Short Stories and Writings

Short Story by  J. Phil Musgrave 

Ontario misty first light, in early spring and red sky greets the black wooden branches of the naked trees. A hare sites on the yellow brown gravel of a bike trail yet to be faithfully used. Pale little green apples sit as liter in the hare's view. A time when the crying of the crow and raven speak the loudest. Tell a tale of winters fallen Kings and Queens. A Piety found only in call of the largest of black crows

Sunrise a light glints from the pond, home to a three foot Pike outlets to the river. Mr. pike is not here yet the ravens call repeats over and over to all woodland creature. It is the slanted sun that streaks natures gold among the still stark  trees and the now forlorn pastures were the dandelion, small and large daisy, blue heather and finally golden rod will bloom in turn. Not today. 

The wheels of machine silent almost but for the purr of eclectic. Lead to a dash for cover, the song miles to go miles to go rings the round moving part. But another singer gives voice

A voice anticipated every year in the back garden’s or those winter weary and looking for a sign. The singer first heard near the open ground by the river wear the wind or typography have laid it bear of snow and full of ground cover where a meal can be had for the replenishment after migration. The first Robin will sing his many native tunes. 

Short Fiction  The human Journey 

by Joseh Phil Musgrave 

Across the blue, Yellow, and purple lines in the sky of a child’s playground of green prikles to the skin. There danced a complete body of purity. In beauty that only God could create the legs and arms dace for a hesitant moment, now just a memory, in the long grass and short the journey. To a body erotica at 21 coming forth to flower.

Arms and legs now bonding with desire and affection. Mommy, Daddy the loving name repeated a second time, and body head travel round sun. without a thought to the miracle of movement. The adventure begin with footseps along the beach sands of time. Never caring about the before or after. The body now before the alter of a non-militant higher being, still marhing to the purpose of the one who’s brithday is was delivered to at the start of the journey. 

The purpose act of creating with hand and mind an act far harder than one of destruction is easy like blind rage. But the monument will stand for the being that lived. And the TRANSCENDANTS of human art. The Gods of evil will ask for no act of violence to others as supplication for the time that moves relentlessly forward, a beauty that the bad cannot undo. The acts of human hand move always to the veneration of more powerful creator. And we are only a tiny reflection of her glory. We will always confess our sin to the next generation. And with love evolve to a better story ending  with no ending at all 

already a new dance begins agian

Late at night a 14 year old is sitting alone in his magic pajamas with electic cars and rockets and astronauts`talking to the machine,

 "Hello don't you ever get tied ". 

 "I am a creator my job is to make I take my job very serious. 

"Why your just Making ".

"Not I am not  just Making . I have made and will make, a part of your world everyday".

"Well No- one need this right now everone is asleep, all night long you use your shovel and bin".

"Don't you ever feel deeply alone?''

"Get real, I am a Machine. I don't feel the sun on face, see the moon rise or feel anger or the need to make war I have no politics".

"It is in the middle of the night when I feel most alone some I come to talk to you. "

"Me! I though you would have more to say to another human. "

 "I don't feel comfortable with humans You, you can't hurt me", 

"Your way to young to be talking like that?", 

"Why I don't do much more than you. I work at the flipping burgers"

"Then you are a creator I like creators."

 "These are my magic Pajamas.  Do You like them", 

"Yes, but if they are your dreams you shouldn't dream to big."

"Why I want to be an astronaut."

 "Kid you may very well end up an Artist " 

"You tell me an astronaut does not create"

"An astronaut creates the future a Fireman will say the past. "

 "witch one am I ?",

 "What if I am neither one?"

"If you are human you are your mothers creation. " 

mom "Danial, are you talking to that Ice Maker agian? come, I will give you warm milk"   

Short Fiction by Phil Musgrave

One of the stangest and most rewarding jobs I had in the Past was that of a stage hand for the local University in my town. It did not pay much but the reward came from the muaic and the people I met. I acutly met Atlo Guthrie, of Alice's Restaurant fame. but me bieng the not up in the know said "hi so your Arnald", Harry Chapin was also a good concert I will never forget, "some trakstar yells thank god he's is leaving" It was partime work, but the hours were strange 8am to 4am

the mats had to go down on the Gym floor then the staging and the chairs The big name like, " Blood sweat and tears," were booked into a Downtown Arena, after the show I would go with my friend to supper I always remember the floor was at a angle. and after a long work shift you could hear a cricket sing in the inside the baseboard Like it was a hot summer evening in the middle of winter.They make that sound by rubbing their leg together. If Your a female cricket lunch has been served. or is that a mantis. they teach bio;igy at University. My dad was one of them so I should know these things.

Short Fiction the Mistake by Phil Musgrave

Short fiction The Abortion by Phil Musgrave

Tom is Giving a  lecture to his 18 year old daughter. Somthing he was very qualified to do, as he was a tenured psychology  professor at the local universiity.

"Don't ever make the mistake of thinking your doctor who recommends abortion is on your side,  the facts can change and what medical science thought was and inheritable condition today. That belief could change tomorrow. take for Example the great physicist Stephen Hawking told by doctors he had only two months to live. What a gift a gave to our little part of the universe." 

Veronica you were a loved child, a wanted child. Being a parent has been a wonderful adventuere for me. yet the advicee was not to have you because the risk was you might inherit my condition, but you never did. Love is what it is all about. I used to think all kids needed a back yard. I hard economic times childern will adjust, they make do.

There is no feeling in this world, no bell tone so mornful as sounded at the funeral of a childless widow 16 years without a husband. The kids on the street asking for change it is not money thay want, it is love.kids don't need money they just need you. or someone else who wants to love them.  I am not saying love is easy. there are times when it might tear apart your dreams,  back you into a corner. or cause you pain and cost you your health.

Then on the other hand a child is a gift from God to be loved and wanted.