On Reflection..._Korean District Talent Show_The Infamous Keatan Tales_Conversation with Kara
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On Reflection...
It was a warm day, in the middle of May and the clocks all struck fourteen.Unseen, the wagons rattled into Dodge, battled through canyons, bogs, prairie dogs with clowns and jesters, to pester the unsuspecting town.And so, the spectacles began with rides and games and lions tamed; that drew the crowds from house and home, to roam around the circus troupe. In groups they laughed and smiled, whiled away their heedless day; until, at last, they were drawn, like splinters, to the main event: a tent with a big top, and large stripes, and a hype built up out of all proportion.Throwing caution to th...
Korean District Talent Show
“Welcome to Osan, Republic of Korea (ROK) for the 1984 Korean District Talent Show” read the banner out in front of the Recreation Center. This recreation center was twice the size of the one back at Kunsan, Air Base where I had come from. The talent show was to pick out performers to represent the Tops In Blue which was a six month duty in a traveling show of the best of the United States Air Force. In my audition, I had managed to make the district show as one of five performers chosen from Kunsan to go to Osan by singing “Beat Crazy,” a song that I had composed on the guitar. The trip ...
The Infamous Keatan Tales
He hadn’t meant for it to happen. It was just one of those things. They had just started popping up all over the place. Of course at first everybody thought it was some great media stunt, until things started to get bloody. You see, Rowan Fabio Keatan became the most famous fairy tale re-teller for all the wrong reasons. At the start of it all he really did just liked fairy tales. He liked to put twists on them, he liked to adapt and explore possibilities. And he was a good writer. Once you started reading one of his stories you just couldn’t put it down. But there was a problem. They were ju...
Conversation with Kara
I tap my foot awkwardly, shifting my eyes around the dimly lit elevator, and try to ignore the painful silence that lingers between me and the other passenger. Just two more floors til fwww.onedoor.ccloor five. She’s getting off there too, but most likely heading in a different direction. Just a few more seconds to go, and then this cringeworthy silence will end, and you can get in your car and leave the parking garage and go home. There is no idiotic elevator music. I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. The space is cramped, lined with a musty blueish fabric of indeterminate origin. The elevator buttons glow...