Fiction Friday: In Search of the Legendary Phineas Ray
Story #2 is the one I picked, so now maybe Teeni can tell us why she thought that was the one I picked. What follows is a selection from a novel I started way back when and later abandoned. Someday I hope to go back to it and finish it, but after 10 (or more—I don’t remember) revisions/rewrites, I kind of got frustrated with the thing. At one point, I even threw it all in the trash. But, I rescued it and stored it away. Anyway, I know how you all like reading unfinished stories (I’m talking to you, Pete), so I figured I’d post a chapter for your enjoyment.
In Search of the Legendary Phineas Ray
Chapter Seven
Copyright 1996 Dan C. Rinnert
Doran Benton was a man with a secret. Like most people who are unable to keep a secret a secret for very long, he had a compulsion to tell someone. He knew that he shouldn’t, but he had an urge, bordering on madness, compelling him to reveal it.
The trouble was nobody wanted to listen.
His former girlfriend, who was more interested in probing his emotional state and complained he would never tell her anything, certainly didn’t. She told him her secrets all the time. He was kept informed about her friend’s infertility problems, her other friend’s bout with constipation and yet another friend’s morbid fear of her cats licking her face off as she slept. But, when he wanted to tell her his secret, she told him “You should keep your secrets to yourself, that’s why they’re called secrets.”
It didn’t make a lot of sense to Doran, but then most of what she said didn’t either, which was why, he told friends, he dumped her. The truth of the matter was that she broke it off with him. She did so because Doran had one habit she considered so disgusting, sickening and weird she couldn’t stand it anymore.
Doran collected fingernails. His collection didn’t contain a single one of his own nails, which made matters worse. His girlfriend found it embarrassing to go anywhere with him where a celebrity was present. While others beseiged the celebrity for autographs, Doran asked them for a fingernail, an absurd request followed by total disbelief and silence in the room.
“What did he ask for?” someone would inevitably whisper.
“A fingernail?”
Then the laughter. Doran’s girlfriend would run away, or if blocked from doing so, would hide her face with a newspaper she always carried in her purse for such emergencies. Doran’s face would turn bright red. In the end, it was all worth it for the celebrity would trim off a nail with Doran’s clippers and give it to him, hoping to spare the poor man further indignity, and, more importantly, to get rid of him.
Doran would walk gleefully home with his fingernail while his girlfriend pondered relocating.
That was all in the past now and Doran was more concerned about his present situation, evading a man determined to kill him.
All because of his secret. When no one else would listen to him, he told the police, and to be sure they would listen to him, he wrote it in a letter to them. Just what he should not have done. They did indeed read the letter, but then promptly turned it over to the FBI who also read it.
The letter, among other no less irksome details, accused the FBI of murder and conspiracy to cover it up, the role of the CIA, not the Bureau. The letter wasn’t taken seriously and was in fact passed around to different departments for a good laugh. However, one agent became so irritated with Doran’s accusations that he set out to eliminate the problem all together, not at all a new thing for him.
Doran was beginning to feel safe again, despite the fact he was driving far beyond the speedometer’s capacity to measure, it was night and his headlights would not work, due, in fact, to his girlfriend’s kicking them in on their last date. He was certain the would-be assassin was miles, perhaps even light years behind him.
Unfortunately, as it happens in many a long distance car chase in Hollywood movies, he ran out of gas.
Copyright 1996 Dan C. Rinnert
Fortunately for Doran, he happened to be paying attention at the last Earth Day festival he attended. Aside from the odor of bodies, soy lattes and vegetable oil, he did recall one interesting demonstration. An aging hippie behind a small folding table was chattering on about bio-fuel and bio-fuel production methods, but not the kind derived from corn.
This bio-fuel came from an endless supply of human dander - things like hair, skin flakes and - yes - fingernails.
Doran opened the trunk of the car and gazed lovingly at his beautiful child that took so long to accumulate, knowing that his life’s work would soon be nothing more than exhaust from an old Chevrolet 305 engine that hadn’t seen an oil change in over 10,000 miles.
The process required only a few easily obtained items. However, the one ingredient that was difficult to come by in large quantities, human skin and muscle tissue, was pretty much the reason why human biofuel never took off. But for Doran, this wasn’t going to be a problem.
Next to his baby was a heavy and blood-soaked lump wrapped in a torn, striped bed sheet. Doran picked up the newspaper next to her and smiled.
Well, that’s not where I was going, but that’s an interesting angle. When are you going to write a novel?
I think my skill lies more in the short story, if I were to attempt writing one. Novels have many subplots and character traits that I would have a hard time tying together and keeping consistent. But it is fun to write now and again. I think that’s why I’m attracted to writers like Vonnegut and Bradbury. Short stories that are usually picked up in the middle of a seemingly larger story.
I can not believe you left us haging like a hang nail, get it? LOL
Well, you know you should always leave the audience wanting for more.
More, more I want more!!!!
Dood! You cant leave me hanging like that!
You did a fabulous job with this piece. Very well done indeed, I am impressed.
Thanks. Can you tell my influences at the time?
DCR you are the writing champion of all times …. I am very impressed my friend.
BRAVO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks. I didn’t think this was my best work. That’s why I’ve largely left it be for 12 years…
Okay - so the reason I guessed number 2 was I went back and re-read the earlier post you linked to with the description of your short stories and it described #2 as one that ended in cliffhangers. In your post you mentioned having to work on the cliffhanger you left it at so I figured my chances of getting it right were good if I picked #2 since you already said that each chapter ended on a cliffhanger. All that, and I’m psychic too. LOL!!