Saturday, April 14, 2012

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Ti Jean


I love you

At Bay

a short story
by Astor W. Heinemann

It was late, he overslept and was sure he would miss the ferry. It was a good thing the hotel was not far away from the docks, if it had been just one mile more away he would have missed it for sure. He drove fast wishing not only that the vessel was still there, but hoping there would be no incoming traffic as the narrow road fit only one vehicle at a time. By the time he made it there they had already started lifting the boarding ramp, but seeing the fast approaching car they probably pitied him for having to wait until the next day to catch a ride back to the mainland if they didn't lower it back. As nice as Hatteras island was, he wanted to get on with the rest of the journey.

Once he was on board he turned off the engine and walked over to some of the officials to thank them for letting him on board. He walked around absently looking at all the people getting out of their cars to find something to do on the long two hour ride. He went inside, served himself a cup of coffee and placed a dollar bill in the donation cup. He sat adjacent to some bikers and listened to their conversation without really paying much attention to it. These guys looked mean and rough but still he kind of envied their freedom.

A while later he got up and walked around inside exploring all three levels inside wishing desperately for someone to strike up a conversation with him to help pass the time, because it was obvious to him he didn't have the energy or skills to start one himself, being socially awkward as he was.

Outside, on the ship's stern, he hung his arms over the railing and watched as a flock of seagulls tailed the disturbed water left behind allowing them easier access to the fishes. He thought they were lazy parasites as they dived in head first and came back up with a fish in their beaks. But later changed his mind as he saw how intensely they flapped their wings and glided to keep up with the boat and how hard they had to work to keep up with the ship's trails. He turned around, rested his back on the railing and threw his head back to look up at the deep blue seven thirty a.m. sky.

Feeling a little bit tired and not really wanting to go sit back in the car, he went up to the upper deck, which to his pleasant surprise was empty, and laid back on one of the benches. He put on his headphones and covered his face with his cap. He stayed like that through the whole first half of The Wall when he decided to sit up and see where they were.

Sitting on the opposite side of the bench was a girl. She was looking away from him at the communications antenna on top and after about a minute took out her camera and snapped a shot of a bird sitting up there. He scooted a little closer to her and asked her if that was a G10. She said it was a G11 and he asked if he could take a look. He had owned a G10 a couple of years back but had gotten rid of it in favor of a considerably more expensive, but infinitely more flexible, DSLR system. She talked about the differences between the previous model and this one she had and he asked if he could snap a couple of shots. She agreed. He took a couple of random shots and then aimed the lens at the girl. She smiled while the cool ocean morning breeze blew her dark brown hair around covering part of her face. He depressed the shutter and looked at the LCD screen to see how it came out. He smiled and said it was good. The shot showed her smiling while a few strands of hair allowed her big, bright blue eyes to show through making them look probably just a little bit more striking than they really were.

They introduced themselves by giving out their names while he held out his hand to shake hers as he said "pleased to meet you". The morning was very cold and the wind chill was probably making it feel a lot colder than it was, but he was curiously drawn to how warm her hands were while his probably felt as if they had been in a water cooler full of ice. The expression on his face as obvious as he lingered on the handshake probably a little longer than was polite, looked down at her hands and then gave her an inquisitive look, slightly tilting his head to the side. No words were needed, she knew, and her smile also gave him the answer to the unsaid wonder.

She asked him about his destination and talked about hers. He was slightly disappointed to learn they were headed in different directions. She got up as the ship was ready to dock at Cedar bay. He kept following her with his eyes, smiling to himself, and, in what seemed to him a slow motion moment, she grabbed on to the railing on stairs leading down to the main deck, turned back and smiled at him.

The ramp was being lowered and he was sitting in his car when his attention was called up by some movement a few cars in front of him. The girl got out of her car and looking back at him waved her hand energetically before going back in.

He smiled at her, looked at the steering wheel abstractedly for about a minute trying not to think about how soft and warm her hands were. He opened the glove compartment, reached inside, pulled out a chrome .38 and fired a shot to his left temple.

Ende.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Saturday, March 17, 2012

See More Glass

Yes, indeed it was a perfect day for banana fish, but dear child, always use the left, not the right.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Tranny

inevitable adventures
of Astor W. Heinemann

Today, while walking by Dean & Daluca (the big one around Broadway, not The Village), a tranny found yours truly staring back at him. He yelled at me "da fuck ya looking' at?!?", in a ubiquitous NY accent.

I stopped short, walked back to him and said, in a calm, soothing tone, as one who was lullabying a baby to sleep "honey, you're just so beautiful, I couldn't help but try and steal a second look".

The man hesitated for an eternal second, as if sizing me up, gathering all his remaining wits, deciding whether I was a buddying freak or a very smart con man.

His expression changed back to hostile as quick as it had done to inquisitive and he yelled back, in a slightly more masculine voice "fuck you!!", as his spit moisturized my frost bitten face.

I walked away with a solemn, proud grin on my face and a slightly more uppity dance to my step, as if singing out loud "mission accomplished!", while I used my scarf to wipe my face dry.

Ende.