The Drowning Machine
A wave taller than any I'd encountered rose in the nighttime air. I hopped on my boogie board and made sure I got Roger's attention as waves carried me in and dumped me at water's edge.
I stood, laughed, and looked at Roger. “How 'bout that?”
“I don't know,” he said. “Should we quit? Thad thinks so.”
“No way.” I said and high stepped into the ocean as water lashed my calves and rushed to shore. “This is great.” I sprinted back out and as I stretched to dive in, a huge clap like an earth tremor shook me, clouds on the horizon lurching. I twisted in the water, boogie board lost. Another wave splashed my shoulders and pushed me back. I cackled at it, thrilled by the speed at which it carried me to shore.
We were the only guests on the beach in Ocean City, New Jersey, place dormant for several weeks, when summer season began. Friends Roger and Allison talked Thad, Christian, and I into coming out.
“They're chicken,” Allison had said at our apartment with a bray of laughter associated from too much alcohol.
Roger waved us to the car. “Let's get going. Got your boogie boards? I'm bringing my surfboard.” The fin stuck out of his Jeep's back end.
Thad combed his short hair back. “I don't know. No one's there, no lifeguards, nothing. Water'll be cold.” He examined the evening sky. “It'll be dark shortly.”
“Aw, c'mon. Christian, you're not going to let him spoil our graduation party, are ya?” Roger asked.
Christian's head moved side to side. “Whatever you guys do, I'll go with it.”
Roger faced me. I looked at him, then Allison, Christian, and Thad. If Veronica was here I could pass the look to her and she'd decide. Roger and I'd been friends since we were college freshmen and he'd gotten me doing things I'd never done.
Thad, a friend since high school, chewed his lip and folded his arms over his chest. I looked at Allison who giggled.
“What's the matter? Scared?” She elbowed Roger. “Remember when he was afraid of Disney World's Tower of Terror?” She chortled, half drunk, half teasing.
Roger moaned and his shoulders drooped. “Well?”
My blood burned and my ears were hot. “Let's go,” I said and we jumped in the car.
On the beach, cold sand chilled my feet and gusts hit our faces. Despite chilly waters I jumped in, grabbed the boogie board, and paddled out. Low clouds hovered, drifted in, and a grumble sounded. A flash in the distant sky. I shuddered but seeing Roger surf a tall wave, his athletic body standing above it, urged me to do the same. I hauled the board out and rode a few breakers. Thunder sounded closer.
“Maybe we should go,” Thad said as he, Roger, and I moved ashore.
Roger roared a drunk laugh, all the bottles in his backpack empty. “Hell no,” he bellowed. “We're not coward asses. You don't want to go, do ya?” he asked me.
“Ya kidding? Hell no.”
A long, deep thunderclap intruded.
Roger gazed at me. “What the hell was that? Should we go?” He crinkled his eyes then laughed his drunken laugh.
I chuckled too and charged into the water, swam backstroke, observed the light scud clouds, how tranquil, beautiful they were, how refreshing the water felt. My muscles hummed like a new engine.
I swam out and tread water, no one out this far. I grinned like I'd won a king of the hill battle and cupped a hand to my mouth. “C'mon guys, whatsa matter? Too scared?”
No one responded. Winds blew faster. Lightning burst and seared my eyes. Clouds invaded the remaining light and darkness erupted. Thunder exploded, winds gale force. I continued my brave front. “C'mon guys, can't we ...”
A rush of water from the rear crashed and foam surrounded my head. I bobbed and coughed until my throat cleared. Another wave hit. Thunder burst and rain drizzled. The storm front raced toward us. My heart palpitated, my lungs hurt.
I dove in and paddled to shore. My legs and arms churned. But instead of moving forward, I was thrust back, and gasped. More foamy water bruised my face, boogie board ripped from my clutches. The sky went from pale blue to purple. I checked behind me. My lungs screeched and my brain flashed an urgent order to turn around. I did and braced for the onslaught.
The largest wave I'd witnessed destroyed me though I relaxed, knew it would carry me ashore. I was thrown forward then slammed back, as if I’d hit an invisible wall. I dog paddled yet the distance between me and the shoreline grew.
“Help!” My sore lungs gave an inaudible yelp. “Guys!” I waved but they didn't see me. Rain fell thicker, winds stronger. I coughed, choked, wheezed. My face went white, body temperature falling, my bones ready to snap like brittle gum.
I strove to stay afloat, searched the area but the sky, now midnight blue, made it impossible to see. Lightning shone. I looked in all directions but darkness came too quick, followed by thunder. Blackness crawled over my eyes and I went under.
My choking throat woke me as my head broke the surface. I heard a shout, hollered to it as waves crashed. In a brief calm I heard the voice say it couldn't get out that deep, waves too high.
Rain plummeted, pounded me while lightning winked and the obligatory thunder peal echoed.
I labored for breath, swam to shore but made no progress, like a soldier marking time. Huge, snow‑white crests atop an angry, tall breaker roared toward me. My sight darkened and my body eased. I felt eerily calm.
I heard a cry. An infant's. I looked down and saw the newborn, eyes like mine. The baby wailed as if beaten. I looked at it then the person holding it. Veronica. My wife, mother to be. Our child. A precious girl. I reached for her, my body weak yet vibrating with anticipation. My hands went to touch it.
Cold water hit me and my mouth opened as air filled my lungs. My eyelids opened and though dizzy, I collected my surroundings and discovered I was right where I'd been before unconsciousness hit. I thought of Veronica, seven months pregnant and how she hated being alone. She couldn't be left to raise a new child by herself.
Must stay alive, I thought. For them. Hell, for me. Have to see my child.
My heart soared, my lungs cleared as did my vision and things settled. Blood pumped into my arms, legs, and muscles. I swam ahead, knew I'd make it.
A few strokes to shore. Then I was propelled back, as if a working bulldozer with steel blade was in front of me. My lungs wanted to collapse, muscles ready to quit. Thunder broke and lightning streaked, long and bright. I saw no one in the water, no one on shore. My heart sank and I heard a roar. The sky flash showed a wave the size of a truck. It crashed around me. My vision faded.
I came to, on my back, continued to be swept away from shore.
Lightning burst on the horizon and I saw a strange sight, unable to decipher it before the lightning vanished. The flash occurred again and when I discerned what the object that fell from the sky was, I felt I'd become paraplegic. A waterspout.
My bones were ready to break, my mouth salty and dry. The image of my wife failed to renew my strength.
The funnel approached. I sank and recalled drinking sea water makes you go mad. And a drowning man goes under three times. Was this number three?
Waves crested and pounded me as water sprayed as if from a broken water main. With the next lightning flash I viewed the cyclone. A hundred yards away. Winds whipped my face and my eyes teared, my hair as if pulled from its roots.
The combers crescendoed but I kept getting shoved out to sea, my eye ducts like a water faucet at full throttle.
I swam parallel to shore, raised my left arm, then my right. A sensation like a chainsaw tore through my right arm. I screamed and got a belly full of water.
I lifted my arm again. Pain revisited. I dog paddled while the noise like a freight train sounded in back of me.
A cresting wave rolled in, twenty feet to the left and behind me. Could it carry
me to shore?
I lifted my right arm and ignored the torment, swam. My body drifted to the wave. The tornado buffeted the sea and I went up, down, up, down.
The roller rose and my legs, though soft as clay, kicked and channeled through the sea.
Up in the air I went, the wave upon me, waterspout behind it. The waves beat me, flipped me, lifted me like a giant hand. I went up.
Foam invaded my eyes, nose, and lips. I choked then vomited. Lightning streaked a white line, a daytime glare that lasted on my eyes after the burst ended.
Thunder talked and a flash further out lit up the night like a fire ball. I looked to shore as my breaker peaked and saw the shadows on land. Human figures pointed and motioned but winds were so deafening I couldn't hear their voices. The wave swayed forward and I was tossed as if from a cannon.
Air whistled in my ears. I stretched to swim. My arms only cut through air. Wind whipped at me. I soared to a peak. Lightning bristled, revealed the maelstrom below. I descended and slapped the water with the equivalent force of hitting a concrete wall. My senses dulled and my vision blurred.
I came to and raised my right arm. The chainsaw like pain returned. I cried and lowered the limb, swam with my left arm. And recalled what I’d been trapped in. A ripcurrent. To be sure I was free of its death grasp, I swam parallel to shore, the way one must to escape.
Across the waters I went. Free. I changed directions, moved to shore, gap between me and the beach shrinking.
The roar of ocean, rain, and thunder was invaded by another, this one pleasurable. Voices. My friends. Lightning lit up again and Roger came out then halted as blackness took over. The next flash brought the same image, my friends as if hitting an unseen wall, pointing, shouting, hands around their mouths.
I glimpsed over my shoulder. My body grew colder, numb. Water spout approached.
Lightning again. I saw the body outlines, still in the water. Two moved toward me. I wanted to wave them back but couldn't lift my right arm and used the left to tread water. The tall and short shadows told me it was Thad with Roger. Thad, who'd been afraid to get in, now stood in waves that scourged his face. That he was willing to risk his life gave me strength. I again pictured Veronica with our newborn and believed I would make it. Had to.
I crawled to the shoreline, tornado closer.
A cutting through my toes. Even in the water, I felt blood trickle across my feet. What I touched made my lips form a wide, upward arc. Never had the pain of hitting rocks been so joyful.
My feet touch sand at ocean's bottom. I raised my legs, swayed, caught my balance, and shot my left arm in the air. Roger and Thad whooped and hollered. Another lightning flash and I saw Allison and Christian embrace.
I staggered, stumbled, hopped to them. The waterspout changed directions, away from the shore. I raised my arm again. Wind shears blew me down. Wet sand hit my eyes, face, shirt, shorts, and arms. Water flowed over me and seeped into my mouth. I ran my fingers through the sand. A hand reached out. I grasped it. Our fingerpads touched. Water rushed behind me. My arm fell. Another wave covered my head. Water entered my lungs. I hacked, spit, and crawled as slow as snow receding in sub‑zero temperatures. The hand reached out and I clutched it, clung to it. Roger pulled me in. My chin rubbed sand, hit a sharp object and kept rubbing. I lost sense of surroundings.
Hands touched me. One slapped my cheeks. Voices talked, distant at first, then clear.
“Speak to me,” Roger hit my cheeks again.
“I hear ya,” I mumbled. The hand let up.
“He's okay,” Roger exclaimed. “He'll make it!”
I squirmed to get up, discovered it too painful and lay on the beach, my right arm as if it had been hit by a grenade and put in a washing machine ‑ still connected to my body. Allison left for help and Christian stated the waterspout had risen into the sky.
“Thought you were a goner,” he said.
“Yeah. But I made it.”
“Don't know how,” Roger added. “Someone must've been lookin' out for ya.”
“Yeah,” I muttered and thought of Veronica and our offspring. I lowered my head to the sand and passed out.
“C'mon honey, keep it comin'. Almost there.” I observed it in the canal. It looked lovely.
“C'mon dear, not much longer.” I breathed in and out, like I'd been taught in class. “Here it is. It's comin'. I see its head.”
As slow as the hour hand moves on a clock, it came out, head first. Bald, covered with liquid. But the most beautiful baby girl I'd seen. The head popped out as did the rest of her.
I heard nothing and my breathing ceased. Then the most amazing, lovely sound. The cry of a newborn girl.
The obstetrician smiled. “Normal and healthy,” she said.
My wife grinned, her chest heaving in quick thrusts, her hospital gown soaked, her face glistening.
I beamed and held the baby up with my good hand, other still in a sling. “Who'd have thought she'd save my life out there?” I kissed the child's forehead. “Let's call her Savior,” I said in my giddiness.
Veronica grimaced. “We'll do no such thing. She'd be laughed out of school. The neighborhood. The country.”
“So what do we name her?”
“Something normal. Erica?”
I smiled and nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Savior,” my wife rolled her eyes. “You'd have thought I'd have come up with that considering the torture I've been in the past twelve hours. You don't have a clue what I've been through.”
I displayed my sling. “I think I do.”
We laughed and I leaned in on my wife, the baby between us. A family. Both of them my savior.
THE END
THE IDEA FOR THIS ONE—Came up with this story after watching a rerun of NBC’s Dateline on a cable channel about rip currents (a.k.a., Drowning Machines). I think I like this one because of the circumstances surrounding the writing process. I’d taken off work on a Monday & Tuesday in October one year and it’d been raining all the previous week. Thankfully, it cleared on Monday, a beautiful day, little wind, sunny & 80ish. I finished the story that morning and that night friends came over for beer and pizza and we watched my favorite team, the Tennesee Titans, beat the Jacksonville Jaguars for their 5th straight win (though they wound up losing in their first playoff game that year. Bummer!) Fortunately, Tuesday’s weather was just as nice. This one was published in ’09 and is one of the few I can read after publication and say “Not a bad story.”
A wave taller than any I'd encountered rose in the nighttime air. I hopped on my boogie board and made sure I got Roger's attention as waves carried me in and dumped me at water's edge.
I stood, laughed, and looked at Roger. “How 'bout that?”
“I don't know,” he said. “Should we quit? Thad thinks so.”
“No way.” I said and high stepped into the ocean as water lashed my calves and rushed to shore. “This is great.” I sprinted back out and as I stretched to dive in, a huge clap like an earth tremor shook me, clouds on the horizon lurching. I twisted in the water, boogie board lost. Another wave splashed my shoulders and pushed me back. I cackled at it, thrilled by the speed at which it carried me to shore.
We were the only guests on the beach in Ocean City, New Jersey, place dormant for several weeks, when summer season began. Friends Roger and Allison talked Thad, Christian, and I into coming out.
“They're chicken,” Allison had said at our apartment with a bray of laughter associated from too much alcohol.
Roger waved us to the car. “Let's get going. Got your boogie boards? I'm bringing my surfboard.” The fin stuck out of his Jeep's back end.
Thad combed his short hair back. “I don't know. No one's there, no lifeguards, nothing. Water'll be cold.” He examined the evening sky. “It'll be dark shortly.”
“Aw, c'mon. Christian, you're not going to let him spoil our graduation party, are ya?” Roger asked.
Christian's head moved side to side. “Whatever you guys do, I'll go with it.”
Roger faced me. I looked at him, then Allison, Christian, and Thad. If Veronica was here I could pass the look to her and she'd decide. Roger and I'd been friends since we were college freshmen and he'd gotten me doing things I'd never done.
Thad, a friend since high school, chewed his lip and folded his arms over his chest. I looked at Allison who giggled.
“What's the matter? Scared?” She elbowed Roger. “Remember when he was afraid of Disney World's Tower of Terror?” She chortled, half drunk, half teasing.
Roger moaned and his shoulders drooped. “Well?”
My blood burned and my ears were hot. “Let's go,” I said and we jumped in the car.
On the beach, cold sand chilled my feet and gusts hit our faces. Despite chilly waters I jumped in, grabbed the boogie board, and paddled out. Low clouds hovered, drifted in, and a grumble sounded. A flash in the distant sky. I shuddered but seeing Roger surf a tall wave, his athletic body standing above it, urged me to do the same. I hauled the board out and rode a few breakers. Thunder sounded closer.
“Maybe we should go,” Thad said as he, Roger, and I moved ashore.
Roger roared a drunk laugh, all the bottles in his backpack empty. “Hell no,” he bellowed. “We're not coward asses. You don't want to go, do ya?” he asked me.
“Ya kidding? Hell no.”
A long, deep thunderclap intruded.
Roger gazed at me. “What the hell was that? Should we go?” He crinkled his eyes then laughed his drunken laugh.
I chuckled too and charged into the water, swam backstroke, observed the light scud clouds, how tranquil, beautiful they were, how refreshing the water felt. My muscles hummed like a new engine.
I swam out and tread water, no one out this far. I grinned like I'd won a king of the hill battle and cupped a hand to my mouth. “C'mon guys, whatsa matter? Too scared?”
No one responded. Winds blew faster. Lightning burst and seared my eyes. Clouds invaded the remaining light and darkness erupted. Thunder exploded, winds gale force. I continued my brave front. “C'mon guys, can't we ...”
A rush of water from the rear crashed and foam surrounded my head. I bobbed and coughed until my throat cleared. Another wave hit. Thunder burst and rain drizzled. The storm front raced toward us. My heart palpitated, my lungs hurt.
I dove in and paddled to shore. My legs and arms churned. But instead of moving forward, I was thrust back, and gasped. More foamy water bruised my face, boogie board ripped from my clutches. The sky went from pale blue to purple. I checked behind me. My lungs screeched and my brain flashed an urgent order to turn around. I did and braced for the onslaught.
The largest wave I'd witnessed destroyed me though I relaxed, knew it would carry me ashore. I was thrown forward then slammed back, as if I’d hit an invisible wall. I dog paddled yet the distance between me and the shoreline grew.
“Help!” My sore lungs gave an inaudible yelp. “Guys!” I waved but they didn't see me. Rain fell thicker, winds stronger. I coughed, choked, wheezed. My face went white, body temperature falling, my bones ready to snap like brittle gum.
I strove to stay afloat, searched the area but the sky, now midnight blue, made it impossible to see. Lightning shone. I looked in all directions but darkness came too quick, followed by thunder. Blackness crawled over my eyes and I went under.
My choking throat woke me as my head broke the surface. I heard a shout, hollered to it as waves crashed. In a brief calm I heard the voice say it couldn't get out that deep, waves too high.
Rain plummeted, pounded me while lightning winked and the obligatory thunder peal echoed.
I labored for breath, swam to shore but made no progress, like a soldier marking time. Huge, snow‑white crests atop an angry, tall breaker roared toward me. My sight darkened and my body eased. I felt eerily calm.
I heard a cry. An infant's. I looked down and saw the newborn, eyes like mine. The baby wailed as if beaten. I looked at it then the person holding it. Veronica. My wife, mother to be. Our child. A precious girl. I reached for her, my body weak yet vibrating with anticipation. My hands went to touch it.
Cold water hit me and my mouth opened as air filled my lungs. My eyelids opened and though dizzy, I collected my surroundings and discovered I was right where I'd been before unconsciousness hit. I thought of Veronica, seven months pregnant and how she hated being alone. She couldn't be left to raise a new child by herself.
Must stay alive, I thought. For them. Hell, for me. Have to see my child.
My heart soared, my lungs cleared as did my vision and things settled. Blood pumped into my arms, legs, and muscles. I swam ahead, knew I'd make it.
A few strokes to shore. Then I was propelled back, as if a working bulldozer with steel blade was in front of me. My lungs wanted to collapse, muscles ready to quit. Thunder broke and lightning streaked, long and bright. I saw no one in the water, no one on shore. My heart sank and I heard a roar. The sky flash showed a wave the size of a truck. It crashed around me. My vision faded.
I came to, on my back, continued to be swept away from shore.
Lightning burst on the horizon and I saw a strange sight, unable to decipher it before the lightning vanished. The flash occurred again and when I discerned what the object that fell from the sky was, I felt I'd become paraplegic. A waterspout.
My bones were ready to break, my mouth salty and dry. The image of my wife failed to renew my strength.
The funnel approached. I sank and recalled drinking sea water makes you go mad. And a drowning man goes under three times. Was this number three?
Waves crested and pounded me as water sprayed as if from a broken water main. With the next lightning flash I viewed the cyclone. A hundred yards away. Winds whipped my face and my eyes teared, my hair as if pulled from its roots.
The combers crescendoed but I kept getting shoved out to sea, my eye ducts like a water faucet at full throttle.
I swam parallel to shore, raised my left arm, then my right. A sensation like a chainsaw tore through my right arm. I screamed and got a belly full of water.
I lifted my arm again. Pain revisited. I dog paddled while the noise like a freight train sounded in back of me.
A cresting wave rolled in, twenty feet to the left and behind me. Could it carry
me to shore?
I lifted my right arm and ignored the torment, swam. My body drifted to the wave. The tornado buffeted the sea and I went up, down, up, down.
The roller rose and my legs, though soft as clay, kicked and channeled through the sea.
Up in the air I went, the wave upon me, waterspout behind it. The waves beat me, flipped me, lifted me like a giant hand. I went up.
Foam invaded my eyes, nose, and lips. I choked then vomited. Lightning streaked a white line, a daytime glare that lasted on my eyes after the burst ended.
Thunder talked and a flash further out lit up the night like a fire ball. I looked to shore as my breaker peaked and saw the shadows on land. Human figures pointed and motioned but winds were so deafening I couldn't hear their voices. The wave swayed forward and I was tossed as if from a cannon.
Air whistled in my ears. I stretched to swim. My arms only cut through air. Wind whipped at me. I soared to a peak. Lightning bristled, revealed the maelstrom below. I descended and slapped the water with the equivalent force of hitting a concrete wall. My senses dulled and my vision blurred.
I came to and raised my right arm. The chainsaw like pain returned. I cried and lowered the limb, swam with my left arm. And recalled what I’d been trapped in. A ripcurrent. To be sure I was free of its death grasp, I swam parallel to shore, the way one must to escape.
Across the waters I went. Free. I changed directions, moved to shore, gap between me and the beach shrinking.
The roar of ocean, rain, and thunder was invaded by another, this one pleasurable. Voices. My friends. Lightning lit up again and Roger came out then halted as blackness took over. The next flash brought the same image, my friends as if hitting an unseen wall, pointing, shouting, hands around their mouths.
I glimpsed over my shoulder. My body grew colder, numb. Water spout approached.
Lightning again. I saw the body outlines, still in the water. Two moved toward me. I wanted to wave them back but couldn't lift my right arm and used the left to tread water. The tall and short shadows told me it was Thad with Roger. Thad, who'd been afraid to get in, now stood in waves that scourged his face. That he was willing to risk his life gave me strength. I again pictured Veronica with our newborn and believed I would make it. Had to.
I crawled to the shoreline, tornado closer.
A cutting through my toes. Even in the water, I felt blood trickle across my feet. What I touched made my lips form a wide, upward arc. Never had the pain of hitting rocks been so joyful.
My feet touch sand at ocean's bottom. I raised my legs, swayed, caught my balance, and shot my left arm in the air. Roger and Thad whooped and hollered. Another lightning flash and I saw Allison and Christian embrace.
I staggered, stumbled, hopped to them. The waterspout changed directions, away from the shore. I raised my arm again. Wind shears blew me down. Wet sand hit my eyes, face, shirt, shorts, and arms. Water flowed over me and seeped into my mouth. I ran my fingers through the sand. A hand reached out. I grasped it. Our fingerpads touched. Water rushed behind me. My arm fell. Another wave covered my head. Water entered my lungs. I hacked, spit, and crawled as slow as snow receding in sub‑zero temperatures. The hand reached out and I clutched it, clung to it. Roger pulled me in. My chin rubbed sand, hit a sharp object and kept rubbing. I lost sense of surroundings.
Hands touched me. One slapped my cheeks. Voices talked, distant at first, then clear.
“Speak to me,” Roger hit my cheeks again.
“I hear ya,” I mumbled. The hand let up.
“He's okay,” Roger exclaimed. “He'll make it!”
I squirmed to get up, discovered it too painful and lay on the beach, my right arm as if it had been hit by a grenade and put in a washing machine ‑ still connected to my body. Allison left for help and Christian stated the waterspout had risen into the sky.
“Thought you were a goner,” he said.
“Yeah. But I made it.”
“Don't know how,” Roger added. “Someone must've been lookin' out for ya.”
“Yeah,” I muttered and thought of Veronica and our offspring. I lowered my head to the sand and passed out.
“C'mon honey, keep it comin'. Almost there.” I observed it in the canal. It looked lovely.
“C'mon dear, not much longer.” I breathed in and out, like I'd been taught in class. “Here it is. It's comin'. I see its head.”
As slow as the hour hand moves on a clock, it came out, head first. Bald, covered with liquid. But the most beautiful baby girl I'd seen. The head popped out as did the rest of her.
I heard nothing and my breathing ceased. Then the most amazing, lovely sound. The cry of a newborn girl.
The obstetrician smiled. “Normal and healthy,” she said.
My wife grinned, her chest heaving in quick thrusts, her hospital gown soaked, her face glistening.
I beamed and held the baby up with my good hand, other still in a sling. “Who'd have thought she'd save my life out there?” I kissed the child's forehead. “Let's call her Savior,” I said in my giddiness.
Veronica grimaced. “We'll do no such thing. She'd be laughed out of school. The neighborhood. The country.”
“So what do we name her?”
“Something normal. Erica?”
I smiled and nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Savior,” my wife rolled her eyes. “You'd have thought I'd have come up with that considering the torture I've been in the past twelve hours. You don't have a clue what I've been through.”
I displayed my sling. “I think I do.”
We laughed and I leaned in on my wife, the baby between us. A family. Both of them my savior.
THE END
THE IDEA FOR THIS ONE—Came up with this story after watching a rerun of NBC’s Dateline on a cable channel about rip currents (a.k.a., Drowning Machines). I think I like this one because of the circumstances surrounding the writing process. I’d taken off work on a Monday & Tuesday in October one year and it’d been raining all the previous week. Thankfully, it cleared on Monday, a beautiful day, little wind, sunny & 80ish. I finished the story that morning and that night friends came over for beer and pizza and we watched my favorite team, the Tennesee Titans, beat the Jacksonville Jaguars for their 5th straight win (though they wound up losing in their first playoff game that year. Bummer!) Fortunately, Tuesday’s weather was just as nice. This one was published in ’09 and is one of the few I can read after publication and say “Not a bad story.”