Dreaming Out Loud

By Raylene Starr and Matilda Joy

Dreaming Out Loud is a compilation of intriguing short stories that explore life situations written by two sisters. The stories that are as different as the sisters themselves range from get rich schemes that involve a love triangle, a granny's account of life after slavery to nuclear devastation. Hold on to your shorty shorts, honey, the endings are not the expected!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raylene Starr
• Release date: Apr 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301203192

Book preview

DREAMING OUT LOUD

Short Stories

By the sisters two

Matilda Joy

and

Raylene Starr

.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Matilda Joy and Raylene Starr

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Table of Contents

Preface

MATILDA'S STORIES

The Clock

The Senator

Ian

Nubia

For Love's Sake

The Prize

Granny

RAYLENE'S STORIES

Victory On Noble Street

The NORAD Chronicles

Sing My Happy Feet

For baby sis who has always been faithful to her two big sisters

For the music man whose creations astound us

Preface

My oldest sister used to tell me when we were growing up that she and I had a lot in common. I would just laugh at her because she was so studious, prim and proper. While I, on the other hand, didn't care one hank for studies and was as wild as legally allowable.

Although we attended different colleges during the late sixties, we did share some protest activities. She was all into organizing constructive student unions and I was one of the burn, baby, burn adherents.

After college I struck off to join the protesting masses, she went on to law school. Upon completing law school, she returned to our birth city, passed the bar and started a law practice. The need to eat drove me back into the mainstream and rat race employment.

Eventually she became a judge and I decided that I did want to be part of middle class America. So I dropped out. I continued to travel, working jobs well beneath my educational level.

She achieved great things in her lifetime. I didn't achieve much except enjoying life. I had watch her health decline over the years as she drove herself relentlessly with late hours, taking brutal punishment from the press for some her decisions in the criminal court, and generally cramming in too much life.

In her early sixties, she suffered a double heart attack and a stroke as a result of bypass surgery. Shaken I came to visit her. Never had I seen such pain, hurt and determination burn in a person's eyes. As she was not an easy person to help, relatives were exhausted and worn. So, I figured it was my turn and returned home to care for her.

In her last days we had some very good moments and some not so good moments as is the case with siblings. It was then that I began to see our similarities. The most important was our love of words and writing. But it was not until after her death when I was given her personal writings that I was amazed to find that we shared an interest in the supernatural.

Yes, our writing is different. She wrote about life situations with a hint of the supernatural and very rarely do her stories end happily. My stories are usually full of fantasy and always end happily.

At the urging of family, I present our stories. Pen names are used not because of a desire for anonymity but to honor her love of make believe which I discovered so late in our lives.

MATILDA'S STORIES

THE CLOCK

What do we now? he asked.

Just keep smiling, he answered. Something good will come of all this.

The two young men struggled as they carried the heavy pieces of office equipment from the garage sale to their old junker of a pickup truck. They had no office, but they had a great idea that required of them to have an office. Seeing the garage sale sign was indeed fortuitous. They had brought all of this furniture for a mere song and a dance. It was a though some special power had led them to this part of the city and had provided the garage sale just for them. This was their final trip to their truck. They were indeed quite weary. So, they were surprised, yet pleased when a young woman came out of a house across from where they had parked their truck with a tray with two glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. They became comfortable under a shady sycamore as they allowed the sweet cold beverage to massage their parched dry throats.

'My, what wonderful furniture, she complimented as she walked around the junker. You must have paid a fortune for all of this."

Nope, not really, said the younger of the two men. Got it all at a garage sale up the street.

I saw you carrying it to your truck. she continued. You seemed exhausted. Are you hungry?

The older of the two stood up and gave her his glass. Nope, and we do thank you for the lemonade, but we really must be going.

She would see him again.

A few months later, she noticed something familiar about a new office in downtown. It was the furniture. She had seen that furniture before. She entered the office. There was no secretary. Just him.

Hi, she said. Let's do lunch.

Can't, he replied. Too much work to do - don't have time to go to lunch.

I can fix that, she said. She disappeared. In what seemed only a few minutes, she returned, and with considerable food.

They ate. Once done, she again admired the furniture, and as she did, her hands gently caressed each piece. The furniture seemed to come alive and to respond to her touch.

Wonderful furniture, she said. Simply wonderful.

What is it that you wanted? he asked.

Nothing in particular. she replied. I just saw the office and the furniture, and I had to stop in to tell it hello again.

Are you sure you were not looking for me? he asked.

"I'm sure,' she said as she smiled and waived goodbye.

She would see him again.

Years went by. Although she drove pass the office often, she never again stopped. Eventually, all the buildings on that block were razed. A magnificent professional building was erected with a variety of shops. She was an elderly woman by the time she felt compelled to peruse the place. She knew to go to the penthouse. Yes there was the name that was on the office that she had visited so many years before. She entered. She asked for him. She had to go through three secretaries and an administrative assistant, but she finally was ushered into a grand office. He remembered her. He took her to a small room off from the main office. There was the furniture - all of it. They sat down. The furniture caressed her. They sipped coffee and talked.

I can understand your not getting rid of this furniture, she said. It is still quite wonderful. They talked some more and then she left.

She would want to see him again.

When she arrived home, she realized that she had lost an earring. She remembered removing it as she looked at the pictures of his family in the picture album in the small room. She recalled that she had glanced up at the old clock and had remarked that it was still keeping good time, and that it was time for her to go.

The next day she returned to the penthouse. They told her that there was no one there by that name. They did not remember ever seeing her before. She asked to be taken to a particular office that she described for them. They shook their heads and gave each other that look, but they obliged her. As the she entered the grand office, he was not there. She went towards the small room. They told her that it was just a storage room, but she opened the door anyway. They were right. It was a storage room. The wonderful furniture was gone. As she closed the door, however, she saw the clock - that same clock, and she could have sworn that the clock smiled at her.

She never saw them again.

THE SENATOR

"I've got a story to tell. Just listen. I won't take long. It all happened on Christmas Eve. It was snowing. You see, this man pulled his car over to the side of the road, reached across his passenger, opened the door and pushed her out. He started to drive away, but instead got out and walked over to the woman and shot her in the head two times. As he was preparing to get back into his car, he saw a youngster hurrying away. He caught up with him and grabbed him in the back. 'Mister,' the kid pleaded, 'I ain't seen nothing. Please don't hurt me. Let me go, please.' 'Do you know who I am?' the man asked. 'No, no sir I ain't ever seen you, and I still ain't ever seen you,' the kid replied without turning his head. The man released his hold