"Between Red Planets"

"Lost Stars in Meteo Shower


 

A PASSING DESERT STORM The stretch of the desert road to our home was different today. Bright sunshine bathes the road most days, but today dark clouds filled the sky, the rain nurturing the desert as the desert does me. The clouds reminded me of the past; the years spent in Seattle. I never thought I would end up in the desert. There were small seeds during those years, a vacation in Death Valley, where I sat on the porch of Furnace Creek Inn hearing nothing but the quiet of the desert and my thoughts. That small seed and adventure brought me here to live. In the city, careers, buildings, traffic, people all fill voids. The desert is not like that. The vastness, solitude and it’s unchanged nature bring you back to yourself and then the real journey begins. Kathleen Young

The Unfinished Work of Peter Dann By David Young Peter’s fingers moved gently over his laptop like a painter’s brush on canvas. Manuscripts of short stories filled his small apartment, piled everyplace like friends who stayed long after their wit, and freshness were gone. Peter paused looking at his watch, 1 am. He took another sip of wine; the window reflected his image and revealed the tiredness on his face. He pushed back his hair; the streaks gray. He shook his head. When he turned off the lamp, a soft light entered the room. The full moon, “wow” he thought to himself as he gazed at its glory. It looked down at earth behind streaks of clouds like shelves that held the books of life; it already read. He stepped back accidentally knocking off a pile of manuscripts. The papers scattered every which way on the floor. Peter mused that the moon would not have these stories to read and somehow hoped the characters in the pages might find their own endings. There it was all his efforts since getting his English degree and the hopes of his professors who said he had great talent. It yielded only his job at the bookstore and lots of time to write. Maybe, there was still hope. Peter left the papers on the floor and went to bed.   A gray blanket of clouds hung over the city by the time he reached the bookstore, another Seattle day. He caught a glimpse of Emily Baker’s spirited step as she headed toward her job at the Radio Station. Warm thoughts filled his mind. He always kept special art books for her and sometimes gave her a few pages from one of his stories to read. Peter liked her slenderness and long black hair. He hoped she would visit the bookstore again soon. Sarah was already there barricaded by books in a dark corner to the rear. The blue of the computer screen reflected upon her face, it gave her a cold look. She spent hours there. Everything about her read “do not disturb my little life.” The customers got the hint and stayed away. Besides Peter knew good writing and could always find a book for them. Peter was well read. It was part of the writing craft. Sarah’s x husband Joe started the business. Problem was he found more romance with the women customers than the books on the shelf. The divorce changed Sarah. Peter did the best he could to bring warmness to the place, adding articles, pictures of writers and small art at the end of shelves and corners of the store. Customers commented how it was an “oasis in the city, a retreat for the soul.” Peter wished it was for him.   He pulled two stories out of his shoulder bag, both half completed. Peter thought to himself, maybe today he could finish something between rushes of customers. He could almost hear the characters cry out for help, “Rescue me Peter from the conflicts and situations you put me in. I want to be on the shelves with the other books.”   Down the street at KVKI 590 Radio, Keller Bush the marketing director was on a tear. You could always hear him before you saw him. Tall dark with a mustache and combed back hair, he looked good in the station brochure but was a shallow man who had depended for years on the talent of young creative people. They were hired and left quicker than the candy in the lunchroom vending machine.   KVKI was a 24hr talk and human interest format. It had to be fed with a continuous flow of fresh material. Emily like all new hires was greeted initially with the “savior of the station” status for the fresh ideas she brought. Her claims to fame “saving the greens spaces of Seattle” and “The plight of the Old” about long-time residents of the central district displaced by gentrification were three years ago. She only kept her job now by doing production support. Other creative types with unbendable egos were simply fired as they ran dry of new ideas.   By the time she joined the meeting, Keller was already pacing back and forth in front of the group. “We have got to come up with brand new material for the August rating season. I can’t tell you how critical this is,” Keller said raising his hands as if pleading to be saved.   Emily knew Keller as big at the station as he was, had little more security there than anyone else. Keller stepped back, dropping his hands to his side and gave a stern look to the production staff, “we all know there will be consequences if we don’t meet expectations.”   Emily wondered, why did she ever change from an art major to marketing but answered herself; she needed a job and still did, at least until she could escape. The Keller mayhem died down by the afternoon; the creative staff retreated to their cubicle to sweat out the next idea. You could almost touch the tension that hung over the office. Emily leaned back in the chair and reached for her valise and saw Peter’s story. She took it out and read it. Like all his stories, it had good romance and hooks that kept you turning the page. Problem was there was never an ending, just great starts, scenes, characters, images that set the mind free to wander but never a destination. Emily grabbed the valise and walked out for a break.   A few minutes later she was riffling through art section at the book store, books she had looked at many times. Peter saw her and approached her with a book on Gauguin. She turned, “Peter; the Truck Drivers Wife is a great story but how does it end?” Peter looked at her with a puzzled face, all the characters still walking around in his mind trying to sort things out.   She caught his soft brown eyes, “Well?” Peter paused and then said, “Well the truth is that I am not really sure.” Emily reached out and took the Gauguin book, “Peter, ever thought about running away like Gauguin did, believe me this would be a good day for it. You even look a little like Gauguin.” Then she caught herself, feeling sheepish and said, “in a modern way of course.” Peter grinned, “It’s the artistic torture coming out.” Emily showed Peter a small sketch she had done, “what do you think of this, artist to artist so to speak?   “Like that one Emily. With the right color, it could be a nice painting” Emily raised it angling it in his direction and brushing away her long black hair, “Really?” Her eyes brightened and danced around a wonderful nose. Peter thought of her as beautiful as the women Picasso painted.   Time and experience had taught him not to get too close though, a writer with no finished work or for that matter, future was indeed a very short story when it came to romance. Emily looked again at the sketch. She treasured his comments. Her world was filled full of people who lived on deadlines, whale size egos and plots to destroy each other. No one cared about art.   She stopped herself and looked at Peter glancing at his story half stuffed into her valise. Suddenly, the idea hit her, “Peter does the thought of being famous interest you?”   Peter shrugged his shoulders, “will I created a lot of characters who want to be famous.” Emily pulled out the story and scratched a few notes on the first page. Turning toward Peter, “will you meet me tomorrow morning at the station before work; there is someone I want you to meet.” The next morning Keller was downing his third cup of coffee tapping his pencil on the desk. The phone rang as Emily walked in. Keller ignored it, “so Emily. What is this all about and who is your guest?”   “Well Keller, I would like you to meet Peter Dann, who works at the bookstore down the street.” Peter reached his hand out to shake Keller’s. Keller leaned back in the chair half completing the shake, “yeah I know the bookstore, never been there, but I know where it is.”   Emily sensing Keller’s impatience spun out her idea. Keller raised his hands behind his head and leaned further back in his chair. Emily leaned forward summing all the creative talent she thought long gone. “You see Keller; everyone wants to be a writer, why not ask for listeners to help Peter complete his stories?” Peter can read the start a story each day. The listeners could send in their ideas, and Peter would choose the finish he likes best. The contest would conclude by Peter reading the completed story on the air the final day of the contest. The ratings could soar.”   Keller thought for a moment then said, “It’s way out there, but I like the buzz, let’s try it. We will call it The Unfinished Work of Peter Dann. Is that OK with you Peter? We will arrange for compensation for your work, an appearance fee. We will pre-record your segment. You can have as many attempts as needed to get the reading right.”   Peter’s face reflected the surprise of it all and thought about saying no but the story characters in his head all shouted out “yes.” They sensed rescue on the horizon. “OK, let's do it.”   The small recording booth surprised Peter, on the other side of the glass in a dual booth was Brent Rod the daytime host. He looked more worn that Peter imagined, wrappers of snacks from the station vending machine littered his desk. He seemed so big when you heard him over the air but so small in his little booth. A station assistant opened the door and handed Peter a copy of his first story and ask if he was ready. The story lines were double spaced. A time line along the side and the station logo on top. It was still warm from the printer. Peter felt a rush as if he had finally published something. The producer gave Brent the record sign. “Hello from KVKI 590, we have been promising you a great contest, and here it is. In the studio is Peter Dann, say hello Peter. Peter hesitated but somehow managed “Glad to be with you Brent.” You see fans; Peter is a writer. A writer of great promise but he has a problem. He starts great stories but cannot get them finished. That’s where you come in fans. Maybe you always wanted to be a writer. Well here is your chance; I am going to have Peter read you the start of a new story each day over the next week. Then you can email, text or mail in your ideas about how the story should end. Peter will review these, choose the best ending. It will be read over the air on August 31st and the winner will get $1,000 plus a weekend in Vancouver, BC. Plus you will have a contributing by line for the story. Here is your chance to be famous, maybe even start a writing career of your own.” The director pointed to Peter giving him the ready signal. Brent paused as the fake applause and cheers were piped in. “Right after the commercial I will have Peter read the start to the first story.” Peter could hear the commercial play through the earphones. He glanced over at Emily in the studio office; she smiled. It gave Peter warmth. The director motions “three, two, one” to Brent. “We are back after that short break with our writer Peter Dann. Are you ready to read the first story?” Peter said “yes, it's called “Blind Revenge.” “Go ahead Peter, read it to us.” Peter saw Brent open another package of snacks after he turned off the mike. It made him nervous, but he moved ahead, soon the characters he created helped him become calm. “Blind Revenge…..Money, lots of money flowed to Paul Robert’s, a middle man who brought funding to ideas. Success that purchased a Jaguar, $500 suits, a huge network of contacts, influence and a Mistress. Jennifer his socialite thin wife stood out in a crowd of high society blonds with her black hair. She moved through that jungle with the savvy of a cougar. The trail of clues that Paul left; receipts, poor excuses, a hint of perfume, late nights. It was a trail a blind woman could follow. Jennifer's learned tolerance paid for by coldness and distance. An unspoken bargain, he wanted suitable social status with a gorgeous wife. She wanted a new foundation after a crumbled first marriage. There were still slices of Paul' charm and lots of money that tied their relationship. Her New York roots played well in Seattle where people thought they were in a big city but were not. It would have been easy for her to have an affair with one of Paul’s friends. They were like dogs who would sin in a minute given a chance, but they had no class. Paul had class but no conscience. But then there were other possibilities for tenderness.”   The director gave the cut sign. Brian gave the thumbs up, “Wow Peter, what a great start to this story. Love, betrayal and Seattle what more could you ask for. Now listeners, it’s up to you to help Peter finish this story, send us your emails with your ideas to KVKI. Remember, Peter will be reading other stories this week so you can choose the one you want to complete, just have your entry in by August 31st.”   Over the next few weeks, the station was overwhelmed with contest entries. Brent walked through the station like a peacock. Emily had a larger office and assistant to handle the flow. The contest gave Peter and Emily many chances to meet. Warmth grew between the two. Things also changed at the bookstore. It was not long before listeners figured out where the bookstore was. Sarah was miffed when customers ask if this was Peter’s Bookstore. She would reply curtly, “No; I am the owner.” Peter besieged by customers giving their entries to him directly or telling him how the story should end shortened his hours of work. More time for writing, he loved it but challenges grew. Boxes of entries now flooded the apartment. It looked like a paper war zone. Each entry he read opened new ideas in Peter’s head. Sometimes, he could not even match the entry to a story, panic set in. There was only one week before the contest ended. His characters needed more time to find conclusions in their paper lives.   A gentle knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, it was Emily. “I thought you might need some company this evening, if all your characters don’t mind me being here?” Peter smiled; he reached out his hand and drew Emily near. She glanced up to him, “I have been thinking that you might want to start a new story, one that with warm ending.” For once, Peter did not have to pen any words, he simply drew Emily even closer. His touch explored the woman he craved but not dared to think of having. They fell into bed like a heroine and hero after a long quest to find each other.   Morning sun filled the room; Peter sorted through more stacks of entries. Emily still lay asleep, like a dream character he wrote well enough to come alive. “Emily, wake up, I think there is a good finish here for Blind Revenge. The errant husband finally comes to his senses, but too late; Jennifer has left him for Alicia.” I have also found a good ending for “The Flower Shop.” They can give each other a strength in the cold world of readers.   “Peter, can we talk again about what Gaugin did? Going to some island or remote place where you can write, and I could paint.”   Peter looked to the clock, “I have to get to the bookstore for the rest of my notes and finish these stories. The show is at 1pm.” He pulled on his pants and brushed his hair back. “I will see you there.” Brent Rod was ratting off the spot adds “the finest in automobiles can be found at Phil Smart Mercedes, and now for the news.” The studio fell silent as the feed from national news began to play in the background. “Ready Peter, this is the big day.”   Peter nodded as he gathered the story pages. He glanced across the studio and saw Emily standing with Keller and a man in a black suit. He recognized him from the station brochure. He was John Roberts the CEO. Keller and Roberts were talking and motioning toward the recording booth Peter was in. Emily had a look of concern in her face as she turned away from the group’s conversation to look at Peter.   Brent motioned toward Peter with his hands as if to say; you're on the air, “Well fans this is what you have been waiting for, the conclusion to our contest, The Unfinished Work of Peter Dann. Peter, which entry did you choose?”   Peter looked at Brent, “I liked Faye West’s finish to the Blind Revenge story. Here is how it goes.” Peter read the story's conclusion.   As the canned applause was piped in, Brent already had Faye West on the air congratulating her and telling her about the great prizes she won. Peter gathered his story papers. He reached for a pencil and wrote a note on a piece of paper. He folded it neatly into a square and walked out of recording booth. Keller rapidly approached with a big smile on his face and Emily at his side.   Keller reached out his hand to Peter, “What a great job, the ratings went over the top. You probably saw me talking to John Roberts. The ratings are over the top. We want to make your program a regular show in our line up. I am authorized to offer you a contract and substantial compensation. Meet me at the station tomorrow at 10am and we can review the details.   Peter looked at Keller and nodded but did not say anything. He pressed the note he had written into Emily’s hand and gave her a warm smile as he walked out of the studio.   The next morning, Sarah walked through the door of the bookstore as she did every morning. She overheard two passersbys say “there it is Peter Dann’s bookstore, you know the radio story reader.” Sarah frowned as she walked by Peter’s desk tossing a memo on it that read “now that the radio show is over, there is a substantial amount of work that needs to be done.” At the bottom were the words. "PLEASE SEE ME."   Down the street at the radio station, Keller nervously reviewed the contract for services drawn up for Peter, then the confirmation from the HR department giving Emily a raise and new title “Program Development Specialist.” He looked at the clock, 9:30 and thought “Where is she?” Peter heard a familiar knock at his apartment door. He opened it. Emily was there, holding up his note. She smiled and said, “I have this note here from a successful writer who says he wants to start a new story, a love story. Is it you Peter?” She stepped aside so Peter could see her suit cases. “You know; I have some fresh canvas packed that needs painting.” Emily held up two airline tickets, “I think these are the tickets you wanted me to get.”   Peter reached out and kissed her, then opened the door wider revealing his suit case. “I am sure we can find lots of new adventures for that story.”   Peter took a last look at the unfinished manuscripts on the floor and boxes of entries. A moment of hesitation filled his thoughts, and then he realized his characters would be fine. It was time for them to find their own lives as it was for him. He turned toward Emily taking her hand and shut the door behind him.
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