Tuesday, September 24, 2013

the land of no questions remain






The cause was lost on the unsuspecting hoard of those who never could have understood anyway. Billy thought about the last words he heard the leader say as he bent down and pulled the backpack from under the bed.

Rachel opened her eldest child's door. Six months ago she had asked the group if they could take her three children but even then knew what their answer would be. Nobody under the age of thirty would be chosen. The tenets were specific. Sarah was fifteen years old, sleeping. Rachel gently pulled the door closed, walked down the hall, picked up the backpack and headed to the car.

Billy drove past CL Hunter's gas station. He worked there as a full service attendant when he was a teenager. CL had helped him fix his truck late in the evenings. Billy smiled when he thought about how what that old man had taught him helped him to be selected by the leader. The group needed him, called him an expert.


Rachel placed the directions on the passenger seat, looked again at the leader's last note and left without looking back at what she once considered her home.


Fred, known to the group as Q, lit a candle and eased back into the chair. It would be at least four hours before the first of them got there. How easy, he thought, it had been to form a religion on the internet.


******




Today I am grateful to be forced to write for a group of writers, to feel, even if it is incredibly minimal and shitty and full of all sorts of excuses, a sense of responsibility to those women.



8 comments:

Anonymous said...

You should write more fiction...and you should have some of it published. It's wonderful...as is everything you write so I'm not quite sure why I'm so surprised. Please never give up this dream of yours. Thank you.

Shea Goff said...

Thank you, Anonymous. You are so sweet and encouraging and kind, and you'll probably never know how much I appreciate that.

Anonymous said...

But anonymous she won't listen because she is irresponsible that way....hiding her light under a bushel...hiding in this blog...believing the blood caked under her fingernails proves she got here the hard way...I will think about agreeing when I see the 80000 words that completes this story

Shea Goff said...

The blood caked under my fingernails? Anonymous II, I have an all new love and respect for you. Thank you for that.

Anonymous said...

You are hilarious A2. I second the sentiments of both A1 and A2. Why do I feel like I know you A2?

Shea: I love this. Your fiction always has some kind of twist or oddity that makes it unique. Your language and rhythm are captivating, and I am always so sad that the pieces are so short. I could probably devour a fict-Shea novel in one sitting, regardless of length.

Anonymous said...

Cool, anonymi.

Shea Goff said...

I think I love the comment section of this blog much more than I love the content. Thank you all for being here. Anonymous is one of my favorite words now.

Anonymous said...

Wow. Drew me right in . . . I love trying to figure out what you will say next (never can do it, but I will always try). I'm like the others, I wish there was MORE because I love finding out what your characters are doing.