I have this problem. If I get an idea in my head, I eventually have to write about it. Sure, sometimes it’s as easy as throwing the idea into one of these stupid blog posts. But sometimes an idea as ridiculous as a parasitic twin running in the 2020 Republican Presidential Primary becomes a book available on Amazon for FREE through the 30th of October by clicking here.
I recently submitted a serious free verse poem and a hilarious mini story to support a local art exhibit organized by the publisher who published my first short story. However, another one of the paintings caught my eye and imagination. It was this one.
Nobody had chosen this painting to write about. I had an idea, but it was risky for me. I’ll explain why.
It was a serious idea. No Joke-Monkey Jim for this story. It was completely out of my comfort zone. I also had no idea where the idea was ultimately headed. But I wrote. You can’t take a journey without taking the first step, and you can’t write a story without writing the first word. So, I wrote, and I was pleased with the final result. In fact, I had some difficulty containing this to a sub-500 word mini story. I could have easily expanded it to a robust short story. And maybe I will do that later. I have many aches and pains these days but not writer’s cramp. For now, you can click this link to get to my three written pieces including my latest called “A Carful of Memories.”
And for you readers who may have reader’s cramp and can’t click that link, here is “A Carful of Memories.”
A Carful of Memories
The librarian lightly tapped Adam’s shoulder. “Hello? Sir?” That minimal human contact seemed to rouse Adam from his fugue state, and he slowly turned to look at her.
She continued, “I’m sorry, but the library is now closed. You’ll have to leave. Did you miss the announcement? Are you okay? Do you need any help?”
Adam was unaware of how long he had been transfixed by the painting of the car in the library’s current art exhibit. “I’m … I’m … so sorry. No help needed. This painting, uh, kinda captured my attention. It’s just that, oh, never mind. You’re closing, closed. I’ll leave now. Sorry. Sorry.”
The next day, Adam appeased his nagging curiosity and did a quick internet check. He found that the car shown in the painting was located just over an hour’s drive south of Memphis, where he would be on a business trip the following week. Adam found the urge impossible to resist. While on his trip, he planned to take a short detour to Clarksdale, Mississippi after work one night. Adam just had to get a close look at that car.
When Adam finally found himself in front of the car painted to advertise the Delta Blues Alley Café, he was unsure of anything and everything. Adam had been so certain that he had once owned that car. The mismatched hubcaps in the painting synced with Adam’s recollection perfectly. But it had been so many years, decades even, that Adam and Shonni had been riding around in maybe that car as they started their life together. As he squinted in through the car’s windows, nothing looked familiar, except for his memories of Shonni sitting in their car’s passenger seat, her laughter making her even more beautiful.
As Adam drove back to his modest business hotel in Memphis, he killed some time by calling the number he had dialed so many times before. It was after work hours and safe to call.
“Call Shonni Green,” Adam directed his phone. He was rewarded with the message he wanted to hear. The message he needed to hear.
“Thank you for calling Fischer Industries. This is Shonni Westerburg. I can’t take your call right now. Please leave me a message at the tone.”
A small piece of Adam’s heart was carved away each time he heard Shonni using her new husband’s surname. But it was a price he was willing to pay in order to hear her voice. Adam hung up before the tone sounded and redialed.
Well, that was depressing. My wife told me it made her sad. Yes! I can now shed my Joke-Monkey Jim persona and declare myself a serious writer. In the future, I will make people sad instead of happy with my writing, although I already do that now on this blog with some posts that bomb. Is that a good thing? Am I a bad guy? Oops, wrong bit.
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 
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