Skyway Books – Short Stories – Poems – Books
Boathouse Blues
Author: marcl, Category: Quick stories
Late May had arrived in cottage country and the mature spring air was thick with anticipation. Fifty kilometers away, Billy Parker sat anxiously in the rear seat of his parents’ mini-van on a hairpin two-lane road. He gazed out the windows and day- dreamed of upcoming summertime adventures. As the maples and oaks whizzed by in a flourish of greens and browns, the tinted windows of the van robbed Billy of being able to completely capture its beauty. To him it didn’t matter though because he just wanted to be in the future in as little time as possible. Every minute wasted by travel was sucking the life out of his hopes and dreams. His final destination was the family’s two bedroom cottage that sat majestically on Georgian Bay. It was a testament to all that was still good with the world as its reflection beamed proudly in the mirrored calmness of the water.
From off the shore, vibrant turquoise blue walls with baby blue trim ensured that their boathouse stood out like a beacon to all who passed by. Winter weather played havoc on the boathouse with its ravaging winds, bitter cold and the thick layers of winter fluff. Every spring when the thaw began to creep through, a caretaker would add a glimmer of new life to the tundra-like surroundings. A fresh splash of paint here, sparkling glass windows over there and the odd repair as well. He could fix anything that tortured the boathouse. Well almost anything.
By the time the late afternoon sun had turned into a glowing citrus sphere and was kissing the horizon, the Parkers’ mini-van had devoured two hundred kilometres of asphalt and was in the homestretch of its journey. Billy’s exhausted head bobbed in harmony with the rhythm of the road and the book he had been reading sat precariously between two dangling fingers. Two seconds later a sudden swerve and a pot hole was enough for the book to drop to the carpet of the van with a gentle thud. The sudden motion jerked Billy awake for the final kilometre ride to the cottage. He rubbed his tiny fists into his eyes to clear the fog and managed to eek out a muffled “where are we?”, as his dad steered toward an empty laneway.
An overwhelming aroma of pine wafted through the windows of the van as it made a final turn and onto the gravel driveway of their summer paradise. With a quick click, Billy was out of his seatbelt and his hand was on the sliding door handle as he pushed it on its guiding rail with a gentle whoosh. As he stepped out of the van it was suddenly all worth it. The daily treks to school in the frigid temperatures and bitter winds of the previous winter seemed an eon away from this second of satisfaction. He always loved this place, these smells, these sights and the adventures that awaited him. If eleven years old could be bottled to last forever, Billy would have bought a case of it.
Darkness had reared its ugly head by the time the last of the Parkers’ boxes had been unloaded and dumped onto the cottage’s entry hall. Returning here after almost eight months was always a moment to treasure not only for Billy, but his parents as well. The city was left behind. The stress was forgotten for the moment. The daily grind of hockey practices and school lunches and arguments about burnt toast and bounced cheques just didn’t seem to matter anymore. Eight-hundred square feet of cedar and brick was a fortress to the outside world’s ammunition of problems and meaningless tasks. Now it was time to unpack and envelop the magic.
Billy was famished. The fast food he had inhaled eighty kilometres ago just wasn’t filling the void anymore. His stomach had been gurgling and rumbling since they had parked the van. He was sure his parents had heard it, but so far his mom wasn’t making any movement toward the direction of the kitchen. It was time for a more direct approach.
“Hey mom, I’m starving,” he suddenly burst out as he unpacked the last of his clothes.
“I know you are. I’ve been hearing your stomach for the last ten minutes. We’re going to barbecue. Will you go out the boathouse and bring your dad the barbecue utensils?”
“Do I have to?” he asked with an attitude of total non-enthusiasm in his voice.
“If you want to eat you do,” his mom quickly responded.
He finally conceded he would go and five minutes later he was off to the boathouse. This was no big deal. He had been there hundreds of time before in the daytime when the sun lit his way. This was his first trip in the dark however. Now it was up to twenty-four ounces of plastic and four D cell batteries to do the job.
The path from the cottage was riddled with natural obstacles. One false step and you could find yourself licking the dirt in an instant. His flashlight beam danced among the foliage as he continued his journey. Suddenly the light bounced and caught the colours of the boathouse. A sigh of relief washed over Billy as he approached the door and dug into his pockets for the key his mom had given to him. It was a moonless night and a thin layer of cloud cover had hidden any visible stars.
Without a third hand it was impossible to hold the lock, the key and flashlight all at the same time. In an ingenious manoeuvre, he wedged the flashlight between his knees, pointed it up and went to work. The lock had seen better days and was drizzled with rust lines. Even still, the key slid in with an unexpected ease and turned effortlessly to the right as the latch broke free from the rest of the lock. With the key once again tucked away for safe keeping he opened the door. Its hinges squeaked with a thirst for lubrication as he pulled it towards him and he stepped inside. The boathouse was crammed to its roof with summer supplies including lifejackets, oars, an eight foot canoe and three inner tubes for tubing on the lake. No barbecue utensils were visible however from the entrance. In order to complete his mission, a deeper walk into the structure would be necessary.
The handle of a shovel bashed his shins as he stepped forward. Billy let out a yell and a word his parents probably didn’t know that he knew how to say yet. After recovering from the sting of the whack, he stepped over the handle and found himself in the middle of the rat’s nest. As he moved the flashlight around the room, he could finally see what a challenge this was going to be.
A chill suddenly went down his back and he had a sense that he wasn’t alone anymore. Creepy wasn’t close to what he was feeling at that instant. It was time for an immediate exit. The door suddenly slammed itself closed with a horrendous bang. He whipped his head around as the flashlight rotated like the beam of a lighthouse.
“Not funny dad,” he cried out.
His dad was forever playing tricks on him and so it was certain that he had to be the most obvious suspect. There was no response. From behind him he heard some articles shift like something or someone was moving them out of the way. No time left. He pushed on the door, but it would not budge an inch.
“Let me out!” he yelled as he pounded on the door until the sides of his fists turned beet red.
Inches from his head, almost close enough to part his hair, an axe flew by and bit into a knot in the plywood door. The handle shuddered back and forth as tears began to stream down Billy’s cheeks. He was frozen in time and his cinderblock legs had no intention of moving in the immediate future.
“Hello Billy, I’ve been waiting for you” a child like voice announced from the back of the boathouse.
His muscles were now locked up and the stress of the moment had zapped every ounce of energy that he had.
“Turn around!” demanded the voice with a whiny, spoiled rotten to the core attitude.
Behind him there was crashing and smashing and all around destruction. Objects were flying around the room and zooming by his head like World War I fighter pilots in those double winged airplanes. A football hit him square in the back and an oar slapped the back of his left calf.
Billy was now leaning against the door and sobbing heavily, pleading for it to stop. For it to just go away. He couldn’t understand why this was happening to him at this time. This was supposed to be a greatest and best summer ever. Now it was ruined by someone or something he didn’t even know. School was three hundred kilometres away, and he was still being terrorized. All of this was just another butt whipping on the way home from school or another lunch ruined by some jerk who tripped him in the lunch room. The more he thought about it the more depressed he became.
In an instant though, something remarkable began to happen. Self-pity had suddenly turned into years of pent up rage and frustration. The tear ducts were immediately put on simmer and he found a new source of energy. He knew he couldn’t stand there and take it any longer. It was time to take back his life, his summer vacation and his self respect.
Adrenaline is an incredible weapon to the human spirit and Billy now had a tank full of it. A retaliatory strike was ordered in the form of the same football that had just clobbered him in the back. It was thrown harder than he had ever thrown one before in the direction of the voice. A clay flower pot was smashed upon reaching its destination. His flashlight had been lost in the assault so the boathouse was pitch black. This was seriously jeopardizing the accuracy of his aim. Next up was the boat oar. After taking ten courageous steps forward, he swung it around like a major league hitter. Unfortunately he also struck out as he continued to hit nothing but air. So he swung again; still nothing.
“Come on out and show yourself!” he suddenly cried out. “Who’s the chicken now?”
As suddenly as it had started, everything had stopped. All had settled down. No more taunting, no more flying missiles, but Billy kept swinging that oar anyway. After about fifteen swings he realized that whatever had just terrorized him was gone. A tremendous relief and utter sense of peace coursed through his body. Emanating from the direction of the door, a beam of light at floor level from his dropped flashlight was now shining through the barrage of junk and lighting an exit path for him. The barbecue utensils were also miraculously hanging on a hook directly in front of him. Mission accomplished. Without a sense of urgency, he tossed aside the boat oar, grabbed the utensils, picked up his flashlight and walked out of the boathouse. Ten steps into his walk he remembered he hadn’t locked it so he turned around and went back.
The unmistakeable fragrance of charcoal lingered in the air as Billy strolled to the end of the path. His parents were at the barbecue sharing a moment; a special moment that married couples do. He just stopped and watched for a minute in a kind of awe. It was rare what his parents had and he knew it. Half of his classmates lived in a divorced home so everyday he felt blessed and grateful for what he had. When his mom left to go back inside he emerged from behind an oak tree and onto the back lawn of the cottage.
“There he is!” his dad exclaimed as he slapped three hamburgers onto the grill. “Where we’re you all this time?”
“I went to get you the barbecue things,” he replied in a surprised attitude thinking his mom would have mentioned it.
His dad didn’t say anything right away, but his mind was suddenly deep in thought about where those barbecue things were. It hit him like a ton of bricks.
“You went in the boathouse? Just now, in the dark?” he asked.
“Yeah I did,” Billy replied not sure of where all this was going, but also with a sudden feeling of pride. For some reason that he couldn’t explain, he also didn’t feel the urge to tell his dad what had happened to him in there. Neither of them ever spoke of it again after that night.
His dad then did something that Billy will never forget. He flashed him a coy little smile and a wink of approval. Almost like he knew everything that had just happened and that his son had passed the test. Call it a rite of passage or tradition or call it whatever you’d like. The ritual of the first born male of the Parker family going into the boathouse and surviving the torturous initiation was legendary and had been handed down from generation to generation. Billy’s grandfather had done it, Billy’s dad had done it and now Billy had done it as well. Someday he will pass it on to his son when the time is right. The boathouse had stood for over sixty years and when the spring is re-born again next year and the year after that, a new coat of colours will adorn its historical walls and it will await its next inductee; whoever that may be.
First Blog
Author: marcl, Category: Quick stories
The First One
Welcome to Skywaybooks.com! My name is Marc Loranger and I am the founder and owner of Skywaybooks and this website. This my first official blog for the site so I hope you all enjoy it.
During the next few months, there will be lots of exciting events happening here at Skywaybooks. Not only will I be busy promoting my two books, “Diamond In The Rough” and my latest one “You’re it” I will also be busy writing a third sequel to the series. For any of you unfamiliar with my work, I have developed a fictional adventure series for young readers called “The James Adventure Series.”
Follow the links on the website for more information on each book and by all means, order one and check it out for yourself. For the younger visitors to my site, just ask your parents permission first before ordering anything online. I think you might need their credit card too. Seriously though, all the info is there for you to enjoy.
In the future be sure to watch for upcoming events such as contests and surveys where some of you, if you are lucky, do you feel lucky? Well good. You could win some great prizes. Keep checking back to the site to see updates in the future.
I am very excited to be launching this new site. If it’s your first time here then welcome! If you are a repeat visitor, I’m glad you came back.
That’s it for now. Have a great day and happy reading to everyone!
Marc Loranger
Here Comes Who?
Author: admin, Category: Quick stories
Welcome back to the weekly Skywaybooks.com blog. There is an annual holiday fast approaching and we all know what it is. The trouble is most people are forgetting what it really stands for.
December 25th is Christmas Day. In all the commercialism of the holiday, we seem to have forgotten about the true meaning of Christmas. I was listening to the radio the other day and heard a very popular Christmas carol called “Here Comes Santa Claus.” It’s a catchy little tune that everyone knows the words to and we all learned it when we were kids. I had never thought about it until this year, but a couple of lines in particular seemed to make me look at it differently.
“Bells are ringing, children singing
All is merry and bright
Hang your stockings and say your prayers
Cause Santa Claus comes tonight!”
They got the say your prayers line right. However they missed the point on who is coming tonight. Are we celebrating Christmas or Santamas?
Those of you who are regular visitors to my blog or even those who are new to the site may be saying right now, “Oh no Marc is going religious on me and he’s going to get kinda preachy. I may need to cut out here.”
That would be a shame because the middle of my blog is where I really start to get my groove on. So if you have to leave I respect that. For those of you who stayed, thanks and enjoy.
I drove by a mall the other day and saw a sign that said Santa was coming on December 20th. Funny though, I didn’t see too many signs that said Jesus Christ was coming on December 25th. In these hard economic times, many families are worried about losing their jobs, their homes, not having enough food on the table. When times are tough, many people, Christians and sometimes even non believers often turn to prayer in desperate times. Who are you praying to? Are you praying to the fat guy in the red suit? How’s that working for you? When you walk through the store to buy your Christmas cards, do you pass over the ones with the scripture message inside or uplifting biblical verse, lest we offend anybody? I couldn’t possibly send those to the neighbours or hand them out at work.
Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against the time honoured traditions of Christmas trees and egg nog and gift giving. When I was little and still was in the believing stage, I enjoyed the anticipation of you know who coming down the chimney. The spirit of the jolly fat guy has lived on for hundreds of years. This year though let’s just take a time out and remember the true spirit of the holiday and who was here first.
Have a Merry Christmas, peace to you all and a very prosperous New Year!
Back To School
Author: admin, Category: Quick stories
Welcome back to the weekly Skywaybooks.com blog. For the last couple of weeks I had been talking about travelling. At the end of last week’s instalment, I promised to tell about how Las Vegas was unkind to me. I will have to put that off for just one more week. I did some more travelling last week, last Thursday December 4th to be exact. I travelled back in time when I visited a local private school to educate some young minds about publishing, writing and to promote my two books.
Glenburnie School of Oakville graciously opened their doors to yours truly for the afternoon. I arrived a half hour ahead of the scheduled program start to set up and get organized for the upcoming events. Tickets were given out and I was soon minutes away from facing 335 enthusiastic, energetic, and intelligent young minds. I went into the event confident, which was very bold of me considering this was the most people I had ever spoken in front of before.
Thanks to the advice of my niece Nicole, an elementary supply teacher, I made some flash cards with big pictures for the Kindergarten through grade three students. It made for a very visual presentation that they thoroughly enjoyed. At one point I knew I would be really reaching I asked if anyone knew how books were written before computers and they actually knew what a typewriter was. I was delighted of course and feeling the vibe again. I was feeling a new sense of youth until one student informed me that her grandmother owns a typewriter. Feeling the old vibe now, the one that reminded me I used a typewriter to write my term papers in college.
The second session with the older kids was next. Kids. Some of them were bigger than me. What are they feeding these kids nowadays? So now the gym was full and I was being introduced by Joan Berberian, the school librarian. After a rather gracious and flattering introduction I was on. No turning back now. All eyes were on me. It was now or never. Well you get the point.
I asked if they wanted to have some fun. A small cheer. I asked how everyone was doing. A little bigger cheer. Now for the slam dunk. I asked who wanted to win some prizes. Now they were getting excited. Their participation was more than I could have asked for or imagined. I was extremely impressed by their knowledge and enthusiasm. Then I started asking questions and handing out signed business card magnets and bookmarks. All of a sudden every hand was in the air ready to contribute an answer. Maybe not the right answer, but I gotta give them credit for trying. All in all it was a great afternoon. I even did some draws and gave away some tee shirts and signed books. After it was all over, I was really touched when some of the kids lined up for some autographs.
Thank you Glenburnie for inviting me into your world, if even for just a couple of hours.
Until next time, have a great day and happy reading to everyone!
Feeling the Vibe
Author: admin, Category: Quick stories
Welcome back to the weekly blog. Over the last couple of blogs I had discussed some travel related issues because I was, well, travelling. I have just returned from Las Vegas where I spent 4 days over the US Thanksgiving weekend.
Flying out I splurged a little and flew up front in first class. It’s not the first time I have flown on the other side of the curtain, so I kind of had an idea of what to expect. When I arrived to check in at the Buffalo airport, my flight was so early that the check in counter wasn’t even open. I was however standing on the carpeted “Elite Status” carpeted mat so I was already feeling a special vibe. The check in counter finally opened as did the self serve kiosk where you can check in, print your boarding passes and tell them how many bags you are checking. I had already checked in online at home so I just needed check my bag. It was seconds after I finished that I was called over, before some people that I knew were there before me, and promptly processed. Feeling more of that vibe again.
Once onboard, I found my seat on the plane and settled in for the hour flight to Newark. No jet service here, I was on what some friends of mine have nicknamed a “Salad Chopper”. Translates to the propellers are not spinning fast enough to even chop salad. The flight was surprisingly smooth. After an hour or so in New Jersey, I boarded a real jet this time for my nearly five hour flight west to Vegas. I found my seat by the window and was immediately asked if I needed anything to drink. Well, well. I wondered if they were quenching their thirst back in steerage. I’m thinking no. I was served an orange juice with plenty of ice and settled in for the experience. The seats were comfortable and very wide, but I noticed that there was not a lot of room between my knees and the seat in front of me. There was another seat next to me on the aisle which was occupied. In fact the whole first class section was sold out. Across the aisle I heard a gentleman ordering vodka and soda and continued to so throughout the flight. I wondered if this gentleman knew or even cared that alcohol absorbs into your system twice as fast when you’re at 35,000 feet than on the ground. Being an ex flight attendant I have seen my share of passengers who have bent the elbow a little too much. Not a pretty site.
I almost forgot, time for breakfast. I was served an omelette with a sausage patty, two slices of ham, a generous serving of cold, fresh fruit and strawberry yogurt. Everything was very tasty, even something underneath the omelette that I never figured out what is was, but ate it anyway. Also cinnamon buns were served and later on freshly baked macadamia nut cookies. My tummy was now full and the vibe was still good. Unfortunately nature was now calling. The slug next to me however was sleeping so I would need to wake him to get by. After thinking about it for about thirty seconds, I decided to make my request. He was very cordial about the whole thing. Unlike my seatmate on the way home while I was with the rest of the cattle who was noticeably annoyed at my request for her to move. She looked at me like, “how dare you wake me so you can relieve your busting bladder.” This time I was feeling a different kind of vibe.
All in all it was a decent trip. The slot machines were not nice to me, but I will save that for next time. Until then have a great day and happy reading to everyone!
Time To Hit The Wild Blue Yonder
Author: admin, Category: Quick stories
Welcome back to the Skywaybooks.com blog.
Next week I am heading west to enjoy a five day holiday. My destination is Las Vegas. Sin City baby! From where I live it is over 2700 miles so of course I will be flying. I used to enjoy flying and had an overwhelming anticipation of the experience. Nowadays though, I kind of almost regret having to go through the experience.
The industry has changed dramatically since it’s inception about 60 years ago. Actually let’s go back further than that. Airlines actually started out as mail carriers and decided since they were carrying mail, let’s put in some seats, make the planes a little bigger and take on some passengers. You could hop on a plane in the east and be whisked away to a destination all the way across the country in a little over… 4 days. Back then planes could only fly during the day. The air traffic control system didn’t exist and airplanes had little or no navigation equipment. Once the technology improved, planes added beds where customers could sleep once night fell, if you could sleep without getting sick. Pilots had very limited resources for navigating around stormy weather so often planes were forced to fly through the weather, making for some bumpy flights.
In the 1950’s, Boeing introduced the 707, a four engine jet that could take you across the country or over to Europe in hours and not days. At first it was mostly reserved for the elite because it was very expensive and still considered risky by many. If you were fortunate enough to afford it, the service was usually top of the line, with gourmet food, the finest wines and all the extras. I can remember watching an airline documentary that actually showed someone being served a slice of roast beef that was being cut from a full roast right there in the aisle. I had to laugh out loud because I haven’t even been alive long enough to experience that.
Let’s fast forward to today. Due to the rising fuel costs and other economic woes, airlines are cutting out everything. And I mean everything. First they took away free meals. Now you have to pay for snacks. Then they took away blankets and pillows. Now some airlines are charging for not just alcohol, but for soda which used to be free in coach class. You want to check that bag because it’s too big to carry on? Well it’s gonna cost you at least $25. Better hope it’s not overweight too. I saw a commercial in the US once for Southwest airlines where they were poking fun at airlines who charge you for everything. The showed a passenger boarding the plane, arriving at his seat to stow his bag in the overhead bin only to see you need to put in 50 cents in a coin slot to use it. This turned out to be the same for the arm rest, tray table, and window shade. It was a funny commercial, but hopefully not foreshadowing of what is to come. Some airlines are even cutting out movies on some flights because all of a sudden the VCR’s weigh too much. My advice to you is bring a good book, your own snacks, and fasten your seatbelt. It’s gonna be a bumpy flight.
Have a great day and happy reading to everyone!
That’s Music To My Ears
Author: admin, Category: Quick stories
Welcome back to the Skywaybooks.com weekly blog. They say inspiration comes when you least expect it. This week’s blog was inspired from an email I received from my nephew Eric. Thanks Eric. I was sent an email with a link to a newspaper article from the Denver Post. It concerns the delay in releasing one of my favourite TV shows to DVD.
The “Wonder Years” which aired from 1988-1993 won critical acclaim including numerous Emmy nominations and a Golden Globe award for best comedy series after only six episodes. It chronicled the life of character Kevin Arnold played by Fred Savage from preteen years through high school. What made the shows so memorable was not only the superior writing and acting, but the music that set the tone for the episodes. This is the snag in releasing the shows to DVD. Copyright complications are making it difficult for the original songs from the episodes to be used on the DVD versions.
This made me think about music and how much of an influence it has on our every day lives. Not only is it on the radio and in our I-Pods and MP3 Players, but also in commercials and in episodic television. I can recall songs I didn’t know existed before I had heard them on TV. Most recently the catchy tune “1-2-3-4” by new singer Feist who performed it on the Apple I-Pod Nano commercial. When Seinfeld aired its final episode with a musical montage tribute of some candid out takes and photos, Greenday’s “Time of Your Life” was the song chosen. I actually thought it was written for this episode. I was then informed that it had been out for years. Now I hear it all the time on the radio, but not once before that night.
Music can lift our spirits when we are down and make us think of places from days gone by. Any song with the word sunshine always puts me in a good mood like “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and The Waves or “Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows” by Leslie Gore. However I am not a fan of Sheryl Crow’s “Gonna Soak Up The Sun”. Go figure that one. I can hear a specific tune and recall a time in my life when it affected me the most or even where I was when I first heard it. I can honestly say I can tolerate all types of music however there are three particular songs that I cannot listen to past the first note. Those close to me know what these are so I don’t the need to say them here. All I can say is I am not having the time of my life, trying to be a hero while dressed as a knight in white satin.
Have a great day and happy reading to everyone!
Enjoy Your Stay…but Not For Too Long
Author: admin, Category: Quick stories
Welcome back to the Skywaybooks.com blog. The last blog I dedicated to the recent Halloween holiday. I hope you all enjoyed the poem and the holiday. I myself never really got into Halloween. The thought of dressing up and begging for candy seems to rub me the wrong way for some reason. Speaking of something that doesn’t sit well with me, I have a little matter that I would like to vent about. After all this my blog so I can choose to write about whatever I choose.
I find it a sad state of affairs here in Oakville where I happen to live, that a fine law abiding citizen such as myself, can’t visit someone for more than three hours without receiving a parking infraction from the town’s parking enforcement patrol. This is exactly what happened to me though around two weeks ago. After enjoying a pleasant evening of TV and visiting, I come out to find a nice little $35 ticket on my windshield. The town’s way of saying you have overstayed your welcome on this particular street so move it along. I have two words for this, cash grab. Oh wait one more, quota!
I find it very difficult to comprehend how I am somehow impeding traffic on the street I was on or threatening public safety by parking in front of a house for more than three hours. If I were to walk up to ten people and tell them my story their reaction will most likely be, “What street were you parked on? Never heard of it.” Which is exactly my point. My car was parked on a residential crescent in the White Oaks area of Oakville. If the town wants to really clean up and are that hard up for revenue, then they should patrol the street during the day when cars are parked there for eight hours at a time. I would also like to see more people who park in fire lanes and over cross walks at department stores such as Wal-Mart or grocery stores get nabbed once in a while.
I know this is a by law that is on the books and there is a sign as you enter this street, but I find it has it’s place such as main thorough fares where traffic could be impeded or during winter months when snow ploughs need to get through. To blanket and entire town however with this stupid law, yes I said stupid is ridiculous. Before I sign off I will leave you with one question. I wonder where the parking enforcement officer who ticketed me parks when he visits his relatives.
Have a great day, watch where you park, and happy reading to everyone!