WEP Please Read the Letter #WEPFF Flash Fiction Story Scene

https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2022/05/wep-june-challenge-is-on-with-more.html

This month's prompt is based on Please Read the Letter by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss - a break up song and a moving plea for understanding at the termination of a relationship. Neither of these musicians need an introduction of course, both have umpteen awards to their names individually. The album Raising Sand where the track is included is a platinum with more than a million sold. The song was first composed and recorded by Robert Plant and Jimmy Page and appeared on their album Walking into Clarksdale in 1998. It was rerecorded later again by Plant and Krauss in 2007 and was well received by critics. It went on to win the Grammy for the Record of the Year in 2009.

I never heard this song before, or of Plant or Krauss. Guess I live under a rock.

Anywho, I am using a scene from my WIP. (Another scene was in Write Club. Round 10) It's political fiction. Bess is the main character and narrator. Her name doesn't come up in this scene. Here's a glimpse at part of her character sketch.


The scene opens with Bess lounging on the upper deck of her house. https://www.pinterest.com/JamieWriter7/double-deck-porch/ I don't know how common double decks are around the world. Better setting descriptions are in the main story. So there's a link to one of my Pinterest boards, in case you've never seen a multi-story deck and are having a difficult time picturing this. It isn't very different from a balcony, except there are stairs outside that link it to a deck, porch, or patio below.

Konnor is exactly two years older than Bess. (He was born Jan 30, 2001. She was born Jan 30, 2003.) Riq has been his friend since childhood. There's some conflict as Riq (and his family) are part of a Christian terrorist group that claims it's a church; whereas Konnor has been exploring Wicca.

The actual story opens in May 2020. This scene takes place somewhere between June to July 2021. 😷 Bess is vaccinated and wears a mask. Konnor and Riq are opposed to Covid protections and are anti-vaxxers. However, Konnor has agreed to keep six feet apart from his sister because her doctors made a big stink about how vulnerable her craniopharyngioma makes her to Covid-19. This scene is NOT ABOUT Covid, but when you see how the siblings move around each other, well, that's why. 

Trigger warning: There is a pro-life/ pro-choice abortion mention. The place mentioned is based on a real location in my area where real protestors were really charged after assaulting a real person. 

Tagline: Hate jumps to conclusions. 
Scene Title: No Longer Yours
Author: Jamie 
Words: 984  FCA

When we were little, I nicknamed Riq "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," after the story of the mongoose. I stopped calling him that when he was about fourteen and I was thirteen. He got weird around me, which is difficult to describe. I felt uncomfortable around him and avoided being alone together. I attempted to talk to mom about it, but she didn't process what I was saying. She went on about what a nice boy he is. Told me that he mowed his grandfather's lawn. 

If today, Riq doesn't want his conversation with my brother overheard, they can go elsewhere. Or tell me to buzz off, as usual. I'm not intentionally eavesdropping. I'm lounging on the upper deck, clearly visible to anyone below who happens to look up.

Riq hands a red envelope to Konnor. "I need you to deliver this tomorrow after I'm gone."

Konnor turns it over. "What is it?"

"I was going to leave it nailed to Valentina's door. But I don't know if I want her parents or siblings to find it. Part of me does. I want to go to her father and tell him why I've broken up with her. Let him deal with that mess."

"What? You're breaking up with your girl?" Konnor puts the letter on the lid of the grill.

"I was going to propose before I leave for Montana. That's when I ran into Mike Bog at the pawn shop."

"The pawn shop?" My brother asks the dumbest questions. Ask why he's breaking up with her!

"Yeah. Figured I could afford a ring there. Anyway, you know how Mike is always protesting and preaching, trying to get people to follow The Word?"

Konnor nods as he scratches his black nail polish.

"He told me things. In fact, he pulled out his phone and showed me proof. Bro, she's been cheating on me. Giving it up to some guy. And then…" Riq hangs his head. "I can't say it. I'm ashamed for her, and of her, and of myself for having dated her. There's no way I can break up with her face to face. I'm too angry, too disgusted. I've been chewing on it for a week."

"Explains why you blew us off on the weekend. Man, that sucks. I thought you two were rock solid. She hook up with someone we know? Anyone I need to keep from sniffing around here?" Konnor tilts his head, motioning to my room, toward the deck I'm sitting on. 

Riq looks up to where Konnor indicated. He spots me and scowls. "How long you been spying on us?"

My spine snaps straight and the hair on my arms rises to attention. "What?" I tug at my ears, pulling out earbuds that aren't really there. "Couldn't hear you?"

"I asked what you're listening to."

"Expectations by Three Days Grace." Yes, I just went with one of my favorite songs. Riq's eyes narrow, then he turns his attention back to my brother.

"I don't know. Talk to Mike if you want. I know you two don't run in the same circles much. Or ask the traitor when you drop that off tomorrow."

Konnor nods. "Keep in touch, yeah?"

They do that guy handshake and half-hug move before Riq leaves. Konnor carries the envelope inside. 

____

I head downstairs to grab dinner. The red envelope is on the steps. "Please Read This" is written on the front. I know it isn't for me, but how can I resist such an invitation?

Valentina, 

Mike Bog saw you at the Women's Clinic on South Commerce. You've been cheating on me. Worse yet, you killed a baby to hide evidence that you cheated and that you aren't a virgin. I could maybe forgive the cheating. I could even maybe forgive you for breaking our vow to wait for each other until we got married. But abortion? I don't know who you are anymore. We don't share the same values. I suspected as much when you went out and got that godless vaccine. Prayer alleviates all and prevents diseases. If your faith was strong enough, you wouldn't need a vaccine, and wouldn't be having relations outside of marriage. 

“Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” - 1 Corinthians 6:19-20

You reap what you sow. I need more in a woman than you can give me. Faith, trust, and fidelity; all qualities I no longer believe you have or value. Our relationship is over. Please do not contact me.

No longer yours, 

Riq

"Put it down!" Konnor hisses when he finds me. 

"Sorry. I saw an envelope that said to read— "

"I know what it says! It isn't for you. Put it down." He takes a step closer. I double-check my mask before setting the letter and envelope on the steps. "He's wrong, you know."

"Riq can break up in a letter if he wants. Not your business."

I come down the steps. Konnor and I keep six feet apart as we switch spots, him heading upstairs. "Valentina goes there for laser hair removal."

"What?" Konnor folds the letter and eases it back into the envelope. "You don't know anything about this."

"Okay. If you say so. But I'm right. It takes a couple of months to do a spot." I place my finger above my lip. "Guess Riq isn't much of a kisser if he didn't notice the change."

"Who would go to an abortion clinic for hair removal?"

I shrug. "Who would call a hair removal place an abortion clinic? The Women's Clinic on South Commerce has lots of other health services. That's like calling a grocery store a magazine stand. Technically you can buy magazines there, but that's not their primary revenue."

Commandments

 I am extremely grateful for my beliefs.

I am grateful that I believe in a grand creator who is the most intelligent being in existence. One who not only knows science, but created it. And thus, to be made in the image of such a being would mean that learning and understanding is a way to honor that maker.

There are those who believe they need only look out for themselves. That they are, in fact, commanded to only look out for themselves, and as a reward for turning their backs on others (strangers, co-workers, friends, family, all living creatures), they'll be rewarded with protection from their maker. In fact, even when that fails to prove true, it's just their own fault for not believing hard enough that their maker wants them to not give a crap about the wellbeing of others. Their maker is all, "feel apathetic about your neighbor" and "killing is fine as long as you're okay and trust I'll save you eventually," and of course, "honor your father and mother, but don't do things that'll keep them alive or whatever, because you're only supposed to feel anything about Me and yourself and that's it." 

I'm glad I'm not a believer in that. Sounds like a bubble of isolation. 

I also believe that if the help one asks their maker to send is given, that not taking such help is spitting in the face of the maker. 

I'm dancing around my point.

Saying Psalm 91 is a reason not to get vaccinated is sacrilegious. I'm not super religious, but that's offensive. That's telling Jesus he was wrong to heal or help others because they should have been left alone, and if they were faithful enough they'd be okay. Screw everyone. That's saying there's an asterisk next to "love thy neighbor" and "thou shall not kill" because you believe God wants you to be a carrier and infect others. Including infecting your own parents if they're immunocompromised. Like Jesus would have seen Mary ...and she'd have cancer or something and he'd have been all,  "not my problem, and here's some leprosy to speed it along.

I'm offended. I'm offended to the point that I want a new name for my faith. Or maybe to convert. I just don't want to be lumped in with these people.

Which I imagine a lot of people feel. Not just of this faith. Plenty of Muslims probably want no ties with certain terrorists. I'd like the Klan and Nazism to not share a faith base with my beliefs. 

I know what I believe. I know that intentional mistranslated text offends me too. Plenty of that. 

I'm tired. Real tired. I want to fight, but I don't have enough in me to take it all on. 

But I'm vaccinated. And I'm proud of that. And when I die, if my maker sees fit to condemn me for NOT harming or killing others, for not infecting my neighbors, and opts to send me to eternal torture for it, so be it. 

The Regret Scream #WEPFF #WEP Flash Fiction and Memorial Obituaries

This part isn't my entry, but it is an excerpt from the project I plan to work on during NaNoWriMo this year, and it includes a scream:


Link to my NaNoWriMo project.

During Covid-19, a teen craniopharyngioma survivor masks and vaccinated, but her family is opposed. She's dead to them for using precautions. But is she ACTUALLY dead?

When I had craniopharyngioma I wondered what might happen if I died. What would it be like for my birthday-twin brother on our birthday? Or for our parents?
Well, now I know.



Onto the entry:

Where this Scream story came from--

💭

I had a f🤬ked up dream nightmare that the antimaskers won. And everyone just gave up on fighting Covid. The death toll was 80 million a year worldwide, but everyone was okay with it. "We're fighting global warming! The bodies of the dead are keeping us warm!" Public places, like malls and museums, were buying dead bodies to burn. People were the new firewood. Except there were scientists on tv pleading, "the zeta variant can be transmitted after death. The burning bodies are spreading the virus. We will go extinct!"

😷

#tagline = The Regret Scream is a dystopian flash fiction where Covid is also spread by burning infected bodies, and an antimasker commits manslaughter.

993 words FCA

---

The Regret Scream

Smoke rises from old chimneys, darkening the air and dirtying the laundry that had been hung out to dry. I cough, hack, and wheeze while pulling my bedsheets from the clothesline. My neighbor watches from her porch. I know she wants to yell that I ought to wear a mask. She was always Covid-shaming people in our neighborhood. That's outlawed talk now. I nod to her, giving a smirk the equivalent of a middle finger.

A bell rings as a cart comes to my street. I head to the curb.

"Bring out your dead!" The bell chimes again as the cart nears. It stops at my house. "Anyone for me today, Jimbo?"

I shake my head. "I can't believe you're doing this job."

Nurse Falcone rings his bell again. "Eh, beats the old days. No one vomits on me, I don't empty bedpans, and there are no complaints when I take a bathroom break."

We wave goodbye. In the former times, I delivered flowers. Nurse Falcone was often on duty when I dropped off my daily bouquets. Then the vaccine mandate for healthcare workers was enacted and he quit. When the mandate was expanded to delivery folk, I quit too. Weren't many flowers going anywhere but funeral homes by then anyway.

I take the bus to my sister's place. This transport is too loud, always has been. But since it runs on renewables, it's one of the few things that works anymore. I miss my car. Gasoline prices topped out at $30 a gallon, a price beyond what anyone could afford, so the stations mostly shut down. The bus passes what was once an Exxon station. Valdez seemed like the worst they'd deal with once. Graffiti of colorful curse words shows that worse came to pass. The company went bankrupt, laying off the surviving six thousand employees. They claimed the other eight thousand had died in under a year. Probably a bluff to get a government bailout. We can't afford their gasoline so they take our tax dollars instead. Typical! 

Cans and fishing line try to trip me up as I approach my sister's place. Boobytraps to keep people away from her door. She's unhinged, but she's my sister.

"Trish! It's Wednesday," I holler while knocking on her door. 

An upstairs window slides open. "Yeah? There been a change?"

I roll my eyes. "No. That mean you're still not gonna let me in? I came across town on one of those stupid busses. Have a meal with your only brother."

"And then who would take care of our only mother? Bad enough you have me opening this window."

"It isn't airborne you tool! Stop buying into the propaganda. Come on, it's just dinner."

Why did I come here? I fold my hands over my head as she sobs. "I can't. I want to, but it isn't safe. Please get vaccinated and quarantine in the tent so I can let you in. Mom and I miss you."

Stupid sheep. Before she can protest, I leap up a tree and climb to her window. "Stop living in fear. You and mom need to get out."

I yank down her mask, kiss her nose, and then drop back down to the door. She screams and cries as I walk away. 

She'll see. When she's fine in a week, two weeks, maybe a month. She'll see the world isn't dangerous, and neither am I.

No dinner here, so I trudge down to the mall. Flopping onto a bench, I wait for my coughing fit to end. Probably just thirsty. 

The mostly abandoned former shopping mecca looms before me. Half of it is an assisted living facility, and part is apartments, but the food court is thriving. The major chains all went under, crying that they couldn't get workers. People rather starve than work. Acting like a line cook and a CEO both deserve enough pay for a big house, childcare, food, medical care, and whatever else. Now those former line cooks are bodies in the fire pit. Everything is roasted over them. I get a squab and squash skewer to eat on the bus ride home.

~

Fourteen days pass. There's a knock on my door. 

"Jim Bobalda?" Two medical officers in bio-suits ask. 

"Yeah?" They require a swab and fingerprints verification. The machine beeps and a red light comes on. "What? Am I not me?"

"Sir, you're infected. Probably got it from a burning body. Are you vaccinated? Wear a mask?"

"Hell no I ain't vaccinated." I rip off my shirt, showing my tattoo. "Face Freedom Force! No masks."

The officers exchange glances and take a step back before consulting their device again. "We've come to inform you of the death of your mother and sister. Based on this swab, you carry the strand they were infected by. Did you have contact?"

"What?" My knees give out.

"Contact. Have you had contact in the last five to twenty days?"

"Yeah. Trish and I were supposed to have dinner two weeks ago. She didn't let me in though."

They exchange glances. "No mask?"

I press my forehead to the ground. This can't be real. It can't be true. I hear them repeat the question, but they're a million miles away.

Someone grabs my arm. There's a siren in the distance. Someone says they're the police.

"What?" I say again, hoping I heard wrong. That my family isn't dead, isn't gone.

Metal tightens against my wrist. 

"A security camera caught it. He infected them. Can't make these types vaccinate or wear a mask, but certainly can haul them away for manslaughter."

Miranda rights are recited three times as I'm carted off. 

Trish and mom are probably in a cart. Bodies sold by whoever found them. I can't even say goodbye.

"No!" I hear the scream. It isn't until my throat aches that I realize I'm the one screaming. I grab my face. If only I had worn a mask.

---

I know two people who are battling multiple myeloma right now. 😕
I mentioned last WEP that two of my relatives have serious cancer. Well, one of them, that's the kind of cancer. The other was brain cancer, which was my mother-in-law, and she has now passed away.
Frankly, I've had enough of death. My brother-in-law died of an infection. 19 days later, my mom had a heart attack and died 💔, and 19 days after that is when my mother-in-law died. 
So I'm done. 
None of my writing right now is especially "good." It's anger and pain. This is me, SCREAMING.

My brother called me that morning to say my dad was taking my mom to the hospital because she was feeling a little weird, weak and dizzy. She was diabetic and it was early, so I thought maybe just low blood sugar. 🍪 I thought they'd feed her a cookie and she'd be okay. But then I got this text from my dad. And I screamed "WHAT" for nearly an hour. 

I drafted the first half of this post before the triple-death-blows. I'm going to attempt Nano, but I'm not as amped up about it as usual. If I manage to write at all, that'll be a "win" to me. 

In memory:

(Some of you also know my husband's cousin, J Lenni Dorner. Obviously he was related, distantly, too, and is also devastated by these losses.)

#POEM Bullets or Blood Cells #WEP #WEPFF

https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2021/08/wep-2021-continues-artistic-inspiration.html

I haven't written poetry in almost two decades. Which is odd, since I was very dedicated to it before. Won awards and everything. 
My life is very messed up right now. My soul hurts. I have two immediate family members who found out they have very serious cancer THIS MONTH. Oh, and it's my 42 birthday on Saturday. 🎂

So I know this isn't very good. I know there's basically nothing left inside me. 

I'd like to have this freeform poem in decent enough shape to turn into a sharable image. That's my goal. So if you spot an error in grammar or spelling, or have a simple word substitution type suggestion, I'm open.  234 words
I am in America.
This isn't going to be award-winning. This is more that I'm screaming into the void and am SO TIRED of fighting misinformed people. Freedom of Speech is me writing this and publishing it, sharing it with you. Sort of an abstract take on the prompt.

😷💉 Put the mask on and get the vaccine if you can!

- Jamie

🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 

SARS-CoV-2 is an abbreviation for severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2, also known as Covid-19 for Dec 2019 when it was first identified in; sometimes shortened to Covid or The Covid.

50 nm to 140 nm - That's the size of the Covid virus. One nanometer (1 nm) is equal to 0.000000001 meter.

🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ 🛈💁ℹ

Bullets or Blood Cells
 

What if Covid wasn't so small? 

Nanometers are invisible to the naked eye. 

We cannot harm them with our full-size weapons.

No wooden stake, silver bullet, or iron sword will pierce it.

Yet it can harm us.

To death. To extinction. 

It floats on the air.

Or lies on a surface there. 

Waiting.

Created with a patience 

Beyond what most humans possess.

What if it was larger?

Visible to the eye.

The size of a rat or a soda can.

What then would people do?

Would there be a vaccine?

Training instructions for our own cells inside.

Would you decide to get two shots?

Or load your gun

And fire at will?

How many Americans would not be dead 

If Covid could be seen?

If the NRA held rallies 

To kill the virus clean?

Which side of the aisle 

Might we stand on then

If bearing arms was the savior instead?

What if it were bee size?

If it were an insect with a head.

The government would spray 

To cover all our ground

But for two weeks you'd need to stay indoors 

And masks need be worn

Would you quarantine then?

But Covid is not big,

Though its impact is.

That which we cannot shoot 

Is considered fake to many

We won't send a blood cell

In our gun hands' stead

Better that we wait and die

Covid wins in the end?

- Jamie Aug 2021

Rant About Lack of Masks and Caring for Others

Crossposting to my blog because I'm sure Facebook will take my rant away.

“Adding a layer of nylon stocking over the masks minimized the flow of air around the edges of the masks and improved particle filtration efficiency for all masks,” the authors wrote in the study.

The nylon outer layer was able to increase the filtering capability of homemade cloth masks to match or even exceed that of medical-grade surgical masks; however, not the in-demand N95 respirators.

The health agency recommends that masks be made of at least two layers of fabric. They will also be more beneficial if a paper towel or coffee filter is put inside a sewn-in pocket on the mask.

source

"When in doubt about the quality of your mask material, conduct the light test, Segal advised. Hold up your fabric to the light, and check if you can see the individual fibers in it. If you can, it's likely too thin to provide adequate protection."
- source

My other rant is about this mask in this picture. 😷 "I'm wearing a mask!" Yeah... you're wearing a stocking that wouldn't even cover you enough to confuse the facial recognition from a Facebook algorithm, much less block a virus. Just because you think you aren't a carrier doesn't mean you aren't. 

 

Fear

A friend of mine is doing this 31 questions in March blogging writing challenge (https://marquessamatthews.com/2021/02/10/want-to-join-me-for-a-writing-challenge-alexandrafranzen/). I don't know if I'll manage to do the whole month. 

March 2 – Do you have any irrational fears?

Irrational? I don't know. 

Most of my fears are things that legit could kill me. 

"A phobia is an irrational fear of something that's unlikely to cause harm. "

For example, here's what scared the 💩 crap out of me today:

Yes, I know how to take a screenshot. But as I read this, I had a panic attack. I messaged two friends to say I was having a panic attack. I took a picture of my screen to add to the message. And then sat here and cried as my chest felt like a 🚚 truck 🚛 was parked on me. 

I rescheduled my dental appointment for September. 

Sorry, Stephen King, but THIS is the scariest thing I've ever read in my life.

And if that makes me irrational... so be it.

Value Life Over Profits

THIS!!!

And trolly company replies, "our service is necessary, we're allowed to keep running even when there are people on the tracks, even if there's no one in the car."

For more context and thoughts:

The cartoon is based on an old psychology experiment where a train (or trolly or whatever) comes to a split in the path. If it goes left, it kills 100 people who you've never met. If it goes right, it kills ten people you know. The experiment is to determine if you'd kill more strangers to save your own people. (Just to be difficult, there's a whole group of people that answer they'd throw themselves down so it would kill them and save everyone else.)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trolley_problem

This cartoon is mocking companies who value profits over people (The Trolly Company), and the people who are okay with it (the guy at the switch).

It's not about an actual trolly. Or about actual life-sustaining businesses. It's about the places that have found legal loopholes to stay open, risking lives, when they could close.

My husband works for a company. The entire company is exempt, nationwide, from being shut down. He works in a warehouse that ONLY houses very expensive office furniture. They are open because 1) the company is exempt 2) Warehouses are exempt 3) Some high-end medical places have bought furniture in the past that was shipped from this location, therefore it's a medical necessity.

Have you ever been to a doctor and concluded, "if the chairs here don't cost more than $300 each, I will die"? Ever looked at the desk in a doctor's office and decided that if the doctor didn't spend at least $2000 on that desk, that you will drop dead? Not exam tables. Just the really nice stuff in the rooms where patients don't normally go.

No. Of course not. Because that's ridiculous. And if the world had to go on without new office furniture for two-weeks, no one would die.

But the world isn't going without it. And at least one co-worker of my husband's is in the hospital with the virus right now, fighting for his life. His life, which is worth LESS THAN SOME FANCY CHAIRS AND TABLES.

And that's why I shared this meme.

Actually, I could go on about the stupid job my mom is doing that is also labeled as "life-sustaining," which zero people would ever die from if someone didn't do it. Or the job my brother is doing, which could be life-sustaining because they could make medical equipment, but are they?

There are companies using legal loopholes. I think that's wrong.

Then there's Bath & Body Works who could stay open because they sell soap and sanitizer, but they closed and are paying their people because they care. <3 And that's the example that ought to be followed. Stay open only if you really are needed, not stay open because you found a loophole and can now risk lives.

As long as you value profits over the lives of people, you can find a loophole to stay open when you're not really life-sustaining. But good luck making money off the dead. And better luck taking that money with you to Hell.#FlattenTheCurve #COVIDー19

— JamieWriter (@PenMinion) March 23, 2020