DAY 10 of FLASH AUGUST FICTION. Essentially, a third of the way. I have some weird ideas today. It's not a single-word prompt, a dream, or some recurring notion. Some years ago, I wrote a book. I thought it was a novel. It was not. It was actually a serial. What I didn't understand is that novels have to be written in a single voice. It was not. I wrote it in narration, but the narrator wrote from the perspective of several people in his town, as he was a storyteller. Also, this story had a major arc, but each "chapter" is also its own story that could stand alone. Again, a serial. So, I'm going to write a new episode of that story today. It is called The Chronicles of the Last Gas Station. What happens to local economies once corporatism is finished sucking the life out of us? You might listen to today's podcast because I'm going to get more into the background of it in the audio.
First, I want to recommend someone again today.
is another writer I keep up with. Her latest post is relevant for the terrible days we are experiencing in the States. It’s called It’s Not Political, It’s Hate. She is right on point. Most of us in the US are independent. We are not in the parties. It’s horrifying to see what these two organizations are doing to our country. It is a lot like watching two backward, feuding cousins ruin the picnic for the whole family. That is the nice way that I describe this. Dana is right on point in her way of describing this from her Buddhist perspective and in terms of trying to respect people. This gal is most definitely on a healing journey. I strongly suggest reading her. Like KW Norton, whom I recommended yesterday, she recognizes that there is a spiritual component to this. Please listen to the audio of this post because I’ll probably get into more. This is a much longer introduction than I normally do, but for whatever reason, it seems fitting. Thanks for reading and for listening. I’m Herschel Sterling, and I’m here to help.A Chronicle of The Last Gas Station
Antler Pestle and Mint Discuss a Local Food Pact
691 WORDS, WRITTEN IN ABOUT A HALF HOUR
Antler is out back of the firehouse, ovaling out his new bat handle with a blade and some sandpaper. He's got the back doors and the front garage door open, airing out the place after cleaning the floors. He sits on the bottom couple of the back stairs that lead to the roof. Mint sees him from the gas station window. He knocks on the window to get Antler's attention across the street. Antler sees him. Mint motions with his hand, making a talking motion. Antler waves him over.
Mint puts a sign on the door after locking it. "I'm just at the firehouse. Just whistle or yell, and I'll be right over."
Antler is stretching a ribbon of sandpaper over his bat handle, pulling it back and forth in an even motion. He feels it for smoothness, blowing off the dust as he goes. "What's going on, young man?' He asks Mint.
"Not much," Mint responds. "I was just thinking about the food meeting from yesterday." I can't believe the people who have all agreed to work together. "Six months ago, they were at each other's throats." He says.
"Necessity is a good tonic." Antler advises. "We aren't out of the woods yet, but food brings people together."
"I guess it does," Mint says. "We're really behind on meat, though." I know we'll get there, but we have a lot of ground to make up."
"There's always hunting." Antler says. "You can bet for sure that there won't be any waste in that department." I expect there will be lots of sausage." So far, watching the sausage get made has been painless, so to speak."
"That's what I'm afraid of, I hear terrible stories about, the so to speak, sausage getting made."
"A thing to remember about that," Antler says, "is to allow for a lot of experimentation." That's kind of a natural thing. "Let a few different things happen and see what works."
"Can I tell you something? In confidence?" Mint asks him.
"Of course, kid, always." Anlter answers.
"Jasmine wants to take a road trip." She wants to go out to the Northwest and get the stuff her dad left her. "She wants me to go with her."
"What's the problem?" Antler asks.
"Do you think I should?" Mint answers.
"I absolutely think you'd be silly to not take her up on that." He responds.
"Really?" You think Paul will be OK?"
"Everyone will be OK." You have to take care of yourself." Paul has to be a big boy; he really does. "You have done more than put your time in here." Get out there and see some things. "Whatever happens, it will be OK." If you leave and Paul stays, that will be fine. "If you both leave, that will also be fine. "Necessity is a good tonic."
Antler continues. "The clearing out back looks good, by the way." Something to think about is taking up the grass. "Don't turn it under. "See if anyone needs it." It will be a headache if you leave it in there. "That's something to finish before you leave."
"We're going to run a few cycles of hemp back there to make sure it's OK for food." Mint says.
"That is a mighty wise move," Antler says. "Better safe than sorry."
Antler stands up. He grips the bat handle and gets into a hitting stance. He takes a few swings.
"You got a new bat?" Mint says. "Why?"
"I guess it's just something I do in the spring." I give them to the school. "It's just a habit." He says. "Speaking of cycles."
"Hmm," Mint says.
As the two are finishing up their chat, a whistle can be heard from the gas station. "I got a custy." Mint says.
"Get to it." Antler responds.
"I'll check you out later, Antler." Mints says.
Antler responds. "Likewise, young dude."
Mint runs over to the gas station, and he sees that Jasmine came over to hang out with him at work.
"You're just in time," Mint says. "The floors need mopping."
"Cool," Jasmine says. I'll watch while you work on that."
The End.
I hope you might get a paid subscription, or buy me a coffee, or donate some bitcoin. I wish you the best. I’m Commercial Herschel, and I’m here to help.
A Chronicle of The Last Gas Station