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Hold Your Fire

Page 26

by Lisa Mangum


  I was just back to visit the folks when I ran into that chick we went to high school with, Claire Underhill, on Saturday night, and she mentioned she just had dinner with you and Jeanine.

  How’s that going? I haven’t seen her since I moved away. You guys still doing the long-distance thing?

  Let’s catch up some time. My phone number is below, give me a ring.

  Derek

  5/15/1991

  Jeanine—

  I am the luckiest man in the world. It’s been two years since you transferred to Oregon State to be with me. I never thought I would find a woman so incredible that she would want to do that for me. Per our anniversary tradition, I have a special poem for you to celebrate our four-year anniversary. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten better, that one Liberal Arts poetry class could only teach so much.

  Blue eyes, ocean deep

  with all the love you hold.

  Heart so full, I can swim in it,

  never reaching the bottom.

  Smile bright, sunshine blinding

  illuminating everything with your joy and happiness.

  The world is lighter, because you help me carry it,

  with you beside me, there’s nothing I can’t conquer.

  Ocean deep, is my love for you.

  Sunshine bright, is my life with you.

  Please be my wife?

  I propose to you.

  Check Yes or No

  Matt

  5/15/1991

  Matt—Check Yes.

  —Jeanine

  About the Author

  Melissa Koons has written and published one novel, multiple short stories, and poetry. She has a BA in English and Secondary Education from the University of Northern Colorado.

  A former middle and high school English teacher, she now devotes her career to publishing, writing, and various other pursuits in education hoping to inspire and help writers everywhere achieve their goals. When she’s not working, she’s taking care of her two turtles and curious cat.

  Don’t Ignore It

  Tanya Hales

  The old pickup truck rattles along the dusty road, never peaking above thirty miles per hour. My grandpa hunches over the steering wheel, looking almost as much a part of the car as any of the warped leather seats. I glance idly out the window at the plowed farmlands that stretch on for miles, then back at my phone.

  “It’s faster to get onto the highway and then loop back from the Redwood exit,” I tell him. “It would save us seven minutes. Google Maps says so.”

  Grandpa says nothing for a minute, staring ahead from beneath bushy, curling brows. “This is the shortest path between us and your uncle’s house,” he finally tells me. “Saves gas. Besides, I like the scenery.”

  I gaze out at the unremarkable rows of fruit trees. We make this trip multiple times a week, so saving seven minutes each way seems like a big enough deal to me, but going the slow route through the farms keeps him happy, so I don’t press the issue.

  Grandpa has always been particular about the way he does things. On our last trip to Walmart, we went over to the travel section so he could grab a dozen of those really small tubes of toothpaste.

  “Why don’t you just get a big one?” I asked him.

  “The paste gets stuck in the bottom of the big tubes,” he said as he threw two more travel-sized tubes into the cart for good measure. “It’s more convenient this way.”

  I checked the price and grimaced. “You’d save a lot of money.”

  “Eh,” he shrugged. “I’m not hurting for money.”

  That’s the way he’s always been.

  He’ll eat Raisin Bran from a cup, explaining, “We have more cups than bowls. Besides,” he says, raising the mug he got from Disneyland more than two decades ago, “I like Mickey Mouse.”

  Tonight, I’m holed up in my room, leaning over a report that is due tomorrow for Mrs. Breagan’s class. It’s almost midnight, and I’m supposed to be writing my opinion on some of Plato’s philosophies. It’s not going well.

  Grandpa knocks on the door and enters my dimly lit room. Before I can demand why he’s barging in at 11:52 when he normally goes to bed by 9:00, he motions for me to follow him.

  “It’s a cloudless sky. The Leonids should be visible tonight.”

  “Leonids?” I ask him. I’m confused and annoyed, and I really don’t want to lose my train of thought for the thesis of this paragraph.

  “Meteor shower,” he tells me. “Come on. Let’s go sit on the patio.”

  I tap my pencil impatiently against my desk. “I need to finish this report,” I tell him. “It’s for school.”

  He waves his hand dismissively. “The report will still be here when you get back. Come on. This will be good for you.” And then he leaves.

  Over the next fifteen minutes, I try to regain my focus. But I keep glancing out my dark window and imagining my grandpa sitting alone on the patio. Finally, I stand up and make my way out of the dark house to join him on the back porch.

  He’s sitting on the patio swing, gazing up at the sky. He has a blanket over his shoulders and a Donald Duck mug of hot chocolate in his hand. Beside him sits another folded blanket and steaming mug.

  I settle down next to him and turn my face to the sky. The blanket staves off the autumn chill, and the hot mug feels comforting in my hands. I only have to look at the sky for half a minute before I see the first shooting star streak past.

  Grandpa settles back and sighs. “You know,” he tells me softly, “this is the way we are meant to live.” We watch as four more stars stream past in quick succession. “When you find something that makes you happy, don’t ignore it.”

  And for the first time, with stars flashing overhead and the crisp, chilly air of an autumn midnight bringing goose bumps to my arms, I think I understand what he means.

  About the Author

  When Tanya Hales was a baby, she enjoyed books by chewing them to pieces before eventually moving on to the higher art of reading. Tanya splits her time between her work as a writer, an illustrator, and a mother, all of which she loves intensely. She now lives in the Utah Valley with her family, constantly daydreaming about imaginary worlds.

  Additional Copyright Information

  “Splendid Mirage: The Seeker’s Tale” © 2015 by WordFire, Inc. and Pratt Music, Inc. Originally published as “The Seeker’s Tale”

  in Clockwork Lives (ECW Press, 2015)

  “The Fire Sermon” © 2021 Mary Pletsch

  “One-Hit Webster” © 2021 Brian Corley

  “The Door” © 2021 Kristen Bickerstaff

  “The Burren of Mars” © 2021 CJ Erick

  “White Feather” © 2021 Shannon Fox

  “Into the Valley” © 2021 Wayland Smith

  “The Last Waking Princess” © 2021 S. K. Kellermeyer

  “The First Problem” © 2021 Alicia Cay

  “Mi Jaculpo” © 2021 October K Santerelli

  “One for Hunger, Two for Joy” © 2021 Tanya Hales

  “The Hunter and the Hunted” © 2021 Raphyel M. Jordan

  “Take Me for a Ride” © 2021 Mike Jack Stoumbos

  “Hyde Park” © 2021 Shannon Fox. Originally published in Monsters, Movies,

  and Mayhem (WordFire Press, 2020).

  “Bow Drill” © 2021 Jace Killan

  “Dream Girl” © 2021 Kitty Sarkozy

  “White Sails and Stormy Seas” © 2021 M. Elizabeth Ticknor

  and Rebecca E. Treasure

  “Check Yes or No” © 2021 Melissa Koons

  “Don’t Ignore It” © 2021 Tanya Hales

  About the Editor

  Lisa Mangum has worked in publishing since 1997. She has been the Managing Editor for Shadow Mountain since 2014 and has worked with several New York Times best-selling authors.

  Lisa is also the author of four national best-selling YA novels (The Hourglass Door trilogy and After Hello), and several short stories and novellas. She has edited six anthologies about fantastical creatures. Sh
e graduated with honors from the University of Utah, and currently lives in Taylorsville, Utah, with her husband, Tracy.

  If You Liked …

  If you liked Hold Your Fire, you might also enjoy:

  Dragon Writers

  Edited by Lisa Mangum

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  X Marks the Spot

  Edited by Lisa Mangum

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  Monsters, Movies & Mayhem

  Edited by Kevin J Anderson

  Other WordFire Press Titles Edited by Lisa Mangum

  One Horn to Rule Them All

  * * *

  A Game of Horns

  * * *

  Dragon Writers

  * * *

  Undercurrents

  * * *

  X Marks the Spot

  * * *

  Our list of other WordFire Press authors and titles is always growing. To find out more and to see our selection of titles, visit us at:

  wordfirepress.com

 

 

 


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