a few things to report today:

1) We will have an additional new piece of fiction next week - someone submitted a very nice piece of fiction and now they are polishing it for its very first appearance anywhere! It is quite good, I can't wait for you to read it!

2) Michael Yon has an oddly beautiful piece up at his site. I encourage everyone to go and read it.

3) Writer's has some interesting tips for writers. The writing prompt has me thinking I just may well go ahead and see what this brings forth.

OK, that's it for me for the moment. Enjoy.


The Child's Voice
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2006 by H.A. Handy

Ritchie jumped to his feet suddenly. His tongue lolled from his mouth and he made short, excited barks. Ritchie started spinning in tight circles at Billy’s legs. This reaction usually came from Frank’s arrival.

Frank was the mailman, but, unlike most other postal carriers, Frank was loved and adore by most people’s pets, especially the dogs, because he brought a treat with him whenever he delivered the mail. There were also a couple of other differences with Frank – one, he rarely ever got out of his car; and two, he was a master of driving from the middle of the front seat of his car. This meant his left foot handled the brake and accelerator. This was because Frank was busy putting mail into the rural mailboxes he delivered to. By the time Frank made it up to Bill’s, though, he was driving normally – directly behind the wheel.

Ritchie’s barks became even more excited and he bounced on his front feet. He could barely wait for the old brown Chevy four door sedan to come to a halt before he was bouncing at Frank’s door expectantly. Not many people knew how Frank got along with his customers’ dogs, but Billy did, and didn’t mind. Ritchie would normally refuse anything handed out of any vehicle, even if it was a steak, unless it came from Frank and his old sedan. Frank was a good guy.

“Hey, Bill.”

“Hey, Frank.” Billy ambled out to the postman’s car as Frank began collecting Bill’s mail from the seat beside him, as well as Ritchie’s dog biscuit.

Billy’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the thick, bright orange envelopes amid the bills and junk mail Frank’s gnarled hand. Billy’s pace quickened a little also.

She had finished another book already?

“Sure must be nice related to a famous writer,” Frank said as Billy took the mail from him. Billy couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know, I remember her when she was a little girl. I never thought she was going to live, much less make it out of the county, or this,” Frank said, smacking the edge of the envelope lightly. “Do you get to see her much?”

“Not much,” Billy said with a shake of his head. “About once a year, I guess. She comes in for Aunt Susan’s birthday.”

“Still?” Billy nodded solemnly. “That girl sure did love her mother. There’s not many like that family any more around here. Everybody is always wrapped up in themselves, and don’t seem to care that much for their mommy and daddy.”

Billy had to agree there, and did so. Susan and Parker Williams had been Aunt Susan and Uncle Parker since Billy could remember. They had lived at the mouth of Stinnett just down the mountain since before Dan was born, Billy’s oldest sibling. The Williams children and the Pollards had grown up side by side, best friends and close enough kin to be fourth cousins. Technically that didn’t really make them all that related, but sometimes family didn’t come from close direct blood relations.

“Well, see you t’morra, Bill.” Frank shifted into reverse, his hand raised for a brief moment in farewell outside the car, then he was off down the mountain. Ritchie barked a couple of times in farewell, the dog biscuit partially dangling from his black muzzle.

“Yup, you’re worthless, but I like him, too,” Bill said to the dog, who wagged his tail happily. “Come on boy, let’s go see what we have!” Billy put the mail on top of the case of Miller and carried it all inside the house, Ritchie, along with dog biscuit, followed. be continued

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