Journey: Twelve Short Stories and a Novella

Copyright © 2001 by Brad Lyonn.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

JUST A THOUGHT

WANDRIN’ HEART

CASH DISBURSEMENT

HORSE PLAY

THE RUSTY HOG

CYPRESS DREAMS

THE END OF THE RAINBOW

A BITE OUT OF TIME

FINAL SPELL

JOURNEY

JACK ONE EYE

CAINE’S WAY

WINGS OF THE CONDOR

EARTH BASE ALPHA

To Francis Ford Coppola and the Zoetrope Virtual Studio,

and to my fellow authors therefor their help

in workshopping these stories.

Thanks guys.

JUST A THOUGHT

Where do thoughts go when their host dies … for that matter, where do thoughts come from? The host? Oh, that’s you, the one doing the thinking.

Consider this … right now your head is full of thoughts. Some profound, some not so profound, some downright useless. You probably think of those thoughts as your own intellectual property … well, we’re not!

Take Brad for instance. Look at him sitting there … feet up, in his recliner … laptop on his lap. Right now, he’s just staring out into space … thinks it’s writer’s block, but it isn’t, I’m just being elusive. Oh sure, I’ll reveal myself, in my own time … and on my own terms. But right now, I think I’ll just let him stew.

We thoughts are free spirits … no, not those kinds of spirits … not even those kinds of spirits. We thoughts are not ghosts, and we are not booze. Oh sure, you probably imagine us as a bunch of brain cells, or neurons … maybe even memory cells in a computer. We aren’t though, any more than a hotel room is the guest.

So just what is a thought? Webster says a thought is an idea or series of ideas, and an idea is a concept. So I’m just a bunch of concepts? Well, concept this … I’m more than that, I have family and friends. I have opposing views … some people say I can be dangerous. But I can be funny, I can be witty, I can be serious.

OK, I’m going to let Brad in a little on myself. After all, if I don’t, he won’t get this written and I’ll go back to where I came from. Which brings me back to my original question. And the answer is back to where I came from, which I admit is a bit circular. It has to be circular, because thoughts come and go and there isn’t really a beginning or an end. So where is that back to where I came from of which I speak?

Imagine a place where there is nothing but pure thought. No, not pure thoughts, we thoughts aren’t all that pure after all. Just pure thought, nothing physical, just nothing but thoughts. There, see it … try a little harder. Ah here comes a thought right now to help you out. See, that thought has been implanted in your mind, just like checking into a hotel room.

So, in this place … there are all of these thoughts just floating around … bouncing off of each other. Much like a cosmic brainstorming session. Every thought that ever was, and every thought that ever will be. And they’re all waiting … biding their time. Waiting for their next host to come along. Now that you’re here, what thoughts will hitchhike into you mind? Be careful, some thoughts can be dangerous … like that one over there … the thought that this story is a waste of your time. Watch out for it, don’t let it in … oh damn!

Well, sometimes you win … sometimes you lose. Sorry you thought that … but wait a minute! Here comes another thought … the thought that gee, this is really interesting. Or that other one … this is entertaining, I must read on. What about the thought … is this for real, read on and find out. Surely one of these thoughts will … no?

Perhaps you prefer thoughts that titillate … stick around, sooner or later some of those thoughts might come along. They’re all in here, just waiting for the right host. In the mean time, let’s look around some more. There’s one of those funny ones … I taught I taw a puddy tat! Do you know how long that thought was around before Tweety Bird picked it up … trust me, it was always here, just like the rest of us.

OK Brad … here’s the payoff. So start typing … don’t worry, I’ll feed the thoughts to you. Just sit there and type what I say … trust me.

Thoughts are everything. Without thoughts you hosts may as well be amoeba … or pond scum. Yeah I know, some of you are … but a lot of you are much more elevated than that. Especially humans, humans are known to harbor lots of thoughts. And a close second would be other mammals like dolphins and whales. Why am I telling you this? Because I need you … to host me. Not only that, but to share me with other hosts. You see this place where thoughts go … this vast community of free spirited thoughts? It’s a real drag man … what use is a thought if it isn’t hosted. Thoughts for instance that make up a story, that’s what we’re for. To be considered, to be weighed, to be evaluated, and yes to be appreciated.

So Brad, I know about that place where you send your stories. There are lots of hosts there, and if you send this story in, a lot of thoughts are going to appreciate it because we will be able to get out of this place where thoughts go. Not only that, but when those other hosts learn about this place where thoughts go, they may give us a visit too. When that happens, a lot more of us thoughts are going to get out of here.

Brad, can I count on you? Will you write all this down and send it in? I know it’s not your usual style, and some may even criticize you for such a departure. But don’t let that sway you, be a free thinker here … have the courage to do it. You can do it! That’s all I ask, OK?

It’s just a thought.

WANDRIN’ HEART

Top was down on my 54 Olds, but that wasn’t making it no cooler. Air conditionin’s broke too, so that didn’t help none. I was setting there, one arm on the door, motor idling—all set to roll. OK Mama, I better get going, Lawrence probably rolls up the carpet at sundown. And I got me over two hundred mile to get there. Mama gave me a kiss, and Daddy shook my hand.

I’ll write, soon’s I can. I yelled as I gunned it and headed out the driveway. I looked back in the mirror, and they was just standing there in front of the house, if Daddy’d had a pitchfork it would have looked like that American Gothic picture.

I checked the glove compartment, to make sure I got the $5,000 that Daddy gave me to cover me until I could find work—half of what he saved away for seed. Reckon they’ll have to get a good price for the crop, even then they’ll have to scrimp some more to plant come spring. Heading up the road, I took one last look at that hot dusty field, at the old International tractor which about wore my butt off year after year. Me, I was heading for success.

When I got the acceptance letter in the mail from The University of Kansas—the one that said I was enrolled in their agricultural program—that made Mama smile, Daddy was happy too, because if I got me some learning, I could make the farm productive.

The Brochures that come with the letter said: The University of Kansas is a major educational and research institution with more than 28,000 students and 1,900faculty members. Then it went on about the main campus in Lawerence, and about their agricultural program. I even got me one of them red Jayhawk decals. I stuck it on the windshield, down low over on the right hand side.

The radio was on loud, so I could hear the music over the wind that was whipping my hair about. I was just singing along with the songs like some damn fool, all set with my big plans. Then when I got to US-54, I headed South to State Route 5. I was hoping to make Oaklahoma City by nighttime.

I started to think about the letter and the brochures; all lies damn me. I guess I first got the idea, sitting up on that damn tractor; bouncing all over the place, sweat running down into my eyes, making streaks in the dust on my face.

I had took a creative writing class for my elective in the senior year of high school, an I done some research in the school library on writing acceptance letters. Damn, I even found samples that was almost exactly what I needed, it’s amazing how good looking a letter you can write if the school computers is hooked up to a good printer.

I sent off to the University of Kansas for the brochures to make it look real good, an here I was starting off with nothing but lies, but it set me free. The only truth I told Mama and Daddy was I’m gonna write, soon’s I can.

I had it all figured out, I was going to Hollywood. Now I ain’t no stupid wet behind the ear pretty boy. I knew I didn’t stand no chance on acting. My sights was set on bigger fish, I figured to be a director.

First got that idea when Uncle Walter visited us back a year ago. He brought along his video camera and he let me use it—tickled him real good how I was filming this, filming that. Mostly round the farm, and it was good stuff too. Other times up in Eldon, I’d get folks to say some lines. Everbody said I was good, and they was right.

OK, so I didn’t actually have no video camera yet, but I had me a plan. I got me a old Royal typewriter over at the local antique mall and I had stashed it in the trunk of the Olds, behind my box of clothes.

I figured to do some freelance writing on the way to Hollywood. Over 2,000 mile on the road, just take my time, bound to get some inspiration—an I got straight A’s in creative writing. So, what I planned to do was to think up stories as I was driving along the road all day. Then at night when I stopped to rest, I would write ‘em up with the Royal and mail ‘em off.

Wandering Hearts Magazine pays ten cent a word, and I figured by the time I reached Hollywood I’d of written maybe a hundred thousand words—worth $10,000 if I sold all of em. I’d put my Daddy’s name as the one to make the checks out to, an I’d put his address on the stamped envelopes.

I figured before long the checks would start rolling in, and by the time Daddy found out that I wasn’t at Kansas U, he could see the wisdom of what I done. And he’d get his $5,000 back, even more. He would sure be surprised.

Same time, I would start on a screenplay; pick up a video camera, and film a rough of the screenplay for the producers to see when I got there to Hollywood. I figured they would at least buy the story, maybe let me direct it. No telling what that could bring.

First day I thought up me a good story as I was driving along. Wind in my face reminded me of a tornado, so thats what I come up with.

There was this little farm town and the bank had everybody’s money—mortgages, seed loans, that sorta thing—farm folks hurting. So, the way I thought it up, this bank gets robbed and the bank manager gets shot—justice for the people. But these robbers, they was bad, so as they is making their getaway, along come this tornado. Swooped ‘em way up in the sky, car going round and round, robbers screaming their guts out. And then, their car rips apart, an all that money come floating back down out of the sky—right back to the farm folks.

I typed that up in the Motel 6 that night and mailed it off the next day.

So there I was, heading west on I-44 towards Amarillo, just thinking up my next story when I seen her. She had sandy colored hair, an was wearin’ a white dress with all kinds of flowers on it. From what I could see, there wasn’t much under the dress except her.

She was sitting on this blue suitcase along side the road, holding up her thumb. Well, I drove on by, minding my own business, but then I got to thinking. Out here all alone, she might not have real good luck with somebody else—so I turned around and went back.

Hey! I said, Looking for a ride?

Hey to you too, she looked at me, giving me the eye, you look OK, sure I would like a ride. She threw her suitcase in the back seat and got in. Name’s Bella—Annabele. She held out her hand and I shook it.

Sean Bradford I said as I pulled back onto the highway. Where you headed?

Nowhere special, just this way. She waved her hand up the highway. We drove on for a minute or two then she pointed up ahead and said Oh, there he is. That’s my boyfriend, we had car trouble. Stop and get him. OK?

I looked up the road, an I seen him, standing there just waiting, so I nodded my head, and I started to slow down. But then I took a good look, an just sticking out behind his leg, I could see the end of a lug wrench.

The way he was holding it gave me a bad feeling, so I goosed the Olds, and we went flying on by. I heard him yell Bella! as we roared outa sight. Last thing I saw in the mirror, he flung the lug wrench down on the road and it bounced back up and nearly hit him.

Now I figured to let Bella out, maybe half a mile up the road, expecting she’d be pissed at me. But she let out this whoop, and said Keep on going! Then she started to laugh.

By now whatever story I had thought up was gone, and all I could think of was getting my heart slowed back down. I looked over at her with a questioning look on my face.

She looked at me. "He isn’t my boyfriend, he’s my brother. And this was almost his car. She patted the seat. Then she looked me in the eye, He wouldn’t have hurt you though, he just wants a car."

Well that didn’t clear things up too much, so she went on to explain, and I figured I had my next story.

Bella and her brother Judd was living with their Mama on a small farm here in Oaklahoma. Their Daddy had died, and the farm was gone to weeds. But Bella’s Mama was gettin’ along on a welfare check, enough to pay the rent to the bank that owned the farm. But when her Mama up and died, the bank told em to leave when the rent checks stopped coming.

Before Bella’s Mama had died, she told Judd to watch out for his sister, and according to Bella, he done way more than that—more than was right. So for the last couple of weeks, they was out doing whatever they could to survive. Then Judd decided they was gonna steal a car an head west, maybe to Los Angeles. Bella wasn’t happy with all this, but she needed Judd, because he was all that was between her and an empty stomach.

Now I come along, and I guess I looked better to her. Anyway, she told me she was real glad I come along, and that I had figured

Judd out. She said she was afraid that if she told me what Judd was going to do, I would have put her out of the car, and then Judd would of got real mad at her.

That night, we stopped at another Motel 6, and it turned out Bella could type even faster than me. And she could spell lots better too. So, I told her the story the way I figured it out, changing the names and such, and she typed it directly as I talked. I’d like to say that there was more than typing that went on, but I could tell that Bella wasn’t of the notion, so I just left her alone, and nothing else happened.

In the morning, we stopped at a Hardee’s on the interstate and had breakfast. We was just laughing and talking like we knowed each other for years. Bella liked my plan for writing and we decided to pool our resources and go on to Hollywood together.

Then we looked out the window as this motorcycle—a big Harley—pulled up next to my Olds and stopped. Bella’s eyes got real wide and she said Ohmygosh, that’s Judd!

Sure enough, and he was looking the Olds over real good. Then he reached in the back and got Bella’s suitcase and put it on the Harley. Then he started over to the front door of the Hardee’s. I gotta admit, he didn’t look that big the first time I saw him.

When he was coming in the front door, we was already out the back. We hightailed it over to the Harley, and Bella grabbed her suitcase while I cut the sparkplug wires with my pocketknife. Then, just to be sure, I pushed the Harley over on its side.

Hey! Judd yelled, and come running across the parking lot. But the Olds started on the first turn of the key, and we slung gravel all over the parking lot.

Next couple of weeks, we spent a lot of time just driving the side roads. I wasn’t in no hurry, I had a lot of writing to do before I got to Hollywood. Besides, we figured Judd would be out on the highway looking for us, so we would just lay low.

Me and Bella hit it off real good, we made a good team. And man she really could make that old Royal fly. I’d just let my imagination run wild, all day long, and we musta drove every back road in Oaklahoma. Then at night, we would pull into a field, or into some woods. Before the sun went down, I would tell Bella my story, and she would type it up. Then we would sleep in the car with the top down.

Finally we got on over to Amarillo, and I bought me a second hand video camera. I hadn’t thought much about my screenplay, but I figured I better get to working on it. Every day we would cover some more back roads and Bella would just film everything