Tag Archives: Troy Stover

A Stroll Down Memory Lane


A year ago I wrote the closing segment to a story circle featured on Cameron D. Garriepy’s blog. The story, called “The Reunion,” can be found here:

http://camerondgarriepy.com/join-the-the-story-circle/the-reunion-june-2012/

If you have ever found yourself in an awkward or embarrassing situation, you will identify with this story. It’s a quick read–perfect to go with that morning cup of coffee.

A year later, I am ending another storytelling experience. I am wrapping up my first novel. I met with Acorn Book Services Friday. An editorial review of the manuscript is imminent. That is the last step before publication.

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Autumn Leaves – A Short Story Response to T’s Prompt


Autumn Leaves

by Fay Moore © 2012

 

The miners knock down the door to the manager’s office with a makeshift battering ram.

 

For several weeks, the miners at this South African platinum mine have been on strike about low wages, poor work conditions and other complaints. The effort is poorly organized. When the mine’s owners ignore the laborers’ concerns, the disenfranchised workers formulate a plan to hit the owners where it hurts: in their pocketbooks. They take their dispute to the next level. The workmen are done with talking.

 

First, all extraction of precious metals stops. Picket lines set up at entrances to the mine. Employees are warned–cross the picket lines at your own risk. Some of the idled men stand in the front of the mob with batons in hand, slapping the bats threateningly into open palms. The baton squad is ready to break  bones—skulls or legs, it doesn’t matter. No one is going to work today.

 

Second, any equipment or infrastructure that is expensive to repair or replace is sabotaged or destroyed. The miners reason, if the owners fire the strikers and replace them with new bodies, mining cannot resume. Without the machines and mechanisms operational, miners can’t get the platinum out of the ground or out of the ore. Mined metals can’t be loaded onto trucks or railway cars to transport the valuable product to smelters or other buyers. If the metal doesn’t leave the mine, money doesn’t flow into the owners’ coffers.

 

Third, any cash in the manager’s office is to be expropriated to create a strike fund for the employees who participate in the work stoppage. The men with the battering ram are looking for the petty cash box.

 

With the expansion of automobile ownership in China and accumulation of precious metals by the world’s wealthy, the demand for platinum is up. Prices are high. The owners want to sell as much product as possible while conditions are lucrative. The mine uses day laborers to supplement the workforce during peak production. Day laborers are paid in cash. The strike organizers know the company’s currency cache is in the manager’s office.

 

Desperate men do reckless things. Once the cash box is located, it is broken open. Two men mount the office building’s flat roof. One has a loud speaker. Another has the cash box. The one with the loudspeaker calls the roving strikers in earshot to come. A dozen men stand below the speechmaker. 

 

“It’s raining Rands. Catch the colorful bills and go home. Feed your families.”

 

The one with the cash box takes a handful of the paper currency and lets the money go. The paper pirouettes on wisps of air before parachuting to the ground. A dozen pairs of hands grab for the cash.

 

“Watch the money fall like autumn leaves. Tell the others to come over for their share as you depart,” is the order.

 

Suddenly vehicle engines roar. Shots ring out. The bull horn clatters to the ground. Men duck and scatter like buckshot as rubber bullets spray the area. The local police, aided by the military, arrive en masse and seize piles of metal rods, machetes and sticks. The cash box is captured though it’s empty, its contents evaporated. In another part of the compound, black smoke curls, an acrid combination from burning tires used as barricades by strikers and tear gas used to disperse the crowd.

 

A few rampaging men are captured and arrested. One protester harangues the policemen, accusing them of apartheid-era tactics. At the end of the day, legal authorities control the shuttered mine.

 

News reaches the dispelled strikers that five other platinum mines in addition to their own have been closed down due to protests.

 

“Just like autumn leaves. They’ll keep falling,” predicts one smiling man.

Illuminating Blogger Award


 
Shedding Light to Brighten the Path for Others

A huge thank you to mskatykins of Spineless Wonders for nominating this blog for the Illuminating Blogger Award. Awards are like pats on the back: the sentiment is appreciated and cherished.

MsKatykins has given me feedback and advice to help me grow in my dream of becoming a professional writer. She is a good friend to have. She has a very generous and giving spirit.

Please visit mskatykins at http://spinelesswonders.wordpress.com/2012/08/10/the-illuminating-blog-award/.

Now to the rules of the award:

A random tidbit about me: I am reclusive as I get older. There’s nothing I’d like more than to live on a mountaintop away from civilization. But I fight that inclination because I have never met a likeable recluse. I want to be likeable.

Five bloggers I want to nominate:

http://carrierubin.com/

Carrie Rubin has a wicked sense of humor. Watch this girl–she is going places. She has a book in its final stages of proofing. No release date yet, but it will be available soon. Carrie offers lots of support to other writers. She’s a great lady. I am one of the cheerleaders on her squad.

aslongasimsinging.wordpress.com

Troy doesn’t accept awards anymore. It’s because his writing is so eye-opening and honest about what goes on in his heart and head that readers gravitate to him. Then awards follow.  He puts words together well, with feeling, integrity, and mischief. Even though he won’t accept the award, I’m nominating him anyway.
Asklotta is my favorite e-neighbor. She’s  one I can turn to for advice on life matters, and, like a best friend, she always has an opinion and a wish to help.  I sip e-coffee with her. She sheds light on solutions. And she has my back.
Subtlekate is who I want to be when I grow up. She is genius cradled in self-doubt.  Though extremely talented, there is no arrogance about her. She writes about personal development with sensitivity, honesty, and tenderness. She confronts her own perceived shortcomings, not realizing that in doing so, others see her as brave, bold, and nurturing. She is a role model to look up to.
C J Gorden is like a big sister, sharing what she learns along the way with others. She calls herself a struggling writer. I have consistently found her to offer support and insight for self-improvement in writing skills. She is encouraging and helpful.
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These bloggers shed light on things that matter, each in their own unique way. I hope you enjoy getting to know them. They are folks I would enjoy having around my dinner table. I think the conversation would be marvelous.