Home | Contest | Write A Book | Write Ebooks For Cash | Be A Travel Writer | Write Children's Books Write For Newspapers | Write An Ezine | Write A Blog | Writing Skills & Tips | Novel Writing Software Please take a moment to bookmark this site and join our free hot tips list. Read & Rate Our Writing Contest Entries! See what other people have written, and rate them on a scale of 1 to 5. This is an opportunity to view a wide variety of short stories and see what kind of original material is being submitted to us on a daily basis. After you rate an entry, you will be randomly redirected to another entry to rate. You may read and rate as many entries as you wish! The user-rating system is simply a fun way for writers to receive a public opinion of their work, and does not affect the judging for the cash prizes. If you wish to enter the contest, you may enter for free here. Rate This Contest Entry: Contest: June 30th, 2005 Author: Michelle Montague I am not above getting drunk. For some reason, I was never quite sure of that until now. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Where: Federal Reality Commission Headquarters, New York City, FRC-Earth. "To good friends!" Everyone around me raised their glasses of hard liquor in the air and repeated the chant. Then we drank it all down in one furious gulp. It was the twentieth anniversary of the end of the Great Continuum War. In the Federal Reality Commission, matters of honor dictate that, every year on this day, those of us who survived the damn thing all gather around the office to remember the fallen. And so many had fallen. Friends. Brothers. Sisters. I was on Alternate Earth Theta 5-2-8 for most of the war. Well, that's the name of it now. It didn't used to be so technical. Back then, we just called it the "middle of the war zone." And don't misunderstand it for overstatement. At the worst, the Pac-Rim and a big chunk of the Western American region fell prey to the enemy. Half the time we didn't know what was going on in Europe. I remember the only territory we could ever really hold on that waste of rock was Northern Canada. Surrendering was not an option, never was. But I remember...death. Death all around me. My people were dying every day. But it wasn't in vain. A cause so great as survival never took anything for granted. A cause so noble as freedom could not allow one life to be forgotten. The party had invaded the entire building. All of Headquarters was swamped with the celebration in memory and respect of the dead. The difference of twenty years made the price of war worth paying. It was a bit after midnight, though, so I returned to my office, all partied out. I kept the lights off, the only source of illumination being the window pouring in the glow that only New York City, with all its buildings and cars, could give off. I sat alone behind my desk, looking out through the window. Sounds of celebration pierced the ceiling above and the floor below to travel through my office. I could not bring myself to other matters of the time. Proposal for a supply run here. Gala event at League Headquarters there. Epsilon 2-1-6 in the midst of civil war. Omega 4-3-9 needs aid against worldwide drought. A break in the energy grid on the fifth floor, thrown in just for good measure. Fix this, repair that. All of a sudden, it didn't seem so...important. The door to my office swung open. Or at least I suppose it did. Because I didn't notice her come in. "So they said, 'His name is Hacker One now,'" she said. I turned around. "Mia?" I asked, "Is that you?" She grinned, "Well, hello to you, too." "My God! It's been so long!" I exclaimed, rising from my chair to greet her, "How have you been?" "Oh, you know. I couldn't stay away from a good party, you know. Especially if it's about old times." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I poured her some kind of fruit beverage they were serving down in the mess that I took to my office. Something...anything, to keep her from leaving. To make her stay. Mia and I served in the same unit during the war. We fought on the same front lines, lost the same friends...shared the same bed. War is like that sometimes. Mia was...beautiful. She still was. When we sat down I realized she hadn't aged a single day for twenty years. But Mia didn't want to talk about the recent past. All she could talk about was her time in the zone. "You remember the old St. John-Vancouver run?" she asked me. I smiled, "How could I forget? Every single day was a rescue operation. It never ended." "But it was an adventure," she raised my glass to me, "You gotta give it that." "Yeah. Dodging fire from Northern Michigan was always a blast for me." We laughed. I smiled as I drank from my glass. "Hey," I said, "You haven't touched your drink." Mia shook her head, "I'm not thirsty. I made it here, that's enough for me." I leaned forward in my chair, "So...what have you been doing all this time?" "I dunno," she shrugged, "I haven't gotten around to much of anything for the past few years. Kicking back, I guess." "And all this time you didn't bother to look me up?" I asked playfully. She gave me a look, saying, "I didn't know how." There was no use not believing Mia. She stood up and walked around my desk to get a look of the view outside the floor-to-ceiling window. With one hand, she leaned against the window as she said, "This is my first time to New York. Any New York." The seat revolved as I turned to look at her, "You should stay. I've got some leave coming." "No," she said softly, shaking her head, "I can't stay long." Every word was disappointing. The way it all ended was disappointing, sad. I rose up from my chair to stand beside her and share the view. I put my arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head on mine. And together we hummed a tune we learned during the war. It didn't have a title and it barely had any words to it. "Harry," Mia whispered. I let out a deep breath, "No one's called me that in a long time." "Every night I think of home," she said, "It must've been home...it's the only warm thought I have left. That, and the thought of you." I rested my shoulder on the window and held her arms in my hands, and I asked, "Why'd you leave me, girl?" "Harry..." "You were so young. So full of life. You didn't have to be alone. Why'd you leave me?" Again, she smiled, saying, "Because I couldn't stay." "It was always the simple answers with you, wasn't it?" "You know it wasn't my call. I fought, Harry, I fought so hard. But I was dying down there. It was too much for me." "Wasn't I enough for you, Mia?" I asked. "Always," she said, "But I had to go. It was time for me to go." I looked deep into her, "Much like it's time for you to go now?" "Yes," she responded with a sad face. Mia left my grasp, and she folded her arms and tiptoed around my desk. Her hand brushed against the rim of her glass, untouched by her lips. She looked up again, and seemed to have a tear in her eye. "I don't like losing you a second time," I said with a hint of desperation. "Then remember me," she replied, "And you never will." A knock on the door. I didn't feel like acknowledging it, and it was very late at night. But the person on the other side of the door was very persistent, knocking again. "Come in," I said. It was Jake. He instantly spotted the pair of glasses on my desk. Looking around the ill-lit room, he asked, "Had company, Hacker?" I shook my head, "No. No, there wasn't anyone." "Well," he said, handing me a small pile of paperwork, "I finished these reports before the party but I wasn't able to give them to you." Putting them on my desk, I said my thanks and dismissed him. Before Jake walked out the door, I signaled him again. "Jake...you've read all about the history behind the Continuum War, right?" "It's required for the Junior Division," he replied, "What's up, Hack?" "I'm sure you've read about someone named...Mia McClure?" "Yeah," he said, "Yeah. I might have it wrong, but she was the famous pilot who ran the St. John-Vancouver undercover route for six months on A.E. Theta 5-2-8." I grinned, once again recalling that route. "I think...yeah, she died," Jake continued, "Died saving hundreds of civilians on the Michigan border, right?" "That's right." And then he pointed at me, asking with curiosity, "I've heard rumors, you know. Is it true she served in the same unit as you in the war?" Slowly, I nodded with a smile. "You're dismissed, Jake." When he left and closed the door behind him, I let out another deep sigh. I turned around and, on my desk, was still the untouched glass of fruit punch. I took it with me on the way to my desk. It sat in front of me as I dug into my desk drawer. Beneath a large pile of papers was a picture frame, and the frame held the picture of a girl I loved. I put it on my desk as I took the glass. "To good friends," I said, raising the glass to Mia. people have rated it so far. is the current average. |
|
The internet and new technology are continuing to change the face of the publishing industry. Will you ride the wave or get pummelled by it? Let us help you make money as a writer by giving you hot tips when new trends arrive. Join today and get 5 FREE EBOOKS! These ebooks are written by some of the hottest online gurus, and uncover many secrets about how you can make money right now by writing from home. Learn how to turn your computer into a cash machine by implementing the online writing techniques revealed by these masters! 
 A $475.00 Value for FREE when you join today!
HotJobs.com | Job.com | 100kJob.com | Monster.com | JobsInSports.com | CareerBuilder.com
Home | Contest | Write A Book | Write Ebooks For Cash | Be A Travel Writer | Write Children's Books
© Copyright 2005 WritingCash.com All Rights Reserved | Terms of Use | Privacy | Web Links
|