Wayne Gray

Happy Saturday, folks. Feeling good in my little kingdom. Very little. Behind my desk, writing, having coffee, listening to music. But it's still my kingdom. Well, until my cat bothers me for pets. Then I'm a servant.

Welcome. Good to see you here. Enjoy the site's many offerings.

I like this. Creativity is never a straight line. It's all over the damn place. We pick things up, put them down, hear them calling us from the shower, then watch ideas evaporate as soon as we sit down. The key is the stubbornness to just stick with it. My hobbies are writing, weightlifting, video gaming, cooking, and watching geeky things on YouTube.

How fun! Good luck with your list. 🙂

I don't see how that can go wrong. But it sounds like you dodged a bullet with the omission of the final ingredients. That'd become a soup of ultraprocessed junk. So ... nice choice.

This is why one of the main predators of moose are orca. 😮

These are so quietly profound. A celebration of steadiness, faith in who you are, and who he is. Well done, Mike.

I gotta say, they're all great. But ... the garlic one made me laugh out loud. Nice job, tim.

The music really sets this one off. Nice find, tim.

Sounds like a good knife!

Thanks for the nice words, all. I appreciate you taking the time to leave a message here. 💚

I went to Kentucky. My brother's funeral was on Saturday, and I needed to be there for a number of reasons. Chief among them was my mother. She needed support. She needed to know she wasn't alone. She needed to know that Adam mattered. So I went. My sister and I met with Mom the morning before the funeral. It was scheduled for 10 AM, and we sat at her house with her for a couple of hours before heading to the funeral home. About a half hour before it was time to go, she looked at me. "Can you say something? At the funeral? It'd mean a lot to me if you did." There's only one answer. "Yeah. Of course." And I pull out my phone, and I start typing, hoping I can write something coherent through the weird blend of dread, sorrow, disappointment, and exhaustion. Something true, but not cruel. Something comforting, but not treacly. Something Adam would have liked. We get to the funeral home. It's surprisingly crowded. Given his troubled history, I think my brother would have been amazed to have drawn so many family and friends. And I have something written. The service begins. I'm scheduled between the song "Go Rest High on the Mountain" and the reading of his obituary. The song ends. I walk up onto the short stage, look out over the faces of kith and kin, and I remove my glasses. Expressions of the grieving are the enemy of a coherent delivery. And I begin. "Love is like air. You need it. It flows into and out of us. It connects us. We are made to give it and to receive it. We often don't realize when we have it. It's just there. Like breathing, it's just something natural. But, just like air, we sure know when we don't have it. Adam was loved. That started early. Growing up, I'd always been a little jealous of how Dad seemed to favor him. When work needed to happen, Dad took me. When he wanted a fishing buddy, he took Adam. What I had selectively forgotten was being a five-year-old boy, and throwing a monster fish dad had just caught back into the lake, and saying, 'Catch it again, Daddy, catch it again!' So, maybe Adam was the better fishing buddy after all. But, I digress. We all know, we can't stay kids forever. Adam grew up, and then he grew a family of his own. Of course, things changed. But not love. That remained. That you're all here proves that. A man knows when he is loved. What more can we ask out of life than that? Adam was my brother. And I loved him." Imperfect words for an imperfect soul. But it was the best I could do.

Bad people don't wonder if they're good enough. Bad people don't care. It's only good and decent folks who worry if they're good and decent enough. And that's the truth. Do what you need to feel better about who and what you are. But don't doubt that you're starting from a place that someone with less empathy would never find.

I got a call from my sister this morning. "Bub, they found Adam unresponsive. I'm not sure how he is, but I'll let you know. Mom is super upset, so I know it's bad. Love you. I'll call soon." A few minutes passed ... then the phone vibrated with a text. Two words. "He's gone." My brother died today. My brother is gone.

While reading this, and while getting to know our antagonist and his motivations, something began clawing its way into my mind. Edited to delete the soapbox nobody asked for - LOL Good addition to your world, tim.