The Blinddust Collection

By Molecat Jumaway

Eight Horror and Fantasy Short Stories from Molecat Jumaway.
A Man Struggles with the aftermath of a hostage situation. A woman struggles with the death of her son and Farley Struggles with Faeries. A man struggles with his boring life while Josephine struggles with Sales representatives.
Basically it’s about the struggle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Molecat Jumaway
• Release date: Dec 26, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458081155

Molecat Jumaway

Molecat Jumaway lives in Melbourne, Australia and has been writing short stories and novels for many years.“Rules of the Soul” was his first book and is followed by “Eating at me”.Even though Molecat is fond of his book, "Eating at me." He refers to it as his "Dirty Little Book.""Quiet Slumber of the White Wolf" is his third novel and he is currently working on two others.He is married to a beautiful but strange wife who is convinced ‘Dr Who’s Daleks’ scream “Extravagant” instead of “Exterminate” as though they were some kind of Decor Police.He likes old typewriters and old phones. He has a fear of balloons.When tired he buys cheese, he does not know why.Some of his Short Stories and updates can be viewed at:http://www.blinddustcollection.com

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The Blinddust Collection.

Molecat Jumaway

Copyright 2010 by Molecat Jumaway

Smashwords Edition

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Table Of Contents.

Introduction.

Support Groups.

The Lonely Years.

Life and death as a Sitcom.

The Yaga and the Kaax.

Finding Farley.

Abandon.

The Competition.

A story basically about Sugar.

Introduction.

It was fun, reading through all these stories again, wondering which order to put them in.

I was going to put down The Lonely Years as the first story but then I read it. I was crying and crying at the end and decided it would not be a good story to introduce the group. Too much to begin on something I find so emotionally charged. You may however read it and go "Meah" and shrug, I don’t know. That’s the thing, one story you may like, one story you may hate.

I decided to start the group off with Support Groups, I was surprised with this one and it has become my favourite out of the eight. When I first wrote it however I hated it. I felt it was a cruel story. I had it up on my website and was surprised that out of all of the short stories Support Groups received the most hits. I still disliked the story, my mother loved the story even though I thought she would not. Months later I read the story again and loved it. I reread it just before, years later and loved it even more.

That’s the thing, I write something and then edit it a little and then afterwards I have not much recollection of the story so when I read it a few days later it feels like I’m reading something for the first time, like it’s something someone else has written.

I like to keep Life and Death of a Sitcom and The Yaga and the Kaax together. They don’t really belong together but I like to keep them together because I wrote one straight after the other. I had not written for years and suddenly could feel an itch in my head as though something really needed to be written down. This usually happens and after I start to write I find a whole short story or novel in my head. It’s as though my brain has been secretly developing plotlines and characters behind my back then when it’s all done, gives me this itching signal to get behind the keyboard. I sat down and wrote The Yaga and the Kaax, did a quick edit and then wrote Life and Death of a Sitcom all in one night. And that’s the only reason why I think they should be together.

Life and Death of a Sitcom I really enjoy, mainly because it’s one of those light hearted stories, crazy and not dramatic that brings a smile to my face. I also like Life and Death of a Sitcom because a girl once said "I could never date someone that wrote that!" That also brought a smile to my face. You may feel the same, doesn’t matter, I’m married now.

There was one story that I originally had in amongst the set call Occurrences of George. I read it as I was going over each story. It was supposed to be funny and I don’t think it was, it was supposed to be clever and just came out as a little too clever. I took it out, didn’t like it so it was gone.

Through rereading everything again I found my opinions to some stories had changed dramatically. Case in point is the difference of opinion that I had for Abandon and The Competition. I would rate stories to myself and think one was better or more entertaining or more emotionally charged than another. I always had Abandon up there amongst my better stories. I always had The Competition as an okay story but not as near as good as Abandon. After rereading the two the positions have swapped. Maybe it’s for the reason that The Competition surprised me because my expectations of it were so low, I don’t know. But after rereading the story I perceived a sense of style that I enjoy detecting in some of my stories. Crazy, eerie and a little funny.

In the end of it all my final opinions on each story do not matter and the fact that my opinions are forever changing is merely entertaining. I really enjoy writing short stories and seldom get a chance because my mind is in novel mode. There is something about sitting down one night with something in your head and Boom there it is written out in front of you and through the window the morning is dawning. You’re emotionally charged and emotionally drained at the same time and I love that feeling.

As I said you may find you hate some of the stories and love others. It would be great for both of us if you love them all but it’s really out of my control. I can only offer them up and hope.

Support Groups.

Heroism is a tool of the media. It ain’t about those last few seconds, it’s about sales and marketing. Everyone loves a hero, everyone loves to cheer a live hero, everyone loves to mourn a dead hero. It’s on the news, the television; it’s in the papers; on the radio; on everyone’s lips. We live in a world of numbers; a story of heroic deeds is a spot of colour in a dreary grey world. Even if it were just a story. In reality it’s all about instinct and thought. Which way does your instinct take you, charging in or begging for your life? Most of us would say the latter. You see a situation and given enough presence in mind to think you realise that there is only so much you can do. Looking like a twat isn’t going to save your bacon. If you’ve been through enough shit you realise that some things are just inevitable.

I haven’t realised all this yet.

I’m looking like a twat.

I’m crying like a baby and pleading for my life.

Considering there’s a gun at my head it’s quite understandable, most of you would be doing the same thing. Those of you that just shook their head then would be the first to start tearing up.

He’s already killed the little girl, a man, a pregnant woman for god sakes and now me. He doesn’t want anything, we’re not hostages. The only reason why we’re not running is to spare those few extra seconds of life. This isn’t a robbery or anything reasonable this is just a man gone nuts and he happens to own a gun.

My nose is running, nice way to find your cold dead body. I’m begging and I don’t even know what I’m saying. It’s all automatic and I have no real control over it. You know I think I’m talking about my runny nose. For Christ Sakes shut up man! If he killed a pregnant woman at point blank he’s not going to care about your sodden life!

The hammer draws back. Ohgodohgodohgodoghotdogshotdogshotdogs. Bang.

There’s the pain and all I’m wondering is how my Oh Gods turned into hot dogs. I think I’m alive, I think the bloody bastard missed me. I’m even still standing. I’m wondering about the pain but I’m alive and in pain and not dead and nothing.

Fucking arsehole. I yell and I hit him, I hit him hard. I don’t think I’ve ever hit someone that hard before. When you hit someone, you’re usually trying to warn them off, go away or I’ll hit you again. I’m hitting this person with intent to actually kill him with my fists. The gun’s gone now, he dropped it on the first punch, someone else came and picked it up. A little girl I think.

I’m okay, I’m okay. I say after getting tired of hitting the guy. Everyone is just standing around staring at me. I look down at my feet. Ew, did I do that?

Okay, so now I’m a hero, Splat.

No, no, I’m not doing interviews. No, no, thank you but I must decline. How much? Jeeze, Nope, no, I don’t want to talk about it. Well maybe just one.

Then there’s the manslaughter charge. I really didn’t think I was hitting him that hard and he had just