Trifecta: Independence Day, part 2
I feel like I've lost my muse. Nothing I've written recently has moved me. (I'm in the middle of a dozen stories, but have finished nothing, which is why I haven't posted lately). I feel like the muse has been gone a while, but when I looked back over my summer posts, I enjoyed rereading the familiar stories I wrote the end of July/beginning of August, so it can't have fled too far. August was when I started working 40+ hours and copy editing Be My Queen, so perhaps my daughter's right when she said I'm just tired. But I don't want to be tired. I want to be myself again. I want to be someone who can complete a thought. I want to be able to sit down and enjoy a book too. So not happening.
The only thing I've been enthusiastic far in months was the last few days of my vacation when my daughter and her boyfriend had me help them with Halloween costumes. I made him a Jon Snow cloak and a leather tunic. He was Odin. My daughter was the woman who Irish soldiers saw washing their clothes if they were going to die in battle (it starts with an M, but she isn't here to ask). I made he a circle skirt out of a flannel top sheet and explained how to cut a shawl from a piece of knit fabric.
I heard a line that makes me want to write, only I haven't figured out what yet. Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?” (if I don't say where it's from it can't be counted a spoiler, can it?) I just love this line. Betrayal has always been a black mark. A line that can't be crossed and still keep a character lovable, but maybe not anymore: A young man who goes back to a place he left. Someone who tells who his lover is to save his own life. Two people promise to run away together, but one never shows. The possibilities are endless, but nothing's grabbed me yet.
Title: Trifecta
Chapter: Independence Day, part two
Status: WIP
Genre: Romance, Triple Slash, businessmen, jobs, friends, working
Length: 1 k
Summary: Kenneth keeps busy
Masterlist
Kenneth surveyed the street. Ty, Flannigan and one of Flannigan’s neighbors had carried workbenches into the street and were now arguing over how long the fuses needed to be between the fireworks. They did this every year, not just the setting up, but the disagreeing over what had happened the year before. Ty brought out his phone and the three watched a video.
“Right there,” Ty said. “That’s the pause I was talking about. How long was the fuse last year?”
The neighbor went into her garage and found last years plans and compared them to what they’d hashed out during the barbecue. “Right here.”
“But,” Flannigan leaned closer, “didn’t we make it longer than we planned last year?”
“No,” said the neighbor. “Two and seven eighths inches.”
“No,” Ty said. “You’re right. We changed it at the last minute. Because it was too short the year before.”
“No,” said the neighbor. “This wasn’t the one we changed. This one. I marked the changes.”
“Really?” Ty frowned as he looked over the paper. “Oh, that’s the next one.” He lifted his phone.
They would be at this all night. Kenneth spent most July fourths entertaining himself while Ty was lost in gunpowder and logistics.
Chloe came out of her house carrying three beers. “Last round.”
The three stopped debating and took their drinks. They’d be nursing these drinks for the next few hours. The homeowners association like the fireworks display and even printed out fliers and marked out parking for visitors, but only as long as the alcohol and fireworks didn’t mix.
And to be fair to the entertainers, the beer chest was closed and taken down the street to someone else’s garage.
“Did you want one?” Damien leaned on Kenneth’s arm.
Kenneth stepped behind him and held him close. “I’m good.”
He was, with Damien.
Chloe sighed. Damien turned back to the house. “Need a hand?”
“The garbage needs taken out.”
“I can do that.”
The neighbor’s husband sighed. “She always complains that the sparks damage her workbench and she spends a month getting in clean and smooth again, but here she is, eager to get it marked up again.”
“Dad. Dad!” The neighbor’s daughter waved the Sorry board at him from their front lawn.
“I’m coming. I’m coming.” He was in charge of board game duty this year. Last year Kenneth had walked a bunch of grade schoolers though Candyland and soothed tattered feelings. It was like being home for Thanksgiving, but with less judgment.
“I’ll take the little ones.” Another neighbors grabbed a passing toddler. “Book time on my front lawn.”
Several parents took her up on it. Someone else brought out blankets and the kids curled up in the shade.
Kenneth should go in and help out. Damien brought out the garbage. It just barely fit in the can. “Chloe says there’s a nice walk down by the river.”
“There is.” A solitary walk was another was the waste time and Chloe and Flannigan’s neighborhood.
“I’d like to see it.”
Getting ready only took a few minutes. Chloe foisted a picnic blanket off on them along with water and snacks. Kenneth wasn’t planning on making a day of it, but he didn’t protest.
Damien interrupted Ty for a kiss and then took Kenneth’s hand. “Where to?”
Kenneth led the way down the sidewalk and through a path between subdivisions as Damien told a funny story about work. Kenneth’s stories were never that funny, but he hadn’t had a chance to explain Monday’s copier room incident. When they ran out of sidewalk they walked at the edge of the pavement. Then the road turned to gravel and turned. The pointed ahead. “We could go down the road and enter the park that way or go down this path.”
Damien chose the path between trees. It wasn’t wide enough for both of them side by side, but this way he could watch Damien’s behind, which was very nice. Damien turned and grinned. “Chloe gave us a blanket. Anywhere we can hang out?”
“The fields are mostly near the entrance.” Kenneth nodded back the way they’d come. “But there are a few wide places.”
“Good.”
Kenneth directed Damien left at the next fork and then down the middle path at the next junction. That way led to the boardwalk around the wetlands part of the park. The boardwalk was wide enough to walk together on. Damien stopped at a viewpoint. “Here?”
Kenneth touched his arm. “I have somewhere better in mind.”
“Lead on.”
The path twisted and split and twisted again, then the woods opened up to a meadow. Most of the year it was probably a swamp. Here the boardwalk made a large loop around a small pond. Damien grabbed Kenneth’s arm. “Do you see it?”
A heron preened itself next to the part of the boardwalk the jutted out into to pond. It turned its face to them then went back to cleaning it’s wing. Damien took a step closer. Had he never been this close to a heron before? He swatted down and stared.
The bird spread its wings and took off over Damien. He fell to his ass, but the bird really hadn’t been close enough to hit him.
He laughed and got to his feet. “He was saying he wasn’t leaving because of us.”
Kenneth joined the laughter. “He might even come back. If we wait here long enough.”
“Really?”
Kenneth walked out onto the “pier” part of the boardwalk and laid out the blanket. He sat down and lifted a hand. Damien took it and sat down. Kenneth pulled him close. Damien’s kisses were fantastic.
But they were in a public place even if the were alone. Kenneth lay back on the blanket. Damien rested beside him. They watched the little birds fly about. Noise came from the water. Fish? Kenneth and Damien speculated about how they’d gotten there and if they could survive. Some summers the pond dried up.
But they whispered they conversation. Maybe the heron was return. Maybe it wouldn’t, but quiet time with Damien, just enjoying being together was wonderful. And the very best Independence Day afternoon in as long as Kenneth could remember.
The only thing I've been enthusiastic far in months was the last few days of my vacation when my daughter and her boyfriend had me help them with Halloween costumes. I made him a Jon Snow cloak and a leather tunic. He was Odin. My daughter was the woman who Irish soldiers saw washing their clothes if they were going to die in battle (it starts with an M, but she isn't here to ask). I made he a circle skirt out of a flannel top sheet and explained how to cut a shawl from a piece of knit fabric.
I heard a line that makes me want to write, only I haven't figured out what yet. Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?” (if I don't say where it's from it can't be counted a spoiler, can it?) I just love this line. Betrayal has always been a black mark. A line that can't be crossed and still keep a character lovable, but maybe not anymore: A young man who goes back to a place he left. Someone who tells who his lover is to save his own life. Two people promise to run away together, but one never shows. The possibilities are endless, but nothing's grabbed me yet.
Title: Trifecta
Chapter: Independence Day, part two
Status: WIP
Genre: Romance, Triple Slash, businessmen, jobs, friends, working
Length: 1 k
Summary: Kenneth keeps busy
Masterlist
Kenneth surveyed the street. Ty, Flannigan and one of Flannigan’s neighbors had carried workbenches into the street and were now arguing over how long the fuses needed to be between the fireworks. They did this every year, not just the setting up, but the disagreeing over what had happened the year before. Ty brought out his phone and the three watched a video.
“Right there,” Ty said. “That’s the pause I was talking about. How long was the fuse last year?”
The neighbor went into her garage and found last years plans and compared them to what they’d hashed out during the barbecue. “Right here.”
“But,” Flannigan leaned closer, “didn’t we make it longer than we planned last year?”
“No,” said the neighbor. “Two and seven eighths inches.”
“No,” Ty said. “You’re right. We changed it at the last minute. Because it was too short the year before.”
“No,” said the neighbor. “This wasn’t the one we changed. This one. I marked the changes.”
“Really?” Ty frowned as he looked over the paper. “Oh, that’s the next one.” He lifted his phone.
They would be at this all night. Kenneth spent most July fourths entertaining himself while Ty was lost in gunpowder and logistics.
Chloe came out of her house carrying three beers. “Last round.”
The three stopped debating and took their drinks. They’d be nursing these drinks for the next few hours. The homeowners association like the fireworks display and even printed out fliers and marked out parking for visitors, but only as long as the alcohol and fireworks didn’t mix.
And to be fair to the entertainers, the beer chest was closed and taken down the street to someone else’s garage.
“Did you want one?” Damien leaned on Kenneth’s arm.
Kenneth stepped behind him and held him close. “I’m good.”
He was, with Damien.
Chloe sighed. Damien turned back to the house. “Need a hand?”
“The garbage needs taken out.”
“I can do that.”
The neighbor’s husband sighed. “She always complains that the sparks damage her workbench and she spends a month getting in clean and smooth again, but here she is, eager to get it marked up again.”
“Dad. Dad!” The neighbor’s daughter waved the Sorry board at him from their front lawn.
“I’m coming. I’m coming.” He was in charge of board game duty this year. Last year Kenneth had walked a bunch of grade schoolers though Candyland and soothed tattered feelings. It was like being home for Thanksgiving, but with less judgment.
“I’ll take the little ones.” Another neighbors grabbed a passing toddler. “Book time on my front lawn.”
Several parents took her up on it. Someone else brought out blankets and the kids curled up in the shade.
Kenneth should go in and help out. Damien brought out the garbage. It just barely fit in the can. “Chloe says there’s a nice walk down by the river.”
“There is.” A solitary walk was another was the waste time and Chloe and Flannigan’s neighborhood.
“I’d like to see it.”
Getting ready only took a few minutes. Chloe foisted a picnic blanket off on them along with water and snacks. Kenneth wasn’t planning on making a day of it, but he didn’t protest.
Damien interrupted Ty for a kiss and then took Kenneth’s hand. “Where to?”
Kenneth led the way down the sidewalk and through a path between subdivisions as Damien told a funny story about work. Kenneth’s stories were never that funny, but he hadn’t had a chance to explain Monday’s copier room incident. When they ran out of sidewalk they walked at the edge of the pavement. Then the road turned to gravel and turned. The pointed ahead. “We could go down the road and enter the park that way or go down this path.”
Damien chose the path between trees. It wasn’t wide enough for both of them side by side, but this way he could watch Damien’s behind, which was very nice. Damien turned and grinned. “Chloe gave us a blanket. Anywhere we can hang out?”
“The fields are mostly near the entrance.” Kenneth nodded back the way they’d come. “But there are a few wide places.”
“Good.”
Kenneth directed Damien left at the next fork and then down the middle path at the next junction. That way led to the boardwalk around the wetlands part of the park. The boardwalk was wide enough to walk together on. Damien stopped at a viewpoint. “Here?”
Kenneth touched his arm. “I have somewhere better in mind.”
“Lead on.”
The path twisted and split and twisted again, then the woods opened up to a meadow. Most of the year it was probably a swamp. Here the boardwalk made a large loop around a small pond. Damien grabbed Kenneth’s arm. “Do you see it?”
A heron preened itself next to the part of the boardwalk the jutted out into to pond. It turned its face to them then went back to cleaning it’s wing. Damien took a step closer. Had he never been this close to a heron before? He swatted down and stared.
The bird spread its wings and took off over Damien. He fell to his ass, but the bird really hadn’t been close enough to hit him.
He laughed and got to his feet. “He was saying he wasn’t leaving because of us.”
Kenneth joined the laughter. “He might even come back. If we wait here long enough.”
“Really?”
Kenneth walked out onto the “pier” part of the boardwalk and laid out the blanket. He sat down and lifted a hand. Damien took it and sat down. Kenneth pulled him close. Damien’s kisses were fantastic.
But they were in a public place even if the were alone. Kenneth lay back on the blanket. Damien rested beside him. They watched the little birds fly about. Noise came from the water. Fish? Kenneth and Damien speculated about how they’d gotten there and if they could survive. Some summers the pond dried up.
But they whispered they conversation. Maybe the heron was return. Maybe it wouldn’t, but quiet time with Damien, just enjoying being together was wonderful. And the very best Independence Day afternoon in as long as Kenneth could remember.