Cherry Blossoms

By Tim Conley

Cherry Blossoms is an anthology of 40 short stories that highlight some of the hot-button issues of our day. Sometimes we just need to lose ourselves for three or four pages of fiction and then come back up for air. These stories provide that short burst of excitement that all of us need from time to time. Read & Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tim Conley
• Release date: Aug 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005256609

Tim Conley

Hi, my name is Tim Conley. I live in Philadelphia, MS with my beautiful wife, Carmela. My son,James (JD) is in the Air Force and has a son Joshua who is 21/2 with another boy on the way. Carmela's son - Enrik just graduated from Mississippi State University with a degree in Teaching.I have been writing for over twenty years and have published 67 books so far - two recently with Amazon/Kindle. I'm currently working on a fantasy anthology of 28 books called The Rhumgold Sagas.I have always been interested in publishing via eBook format but just haven't found the venue until now. I'm really looking forward to participating in the eBook experience. There are 22 e-books available now and 16 more that are being prepared for release in 2020. Read, explore and enjoy!

Book preview

Cherry

Blossoms

(A Short Story Anthology)

TIM CONLEY

Copyright © 2017 Tim Conley

Dragon’s Breath Publishing

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1-0996-3178-8

ISBN-13: 978-1-0996-3178-8

Table of Contents

Story 1

Story 2

Story 3

Story 4

Story 5

Story 6

Story 7

Story 8

Story 9

Story 10

Story 11

Story 12

Story 13

Story 14

Story 15

Story 16

Story 17

Story 18

Story 19

Story 20

Story 21

Story 22

Story 23

Story 24

Story 25

Story 26

Story 27

Story 28

Story 29

Story 30

Story 31

Story 32

Story 33

Story 34

Story 35

Story 36

Story 37

Story 38

Story 39

Story 40

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Dedications

Other Books by Author

C1 Sunshine

"I was lying in a burned-out basement

with the full moon in my eyes,

I was hoping for a replacement

when the sun burst through the skies…"

Army Staff Sergeant Ryan Reynolds peered through the dim light of the moon’s glow to check the setting of his weapon’s safety. It was hard to see but his fingers confirmed the safety was off. Moments earlier he had heard the sound of Xvarian trumpets in the distance. They always sounded to presage the coming battle. His nerves were on high alert.

Weeks of hiding out in burned out territory had been preceded by long nights of running from an alien enemy who took no quarter. Extermination was the determination of the remaining members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff – extermination of either species or both. Nukes had already been used. Half of Europe and Asia languished under a nuclear fog that would probably last for generations to come – if generations would come.

Major Timmons maintained there could be little doubt that the mortality rate was beyond fifty percent. The old world was already dead in his opinion and the new world teetered on the brink. The X-men were winning a series of battles that were being fought hand to hand. They were a tough foe – bodies encased in hardened shells that were almost impossible to stop with current military technology.

Timmons had briefed the unit the night before on the new weapons they had been issued. Didn’t fire bullets alone but were laser-initiated fragments of previously fired and nuke-enhanced ordnance that ate away at the shells of the attackers. In time, the protection suits of the X-men would be eaten away.

Earth’s defenses had to hold out till then. Reynolds was afraid that might take too long. Too long might mean he wouldn’t return to his family. And he was determined not to let his wife raise their children alone.

He wanted desperately to take the photo of his family out again but just knew that would be when the attack would begin – so he resisted the urge to become nostalgic. His wife’s face floated in and out of existence before his eyes while he tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

Margie hadn’t wanted him to report for duty but even she knew he had to. There was no way he wanted to no show. Being AWOL was not in his mode of operation. No way was he going to hide when his buddies were in the field. It went against all his training. Everything he stood for. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. It didn’t do much good. She was still standing there in front of him with one baby in arm and the other hanging onto her skirt.

All the sudden a Navy jet screamed directly over their position – to be immediately lost in a ball of flames as the X-men picked it off. Reflections off the water in front of their position lit up the steady line of the enemy as they engaged the right flank of the line and stormed across the lake. Ryan saw the right flank disintegrate before the enfilade of energy weapons being laid down with highly effective precision.

The middle was beginning to dissolve as the brass made up its mind to release the nukes. Heads ducked and bodies, both human and alien, melted in the bright rays of the artificial suns. When he looked up again, nothing was left alive on the battlefield other than his platoon. Split shells of X-men sank into the turgid water of the lake that glistened with the dying embers of the nukes.

Major Timmons stumbled into the rear of their lines and collapsed into the bottom of the trench – not ten feet from him. Ryan caught a look at his face as he rolled over and didn’t want to see any more. The entire left side of his head had been sheared off – as if a hot knife had been used. Brains were beginning to leak out where his cranium was sliced open. His mouth moved but nothing came out. Then he jerked violently and lay still.

Ben Higons screamed when he glanced over and recognized his officer’s body. He was the most timid of the troop and didn’t quit making noise. Ryan stepped over the Major and slapped him, but it did no good. One of the other guys crept up behind him and clubbed him in the back of the head and the noise stopped.

Darkness of night returned again, and the troop settled in to wait out the coming of daylight. For Ryan it couldn’t come soon enough. On reflection, he decided he didn’t want it to come at all. They would not be able to ignore the Major’s body in the light of day and he didn’t think his mind could deal with that.

He tried to concentrate on the tableau in front of him but the effort became too much. His mind wandered off the battlefield as his body shivered in the wind that was now blowing off the lake. In spite of himself, he shivered as he attempted to control his reactions to everything that had happened.

Army Staff Sergeant Ryan Reynolds was counted amongst the dead the next day. Cleanup crews bagged his body, along with everyone else who had been on the front lines the night before. No words were spoken as the bodies were dumped into a grave pit about a half mile behind the lines. None took the time to note names or take dog tags.

Hardly anyone was left of the Third Corps as the sun peeked through the clouds and finally illuminated a twisted and torn landscape. No tune played for the fallen.

C2 Leaving the Road

"Someone painted APRIL FOOLS

in big, black letters on a Dead-End sign –

I left the road with my foot on the gas –

Blowing out my mind…"

Sometimes I think I’m Invincible! Then there are times when I know I’m not. Those times SUCK! No. Really! They suck, man. This was one of those times. I lay back into the back seat of my Mustang because the back of the front seat was broken from the impact of the collision with the creek bank.

My gut hurt like Hell from the impact with the steering wheel – which hung at an awkward angle from the column. I felt my middle to ensure my guts were still in there and was surprised to find nothing ripped – except for my brand new T-shirt which had Stairway to Heaven ripped in two now.

My forehead slowly dripped blood into my eyes and a lump was developing at the hairline. I squinted to get a partial look at the star pattern on the windshield that had not been there before. The car was canted back into the creek and I felt water beginning to come in to soak the back seat.

I tried to get out of there but the brand-new seat belt was holding me fast. I fumbled with the buckle and nothing happened – except I heard something go puff under the hood as smoke began to drift upwards. I knew better than stick around. Mustang Sally was going to be toast.

My knife was in my pants pocket but try as I might, I couldn’t dislodge it to come out. My fingers couldn’t dig deep enough into my tight pants for that. I was getting desperate when the first flames licked the top of the hood. There really was no time to waste and I struggled mightily to get loose. Finally, I got my fingers around my knife and worked it out of the pocket where it was being held so tight.

My fingers refused to work as they struggled to operate the latch. Flames were leaping higher as it finally cooperated, but it bit into my pants as I tried to get the blade under the seat belt to cut it loose. I had to turn it over to cut and saw the red stuff dripping off it. My muscles froze momentarily as my brain just couldn’t accept that I was in this situation.

I had never been on this road before, but the map said the road was a good one to get back on to I-40. The sign on the bridge said, April Fools! on what must have been a dead-end sign. My mind accepted that now – now that it was almost too late to save myself. The red and yellow paint on the hood was almost burned away now and I still was lying flat on my back – held firmly in place by a seat belt my Father said I didn’t need. ‘Why didn’t you listen to him?’ flashed through my brain but it was almost too late.

The belt finally gave way and I struggled to sit up. The driver’s side window was too close to the bank, so my head swiveled to the passenger side, but the window was up. I reached for the handle to roll it down but then remembered it was missing. I had never replaced it after Bethany Jane broke it off trying to escape my clutches.

What to do flashed between synapses in my brain and I reached frantically for the door handle – which, comedy of errors, broke off in my hand. I swiveled around and kicked at the window. No budge. The door also was solid as I repeatedly kicked at it in an effort to break free. The edge of the dashboard began to curl and smoke from the heat burning through the engine.

I scrambled into the back seat and began kicking out the back window. At first it wouldn’t budge but finally did. Several well-placed kicks and it tumbled out and splashed into the water. With a very painful back, I climbed out onto the trunk and started to enter the water.

That is when I saw the water moccasin swimming toward the car. Its sinuous body swished back and forth as it raised a white, fully fanged mouth and hissed at the car. Or was it just me that it hissed at? I’ve never been certain. For a very nervous moment it was hidden by the trunk and I thought it might have gone under the car but, it reared its ugly head up above the surface of the car and surveyed the prize that stood transfixed before it.

There was only one way to go – into the creek behind it! I suddenly had the strength and determination of ten men as I dived into the creek and struck the water in earnest in an effort to get away. I climbed onto the opposite bank with the feeling something had grabbed hold of my shirt at the collar. I thrashed around to remove the snake and discovered it was just a rotten branch that had grabbed on for a ride across the water.

I looked back at my car to see the end of the snake going down into the interior. Wrong decision! I yelled at it as the fire finally reached the sealed gas tank. The whole world exploded, and I was thrown back into the creek. Pieces of snake and other things rained down around me as I surfaced.

I brushed a piece of it off my cheek as I surveyed what was left of my precious car. Much later, I finally made it back up to the road and stood in the late afternoon sun where the heat off the road quickly dried out my clothes. I felt like crap warmed over. Both ankles felt sprained. I had a hole in my pants that was still leaking, and my head felt about twelve times its normal size.

To make matters worse – I bent over to spit, and two teeth splattered against the road. I must have hit the steering wheel during the crash. I looked up at the big sign that should have warned me.

APRIL FOOLS! I just popped in to see what condition my condition was in.

C3 Lost in Somewhere

"Eight miles out of Memphis

and I got no spare –

eight miles – straight up

Downtown somewhere…"

What can I say? I believe firmly in the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The Bible is the infallible word of God delivered by Moses to the children camping at the foot of Mt. Horeb. Jesus really died for my sins and I’m saved. All I have to do is believe and die – I will be taken to his bosom to live forever in the magic kingdom of the Father.

Benjamin Rashid sat back in his desk chair and looked at the treatise he had just started. He pushed it aside – frustrated that it sounded so contrived. What he had written was exactly, word for word, what the preacher had said on Sunday. Why could he not come up with something original? Something that reflected how he really felt. Yes, that was what he needed. He was attempting to quantify a place and environment he had never experienced.

He scratched his sparse chin hair as he rocked back. To quantify meant, to him, something more than just a written word describing a situation that the reporter may not have experienced first-hand. How could he extract truth from that?

Benny’s mother called to him from the kitchen – telling him supper was ready. He didn’t feel too much like eating her fixings again but couldn’t tell her that. He would hurt her feelings again and he didn’t want that. No sense in fighting again. Besides, what would Jesus do? He would have honored his Mother on this most holy of family days.

That he still had a Mother was something to be thankful for. He knew the verse by heart where Jesus said to honor your Father and Mother so that your days will be long upon the Earth. His father was long dead from a heart attack when Benny was eight years old. Not a man to get close to – Benny couldn’t remember one time when he had been hugged by his old man.

Mother often made up for the coldness that emanated from her husband. She tried to explain why things were as they were in their relationships, but it always sounded hollow. Why did she put up with it? Benny never figured that out. And there was another puzzle – would the old man really be glad to see him in Heaven?

He arose from his chair as the thought hit him that he probably would not be welcomed with open arms. And if your own Father didn’t welcome you into the heavenly realm – then how could anyone else. Paramount. It was imperative that he be honored by his Father. How else would God look upon him with favor?

Mother yelled from the bottom of the stairs. That was his last call. After that she would let the dog have his apportionment. Benjamin hurried downstairs and slid his feet under his Mother’s table. They ate in silence until she asked, Did you study the passages Reverend Thompson gave you for next Sunday?

Yes, Mama. That’s what I was doing when you called.

Good. Then you will be ready for your presentation. You know Mary Lu will be there sitting on the front row. She thinks a lot of you. You know that, right?

Yes, Mama. You’ve told me that many times.

Well, I just think the two of you will make a wonderful couple. She can help you in your service to the Lord. You really need to take her seriously. Now eat up and go finish your preparations for service.

Twenty minutes later Benny was back upstairs sitting at his desk. His Bible was still closed but the list of verses lay beside it. The writing he had started was pushed back on his desk, but he reached for it. Why could he not place the words of the Apostles into a concrete scenario? They were like stick figures – someone doing something in some scene that made no sense because there wasn’t enough concrete evidence to flesh out the scene.

He was thinking hard about that when the paper in his hand started to waver. It became transparent, then solid, then transparent – then disappeared. He pressed his back against a sun-hardened mud structure and gawked. Three men were stabbing another man with short swords. Blood gushed from multiple wounds as the men released their victim. He fell face first into the dust, twitched a couple times and lay still. The men raised their swords and crowed – then just turned the corner and disappeared.

Benjamin stood stunned. He had never witnessed murder before. So brutal, so real – he wiped sweaty hands across his face and thought it would be gone if he opened his eyes. The body was still there – bleeding out into the sand. Ben looked around him at the adobe houses and narrow alleyways. His mind almost snapped as he considered his change in venue.

This can’t be happening! he shouted. I must be having a bad dream. He felt the wall behind him crumble as his fingers dug in.

Where am I? His mind was unraveling swiftly as nothing seemed to fit with any of his previous experiences. The murder wasn’t right. The murdered man hadn’t made a sound – just fell on his face. He didn’t even have a method of defending himself. Brutal. That was a word that stuck in his mind.

Several me came around the corner as he stood frozen. Maybe they wouldn’t notice him if he stood absolutely still. They looked in his direction but then leaned down to pick up the body. Hurry up, one of them said. We have to stack up all the Christians for the bonfire. I don’t want to miss that.

Benjamin muttered under his breath as the murdered man’s feet slid around the corner. "How did I understand them? I’m certain