Late For Work

Assignment; Short story on man attacking a police officer while his vehicle is being towed.

When Alex woke the day began like many previous mornings; hitting snooze once then grabbing his bag and heading to the gym. After a quick shower and coffee he jumped into his truck just as the skies opened and biting rain drove hard against his wind-shield. “Well, no matter”, thought Alex, “it is a fitting way to begin November”.

He flipped to his favorite radio station and backed out of the driveway.

‘looks like the rain is here to stay today’ said a jaunty voice, so let’s hear you call in with some of your favorite rainy day songs’ then, as they filled in with a commercial, Alex flipped to the local news station. Simultaneously he felt, heard and saw something hit the side of his truck. Coming to a screeching stop he jammed the truck into park and jumped out.

A Mennonite woman, eyes wild with fear was trying to calm her spooked horse.

“Whoa there, easy there”, she cried, and the horse reared again while she pulled back with all her might.

“Take it easy now” Alex approached the horse, noting there were no visible injuries. He still wasn’t sure what happened but the horse slowly was settling down a little, sensing that whatever startled him seemed to be over.

‘Hello’, Alex turned to the woman dressed in traditional Mennonite dark coat. She was drenched and her teeth were chattering as she tried to answer.

“Are you okay?” asked Alex.

“I think so”, she nodded.  “Your truck mirror hit the side of my buggy. There’s no shoulder on this road and I couldn’t get off to the side any farther without running off the road.”

“The rain was coming down so hard that I never saw you at all”, said Alex. The sound of sirens caught their attention. Obviously someone had already notified the police. Two cruisers topped the hill, slowing suddenly at the sight of them. Turning on their flashers they pulled over.

Both officers, Alex noticed immediately, were young enough to be his sons. With chests puffed out they strutted over with the authority that only a uniform and gun could boast.

Approaching Alex first they asked what happened and Alex told them all he could remember. “May I see your driver’s license and registration please?” something about his cockiness rubbed Alex the wrong way but the more he co-operated the sooner he would be less late for work. He handed it over and one officer returned to his car to run them through the system. The other officer was speaking to the lady. Alex sat in his truck feeling sorry for the woman, thankful that no one was hurt, but at the same time feeling his frustration level escalate as he realized this was taking much too long. The officer tapped on his window.

Sir, he said, I need you to step into my car for a little bit”.

“I don’t understand” said Alex. The young cop replied, “That’s okay, you just do what I say and there will be no trouble” Now this guy was really getting on his nerves! “I hate to tell you that I’ve called a tow-truck” the officer continued, “but there are some unpaid parking fines and you do not have your ownership signed. Also, your sticker on your plate is not valid though a quick check confirms you have paid for them.

So, what’s the real problem?” asked Alex.

“The real problem, mister, is that you almost killed a horse and a woman!”(a horse and women that had proceeded on their way some time ago) This young whipper-snapper cop really irritated him, especially the faint smirk as if he was sort of bored and looking to see how far he could push him under the guise of Professional Manners’.

Alex wasn’t sure if it was the way he emphasized Mister or if it was his two-bit strut but something suddenly seized him and he grabbed the officer by the scruff of his uniform. The officer, taken completely off-guard scrambled to grab his gun but Alex’s years at the gym were no match for Young Whipper-Snapper. Suddenly Whipper-Snapper’s training kicked in as well as his partner and the next thing Alex knew he was looking at the ground from beneath one officer’s knee while the other officer cuffed him and read him his rights. He turned his head in time to see the wheels of his truck go by as the tow truck pulled away…

He was definitely going to be late for work.

© Janet Martin

Weird (homework assignment)

 Weird

Number thirteen was my pick
Glynis's answer came quick
A weird day in your work place
One topic I'd like to erase

Laughter filled the room
Oh could I zoom
To another day, another meeting
My cheeks in danger of over heating

Every day is weird
This topic I feared
Would expose what its really like
I'd much rather take a long hike

Strange things happen overnight
Things that just aren't right
Prices disappear from the deli scale
The departments looks like its been hit by a gale

Wind whistles through the door
Leaving snow on the floor
The floor mops have developed legs
Hidden out back behind the kegs

Students are a no show
They will lack in dough
When pay cheques are written out
That's for sure, without a doubt

The lunch room lights
Are just not right
Most days they are clear and bright
Others as dark as a starless night

Shelves, racks and bins
Have developed fins
They swim to other parts of the store
Maybe their permanent spot had become a bore

Bananas with French bread
Put their by Fred
Who changed his mind and went
Home to pay his overdue rent

There is so much more
But it is really a bore
Things that I think are weird
Would make your eyes teared

Come see me at work
But do not lurk
Just wink, nod, smile or wavc
I'll try my very best to behave.

Writers Unite (poetry assignment)

Writers group, what a delight
Meeting with like minded people
Sharing the written word

Janet pens inspirational poetry
Bev journals from the heart
Sue's writing a quilling book
Andy's contains environmental issues

Glynis, our fearless leader
Teaches this motley crew
With passion, perfection and love

Who am I amongst these
A unique scribe- a story teller
God directs my pen
As words flow onto paper

I'm not like anyone else
Nor do I plan to be
Content with who I am

The Tale of a Man Names Lou

Once, in a land of Lubadoo

There lived a man that folks called Lou

Now Lou, in everybody’s eyes

Was perceived to be very wise

And often times with nodding head

They all agreed to what Lou said.

Lou lived in a gray castle tall

And roses climbed the old stone wall

In lovely red, year after year

The bloom of roses would appear

And many paused to gaze in awe

At the red roses that they saw

One day in restless discontent

Lou stopped to smell their perfumed scent

He shouted, “Hear what I’ll tell you

These red roses are really blue!”

Folks shook there heads at what Lou said

For how can blue one day be red?

But Lou walked up and down the street

And every day he would repeat
 That what was red is really blue

And slowly folks agreed with Lou

For wasn’t Lou still, after all

The wise man in that castle tall?

Then came that sad and solemn day

When Lou was old and passed away

The mourners stood out on the street

Where rose-petals fell at their feet
 They told their children ‘here lived Lou

Who taught us red is really blue’

Now no one questions anymore

What they had all believed before

As generation rise and fall

Blue roses climb the castle wall

It seems they never, ever knew

These roses were not always blue

Time’s centuries have come about

And no one stops to think or doubt

For who can say red is not blue?

Nobody here has heard of Lou

Or how one day he simply said

'These roses are not really red'

…and visitors are mystified

To hear folk speak with love and pride

At these blue roses; how they’ve grown

Year after year against the stone

For no one here remembers Lou
Or wonders that red is not blue

The moral of this little tale

Is simply this; Truth does not fail

Though generations come and go

The truth remains unchanged and so

Before we teach that red is blue

We should make sure that it is true

Be careful then that none deceive

Lest generations thus believe

A vile untruth told to be true

For those red roses are not blue

Yet everyone within their youth

Were taught what others thought was truth

This is the poem I wrote for our homework assignment.

Of Friends...

After all is said and done

And this small life draws to an end

Our dearest worth upon this earth

Must surely be that of a friend

Life’s road yawns into the unknown

With many a trying twist and bend

Yet darkest miles are warm with smiles

If we can share them with a friend

‘To have a friend we must be one’

This truth is surely ages-old

And oh, the measure of its treasure

Cannot in humble words be told

For friends, in spite of us, are true

Seeing beyond the veil of skin

They weep and laugh and pray with you

To fill the empty cup within

…so, after all is said and done

Regardless of what life may send

The dearest, rarest, purest wealth

Is ever found within a friend

© Janet Martin

I re-posted this from my other blog:)

You guys are the best<3

Dedicated to my dear friends at Writer's Unite. 

You enrich my life more than mere word can tell.

Thank-you.

Hello all,

I am posting the link to a few things I was going to share...My experience of 'life in a small town' and also the poem being published in the Nov. edition of Wisdom Crieth Without.

Park Street in July.I stayed with My Grandma one summer when I was 15. That is my experience of 'small town life'. *Crash, mentioned in the poem got married a few years ago and resides in Elmira:)

This is the poem in the magazine. They told me I would get a complimentary copy and ten dollars!

Time's Swift Ride...a sonnet

Story Sparker...(Homework for June) by Janet

*Story Sparker

How many times did she need to say it? Suppressing the urge to scream at the man, Kelly tossed her auburn hair back and bit the bullet.
“Thank you for doing this.”
Her pasted on smile did not match the ache in her heart. It had been three years. Three years spent faking; pretending; lying. She felt as if her head would explode.

Her forced gratitude as he lay aside the tea towel did not distract him from his cause.

‘No amount of planning can prepare you for the real deal.’ She suddenly recalled her co-worker’s words the week before her wedding. Words she could not grasp at the moment, but three years later, fully understood.

His unflinching glare devoured her attempt at a cool composure. Ignoring her feigned gratitude he repeated the question, “Do you love me? Say it. Go ahead and repeat what you said!”

Her hands shook as she twisted the dish cloth and wiped the counter for the fifth time, trying to steady her voice. “I simply said, yes, I love you, but I don’t like you…anymore”.

There! She had said it. Her words hit hard, like a hammer driving in the reality of hopeless despair.

The silence hung between them, an invisible wall fortified by years of tears, tempers and torment.

How does one begin again? Words cannot be unspoken and years cannot be undone. The ticking clock offered no counsel. The sun fell in golden bars across the wooden kitchen floor where they stood miles apart.

Never in a million years had she dreamed that it would be like this. Never, in her wildest dreams had she fathomed the depths that bitterness and resentment could fill. She studied the face that once she had memorized in crazy fantasies and now approached with uncertainty and…fear?

Home… the word played on her tongue and she rolled it in her cheek trying to feel it; home…the word that should suggest heaven conjured confusing suggestions of hell.

Her eyes wandered to the framed needlework above the door, lovingly stitched by a starry-eyed teenage dreamer ‘Home, sweet home’.

Tears fell, in golden shatters on the sun-patched floor…