Call Girl: Flash Fiction

Lately, I've been trying my hand at writing short-short fiction (1000 words or less) and flash fiction (500 words or less). This story has 220 words ... granted, the subject matter is a little bit out there, but it was fun using my imagination.  

Call Girl
Flash Fiction
by CJ Heck

Only moderately full, the 4:57 to Detroit still promised to be worth a few thousand over and above Julie's regular take.

It wasn't that tough, just an amusing parlor game, actually.  Play it cool and distant -- they eat it up. The more distant and snobby she was, the more interested the poor bastards were -- of course, the pouty lips, come-hither eyes, and the come-fuck-me stilettos helped, too, she thought, with a knowing smile. Yeah, but the cool and distant -- uh huh, that's what does it. They can't resist.

(She pens a quick note to herself: Must remember to buy a few more shares of Maybelline in the market -- hmmm, maybe L'Oreal, as well? They both saved my ass more than a few times.)

Okay, Julie thought, I'll make Detroit by eight. Ought to be able to do the guy there with no trouble, then cab it back to the hotel, shower and reapply my face. Easy. I'll still have time to take the elevator up to twelve for the john in 12 C. Piece of cake. Then I'll sock another six big ones into the pocket of the suitcase before the 11:30 to Reno. Sweet.

Have love, will travel.  Beats a pimp on a corner any time ...

A Need To Get Away

I don't know how you feel about it, but I think this winter was long, way too long. After spring actually arrived, we had a few days where it hit the 60's, but then the temperature dropped way down again. Shoot, just two days ago, April 6th, I looked out the window to see it was snowing again!

I'm so ready for this weekend. They're calling for it to be nearly 80 degrees on Sunday ... and it can't come too soon for me. I've got cabin fever and I need to get out for more than just groceries, the chiropractor, or the gym for my workouts. Better yet, I dream of kidnapping Robert and going far, far away, entirely out of the midwest, somewhere with no computers or phones. A Caribbean cruise would be nice; or maybe the Florida Keys; or even a romantic road trip down the coast, stopping now and then to walk a beach in my barefeet and holding Robert's hand.

It's so important to get away now and then. We need to recharge the love batteries, put aside the "me" and the "I", and make sure we don't lose sight of the "we". Otherwise ... well ... here's a little tease about what could happen ...

We Need To Get Away
by CJ Heck

Have I told you lately
how good you smell
when the shower
finally spits you out?
I can't remember
the last time, but
it wouldn't surprise me,
considering how much time
we actually get to spend
alone together these days.
I do know I remember
how intense we used to be.
We need to get away,
just the two of us,
before we grow any ruts
in this relationship highway.

Let's go somewhere,
before talking dirty
really means:
"You doing a light load?
Can you grab my pj's
on the back
of the bedroom door?"

Before wanna catch a quickie?
really means:
"I'm pooped. Wanna take a nap?"

Before Oh God, I'm coming!
actually means:
"Don't nag me, I'm almost ready!
Go and start the car."

Let's go somewhere, while
Honey, that was fantastic
still means more than
a Sunday Scrabble win.

It's not too late.
Oh yeahhh ...
I remember.


Have a great weekend, everyone! ~CJ

Celtic Woman and Fairies

The Little Blond Fiddler

Robert and I sure had a whirlwind weekend, last weekend -- and I'm still tired. We drove to Ohio (4 1/2 hours) to see family, something that's always a treat.

Once there, as usual, we hit the Buehler' grocery store to buy some of the best cream-filled long johns that were ever invented to take along.

We spent Friday night with his mom, dad and sister, Cindy, and left at around noon on Saturday. We then drove to Columbus to my dad's.

When we arrived, my oldest younger brother was there and we enjoyed visiting with him.  Then we had plans to meet up with Robert's son, David, at the Outback for dinner and some more visiting.  The Outback's a great restaurant, by the way ...

Sunday was my dad's 84th birthday and we had tickets to take him to a Celtic Woman concert at 2:00.  Listen, if you ever get the chance to see them, go! I guarantee, you won't be disappointed. What a wonderful, magical show they put on.

That little blond gal that accompanies the group with her fiddle is well-worth the show, all by herself. She fiddles AND dances while she's doing it, tosses her long hair with a perpetual smile and charms everyone in the audience. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and the 2-1/2 hours sped by way too fast, even with two curtain calls after a standing ovation.

Ya know, when I was a little girl, I used to think I could see fairies dancing barefoot in the grass under a tree in my backyard at dusk. It was only my imagination, I know, but if there really had been fairies there, I swear they would have looked just like a miniature version of the little fiddler with Celtic Woman.

 I was so enamored by my imaginary fairies, I even wrote a poem about it which was in my first book of poetry for children.

Fairies Dancing

Dancing Fairies

On warm dark nights I think I see
beneath the weeping willow tree,
wee fairies dancing in the grass
on tiny feet that fly so fast.

The music is the wind that blows
while fairies spin on bare tiptoes,
and fireflies jewel up the night
reflecting fairies in their light.

Round and round the fairies dance!
On bitsy feet they skip and prance
through tiny dew drops to and fro,
til morning comes, and then they go.

I wonder where the fairies live
and do they know what fun they give
to little girls and boys that see
beneath the weeping willow tree?

After the concert, we got back to dad's and two of my sisters were there waiting to take him out for a birthday dinner.  I was happy to get to visit with them for a little while, before we had to get back in the car and on the road to PA.

We didn't get home until nearly midnight, but the concert was still  very fresh in my mind.  I couldn't resist peeking through the curtains at the upstairs window.  I just had to know if I could see any fairies under the tree in the yard ...


"A Writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

The Winter Linger

It's the last day of March, and we woke up to a new three-inches of heavy wet snow. That sorta pokes a hole in the old adage that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, doesn't it? Here in DuBois, Pennsylvania, March came bleating in at around 60 degrees and, as of today, is roaring out with measurable snow ...

I can't complain, though. As only a heavy wet snow can do, all of the limbs and branches of the trees are laden with the same three inches of winter. As I look out my windows on top of the huge hill we live on, I have a panoramic view of pretty much the whole town and it's beautiful.

As Robert was leaving for work a few minutes ago, I waved goodbye and noticed the snow on the garage roof. Like icing on a too-warm cake, the snow is slowly sliding off the roof, literally in tiers. I couldn't help making a human, yet metaphoric, connection.

Winter is technically over and yet Old Man Winter desperately hangs on, not wanting to step aside for spring "just yet". How like human life that is. When we reach the winter of our lives, we also do everything we can to stay here as long as possible. We exercise, we take our vitamins, but still, age takes it's toll and, like the wilting snow on the garage roof, our bodies eventually do a similar slow slide in tiers. Oh, there are things we can even do about that, if we have the means, but when our winter is over, it's over.

The biggest difference between Old Man Winter hanging on and humans who can merely stall for time is, winter knows it gets to come back again every year and, like a spoiled child, it still wants more ... as for me, I'm just grateful.

What to do About You

A Short Story
by CJ Heck

Jessie sat at her keyboard, staring at the small black words racing across the white screen. She had only met Donald six weeks ago, but she had to admit, it had been a wild ride.  She was both intrigued and enamored. He seemed genuine, although, can anyone ever truly know someone they've only known online?

Jessie read his lovely thoughts and felt the familiar surge of emotion as he deftly fashioned each keystroke into another perfectly worded seduction. She had to smile. Donald was very much an artist, only his canvas was the heart, his medium, words.

When he finally stopped typing, she sensed he awaited her reply. Gathering up her thoughts and all of the questions that had been nagging at her, she began ... "Donald, do I know you? I mean, do I really, really know you? Sometimes I'm sure I do -- at times, I think I even know you better than you know yourself. But there are other times, like right now, when I'm sure I don't know you at all."

Jessie hesitated a little too long and Donald began typing again. "Sweetie Pie, you have to go with the flow. You know me, Baby, you know you do. Someday, we'll be together, I promise.  But just for now, this is what we have. Talk to me, Sunshine. You know you feel it, the love.  I know I do."

Jessie took a deep breath, stretched her mind along with her fingers, and began to fill the screen with her own thoughts to send across the miles. "Something is happening, Donald, I will agree.  Your words have caught me up in something big and, yes, we've made a real connection here in a very short time. But is this love? I don't know -- how can I know? We've never even seen each other in person.  Why is that, Donald?"

Jessie paused to collect her thoughts and immediately, Donald's words appeared on the screen.  "C'mon now, Babe, you know I love you. This is how everyone should fall in love. You and me, we've learned to know and love each other on the inside first -- this way, looks can't get in the way. We love each other for who we are, not how we appear.  Get a grip, Babe."

If only Donald would say the words she needed most to hear: "I can't wait another minute. I'm getting on a plane this afternoon. I need you and I want to be with you. I want to look deep in your eyes and see the love I feel reflected back. I feel like I'll die if I can't hold you close and breathe you in, and fill up my very soul with you. I love you, Jessie, and I can't live without you for another day."

Jessie knew she would never hear those words, but still she tried once more, "Donald, do you really know me? I'm sure you'll say you do, but I believe you only think you know me because I'm a writer and you've read some of my writings -- but those are only little parts of me, just thoughts I've sheared off to rhyme or not rhyme. But that's not knowing -- at least I don't think it is.  Donald, we need to talk about what's important."

Jessie didn't stop typing this time. Her fingers flew. "One thing I do know, Donald.  Your wants and desires scare the hell out of me sometimes and all my instincts tell me to run and never look back. Why won't you come and see me? I need to hold you. Don't you feel that, too? Where do we go from here, Donald? What do I do about you?"

Jessie stopped.  Now she watched as Donald's thoughts filled her screen one last time. He was smooth, she would give him that. But now, reading fast so the tears wouldn't blur the words, she read something much different than what she needed, "Geez oh man, Jess, what the hell?  Of course I know you -- it's too bad you feel like that.  You know how I feel about you, Baby, but you're moving too fast for me.  Maybe we shouldn't see each other anymore ..."

Jessie had seen enough. The last words she read before clicking the Power Off button were,  "... so I'm sure you understand.  Just remember, Babe, it's your loss ..."

My Youngest Child

This morning, I was thinking about one particular day when I was young. I remember my Gramma had come to visit from out of town -- always a special treat. On the second day she was there, I saw this far away look in her eyes and just the hint of a smile. When I asked her what she was thinking about, she told me, “Oh, I was just thinking back a-ways, that’s all, sweet girl.” Gramma looked happy and I thought at the time, that’s what it must be like when you get old. You think about the past a lot.

It’s funny, I’ve never thought of myself as being old, but this morning as I was enjoying my first cup of coffee, (light cream, no sugar, thanks), I caught myself doing the very same thing. My thoughts had wandered “back a-ways …” I had gone back to a time when I was a young mother, and I was thinking about my youngest daughter, Heather, when she was three.

At the time, we were living in Woburn, Massachusetts. What a sweet and outgoing little girl she was, and still is now, even more so. She was a beautiful child and petite -- actually, she was considered tiny, by height and weight standards in those days. At three, she had only a few blond wisps of hair, and with her diminutive size, she looked much younger than her age.

I remember one special visit to the grocery store. I had just delivered her two older sisters to preschool, and Heather and I went to the grocery to pick up a few items. I seat-belted her securely into the child seat in my grocery cart. We were giggling at the cart, the cart I always seemed to get. It had a wheel with a mind of its own, turning mindlessly every which way while making a whomp-wiggle-wiggle -whomp-wiggle-wiggle sound.

We were still giggling as we whomp-wiggle-wiggled into the line to pay. Then it was our turn for the cashier to ring up our groceries. The cashier was smiling, and watching Heather who was still giggling. “Awww, she’s so sweet! How old is your baby?” She asked me.

I was about to tell her, but Heather replied, “I’m Heather and I’m not a baby, I’m three. Mommy is 31. Did you hear our wheel? It’s funny! What’s your name?”

... and she's still precocious ... I love you, Heather!

Buying North American

Last week, I posted an article someone sent me about buying overseas products. I don't know if you read it, but I've been checking the labels on everything I buy since I read it. I believe it's important -- I feel I have to do something to help the economy, even if it's something small. Small, to me, is better than nothing at all.

Today, I got another email. This one is from a Canadian about buying only North American products, but it sends another clear message. Let's get out heads out of the sand and do our part, people ...

"Think About What We Buy

For example, the "Our Family" brand of mandarin oranges says right on the can, "from China", but for a few cents more, you can buy "Liberty Gold" or "Dole" from California.

Also watch buying pickles. A lot of the no-name pickles come from India. "Bick's" are from Canada, and they're worth the small difference in price.

Another example is canned mushrooms. The no-name brand is from Indonesia. Right next to them on the shelf, is the "President Choice" brand. This is a product of Canada. That's what went into my grocery bag.

Also check those little fruit cups we give our children. They use to be made here in Canada in the Niagara region until about 2 years ago. They are now packaged in China!

The Chinese have exported inferior, even toxic, products and dangerous toys and goods to be sold in North American markets. The media wrings its hands and criticizes the Obama Administration and the Harper Government for perceived errors. 70% of North Americans believe that trading privileges afforded to the Chinese should just be suspended.

Well, DUH ... why do WE need to wait for the North American governments to suspend trading privileges? We should simply do it ourselves!

Take the time to look on the bottom of every product you buy. If it says "Made in China" or "PRC" (that now includes Hong Kong), either choose another product, or none at all. You'll be amazed at how dependent we've become on Chinese products -- AND you'll be equally amazed at what you can do without.

Do we really need plastic eggs to celebrate Easter? If you must have eggs, use real ones. Let's benefit the North American farmers. Easter is just one example, the point is, let's not wait for the government to act. Let's go ahead and take back control and send a message of our own as consumers.

Canadian Thermos bottles were made here in Canada for many years. Thermos sold out in the 1990's. Now the bottles that keep our food hot or cold are now made in China! We Canadians
lost about 200 jobs!

Think About This:

If 200 million North Americans refuse to buy just $20 each of Chinese goods, that's a 4 billion dollar trade imbalance resolved in our favor, fast! Is there a downside? Some Canadian and American businesses will feel a temporary pinch from having foreign stockpiles of inventory.

The solution? We can give them fair warning and send our own message. Most of the people reading about this matter are already planning, for one month, not to purchase anything made in China. That's only one month of trading losses, but it will hit the Chinese for 1/12th of the total, or 8%, of their North American exports. Then they will at least have to ask themselves if the benefits of their arrogance, careless production and lawlessness are worth it.

Even better, start now and don't stop -- read the labels on everything you buy in every store you shop in. Spread this message to everyone you know. Let's show them all, the governments AND the foreigners, that we are intelligent North Americans, and NO ONE will take us for granted.

On the other hand, if we can't live without cheap imported goods for one month out of our lives, we deserve everything we get."

Related articles

• You: U.S. dollar edges lower versus rivals (menafn.com)
• Canadian firms now trading in renminbi (theglobeandmail.com)
• Canfor sees long-term market in China (reuters.com)

My Other World

by CJ Heck

There's another
world I visit
in my sleep
when the day's
constraints
are unbuttoned
and unzipped,
cast off to
crowd the laundry
in the hamper.
My pillow, like
a giant sponge,
sops up the
stress and worry,
spilling from an ear
or from my
cluttered mind.
There, life
is always fair
and good guys
finish first,
so my number
nearly always
wins the prize.
I fly on dragons,
a super hero,
or take magic carpet
rides, reading minds
and casting spells,
solving problems,
even mine.
Asleep, I'm safe,
and time
stands still.
Wrinkles are gone,
varicose veins
now beauty marks.
Mirrors are kind.
They say
I'm the fairest
in the land
and never
show me silver
in my hair,
while tiny genies
in my lamp
grant every wish.
That world
is a haven,
where I can live
in fairy tales,
or Peter Pan
in Neverland,
and watch as
angels weave
magic into love
and happy endings.