Attempt #3

As you can see this is, by my counting, my third attempt at writing this up and sharing with anyone around who might read it. You see, I thought our family was happy and comfortable, but these past few days one of our family members, Harry, has been acting a little strange. I keep starting to write this, and then he enters the room. I quickly close out the window and do my best to distract myself. It's not that I actually believe he can read the words I'm writing, but rather I get this feeling that he's really good at reading what people are thinking. Anyway, I think he's gone to sleep for now which means that, even if my wife doesn't believe what I have to say, this is my chance to try to reach someone out there who does. I also have the excuse this time of writing this for a writing prompt from Chuck Wendig's blog, Terrible Minds. I figure if I can focus on this as a fictional story rather than the desperate plea for help to anyone who might listen he might not be able to read me. This might be my only chance.

We have a nightly ritual around here. The wife and I get into bed, Harry comes in and jumps on the bed starving for attention, and we lavish him with love. Afterwards Harry goes off and does whatever it is that he does at night, and Andrea and I blissfully fall asleep.

Rest Stop

It was at hour seven that Tom found himself driving, half asleep in the middle of the night, pondering his existence. It wasn’t the vague existential pondering a Tibetan monk might find himself enjoying. No, Tom was very much “in the now” as he had hours to go before finishing his overnight trek across two states. He prayed for signs of civilization. The last farm he saw was over 100 miles back, and the country road he traveled was unlit and unfamiliar. The low fog dispersing his headlights didn’t help much, and he quickly surmised an irrational plot that made it impossible for him to feel safe pulling over to the side of the road for a quick catnap.

At some point he had entered hill country, and each time he rolled over one of the looming hills his hopes for any variation in the scenery were crushed. He mumbled improvised prayers to whoever was listening to help him find some place where he could stop for a while, maybe get a meal from a good Samaritan, and be on his way renewed for the last leg of his journey.

Someone was listening. As he peaked over the next giant hill, a white light filled his windshield. He could see that the all-encompassing fog actually laid quite low. He was only a couple hundred yards away from a farm with a bright white light sitting at the top of a lonely silo. Given almost any other circumstance, Tom would never have pursued this next step, but he was desperate. He pulled left down the curvy gravel driveway. He didn’t realize how far the farm sat off the road. As he reached the end he realized it would be impossible to back out on his own in the impenetrable darkness.

My Mother's Story

My mom's family used to own a farm out in the country about 10 minutes from the nearest small town. The farm was the family business, and this was before farmers had machines that could do everything. Everyone would help out with the harvesting and the milking. This meant lots of early mornings and late nights where the house was empty of all working-aged family members. Cows simply can’t be bothered to be ready to be milked at two o’clock in the afternoon.

My mom has an older brother and three older sisters, and she's 10 years younger than the next youngest sister. What this means, besides the fact that God decided grandma and grandpa weren't done having kids, is that my Aunt Judy, the second youngest, was down on the farm across the old country road with all the other grown-ups doing farm work while my mom was left alone in the house often as a child. One of her favorite shows was Lost in Space, but she always told me how much the aliens scared her. This being a farm family, my Grandpa never was one to waste a cent, and so my mom was only allowed the lights on in the room she currently occupied. You better believe she'd catch hell from Grandpa the next day if he ever saw both the living room and kitchen lights on at the same time. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it did have two stories and an exposed basement in the back of the house full with back door that had been sealed shut long ago - before my mom was even born - by my grandpa.

New Post for a New Blog!

I've decided that I wanted one central place where I could put all the stuff I write, so here we are! I'm going to be keeping this blog focused on the fiction I come up with, and so you'll be seeing a lot of one page comic scripts from Thought Balloons, flash fiction entries for the flash fiction prompts over at Terrible Minds, and lots of other little odds and ends. I'm going to try to keep my labels very specific and generally at a low number so it's easier to navigate throughout the blog and see past posts of a particular/peculiar type.

If you're interested in reading my other stuff, pop over to The Hopeless Gamer where I write about all forms of tabletop gaming and generally riff on the hobby as a whole. I can't guarantee I'll be posting much exclusive content here that doesn't appear elsewhere, but to that end, it will also serve as a repository for myself and a public space I can point people to read more of the words I string together into awkwardly-long sentences.

Finally, you can always email me at paulvogtwrites@gmail.com I hope you enjoy what you read here, and please, by all means, leave a comment for any feedback or questions you might have!