For Sarah, An Introduction, 'Project 157'

She said to write a story about overcoming fear and loving extravagantly.

My thoughts had been muddy for days, jumbled story ideas and tangled plot lines. I knew something would come, it always did.

A few days later, church was getting out. There was an small, older man with funny clothes and a cain. He was sitting in a crowd of people, but they didn’t see him.

He had tears in his eyes.

I was going to let myself off the hook. Somebody more spiritual than me would talk to him. I wouldn’t have to leave my comfort zone. He looked weird anyway. He probably didn’t want to be bugged. And, I was afraid.

That’s when it hit me.

Fear.

The chance to demonstrate love.

The story was happening to me, right here in real life. It was so simple.

I walked directly up to him and extended my hand. “Hello.” I said, “my name is Gabriel.”

End

For Klementine, Roger and the Red-Haired Girl, 'Project 157'

Stumblingly, he chased her into the street -as the yellow car drove his heart into the swirling mists.

Nothing much had gone Roger’s way. He’d always been a little asymmetrical. He wasn't good at any subjects, but he wasn't good at sports either. He graduated average from his primaries, and become a grocer.

That's where he first saw her; copper hair falling in curls around her freckled face. He knew right then. He switched off his lane light and insisted on carrying out her groceries. She smiled at his clumsiness and blushing. A few weeks later, they were having coffee. Soon, they were sharing an apartment and curling up on the couch to watch TV. She was his whole world, and he would do anything for her.

A year and a handful of fights later, and she was packing to leave. He had begged her to stay. Through bloodshot eyes, he watched her climb into a taxicab.

End

For Laura, Mondays, 'Project 157'

He inserted the glittering knife at his wrist, and began slicing up the length of his arm. It was a ghastly affair, what with the blood spurting all over his bathroom.

When the deed was done, he set down the knife and lifted the glass of whisky. Calmly, he drew at the cold drink. Danforth had really thought this one through. He had purchased strike-anywhere matches, so he could light a final cigarette with his one good hand. Rather depressingly, he had left both the cigarettes and matches on his nightstand.

Several hours later, the sunlight streamed in through the frosted bathroom window. His shadow fell across the scene. They complimented each other: the red and black, contrasting the utter white of his skin.

His guardian angel rose from where he had been sitting next to him, and shook his head, all four faces frowning. He had a lot of paperwork to complete back at the office.

End

For Amanda, Escaping Manhattan, 'Project 157'

I took her breath away by the light of the full moon, in a boxcar on our way out west. The cattails swayed by the side of the lake, and we fell asleep behind some wooden crates, on a bed of raggedy blankets and straw.

At first, the noise of the train seemed deafening, but when we met, my fears and failures melted away, and the clanking and rushing soon faded. We shared a smile, but not our stories. Then we shared our selves...

Before I wanted it to, dawn broke over the flint hills; all amber, blood, and fire. The train began to slow. I buried my face in her hair, and inhaled. Sweet sweat, dust, mixed with something floral. My heart skipped a beat. From that day on, it didn’t matter who we had been, only that we were together. The train pulled into the station, and we rose from our slumber new persons.

End

For Camille, The Coal Miner's Daughter, 'Project 157'

I can scarcely describe his fury, for a father’s wrath in unparalleled by either gods or men. The combined weight of heaven and hell bore down on me through the barrel of that Colt 45.

“DADDY NO!” She screamed - as the shots ripped through me - and into the wall of the ramshackle house. She leapt for his arm, and he turned, smashing her to the floor with his gun.

The past several months replayed in my mind... her velvet-soft skin... the warmth between her thighs... sunlight on the wildflowers, as she danced through the blossoming fields.

The room wheeled around me, and grew dark. His voice echoed like and ancient god. “You no-good bastard son of a crooked whore! I’ll bury you!” His boot was on my chest now, now kicking my ribs. I was losing touch fast.

I turned and smiled at her, “I love you Annalise.”

The stars were coming out just then.

End

For Ayesha, Wedding, 'Project 157'

Fresh - a soft and gentle breeze. Her hair tugged by the wind, her long white train trailing through the leaves.

White silk, so soft and bright. A brilliant twinkle in her green, green eyes.

For a moment I forgot my sweatiness, and my awkwardness melted away. My racing heart stilled, and our eyes locked.

I will never forget how it felt to see her walking towards me, her arm in her father’s arm, her bouquet held close.

Everything in my life became more important. Everything in that moment meant more.

The vows a meaningful, nervous blur; meant in heart if not remembered by mind. The rings cold on fingers, circles of silver gold.

That first kiss. Rushed, blushing, important. So very filled with love.

Wine and dancing, flowers, hugs from family and friends.

Then driving home in the rain so fresh, carrying her over the threshold. - Crap! I just banged her elbow on the door jam!

End

For Sharon, This is Gonna be Harder for Me, 'Project 157'

“I never would have turned out like this if it wasn’t for you.” I spoke around the nails in my mouth, shaking my head.

Her sunken eyes looked up at me from her pinewood coffin. She had been pretty once, a real looker; but now her skin was beyond pale, a gross, veined grey. This was difficult for me. I hefted the lid on.

Lining up the first nail, I raised the hammer and brought it down swiftly.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Ten in all.

It took a rope and pulley system to heft the coffin into my truck bed. Throwing a tarp over it, I hopped in and drove out into the country. I shifted into reverse and gunned it, aiming for the deep hole I had pre-dug days earlier. I mashed my foot down on the break, and the box went flying into the grave.

It took six hundred shovels of dirt to make her disappear.

End