“The Fool’s Errand” ***Author’s note: This is the second installation of a small fiction project I have been working on. I will post portions of the story during 2018, so stay tuned. Below is part two. Click here for chapters one and two of part one.*** Chapter three: The Crumbling Cathedral –Late autumn 2019; four months before the Deserter’s Dying Declaration– The assembled militia guzzled coffee in the church gymnasium. The general had taken a big risk to muster the entire group, save for the patrols out at the time, in one place. He sensed dissension and wanted to deal with it head-on. So close, he thought, our time is so close. Stemming the tide on internal quarrels as their time to act approached outweighed the chance of the Invaders locating and maybe bombing the church. The men assembled, and the general’s keen eye noticed that the men divided themselves into two groups. On one side, behind a few officers, sat two-thirds of the militia. Behind him sat the remaining third. After roll call, the general asked if anyone would like to speak. The militiamen were not surprised by the general’s informality. He began most musters in this fashion. Normally…Continue reading The Fool’s Errand–Part One, Chapter Three

“The Fool’s Errand” ***Author’s note: Here is a small fiction project I have been working on for fun. I will post portions of the story during 2018, so stay tuned. Below is part one.*** Chapter one: The Deserter’s Dying Declaration Tim Meyer woke up an hour before the late winter sun’s first rays. Fifty miles, he thought. Just fifty miles. Almost every morning the thought woke him. He and the other men in the militia finally obtained the information they needed. They had the answer. Finally, he thought, at long last we have it. Now the fifty miles. After months of pain and agony, they might end the fighting. Stop this awful bloodshed, he thought. Tim kissed his sleeping wife and left the bedroom. Opening a door to the outside, he retrieved a jug from the snow filled with frozen coffee. Throwing another log into the stove, he warmed the coffee and drank it. No cream like . . . before, he thought, but still: hot coffee. In between sips, he thought of the other guys in the militia. Does it wake them up early too? he wondered. Does the fifty miles consume them? And, for the thousandth time he…Continue reading The Fool’s Errand–Part One, Chapters One and Two

After my morning walk with the dog, which the cold and wind had made quite a slog, I saw eight bags under the tree in my yard, through my mind’s morning fog. Each bag had a tag, what a sight I shan’t brag, but overnight, it appeared, Santa’d visited this stag. I looked at one tag ‘fore I tore in to the bag. What I saw would have stunned all my relation. I looked at my dog and exclaimed, “tarnation!” You see, each bag had a tag, and they said “For donation.” “Boy, to get through this, I’ll need a libation.” I ran to the house just as fast as a mare, rifled through my drawers and wanted to swear. “Where are all my old clothes?” I thought with despair. Then it dawned on me as my drink I did pour; I’d seen a man with bags the night before. Not Santa, but like him this man was portly I’d tried so hard to act covertly. I cursed myself and then I swore, “The man with the bags was me,”  I said curtly. . . . Each bag had a tag, and they said “For donation.” These gifts will help…Continue reading “Each bag had a tag”