Category Archives: Fiction

Fire 1951 to 2015

I was born under triple fire signs, Aries sun, Sagittarius moon, and Aries rising. I have so much fire in my life that it is no wonder that at three years old, playing with matches I caught my father’s cherished car on fire and burned it much of the way to the ground before the fire department could put the blaze out.

For me fire is a tool, from an oxygen acetylene torch I have owned for fifty years, propane oxygen mini torch in my jewelry studio, ceramic kiln, and arc and MIG welders. I’ve installed wood stoves in every building on our property. I use the lowly match to light my gas range and to burn ten foot tall slash piles. I even light incense sticks to confuse and ward off the spring invasion of mosquitoes. Fire is my life and so it should be that it is a friendly force for creation rather than destruction, most of time.

Once in a while it does get out of control more as a reminder to me of it awesome force than any possible destructive abilities it can be capable of.

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Flamenco Flood #22

CHAPTER #15 EPILOGUE

They forced me to commit myself to one year inside the protective walls of Sunvale Sanitarium, fifty miles south of Phoenix. From within those walls, through my lawyers, I negotiated a long-protracted settlement with the affected parties. To pay the settlements, I was forced to sell off more properties for less money than I’d ever considered or admitted.

I’d been inside the fluffy walls of the hospital more than six months before I began to compose my letter. Book cover of Flamenco Flood by author Nik C Colyer Continue reading

Flamenco Flood #21

***

I ran along the flagstone path toward the boat when the last explosion happened. A freight train rushed past me, piercing the air next to my right ear. My eardrum almost exploded under the pressure. In front of me, the branch of a small leafless tree sheared and fell to the ground with spatters of blood.

I reached to the side of my head and pulled back a greasy handful of blood. I stumbled on the cobblestone walk. I’d been shot. That fucking Harry Trunk shot me. Book cover of Flamenco Flood by author Nik C Colyer Continue reading

Flamenco Flood #20

“He’s shot!” I screamed. “Sundog is shot.”

At that moment, for the first time in my life, I found something inside me that would have made Mother Teresa proud. The nurses at Mercy General –where I worked as a receptionist– would have also been proud. Heck, maybe even my mother, had she ever given a shit, might have given me a point or two.

I leapt on Sundog, knocking him to his side.

He screamed in agony. While he flailed on the carpet, I sat on top of his butt facing the injured foot. It wasn’t bleeding and that was good.Book cover of Flamenco Flood by author Nik C Colyer Continue reading

Flamenco Flood #19

People screamed in the other room. After the sound of the blast subsided, I heard a chorus of whimpering and moans.

Harry was not playing with a full deck. He was always few cans short of a six-pack, but Harry was coming up short across the board and I wasn’t sure what to do. If I continued to engage him, I might get shot. If I backed off, everyone might get shot.

Trunk had always been more than a bit weird, but who knows what deep end he went off of when the flood happened on the wrong side of the levee?Book cover of Flamenco Flood by author Nik C Colyer Continue reading