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Funny Fantasy LGBTQ+

He threw his phone away on a Tuesday.

By Thursday, he was crossing the second bridge leading into Delle Faire. The first bridge would bring you to a little island in-between the mainland and the big island. The little island was called Marco’s River even though there was no river, but there was a small town, and Scott could just have easily bought a house there and been a little closer to his old life.

He could have done a lot of things that would have looked like half-stepping. He could have kept his phone. He could have left his social media profiles up. He could have taken the option of working remotely when his boss offered it to him.

“You’re one of our best, Scott,” Victor said as Scott was putting two paperweights and a pencil sharpener into a cardboard box before leaving his office for the last time, “Nobody can make a client feel as good as you do. Let’s give you two weeks off and then revisit the idea of having you work from home, how about that?”

Scott appreciated Victor being willing to bend the rules for him. The company did not want anyone else working remotely, and he wasn’t sure his boss even had the power to offer that chance to him, but it didn’t matter anyway, because he had made up his mind.

“Victor,” he said, hefting the box into his wildly unathletic arms, practically atrophied from lack of any kind of physical activity for years, “I never want to hear the words ‘client’ or ‘project’ or ‘deadline’ ever again for as long as I live.”

As he was walking past him, Victor called out--

“Life isn’t some movie, Scott,” the kindness in his previous offer now fully exterminated, “You and everybody else thinks you can just leave your job and survive--on what? You need income. You need a salary. Money isn’t just going to fall out of trees.”

Scott didn’t bother turning around. There was nothing to look at anyway and certainly nothing he could say that would change Victor’s mind.

Once he was over the second bridge, it was only a ten minute drive to the house his mother had told him about. She’d written a letter to him from California to see how he was doing, and when he responded that he had surrendered to her preferred way of life, the return letter had come swift and padded with jubilation.

I knew you’d come to your senses, she wrote, For awhile there, I thought you might be like your father. Attached to his phone right up until that third ear came popping out of his forehead. Even then, he wouldn’t put it down. Now you have all these people with extra ears walking around because that’s what happens after years and years of using these cell phones, and they’re all saying “Well, we need them. What are we supposed to do? Besides, we like the extra ear. It helps us listen.” Good thing you quit before your extra ear popped out, Scott.

While reading her words, he scratched a pink spot on his left shoulder where he was sure an ear was forming, but hopefully, he had stopped it in the nick of time.

Mom, he wrote back, I threw my phone away. Does this mean I get the house on Delle Faire? Is it finally mine?

The letter she responded with was covered in what he imagined were dried tears and drops of patchouli-based perfume. The entire page only had one sentence on it.

Kiddo, it’s yours.

The house was something of an inverse. Like the haunted Winchester mansion that had been added onto eternally until its owner dropped dead, Scott’s mother had taken what was once a distinguished, two-story Greek revival on the northernmost part of the island had been systematically dismantled over time until there was nothing left but a living room, a bedroom, and a kitchen with a bathtub in it. Once his mother had sabotaged the place to her satisfaction, she hightailed it to San Bernandino and never looked back. When he, at the age of ten, told her that he had no interest in living in California, she informed him that he could stay with his father since they shared the same “core values” anyway.

“You’ll become a schlub,” she told him, throwing the last of her unfinished tapestries into the back of a VW, “Maybe a cute schlub, but still a schlub. I’ll write to you once a week, but don’t try and call me. I’m relinquishing all contact with the outside world that isn’t in the form of pen and paper. I might even use quills. Who knows? When you’re ready to do the same, let me know and I’ll show you the way to a much better life.”

That better way of life involved the ownership of a whittled down house on an island with a population of a little over two hundred. There were houses buried in clearings every mile or so, which gave the island a bit of a hobbit feeling. Scott had never read The Lord of the Rings, but he understood that at least some of the characters in the book lived wedged into hillsides and drank mead or grub or whatever fantastical people drank, and that sounded good to him.

Upon entering the house for the first time since he was a child, he recalled his father promising him they would never return to the house as they were headed into the city to begin a new life without his mother and with a little suit his father had a tailor make for him. Scott felt a pinching sensation near his jugular remembering how tight his father had made him tie his tie before signing him up for Young Entrepreneurs of America. By the time he was eleven, he was a chapter President. By the time he was skipping grades in high school, he had already formed his first LLC built around a business idea comprised of turning ocean water into a drinkable liquid that tasted like orange juice.

He joined his firm when he was twenty-one after dropping out of college making him its youngest member only to find him becoming the youngest partner before striking out on his own to work in consulting as something of a barnraiser. That was all before the crash and the recession and the investigation into some of his riskier deals that led to him working for a putz like Victor in an office buried in an industrial park next to the corporate headquarters of Marzden Chocolates. As much as he loved the smell of caramel upon walking into work each morning, he knew he had to make a change.

That was all last month. It was amazing how topsy thirty days could be if you committed to making each one of them as chaotic as possible. Scott looked around his new abode and thought about rebuilding what his mother had destroyed. Maybe he could return it back to what it was. First, he would need to get a job. He wasn’t even sure there were jobs on this island. What did people do to earn money? Fish? Lobster trap? Sell tickets to the local pumpkin carving tournament?

He should have thought longer about all this.

It wasn’t until he began rifling through the cupboards that he found the note. He had only been expecting to find some battered cans of tuna and a lonely mouse, but there it was on tattered note paper complete with his mother’s chicken scratch.

Go outside was what he believed he could make out, but it might just as well have said Goats, Arrive.

Outside had to mean the backyard, since there was nothing noteworthy in the front yard aside from a sinkhole, which was where Scott was meant to deposit his trash. In the backyard, there was a small tree. When he approached it, he noticed little boxes hanging from it. He grabbed one of the boxes, and a tune began to play.

It sounded like Cole Porter, but it might have been Iggy Pop. Scott always confused the two. As the music played, he remembered now how his mother had made money while she lived on the island. Tourists would show up every Tuesday and purchase a music box from her. As a child, he believed his mother had made the boxes herself, but she must have been plucking them from this tree the entire time.

That explains why she never let me play outside, he thought, She was hiding this tree.

He gathered up a few of the ripe music boxes and brought them inside. On Monday, he would attach tiny sales tags to them indicating a price. He tried to recall how his mother would price them, but everything cost much more now, and he had to take that under consideration. He wanted to write her a letter to tell her that he had found her means to support, but he couldn’t locate a writing utensil anywhere in the house. He made a mental note to himself (the only kind of note he could write) to pick up some supplies at the island store the following day.

After stumbling upon some coffee behind the sculpture of Dick Cavett in the bedroom, he made himself a cup and walked outside to stand by the sinkhole and take in the sunset. It looked as though the day was departing first by touching the tip of the first bridge leading into Marco’s River and then the tip of the second leading into Delle Faire. One bridge would lead you into a different sort of life, and another would lead you somewhere else altogether.

The music box he held in his hand serenaded him with either “Begin the Beguine” or “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” but Scott didn’t know which, and he wasn’t sure it mattered anyway. He was keeping this box for himself, and he had the rest of his life to figure out just what song it was playing.

February 04, 2023 00:58

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33 comments

Susan Catucci
17:33 Feb 12, 2023

Cole Porter/Iggy Pop -I confuse them all the time (Let's Misbehave, indeed) Seriously, loved it. The music box tree was something out of Oz and Scott took quite a large leap here, checking out the greener grass. I personally think this would be fun to illustrate.

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Story Time
20:32 Feb 12, 2023

I'd love that! I've always been a fan of illustration, but I have no talent for it.

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Susan Catucci
21:17 Feb 12, 2023

Tell you what, for fun - and what better reason - I'll live with this a bit and if I come up with anything of worth, I'll get it to you. I would love to try. It certainly is an inspired piece :)

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Story Time
22:20 Feb 12, 2023

Oh that would be lovely! I guess it is a fairy tale of sorts.

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Kathy Trevelyan
08:56 Feb 16, 2023

Hi Kevin, I really enjoyed your story, and I’d love to know what happens to Scott next. Random bits, like the extra ears, have so many possible avenues to explore, and I agree with others who have picked out things like the little suit. Could you be tempted to write a sequel to let us know what direction Scott’s new life takes? Will the magical music box tree send him off on strange adventures, or will he sink happily into his new life?

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Story Time
16:58 Feb 16, 2023

A lot of Scott's story mirrors my own, so I think once I'm further along I'll be better able to figure out what happened to him :)

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Shirley Medhurst
17:22 Feb 12, 2023

Your story had me hooked from the start….Really enjoyed the journey, Well done😁 (I have just a little question: where is his mother at the moment of writing her letter to the protagonist?)

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Story Time
20:34 Feb 12, 2023

I suspect she's still traveling the world. I'd love to hear more about her adventures, but Scott was the one who showed up with a story :)

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Shirley Medhurst
21:29 Feb 12, 2023

🤣 Brilliant answer😂

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Steve Warford
14:23 Feb 12, 2023

I liked this story, especially since I can identify with the MC. Many times, while doing yard work, I would pick up a piece of nature, turn it 'round and 'round and imagine what it could become with a minimum of embellishment. Dried palm fronds became reindeer, coyotes, and turned upside down, Christmas trees. I like the fact that your main character arrived in his new back yard with no preconceived ideas as to how he would nurture his innate creativity.

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Story Time
20:34 Feb 12, 2023

Thank you so much, Steve!

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Jack Kimball
15:18 Feb 11, 2023

I wonder if remote workers will ever be back entirely? I think the news says fifty-percent and that sounds about right. The technology today can handle it unlike say twenty years ago in my view. So Scott may end up working remotely building a website for music boxes which makes him highly successful given the boxes are organic! The reveal is creative Kevin, but I especially like the image of 'a little suit his father had a tailor make for him' and 'Scott felt a pinching sensation near his jugular' I was a little disappointed I never found...

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Story Time
18:48 Feb 11, 2023

I sort of put myself in Scott's head since he's the protagonist, and so since he didn't know what the Cavett item was about, neither did I. I get the feeling his mother was just someone who would scoop up odd objects at yard sales though, for what it's worth. Glad you enjoyed it!

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15:07 Feb 11, 2023

I can relate to this story. Maybe I need to check my back yard for magical music box trees. For some reason, my favorite line is “After stumbling upon some coffee behind the sculpture of Dick Cavett in the bedroom…” Lol

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Story Time
18:49 Feb 11, 2023

Thanks, Paul. Glad you enjoyed it!

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Laurel Hanson
21:16 Feb 10, 2023

You took going analog in an interesting direction. I love the fact that he has both influences (corporate and non) in his life and has to make a choice here, which remains a little ambiguous at the end, but at least it has a musical soundtrack! The characterization in "new life without his mother and with a little suit his father had a tailor make for him. Scott felt a pinching sensation near his jugular remembering how tight his father had made him tie his tie before signing him up for Young Entrepreneurs of America" is fantastic. I once sa...

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Story Time
23:02 Feb 10, 2023

Thank you, Laurel. Sometimes I struggle with how much to leave unexplored, and in this case, it was the ending. I was thinking "Oh, there's so much more here." I think where he ends up though is sort of where many of us are. Looking back at where we've been and wondering where to go next.

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Story Time
23:03 Feb 10, 2023

This was also inspired by all those movies I watched growing up where somebody just quit their job and moved to a lovely, small town with seemingly no job or prospects. Even as a child, I used to get so anxious and think "Okay, but what about money? Why isn't anyone talking to them about money?" A magic tree in the backyard seemed like a way to poke fun at the impracticality of what he's doing while also supplying a character with no magic in his life some fantasy to hold onto.

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Laurel Hanson
10:52 Feb 11, 2023

Well speaking as part of the Back to the Land movement, I can fully attest to your anxious concerns as a kid. The movies are inspiring, sure, and some people pulled it off successfully through hard work, luck, and probably financial backing of some kind, but returning to the land and self-sufficiency is gruellingly hard work and takes a lot of courage. It certainly took a toll on a lot of the people I knew who were doing it. I mean, if money grew on trees, that would be great, so I love how you took that idea and turned it into music! And as...

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Graham Kinross
02:35 Feb 08, 2023

“The company did not want anyone else working remotely,” did they all forget the benefits for productivity and costs? Seems like most businesses have. Covid never happened, everything is normal. No you can’t have a pay rise. Welcome back. Tuck in your shirt. “Money isn’t just going to fall out of trees,” won’t he look ridiculous when Scott comes across money being transported by plane that feel out of the hold through the ports for the landing gear and landed in a grove of trees, literally raining money. Just wait until he finds the music ...

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Bonnie Zel
18:15 Feb 14, 2023

What a fun reaction, Graham. Your remarks are as fun as Kevin's story.

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Graham Kinross
21:55 Feb 14, 2023

Thanks, Bonnie.

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Michał Przywara
02:50 Feb 07, 2023

Ah - burnout, and crisis :) Scott spent his life living his father's dream, and there were good times, yes, but too many bad times. More importantly, it wasn't his dream. So he goes the opposite direction, that of his mother. Is this really salvation though? It's different, for sure, but it seems like he's trading one parent's ambitions for the other's. On the other hand, it's balance. I think the last line here is key. He hasn't quite arrived yet, but now he's actually listening for his song and trying to figure it out. I do like the im...

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Story Time
17:22 Feb 07, 2023

Originally I was going to call the story "Two Bridges" because I recently fell in love with (and am hopefully moving to) a place about a half an hour away from where I live now. To get there, you have to go over two bridges, and I felt like that was such a great metaphor for change. So many points of maturity seem to come with two obstacles in front of them. For Scott, it might be his parents, or the overall structure of his life. The trick is just getting over that second bridge. I have high hopes for him.

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Bonnie Zel
18:17 Feb 14, 2023

Yes, I like the two bridges AND the plucking ripe music. I see him playing guitar before long.

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Michał Przywara
21:37 Feb 14, 2023

No doubt :)

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Lily Finch
18:28 Feb 04, 2023

Kevin, this story was cool. I loved the idea of living the simple life off a tree that produced little music boxes for tourists. Great job. It was a good way to connect why things happened in his childhood to what he is experiencing in his current reality. Thanks for the good read. LF6

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Story Time
21:02 Feb 04, 2023

Thank you so much, Lily. It was lovely to spend time in this world.

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08:54 Feb 17, 2023

Weldone Kelvin! I thought there would be goats in the story since you called it 'Goats, Arrive'. Nice piece

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Rebecca Miles
21:43 Feb 15, 2023

Yep, I'm with Scott. Sign me up right here to this whittled down house with its music boxes in the trees. Words are just so suggestive aren't they and you place them so well to free up those possibilities. For me, he is there craning the boxes to his ear like early man with a shell, while a cheeky goat peeks out from behind that tree.

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David Drake
21:20 Feb 15, 2023

This was a great read! Had me caught from the beginning and the descriptions kept me hooked. Liked that idea of a music box tree! Thanks for sharing this!

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Amanda Lieser
17:23 Feb 14, 2023

Hey Kevin, I admired your take on the prompt with this one. My husband and I are long time fans of lord of the rings, so I latched onto the idea of becoming a Hobbit with deep joy in my heart. I really liked the way you characterized the maternal figure in this piece-it felt like an ode to Mother Nature herself. I also loved the way you worked the title into your body of work-always sends a shiver down my spine when a writer does that. Nice job!

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Story Time
17:37 Feb 14, 2023

Thank you so much, Amanda. The piece was called "Two Bridges" for the longest time and then I swapped it at the last minute, so I'm glad you liked it!

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