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| One of the Good Guys, 9x12 inches, crayon on cotton paper by Kenney Mencher |
Winner will be announced
April 2, 2024
The story you write should be a "Flash Fiction" which is a complete story in one thousand or fewer words.
The story you write should be a "Flash Fiction" which is a complete story in one thousand or fewer words.
Please post the story in the comment section, you will have to provide your name and an email address in order to be qualified to win or you can e-mail me at kenney.mencher@gmail.com with your info. There is a problem with how many characters can post (only about 4,000) so if you cannot post it.
E-mail it to me at Kenney.Mencher@gmail.com
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| One of the Good Guys, 18x18x1.5 inches oil on stretched canvas by Kenney Mencher $625 |
Here are the Winners!
You’re all “one of the good guys.” Thank you so much for being kind enough to write me a story and brave enough to share it with me. I’m going to send each author a thank you gift, so, please send me a private message with an address where you will want to get a package. I received six wonderful stories. I’m very grateful to all of you for sending me these great stories!
I found myself able to relate to every one of them. There was a kind of universality of shared experiences throughout all of them. They ran the gamut of breaking up, falling in love and finding that “good guy” who is a keeper. There was also the thrill of a first sexual encounter, and several even had an element of talking about some of the problems that we’ve all dealt with in relationships, splitting up, the plight of our pets in a split, and even the theme that we all think of ourselves as the “good guy” in an adventure.
In the end, I suppose I chose the story that I related to the most in my own experience which was the story by Joe Host. I remember waking up quite a few times in my twenties from a night of too much drinking, wondering where I was and who I was with, and for me, once, maybe even twice, I ended up with “one of the good guys.”
Joseph Host
One of the Good Guys
Man, my head is killing me. After John left me at the party, I must have managed to forget him like I wanted to. I try to remember how I got home, but only remember the guy I was talking to later that night.
He had to have been around 6 foot, tall athletic. He was wearing button fly jeans, the top button missing. His old t-shirt showed a hint of the chest hair and toned muscles, under a short careless beard.
His eyes though, kept me. An intense brown with flecks of gold and green. Like the ocean at night reflecting the night sky. As I woke up a bit more I came out of my reminiscence and it dawned on me that I'm not in my bed.
There's a heavy comforter over me that smells like wood smoke and a slightly musky smell that gave me a shiver of excitement, stiffening my morning wood even more. I feel it rub against the blanket and I wonder where my clothes are.
I open my eyes a little trying to figure out where I am. The smell of food hits me and my stomach turns and I cover my head again and bump the wall above my head.
From the other room I hear a pan scrape and a deep voice say, “there’s water on the nightstand and something for your headache.”
Grateful, I uncover my head and take a few sips and take the tablets off the rough oak nightstand. Wondering about last night, I look around and see that the room was simple. Paneling, an old wood dresser, and faded floral curtains on the window to my left.
He walks in the room carrying breakfast. It's the guy from last night, but now just in an old worn boxer and the tray in his hand. I was mesmerized by the sway behind a slightly open fly showing a little bush and a flash of skin now and then.
I hear him talking and realize I'm staring. I close my mouth and stumble, “I'm sorry, what?”
“your clothes are in the wash. They were pretty dirty after you fell. Can you eat?”
He had made toast and eggs, so I told him I could nibble the toast for a minute and see.
“Did we…?” I started to say.
“No! You were too drunk for anything but sleep. It didn't feel safe leaving you at the barn when people started to go.so I brought you here.” like an afterthought, he says, “If you want, I can pull out a shirt and shorts while we wait for yours to dry”
“Thanks”, I mumbled, and dressed a little self consciously while he watched appraisingly.
He sets the tray down and goes to clean up while I orient myself and try to think of anything to calm my cock down.
He came back in and invited me out to the other room. It was as spartan as the bedroom. The same floral curtains, some furniture and a galley kitchen against the wall.
The bathroom was off to the left so i used it and sat down with him on the small couch. He set his hand on my thigh and squeezed gently, then told me that he's glad i'm feeling better. “You drank so much last night, it was like you were on a mission”, he said
“I had had a really bad day and wanted to forget,” I told him thinking for a second about my falling out with my friend John. “Its funny though, I don't remember much, except looking at you from last night,” I added.
We talked for a while and he told me that he moved here to get away from the city where he was a firefighter. He keeps in shape, works odd jobs, and works with the county volunteer firefighters now.
“I felt like just another person driving people to the emergency room there. I feel like I make a difference here,” he told me.
I sway a little and he sees it. He pulls me over onto his chest and tells me to lay my feet over the arm of the sofa. I feel his chest hair on my back through the borrowed shirt, and his bulge on my lower back and I start to stiffen.
He asks me if I'm alright, his warm breath sliding across my ear and neck. I didn't trust my voice, so I nodded.
After a little while he tells me that I should lay down and walks me back to the bed. He told me that I could rest as long as I needed and helped me out of his clothes.
He removed his boxers and laid down putting me in little spoon position with his chest pressed tightly to my back and his semi hard dick warm against my thigh.
I woke up hard as a rock a while later still in his arms, and his easy breath on my shoulder. Trying not to wake him, I reposition a little to get more comfortable
His dick started to harden in my asscrack and his hand slid down my stomach and he whispers, “I want you.” he punctuated the statement by pulling me into him gently and sliding up my asscrack
I could only respond by backing into him and grabbing his arm, my breathing erratic. He bit my neck a little harder than i expected and reached over me to the nightstand for lube and a condom.
It was hot and fast. Something we both needed. And as I lay with him after panting and sore, He asked me if I wanted to go into town with him for dinner.
“...on a date,” he corrected.
John completely forgotten, I accepted without hesitation. He protected me last night, and he protects this county. Definitely a guy I want to know better.
This is one of the good guys.
Joyce Kajikami
One of the good ones.
The tape squeaked across the last box and Ty felt a sense of relief and incredible sadness. Packing while
Coop was at work went faster than he thought but he was also tired and sweaty. He hoped to be on the
road for at least a few hours before he came home.
Ty only had a few things of his own. The rest were “theirs” and he just didn’t feel right taking them even
if he did pay for them. He’s just not that kind of guy. Plus, looking at the six boxes he knew he could fit
them into his car but nothing else.
Was this how he was ending things for real? It did seem cruel to just disappear. But didn’t he also feel
like he was being made to disappear? He was at least leaving a note.
He could hear crying through the thin windows. One thing they did agree on was that this place would
really benefit from double panes. Listening to the muffled wails broke his heart and reminded him of
what he was feeling inside.
He banged open the screen door and walked his boxes out one by one. Was he being careful or was he
dragging things out? With the last box he slammed the hatch on his old Honda CRV. It had brought him
here and it would take him to his new home with a box of clothes as his copilot.
He walked back into the house and closed the front door. He let his eyes adjust before heading to the
back. The cries were getting louder and more frantic. The scratching was at a hysterical level. Their
deposit was long gone. Well, his half is gone for sure.
He barely had the back door’s knob turned as Lover Boy pushed his way into the kitchen. His nails
scrabbling on the linoleum as he danced forward on his hind legs. The dog’s relief and excitement
brought tears to his eyes. Isn’t that what everyone wants? To be adored and accepted like that little bee
girl at the end of that one music video. What were the lyrics? Something about keeping his cheeks dry
today.
He is ready to leave. He’s going to miss Lover Boy, but it was going to be too hard to find a place that
would take dogs. After many kisses and a few treats, Lover Boy returned to his crate. Besides Coop loves
Lover Boy. He couldn’t take that away from him.
The dog starts to whine as soon as the kennel latches. He had heard that if you have to leave a dog
alone for a while you should give them one of your socks so they can be comforted by your scent. Ty
pulls off his tank and stuffs it between the bars where it falls on the dog’s hindquarters. It certainly has
his scent on it, but Lover Boy seems unimpressed and continues to whine while trying to get Ty to meet
his gaze. Ty turns on his heels and with tears in his eyes wordlessly walks back to the front door. He has
always had trouble with goodbyes. He catches his reflection in the hall mirror and is halted by it. He
examines the sickly yellow green and deep plum bruises on his back. This is not love. You don’t treat anyone you love like this. Seeing himself strengthens his resolve to leave. He grabs his keys and locks the door behind him.
Lover Boy continues to stare at the door. Willing something to happen. He hears the car start and the engine warm. Surely, he’ll come back. He was one of the good ones. The dog hears a large thud out front and bangs around his kennel and announces to whoever would listen that someone was making a lot of noise out there and should he maybe go out and take care of it? Ty comes back through the front door and beelines to open the kennel door. He grabs the bag of kibble off the floor and shoves 2 bowls into it and yanks a marker from the everything drawer. He also crams his note into the front pocket of his jeans where it’s destined to become washing machine lint. He is not going to leave a dog alone in a home where love is expressed through violence. He’s not that kind of guy.
Lover Boy bounds out the front door, past a box of clothes on the doorstep and jumps into the now vacant front seat. Ty pulls on a shirt from the box and uncaps the marker. He writes “FREE” on the top of the box and then adds “WE’RE” above it and he feels it in so many ways.
Justin Stubbings
So you are going to change the world are you Tom? He had just wound down from his usual rant, "Its the state of everything now, not enough housing, the homeless are everywhere, Government cutbacks making life difficult for everyone, well for everyone except the rich. The health service, have you tried getting to see a doctor lately?
The cost-of-living, people choosing between eating or heating and don't get me on the welfare of kids, people are anti everything and hostile, It’s the intolerance that gets me". I had to inwardly smile at that because Tom was giving a prime example of the last point, I get it, I know how powerless we can feel, one small voice crying out into the maelstrom. But Tom you don't have to add to the negativity the mere fact that you are concerned about others is a positive, the fact you are thinking of others who are maybe suffering makes you one of the good guys, take a minute to take that on board and if you still feel helpless come help at the soup run with me. We can change the world but quietly by taking baby steps doing what we can when we can and remembering there is good in the world.
Boyd Davis
Ambling over the berm, the scent of sea fills his nostrils before he feels salty spray pelting his bare skin. He is alone in this pre-dusk moment, bathing in the thoughts of his day about to get underway. Sun rising behind him beyond the towering cliffs, he squats and dips his fingers into the late winter water lapping at the sand. Short strides become long strokes as he dives into and plows through the ocean chill.
"Feels good," he sings floating on his back to a sky blinking with stars, "to be alive."
After drifting out a few hundred feet, he stands and runs his fingers through his hair. Droplets trickle down his body, teasing goosebumps urged on by ocean breezes. Nothing prepares him for the undertow. He suddenly is swept out to sea. Bobbing in troubled waters, he furiously kicks until he somehow finds himself spat into calm outflow.
"Ouch," he sputters, laughing. "That kind of sucked."
Flailing in the subsiding wave, he pauses, feels barbed wire brushing along his lower thighs, aware momentarily there might be little use for him to wish upon a fading star. Until those savage stings from the swarming jellyfish, he felt as if he was a survivor, one of the good guys.
Luka Musicki
In the golden hues of the Australian outback (Western Sydney), Lucas was a striking figure, his muscular frame glistening with sweat as he worked shirtless under the scorching sun on his family's sheep farm. His rugged features and piercing blue eyes drew admiring glances from those who passed by, but Lucas remained focused on his duties, his mind occupied with thoughts of the upcoming Mardi Gras celebrations in Sydney.
As the vibrant festivities approached, Lucas found himself longing for a change of scenery, a break from the monotony of farm life. He decided to embark on an adventure to the city, eager to immerse himself in the excitement of Mardi Gras.
Arriving in Sydney, Lucas was immediately swept up in the pulsating energy of the city streets. Everywhere he looked, there were men clad in colorful costumes, their toned bodies on full display. But despite their alluring presence, Lucas couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.
At a lavish pool party teeming with eager suitors, Lucas found himself surrounded by men vying for his attention. Their chiseled physiques and seductive smiles should have been enough to captivate him, but Lucas remained unmoved, his gaze searching for something—or rather, someone—else.
Then he saw him. Sitting alone by the edge of the pool, a ruggedly handsome man with salt-and-pepper hair and a warm, inviting smile. Lucas felt an instant connection, a pull that he couldn't ignore. Without hesitation, he made his way over to the man named Robert.
As Lucas settled beside him, their eyes met, sparking an undeniable chemistry between them. They exchanged introductions, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they discovered shared interests and passions. Lucas was captivated by Robert's intelligence and kindness, his heart racing with a newfound sense of excitement.
As the night wore on, Lucas and Robert found themselves drawn to each other, their attraction reaching a fever pitch. With a mutual understanding and desire, they retreated to a secluded corner, away from the prying eyes of the partygoers.
In the privacy of their embrace, Lucas and Robert explored each other's bodies with a fervor that left them breathless. Their passion ignited like wildfire, consuming them in a blaze of ecstasy as they surrendered to the heat of their desires.
In the aftermath of their lovemaking, Lucas knew that he had found something special in Robert—a connection that transcended mere physical attraction. As they lay tangled together, basking in the afterglow, Lucas realized he had finally found the one he had been searching for.
Their love blossomed in the following days, as Lucas and Robert embarked on a whirlwind romance filled with adventure and discovery. They travelled the world together, exploring new cultures and forging memories that would last a lifetime.
Two years later, on a sun-drenched beach in California, Lucas and Robert exchanged vows in a heartfelt ceremony surrounded by their closest friends and family. With tears of joy in their eyes, they pledged their love and devotion to each other, sealing their bond for eternity.
As they embraced as husbands for the first time, Lucas knew he had found his happily ever after with Robert by his side. Together, they would build a life filled with love, laughter, and endless possibilities, their hearts forever entwined in a love that knew no bounds.
Mark Gallagher
“One of the Good Guys”
As he stood on a windswept beach on this first warm day of March, he was thinking about the conversation they had had when Andrew returned from Lisbon. How badly he had wanted to believe Andrew had finally pieced things together.
Andrew had said he really wanted to change this time. “I don’t really want the same things anymore” he had told Tom, although neither of them really believed it.
He had said he wanted him back. That was enough. He wanted to be a person who protected his own dignity, but he wanted Andrew more.
Every time Andrew would return blurry-eyed from whatever social itinerary had burned up a night they might have spent together, he would tell himself, “that’s just who he is.”
With his shock of black wavy hair, those caramel deep set eyes and his delicate pout of dark rose petal lips, Andrew could generally have anything he ever wanted, if he ever genuinely knew what he actually wanted.
Tom wondered if Andrew ever wanted him as much as he wanted to want stability, but Tom would never be able to give him whatever else he sought in the labyrinth of night.
He didn’t even know what transpired on those lost nights, and Andrew certainly didn’t remember. He was as likely to have spent the night haunting a series of dive bars and darkrooms, as he was to have spent the night sleeping the first few drinks of the night off on a secluded park bench or on the sofa of some friend.
Whatever it took to disappear from himself on a given night was always his priority, and Tom wasn’t a part of that calculation. He couldn’t be. He was the anchor of a coupled life, and Andrew liked anchorless motion.
Tom had his yoga, his woodworking and his cooking, and while he had taught himself to remain unerringly staunch, his dominant facade was like a sugar dome, one good crack, and the structure shattered. He wanted it shattered, but he wanted this unearthed vulnerability to be given tenderness.
Andrew, as erratic as he was, was a master of the grand gesture, always ready to try to paper over his abscences of affection, but his gestures had begun to feel more and more hollow in their escalation.
He still longed for that version of Andrew in striped boxer briefs, snuggling up to him that one morning in Seattle, while they drank coffee and ate croissants together, the light brown crumbs speared by the course and thick hair that ran down the mahogany brown skin of Andrew’s belly to the forest down below, and the whole day left to them to be together—not the Andrew attempting to arrange an impromptu foursome with an uninterested couple a few hours later.
Andrew’s inchoate desire would never stand still.
He remembered the night they met. Andrew was kissing him on a dance floor, biting and licking his ear hard, and he whispered, “you’re one of the good guys, aren’t you?”
He had very clearly blurted it out playfully, but there was a silver thread of cruelty that would always run through their intimacy, and Andrew, honest if nothing else, pressed his finger to the thread in that moment, and dared him to imagine continuing to justify what he’d already shown him.
He had wanted to know more about this elven flame of energy though, and so, as he stood alone on that beach, if nothing else, he couldn’t say he hadn’t tried the impossible, to love someone who does not know themself, and does not wish to.
Ambling over the berm, the scent of sea fills his nostrils before he feels salty spray pelting his bare skin. He is alone in this pre-dusk moment, bathing in the thoughts of his day about to get underway. Sun rising behind him beyond the towering cliffs, he squats and dips his fingers into the late winter water lapping at the sand. Short strides become long strokes as he dives into and plows through the ocean chill.
ReplyDelete"Feels good," he sings floating on his back to a sky blinking with stars, "to be alive."
After drifting out a few hundred feet, he stands and runs his fingers through his hair. Droplets trickle down his body, teasing goosebumps urged on by ocean breezes. Nothing prepares him for the undertow. He suddenly is swept out to sea. Bobbing in troubled waters, he furiously kicks until he somehow finds himself spat into calm outflow.
"Ouch," he sputters, laughing. "That kind of sucked."
Flailing in the subsiding wave, he pauses, feels barbed wire brushing along his lower thighs, aware momentarily there might be little use for him to wish upon a fading star. Until those savage stings from the swarming jellyfish, he felt as if he was a survivor, one of the good guys.
So you are going to change the world are you Tom? He had just wound down from his usual rant, "Its the state of everything now, not enough housing, the homeless are everywhere, Government cutbacks making life difficult for everyone, well for everyone except the rich. The health service, have you tried getting to see a doctor lately?
ReplyDeleteThe cost of living people choosing between eating or heating and don't get me on the welfare of kids, people are anti everything and hostile, Its the intolerance that gets me". I had to inwardly smile at that because Tom was giving a prime example of the last point, I get it, I know how powerless we can feel, one small voice crying out into the malestrom. But Tom you don't have to add to the negativity the mere fact that you are concerned about others is a positive, the fact you are thinking of others who are maybe suffering makes you one of the good guys, take a minute to take that on board and if you still feel helpless come help at the soup run with me. We can change the world but quietly by taking baby steps doing what we can when we can and remembering there is good in the world.
Justin Stubbings northwoodfarm@hotmail.com
The tape squeaked across the last box and Ty felt a sense of relief and incredible sadness. Packing while Coop was at work went faster than he thought but he was also tired and sweaty. He hoped to be on the road for at least a few hours before he came home.
ReplyDeleteTy only had a few things of his own. The rest were “theirs” and he just didn’t feel right taking them even if he did pay for them. He’s just not that kind of guy. Plus, looking at the six boxes he knew he could fit them into his car but nothing else.
Was this how he was ending things for real? It did seem cruel to just disappear. But didn’t he also feel like he was being made to disappear? He was at least leaving a note.
He could hear crying through the thin windows. One thing they did agree on was that this place would really benefit from double panes. Listening to the muffled wails broke his heart and reminded him of what he was feeling inside.
He banged open the screen door and walked his boxes out one by one. Was he being careful or was he dragging things out? With the last box he slammed the hatch on his old Honda CRV. It had brought him here and it would take him to his new home with a box of clothes as his copilot.
He walked back into the house and closed the front door. He let his eyes adjust before heading to the back. The cries were getting louder and more frantic. The scratching was at a hysterical level. Their deposit was long gone. Well, his half is gone for sure.
He barely had the back door’s knob turned as Lover Boy pushed his way into the kitchen. His nails scrabbling on the linoleum as he danced forward on his hind legs. The dog’s relief and excitement brought tears to his eyes. Isn’t that what everyone wants? To be adored and accepted like that little bee girl at the end of that one music video. What were the lyrics? Something about keeping his cheeks dry today.
He is ready to leave. He’s going to miss Lover Boy, but it was going to be too hard to find a place that would take dogs. After many kisses and a few treats, Lover Boy returned to his crate. Besides Coop loves Lover Boy. He couldn’t take that away from him.
The dog starts to whine as soon as the kennel latches. He had heard that if you have to leave a dog alone for a while you should give them one of your socks so they can be comforted by your scent. Ty pulls off his tank and stuffs it between the bars where it falls on the dog’s hindquarters. It certainly has his scent on it, but Lover Boy seems unimpressed and continues to whine while trying to get Ty to meet his gaze. Ty turns on his heels and with tears in his eyes wordlessly walks back to the front door. He has always had trouble with goodbyes. He catches his reflection in the hall mirror and is halted by it. He examines the sickly yellow green and deep plum bruises on his back. This is not love. You don’t treat anyone you love like this. Seeing himself strengthens his resolve to leave. He grabs his keys and locks the door behind him.
Lover Boy continues to stare at the door. Willing something to happen. He hears the car start and the engine warm. Surely, he’ll come back. He was one of the good ones. The dog hears a large thud out front and bangs around his kennel and announces to whoever would listen that someone was making a lot of noise out there and should he maybe go out and take care of it? Ty comes back through the front door and beelines to open the kennel door. He grabs the bag of kibble off the floor and shoves 2 bowls into it and yanks a marker from the everything drawer. He also crams his note into the front pocket of his jeans where it’s destined to become washing machine lint. He is not going to leave a dog alone in a home where love is expressed through violence. He’s not that kind of guy.
Lover Boy bounds out the front door, past a box of clothes on the doorstep and jumps into the now vacant front seat. Ty pulls on a shirt from the box and uncaps the marker. He writes “FREE” on the top of the box and then adds “WE’RE” above it and he feels it in so many ways.