New Short Story

Sorry to jump around so much, but I guess it just mirrors my brain lately. I have been thinking about a lot of different things this summer. I am working on the other stories so I won't leave you hanging. Getting out of College only has one more chapter...but that's the kicker...it is the most emotional one for me. Even if it is only a story. Nate and Josephine is about half complete but has plot issues, so I am thinking about that. If I have lost you as a reader because of the interlude, I am real sorry. Please come back. As usual, if you have comments, please feel free to share.

The Hummingbird Man

Chapter 1

         A ruby throated Hummingbird flitted by the old man’s window, straight for the fancy copper and art glass feeder hanging on the outside of the window. It was hung just right so that the old man could watch the little birds. In the summer that is. Later, when the birds made their annual flight to the southland to escape the cold of winter his grandsons brought a little cedarwood seed feeder so that he could watch a whole different set of birds. 

         The old man looked up when the motion of the little bird caught his attention. He watched as the rapidly beating wings carried the bird up and down, side to side, until it was sure that there was no threat. Then it slowly slid forward and dipped its long beak into the faux flower blossom and sucked the sweet liquid. A dark streak flashed in from the side and the gaudy ruby throated cock bird backed out of the fake flower and chased after the dark bird. They flew in dazzling circles and zig zags, both trying to intimidate the other.

         “Damn, if they wouldn’t fight so much they both could get a bellyful of syrup. Just selfish, that’s what they are. Just like people.” The old man grimaced and shook his old bald head in disgust.

         The door to his room flew open. Hummingbird man! Let’s get your sorry old ass into your chair and go to supper.” The wild looking young man who was the attendant for the men in the ‘home’, walked over to the closet where the wheelchair sat waiting.

         “Shut the hell up, and bring the chair over here! And quit calling me the Hummingbird man.” The old man swung his tired old stick legs over the side of the bed where he sat. Legs that had carried him over tall mountains and many miles in search of far horizons, now wouldn’t hold him to walk across the room, let alone to the dining hall. Arms and shoulders that had lifted 1000 bales of hay in one day, now could barely push the wheels on the chair. But there was nothing wrong with his mind, well not too much anyway. He did have a hard time remembering some of his friends’ names but, he never forgot his family.

         “Hurry up!  Wait, take me into the bathroom first. I got to go.” The old man said impatiently. He secretly liked the boy, but he didn’t let on that he did. The attendant was strong as a bull and he handled the old men in the home like they were made of cardboard. He was a happy-go-lucky kid, but he had a smart mouth. It got him in trouble with some of the other old farts in here, but the old man liked it. It kept his mind sharp, trying to keep up.

         The old man reached out his hands expecting a pull up and an arm around his shoulder to help him over to the bathroom, but the kid bent down and picked him up with an arm under his legs and one around his back.

         “Man, you’re as light as one of those hummingbirds that you watch. No wonder I call you ‘Hummingbird Man’.” The young man carried him easily to the bathroom and set him upright next to the toilet.

         The old man was embarrassed, he was the guy that used to show off his strength. He had carried his father exactly like this in the last days of his life. The thought of that gave him a chill that travelled up and down his spine.

         “What do you think you’re doing! I didn’t tell you to carry me like a baby! Get out while I go to the bathroom! Now!” The old man used anger to cover up his embarrassment.

         “Do you need help with your zipper?” the young man offered.

         The old man sputtered in outrage. “No one but me has touched my zipper since I was a tyke. Except in fun. And you ain’t gonna be the first. Now get out!”

         The young man smiled at the old man’s feistiness. He nodded and turned his back to the old man so that he could have some privacy, but the rules wouldn’t allow him to completely leave the room with the old man standing as wobbly as he seemed to be.

         “I’ll be right here, but I won’t look, rules you know. Say something if you feel like you’re about to fall.”

         The old man grumbled, but he went about his business. When the dribbling sounds of the old man’s weak stream stopped, The young aide turned back and helped the old man to his wheelchair. As they were wheeling down the hall to the dining room, the young man started whistling like a bird. The warbling rose and fell in a lively rhythm.

         “What kind of bird is that?” the old man queried.

         “Shitbird.” The young man deadpanned.

         “For Hell’s sake, you are a smartass aren’t you. For real, tell me.”

         The young man smiled broadly. He wanted to laugh. But that wouldn’t be cool. So he deflected the old man’s attention.

         “Look there’s your girlfriend, Mrs. Terwilliger. Do you want to sit next to her?”

         “I don’t have a girlfriend.” The old man growled. “Just friends that are females. Yeah, take me over there, I might as well have some company that isn’t so full themselves like some I might name.” He said this last bit pointed right at the young man.

         “Alright Hummingbird Man, here you are. Howdy there, Mrs Terwilliger, looking for some company?” the young man pushed the old man up to the table in the place next to the woman. He left him there and went after his other charges.

         The old man smiled nicely at Mrs. Terwilliger. “Good evening, Melanie. Is it alright if I sit next to you?”

         Mrs. Terwilliger snorted indelicately. “It’s a little late to ask for permission isn’t it? You’re already here.” Then with a smile, “ Of course it is okay. How are you today?”

         “Just fine, thank you. And you?” the old man winked at her. They had a close friendship. Friendships in the ‘home’ were hard to maintain at their age. Between illness, senility and death, time to develop relationships was often short. Melanie and the old man, had both been in here for about 4 years. They had the good fortune to be alert and mostly well, even though they were both approaching 95 years old.

         “Why does that young man call you the Hummingbird Man?” Mrs. Terwilliger asked.

         “I don’t know, everyone knows that I feed the birds. Hummingbirds in the summer, all the other little birds in the winter. I like watching them better than looking at TV. Maybe he has a nickname for everyone in here.” The old man looked perplexed at that. He hadn’t thought of that before.

         “I don’t think so,” Mrs. Terwilliger offered, “I haven’t heard him call anyone else by a nickname, just their real names. Have you?”

         “No I don’t think I have.” He answered. The staff started to serve supper.  

Death in the Valley-Chapter Three

Chapter Three

         Mrs. Burnett had finished making dinner and setting the table. She walked out onto the porch staring up the hill to where her husband was plowing. Or had been anyway, a cloud of dust marked his progress towards the house. He seemed to know exactly when supper was ready and showed up, tired, sweaty and hungry.

            As she watched the drifting dust cloud, she thought of how they had come to be here, in the valley. How she was still excited to be living on their own place, working for themselves, not some miserly owner who begrudged even the little bit that they were paid. Her thoughts drifted back over their life…

         The Burnett’s had been married for a long time. Long enough to raise two girls and a son. The boy had been killed by a bad bull on a hard scrabble ranch in Nevada. The two daughters had married and been carried away by their men to far away Colorado where they both worked on the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad. Mr. Burnett was a hard worker, he knew how to plow a field or castrate a litter of pigs. Usually for someone else, seldom for his own benefit. Mrs. Burnett couldn’t complain however, he had always worked enough to keep the wolf from the door and shoes on the kids. She worked hard too, there was a hot meal on the kitchen table every night when Mr. Burnett came in from a hard day at work. Mrs. Burnett washed their clothes by hand in a washtub every Monday scrubbing the worn clothes on a corrugated board that often wore the skin from her knuckles, leaving her hands raw and bleeding for most of the week. She maintained their clothing so that the work clothes were more of patches than the original fabric. She was skilled with a needle and thread. She sewed all of the girls’ dresses when they were at home. Mrs. Burnett teased them that they wouldn’t have caught a man if it hadn’t been for the pretty dresses that their mother made for them.

            One day after the girls had been married for a year, Mr. Burnett came home with an exciting proposal. How would she like to have their own place? The boss had told him about a ranch, just 100 acres over in western Utah, Skull Valley, that had belonged to his wife’s brother.  The lazy so-and-so had planted a dozen apple trees and built a lean-to shack for his wife and kids then skipped the country. The boss had bought the property from the woman and sent her back to her folks over in Manti. He offered the place to the Burnett’s for just what he had paid for it; they could pay him some every year when they sold their harvest.

            Mrs. Burnett took about 30 seconds before she grabbed Mr. Burnett in a bear hug and asked him why he had even waited to ask her. He should have shook the boss’s hand before he changed his mind and sold it to someone with cash.

            The next day they both went to see the boss and accept his offer. They signed a note for $2000 and shook his hand. Joyfully making plans they went home and started to pack their meager belongings. They had accumulated an old grain wagon with a canvas cover that looked like an old prairie schooner. Two middle aged geldings to pull it, a riding horse for Mr. Burnett to use when the boss had him chase the wild cattle on the bi-annual roundups. Mrs. Burnett had a half wild milk cow that gave enough milk for their meals and to sell a little butter made from the cream. There was a calf every year to sell, and her two dozen hens laid enough eggs that the extra was sold to add to her kitchen fund. Mrs. Burnett’s household goods were old and worn like their clothing, the only furniture worth anything was the marriage bed that Mr. Burnett had made for her and the beautifully carved Hope chest that her Scottish father had given her on her thirteenth birthday, no doubt goaded by her mother into action. He had used his considerable skill to make a wonderful chest that she had cherished all of her life. She had protected it from 3 rambunctious children and a dozen moves.

            Mr. Burnett asked his wife to help push the wagon from its’ place by the shed to the front of the little cottage where they could load it with their belongings. They tugged and pushed to get the heavy wagon rolling, then Mr. Burnett rushed to lift the wagon tongue and directed it so that the rear of the wagon was even with the doorway.

            “If we get it loaded today can we leave tomorrow?” Mrs. Burnett asked. She was eager to move to a place of her own. She had lived in line shacks and old cabins at every ranch that they had worked at since they were married. She couldn’t count the dirt floors and empty window frames that she had fixed to make a home for her man and her children. Their only son was buried on a lonely ridge overlooking the ranch where he had died. The owner had felt so bad that he had ordered a white limestone marker for her son. He had slaughtered the bull that killed him and placed the severed head on the grave, Two days too late, but there it was. After things were settled and they were sure it would work out, maybe she would move his grave to the new place so that he could lie next to her and his father when their turn came.

            Mrs. Burnett shook her head; the thoughts of the past had taken her mood down. Or the heat, she couldn’t tell which. Where was that old man? Supper would be burnt to a cinder if he didn’t get here soon. She searched for sign of him getting closer, the dust trails were settling. “I guess he’s behind the barn” she said to no one in particular. The sudden sound of a whistling old man trying to sneak up on her caused her head to swivel. “You couldn’t surprise a marching band you old coot! Not with that tune.”

            Mr. Burnett laughed. “Damn! I was hopin’ to catch you sleeping.”

            “Not likely. If I didn’t hear you, I could smell you a mile away. Why don’t you wash off and put on a clean shirt, supper’s ready.”

            Mr. Burnett laughed again, “I will ol’gal, just for you!” He slapped her behind as he walked past. “Just for you!”

I'm Back!

Hey, here is a new story. It is based on true events that occurred a couple of miles south of where I now live. I have misplaced the rest of the story (it is hand-written), so this is it until I find the notebook where it is written. Please let me know what you think. I found out a while a go that I have an unexpected connection to the events. The names have been changed and the details have been fabricated as the actual murders have never been solved as far as I can tell. So, Here it is "Death in the Valley".

Death in the Valley

 Death in the Valley

Chapter One

            It was a hot August afternoon in valley. Mrs. Burnett had opened all of her windows and doors hoping for a cross breeze that might cool the house off. The only drawback to that was the flies seemed to congregate in the house hoping to escape the heat of barnyard and maybe score a bite of the supper that she was making for her husband.

            Mr. Burnett was out in the south field plowing the wheat stubble under hoping that the late summer thunderstorms would settle the loose dirt before winter. His team of horses were working hard even though the soil was sandy, with a little gravel. There was no big rocks. The horses perspired freely and hot dust stirred up by their feet stuck to their wet hide making muddy streaks around the leather harness. He decided that they had worked enough for that day and kicked the lift pedal that used the mechanical force of the McCormick sulky plow to lift the plowshare from the earth. When the plow was up, he turned the team and headed for home.

            The heat of the stove almost unbearable, Mrs. Burnett had made only enough fire in it to fry some potatoes and warm up the left over chops from breakfast. The rest of the meal was fresh vegetables from the little kitchen garden that she worked so hard to make produce. Mr. Burnett seldom helped in it, usually just helping her with the spring cultivation and hauling fertilizer from the corral. He did grow an acre of potatoes that they used for their winter storage. She set about putting out the plates, knives and forks on the square table that was situated on the cool side of the house. Mrs. Burnett made a trip outside to the little spring box that Mr. Burnett had dug out in the shade of the north side of the house. He had directed the small stream of water that had been brought down the hill in a ditch dug by a horse drawn plow and cleaned up with a shovel. It fed the spring box and the watering trough for the animals around the home place and she irrigated her kitchen garden with it. They had dug a shallow well in the yard for their drinking water.

Chapter Two

            Carl Schwartz, Jr. was big, 25 years old and built heavy. He looked like a man but he was still a boy in his mind. Carl, his father called him JR because of the Jr. that his Ma had tacked on, was full grown and thick. Thick in body and in mind. He looked just like his Pappy, but Pappy was old and smart. Carl Schwartz Sr. said he was smarter than JR so that made it so. It must have been true because when JR was hungry, Pappy brought food, and when his boots wore out, Pappy brought him some new ones. Well, new to him anyway. JR could tell that somebody else had worn them from the rancid sock smell. He didn’t worry too much where they came from, just so they fit and and he couldn’t feel the rocks through the soles.  Pappy took care of JR.

            He said it was his bounden duty ‘cause he had promised JR’s Ma that he would. She was real sick when Carl Sr. made the promise. Ma had died, JR guessed that was true because they had put her in a hole and stuck a cross made from some crooked sticks in the soft earth after she was covered. A preacher came and said some words about Jesus and how Ma was just sleeping until the morning of the ‘rez-r-wreck-shun.

            This had caused a big to-do when JR started crying and wailing, saying, “If she is just sleeping, then wake her up! I want my Ma!” Over and over again. Pappy had said a cuss word, then gave the preacher a dollar, a paper one, not silver, and then he grabbed JR and shook him until he stopped weeping.

            “JR” he said, “your Ma is dead and she ain’t gonna wake up. That damned preacher shouldn’t have said that!” Then lower, he mumbled, “At least he said the right words over your Ma and he ain’t one of them damned Mormons hereabout!”  

            They wandered a bit after that. One boomtown or mining camp after another. They would stay until something happened that would make Pappy curse, then sigh; every time he would say, “JR pack up your kit and kaboodle and let’s mosey.”

            One time, he had whined for an hour about being hungry, so Pappy told him to go find something to eat. So JR did. Down the road a piece, Old Lady Jones had a flock of fat hens that were nearly tame. Whenever anyone walked by the house the chickens gathered at you feet looking for a handout. JR was getting angry at trying to wade through the flock so he raised his foot, ready to kick them over the roof an idea flashed through that thick head.

            “Hungry…food…chicken…food…hungry!” Instead of booting the feathered annoyances out of the way he lowered is foot and bent down to grab the first begging  chicken that he could reach. By the head. He lifted it up squawking crazily. He gave the whole bird a twirl around his meaty paw, separating several vertebrae and severing its spinal cord. Amazingly, to JR, the squawking stopped abruptly to be replaced by a frenzied flapping of its wings. JR watched curiously. So did the living hens. A horrible screeching came from the house where Old Lady Jones lived and the door was flung open by a bellowing woman.

            She didn’t stop hollering until she came to a stop face to face with JR. He looked dumbly back at her. The noise brought Old Man Jones from the back shed where he had been sampling Booter’s latest try at brewing beer. Alarmed at all the noise he imagined that a stinking coyote had gotten into the old woman’s chickens. So he grabbed a long handled shovel to bash it in the head.

            When he turned the corner of the house, he saw that big thick kid of Schwartz’s standing in the road with a limp chicken in his hand and the old woman dancing in outrage and shrieking curses at the poor dummy. JR caught the motion of Old Man Jones running towards him with a raised shovel in his hands and for once his brain worked fast enough to realize that he had better run on home. 

            Home was a shack on the edge of the mining camp about a hundred yards away. When he thundered into the dooryard, Carl Sr. looked up to see his frightened thick son running towards him holding a dead flopping chicken in his big beefy hand and realized at once the source of his son’s fear. “Go inside and shut the door JR.” Pappy told him, “And don’t come out unless I say!” JR usually did what Pappy said to do. Fifteen minutes later, Old Man Jones and the town Marshal walked into the dooryard and started yelling at Pappy. They pointed at the shack and yelled some more, but Pappy just shook his head. Then they left walking back the way they came, Old Man Jones turned and pointed his finger at Pappy and yelled at him to “do something about it!”  Pappy just shook his head again and watched them walk away.

            When they were gone, he called JR out and pointed at the dead chicken that his thick son was still holding by its broken neck. “Pick the feathers of that bird and pull its guts out, then pack up your kit and kaboodle and let’s mosey some.”

More of Lord, Lily shows off!

ACT 7

            Lily had last of their belongings packed and her tears were dry when Lord went back into the room.  Her eyes were reddened from the crying but there was a determined set to her jaw that hadn’t been there earlier.

            “Let’s go.” She said flatly and carried her stuff out to the pickup.  Lord picked up his bundle and the guitar and followed her out. They climbed into the truck after loading their stuff into the bed and drove out of the motor court. Lily saluted the nosy motel clerk with a raised single finger as they passed the office. Lord chuckled, but he didn’t want anymore trouble so he told her, “Hey, easy there, we don’t want the ‘bird’ police chasing us down. We’re good.  Let’s drive for a while and find somewhere to eat later.”

            Lily gave him a dirty look, but she nodded in agreement. They hit the highway headed north. Lily took in the scenery on both sides of the road. She had never been this way before. The desert gave way gradually to taller brush and more grasses and the land began to rise.  Lord didn’t gawk too much as the truck wandered a bit and he had to concentrate on keeping it between the lines. He did let his mind wander back to Lily’s situation and his experience along the same lines.

            Slick drank so much and so often that if he and Charley timed it right they didn’t have to see much of the son of a bitch. Mom didn’t have that luxury. Lord thought that she diverted his attention whenever she could so that her boys didn’t get in his way and suffer for it.  Reflecting on it now, Lord wondered why she put up with Slick. If Lily met Mom now and then I explained my experiences with a violent step-dad and his abuse of her, Lily would have a hard time believing it.  Mom had regained her dignity and strength but it had taken a lot to get her there.

            Lord had run afoul of the sheriff one afternoon. He was wandering through the drug store, fingering the candy, touching the sunglasses, just generally acting like he was casing the joint for a shoplifting run. Old man Jones had spoken to him twice about looking and not touching but Lord ignored him.  He didn’t ignore Lord, he called the Sheriff’s Office for some help.  Unfortunately for Lord, Sheriff Olsen answered the phone. He came right over. Sheriff Olsen was a big, blonde, blue-eyed, not-so-dumb second generation Swede.  He had hands as big as a catcher’s mitt and the biceps to lift anything that they grabbed a-hold of. That day they grabbed a hold of him.

            “Boy, I need to talk to you.  Mr. Jones can I use your office?” the sheriff dragged/led him back into the office when Mr. Jones nodded yes. When they got in there the sheriff shut the door with a crash. Lord jumped. “Turn your pockets out, then turn around.” he barked. “Put your hands above your head.” Lord did what he was told. His legs began to shake as the implications of this getting back to Mom, and the beating that Slick would give him if he heard of it. The sheriff watched as Lord did as he was told and then stepped up behind him, pinched his hands together and stretched him up so that he was on his tiptoes, and then patted him down, carefully not touching any private areas.

            “Now, tell me why you were trying to steal Mr. Jones’ merchandise. He told me that he asked you not to touch and you disobeyed him. Twice. What do you think you were doing?”

            “I was just wishing I had money to buy something, so I was pretending to be shopping!” Lord’s emotions finally got the best of him, he broke down and cried. The sheriff let him go until he stopped and dried the tears and wiped his nose on his forearm before he said, “Tell me what’s going on at home.” And Lord did, everything, except about Slick’s violence.

            The encounter with the deputy had distracted them from their hunger and so Lord had just driven. Lily had been silent for about an hour then broke the quiet, “I got to pee, can you find a restroom? And hurry please.”

            Lord jumped, startled out of his dreaming. He chuckled nervously. “You spooked me. I was thinking of something else.”  He looked over at her, her hands were holding her pregnant belly and she grimaced, like she was in pain. “Are you all right?” Lord was suddenly serious, he hoped it wasn’t the baby’s birthday.  What did he know about that?

            “The little beggar is kicking like a mule, I am trying not to wet myself, so hurry! Lily was rubbing her stomach trying to calm the baby down.  “HURRY!”

            Lord was desperately looking for signs of a rest area or truck stop but all he could see was greasewood and cholla . He decided that the brush would have to do. He slowed the truck and pulled off on the shoulder and stopped.

            Lily looked over at him with a question on her face. “What?” she asked.

            “The bushes will have to do, there isn’t anything in sight. I won’t look.” Lord grinned, after he turned his head. She was going to be lucky if she hurried, the traffic was pretty thin today.

            Lily’s lips pursed in a pout, but she knew that she had no choice. She decided that rather than wandering out in the spiny brush, she would stay close and lean against the side of the truck.  Looking both ways for oncoming cars and seeing nothing but empty road, she undid her jeans and squatted.  Relief was instantaneous, the pressure of her bladder and the baby kicking it like a football had been nearly unbearable. Just as she was about to stand up and pull her pants up, a semi-truck crested the little hill behind them with a roar. Scrambling, stumbling, she struggled with the reluctant jeans. Lord watched the trucker in his side mirror, the driver’s eyes widened as he took in the scene of the skinny pregnant girl struggling with her pants that were down to her knees. Lord saw his left arm raise as he grasped the string that controlled his air horn. “WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! The horn wailed in appreciation of Lily’s dancing try at covering her bare behind.

            Lily cursed.

            Lord’s ears burned.

            The truck passed with a couple of tributary toots as it sped on its way.

            Finally clothed, Lily climbed back in the pickup grumbling all of the way. “Let’s go. I’m hungry, aren’t you?” she changed the subject.  When she didn’t get a response from Lord, she poked him in the arm. “Let’s go!”

            He put the truck in gear and let the clutch out, checking for traffic in the side mirror. “Toot Toot” Lord couldn’t resist the joke. He broke out laughing as the truck started to accelerate down the road. He chanced a look at Lily, she was smiling broadly. For some reason Lord thought this was hilarious and he laughed harder, nearly missing his shift to a higher gear.  Lily let loose and laughed with him.

Next

ACT 6

            Lord woke as the sun rose in the eastern sky. It was like there was a scraping sound as the bright yellow disk lifted above the horizon. The astral noise never failed to wake him. He lay still for a few seconds listening for sounds of Lily, he needed to get up, the bathroom beckoned. Feeling that it was safe, he whipped the sheet off of him and he stood, reaching for his levi’s. He tried putting them on as he hopped to the toilet. After he was finished relieving himself he decided he better comb his hair and brush his teeth so that he could go out and get a cup of coffee and something sweet. His stomach still ached from yesterdays sickness, but pangs of hunger rumbled there too.

            He peeked out of the doorway, making sure that his clumsy dressing hadn’t brought Lily out of her sound sleep. She was still breathing deep and regular. He hurried over to his bed and found a clean shirt, but had no luck with socks, so he unwadded the dirty pair stuffed in his boots and pulled them on, then the boots. Lord tiptoed to the door and went outside.

            Lily smiled, then opened her eyes. She had been awake since Lord had drawn the bedcovers back and sat up. She had learned to be a light sleeper around her father. She and her sister had never known when he might come into their room and start screaming at them and lashing out in a drunken fury. They had to be prepared to escape his ranting.  Now, she wouldn’t have to worry about him again.

            She decided that it was time to get up, Lord probably wanted to get going early. As early as they could anyway. She wouldn’t hold him back, after all, he was generously giving her a ride to…well somewhere. A sudden kick by the baby inside her reminded her that she had to figure something out soon.

            Lily was drying her hair with the thin towels that were provided when Lord let himself into the room. She watched him set two cups and a small sack on the desk.

            “Donuts” he said when he saw her look at the sack. “I hope you like coffee.””

            Lily grimaced, “It will do until I can get some milk. And some eggs, bacon, toast…lots of jam. Can we get breakfast Lord? I’m real hungry. It’s the baby, you know.”

            Lord grinned, “I guess, but let’s get down the road a ways. Maybe, we can find a good café instead of a drive-in. It looks like the baby is getting all of the food.”

            Lily blushed at the thought of him looking that close at her swollen stomach. She couldn’t do anything about it, “Right now, that is.” she thought. “Can I have that last donut?”

            Lord laughed and handed it over.

             They finished their snack and Lord took his turn in the shower. He opened the bathroom door to let the steam out. He looked in amazement at the scene before him. Lily had dumped his bundle out on the bed and sorted the clean clothes from the dirty ones, which she had bundled in a pillow case and set it by the door. The clean clothes were still piled on the bed waiting for him to choose what he would wear for the day. She had separated his toiletry items into a pile on another pillow case. “Wow! What have you done? You didn’t have to.” Lord told her.

            Lily sat on the side of her bed nonchalantly watching his expression. Her bundle was neatly packed and sitting by the door waiting for him to load it. She said, “I know I didn’t but I thought it might speed things up for us this morning and make it easier tonight when we stop. You about ready?”

            Lord didn’t know what to say except to acknowledge her logic, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, I was in a bit of a hurry yesterday, Thanks…a lot.  That was real nice of you Lily. I’ll be done as soon as I grab some clean socks and brush my teeth.”

            When his morning ritual was finished Lord slipped his boots back on and picked up an armload of stuff and motioned for Lily to open the door. He walked out into the sunshine and to his old Chevy pickup with his load of clothes. He lifted the bundles of their belongings over the side of the pickup bed and onto the wooden floor. He straightened up and turned to go back for another load and ran face to face into a deputy sheriff.   

              “What you think you’re doing there, boy?” The officer asked.

            Lord didn’t know what else to say, “Getting ready to hit the road. Got a long way to go.”

            The deputy acted like he hadn’t said anything, but asked, “Have you got a girl in that room with you?” He didn’t give way so that Lord could go anywhere.

            “Yes sir, not a girl, a woman. She’s just a friend that I’m giving a ride to.” Lord was suddenly worried. He had asked her age, and she had said 18, but he hadn’t really seen proof of that.

            The deputy’s right eyebrow raised, “Well let’s just see about that.” He turned and walked into the room. When he spied Lily, the other eyebrow raised at the pregnant belly and the black eye that was now fading to a glorious green and yellow. He spoke in that serious law enforcement voice. “Ma’am what happened to you, did this man hit you? Are you alright, do you need help?”

            Lily’s eyes grew as wide as the deputy’s. She stammered, “I’m OK, really. My father hit me the other day. He’s a drunk. Lord is my friend. It’s OK, really it is.” Her voice wavered, like she might cry.

            Lord stood in the doorway, feeling helpless. This was getting to be unfunny. He hoped that black eye would fade a bit faster. The deputy raised his hand, like that would stop the tears like it stopped traffic. Lily didn’t recognize the gesture and took it as unbelief. She sobbed and the tears began to flow. “Really, I’m not lying, if it wasn’t for Lord, both eyes would be black. Please, don’t do anything to him.”

            The deputy was alarmed, he hadn’t wanted to make her cry. “Wait, don’t cry! I’m just checking on you, the motel clerk called me this morning. Now, just quit crying and show me your identification. We’ll sort this out.”

            Lord reached in his hip pocket and lifted the wallet out. His license was right in front, he removed it to hand to the officer. Lily was still sobbing, but she started rummaging through her pack. She stirred through all of her belongings with no luck. Feeling desperate, she dumped the bag upside down and poured the contents out on the bed. She was crying outwardly now, tearing at the ‘stuff’ on the bed, throwing it aside if it wasn’t her wallet.  Lord stepped towards her in order to help, but the deputy held out his arm to stop him.

            “I’ll help her, you stay by the door.” he said. He walked over to her side. “Now, just calm down there, little girl, what is it we are looking for?”

            “Mmmm….mm…my wallet.” Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. “It was in here last night.!”

The deputy reached down and picked up a thin leather wallet, “Is this it?” He held it up for her to look at.

            With her eyes full of tears she held out her hand and the deputy gave her the wallet. She opened it and pulled out her Drivers license, and gave it to him.  He looked it over and looked at Lord’s as well.  He handed the cards back to Lily. The deputy’s hand went to cup his face and he turned and walked to the door. He stopped in front of Lord, still holding his face and looking at the floor.  

            “Son, do you know what you’re doing?” he said as he lifted his head and looked Lord in the eyes. Lord looked steadily back at him. The deputy turned and looked at Lily and asked, “Do you trust him to take care of you? He won’t hurt you? Or the baby?” he pointed at her belly.

            “Yessir, I trust him like a brother. You see, I got no one else. I can’t go back home. I won’t.“  Her jaw was rigid with determination. The tears dried up and a fire burned in her eyes. “Dad hit me the last time two days ago, and I won’t be mistreated again.”

            The deputy nodded, “OK, you’re old enough to know what you want.” He turned back to Lord, “Walk with me out to my car.” He pushed by Lord and walked. Lord followed, noticing that Lily still stood defiantly watching the men.  When the deputy reached his car, he paused and held out his hand, there was a business card in it. Lord tried to take it, but the man shifted enough to grip his hand and hold it, the card held between. “Call me or write when you reach where you’re going. If she doesn’t stay with you, let me know where she is. OK?”

            Lord nodded, “Yessir, you can reach me through the county sheriff at home. If you don’t hear from me, call him…he’ll know what’s up.” They shook hands in agreement.

            “Take care of her, she needs someone.” The deputy got into his car and drove away. 

Lord of this World Act 5

Dear friends, if you are a dedicated reader of this story blog, you will recognize this story. I am sorry it has been so long since the last installment, but some other stories have interfered. Act 4 was published in June. I hope you will enjoy this chapter. Thank you for sticking with me. There is more to come. Much more.

Lord of this World Act 5

ACT 5

            Lord returned with a sack full of food and two shakes. He handed them through the window to Lily and got behind the wheel. He was ready for supper and about a century of sleep. He was that tired. As he started the truck down the highway he noticed a shabby old motor court with a vacant sign blinking by the road.

            “Let’s stay here, I’m exhausted, I don’t think I could drive another mile.” he pulled into the portico and went in. “I’ll be right out.” he told Lily. Then he stopped, he turned and looked her straight in the eye.

            “I can’t afford two rooms, I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry.” Lord was distressed. “Is it alright? To share, I mean.”

            Lily stared right back at him. Boldly, for her (he thought), she firmly said, “Of course, I trust you.”

            He smiled and went in to pay for the room. He returned shortly and drove into the courtyard to a door marked “13” and parked. Lord got out and opened the door to the room. He came back and lifted his bundle and guitar out of the back of the truck.

            “Can you bring the food, I’ll get your bag next trip?”

            Lily agreed and carried the sack of burgers and drinks into the room and turned on the light. Lord dropped his bundle and set the guitar against the bed. After he collected her bag and locked the truck doors for the night, he went in to the room and shut the door behind him. There was a little desk and a rickety chair by the window. He collapsed into the chair and kicked his boots off.  He heard the rush of water as the toilet flushed. Lily opened the bathroom door and went to the burgers. She laid them out on the desk in front of him. “Time to eat.” She picked up one of paper wrapped hamburgers. He picked one for himself and began to unwrap it but he was distracted by Lily. She must have been ravenous, the sandwich disappeared in a flurry.  She turned and went back to the bathroom and ran some water into a glass and took a sip. She walked back out to the desk and selected another hamburger and unwrapped it and set to demolishing the second one. It was a little less dramatic this time, but still just as determined.

            They finished their meal and put the wrappings in the trash. Lord was thinking how amazing it was that a little girl like her could eat so much.  It was like the baby inside her was taking his nourishment directly from what she ate or maybe those skinny legs were hollow. His eyes began to droop from the fatigue of driving and leftover hangover.

            Lily shook his shoulder, “Lord, will you go outside while I get into bed?” she pointed to the twin bed closest to the bathroom. “I’m tired.”

            Lord nodded in agreement and went outside. The evening was warm, almost hot even though the sun had been down for a while now. He stood by his truck and leaned on the hood. Thoughts  of home and Bree ran around his skull tormenting him. “What would he do now?’” he thought. His plans were blown all to hell and he hadn’t considered a ‘Plan B’. The scenes of this morning replayed once more in his mind.  He thought of Lily and bastard father of hers. This led right back to his boyhood and his abusive step-father.

            He had sat on that porch for most of an hour when Slick pulled up in the driveway. The man swayed a bit as he strolled up to the porch where Lord sat. “What the hell you doing kid?” he slurred the words.

            Lord looked at this man who had taken his father’s place, not in Lord’s eyes, but in his Mom’s. Even though he had hit her, using his fists to show her what a big man he was, she still hadn’t said anything against him. Lord wasn’t going to put up with that behavior, after all, he thought his father would want him to defend his mother.

            “Waiting for you.” he said flatly.

            “Oh…is that right. What do you want me for?”

            “Don’t hit my mother again.” Lord looked him directly in the eye.

            “Or what?” Slick grinned at the thought of Lord trying anything.

            “Or you’ll be sorry.” Lord held his ground.

            Slick cuffed him up side of his head. Lord flew off of the porch and onto the grass. He laid there, dazed.

            “Looks like you ain’t gonna do much are you?” Slick smirked and walked into the house, hollering “Where’s my supper woman? Or do you need a tune up like that smart mouthed brat of yours?”

            Lord didn’t hear her reply but Charley came out and helped him up. Lord’s eyes were watering from the force of the blow and there was a ringing in his ears. Charley asked, “What happened Lord? Why’d he hit you?”

            Lord spit the iron tasting blood/saliva onto the grass, licking his lips to clear them. “I told him not to hit mom anymore. So he hit me.” Lord held his head in his hands trying to stop the ringing.

            “This ain’t right Lord. Dad wouldn’t put up with someone like him. He always said that real men don’t hit girls. What should we do about it?” Charley was letting his fear creep into his voice. The sound of it worried Lord. He was supposed to watch out for his little brother. Mom said.

            “I don’t know Charley, I‘ll figure something out. Let’s go get some supper before he throws it out.” Lord led the way inside, watching warily for an ambush.

            Lord’s thoughts were interrupted by Lily’s voice telling him that it was his turn to get ready for bed. He entered the room carefully, not wanting to invade her privacy. Seeing her slight form under the thin cover on the bed that she had pointed to earlier, he turned and locked the door again. He went to the bed where his gear was piled and rummaged through it, looking for his toothbrush. After going through the jumble of stuff in the sheet that he had rolled up earlier he discovered it near the bottom of the pile. “Found it.” he said and went to brush the crud out of his mouth.

            Finished, he turned of the light and walked to the bed, worried that she might be offended if he took his levi’s off in front of her.  He needn’t have worried, he could tell she was already asleep by the soft snoring that came from the from under the covers.

            “Goodnight, Lily. I hope tomorrow’s better for the both of us.” Lord turned the light off, undressed  and climbed into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

Dreamscape - The End

DREAMSCAPE

EPISODE #4

            Wiley growled at me, “Are you ready to die…right now? Because you will you know, if you attract the raider’s attention. They don’t fool around!”

            “NO, I’M NOT!” I shouted back at Wiley and gave a dirty look to the savage as well. “I AM JUST SICK … and tired of being confused. Today started out OK, but then it started to rain. And…and…”, I finished lamely. “And that savage cut me with his spearpoint!”

            Coimircoer scowled at me and lifted the point of the spear in my direction, he shook it. The translation came across loud and clear, “You’re lucky I didn’t spit you like a chicken!”

            Wearily I nodded. “OK”

            Coimirceor peeked over the ridge, he stood and gave a thumbs up. I thought I knew what it meant without the translation, you know, “A-OK.” But no, the savage’s interpreted voice spoke, “The coast is clear.”

            He smiled and resumed his march. Intoit rose out of the tall grass and followed, resuming his position on the left flank. The gargling croak of the raven rang out from above. Wiley turned and looked my way. I arose and shouldered my pack and moved out.

            Wiley kept pace with me. He assumed that superior canine grin that was becoming irritating. We walked and walked. Intoit’s hackles raised when we crossed the track of the raider’s. To tell you the truth, my hackles raised too. The thought of iron-clad knights led by the Son of the Morning Star, the hero of the Little Big Horn, dead though he may be, frightened me to no end. Coimirceor snorted at me and Intoit. He didn’t look left nor right. He trudged on. What choice did the rest of us have? We followed.

            Did I say that the rain continued? It did, if anything it rained harder if that was possible. The light was cut further and the clouds rolled and twisted. But our feet were dry, the rain didn’t spot my spectacles. We climbed and descended ridge after gully, over and over. Out of the blue, a sharp pain blasted me starting in the angry red scar and radiating outward until it met itself in my back. A dry hacking  cough  over took me and I bent at the waist, trying to catch my breath.

            Coimirceor stopped and looked back at me, his hands flashed in a series of signs. “You ready? We have to get you to the other side before the bad guys know you’re here.”

            Intoit snuck in behind me and goosed me with his nose. Then he growled.

            “Yikes! What was that?” I said as I stood straight up. The raven gargled his laughing croak. “Shut up you stupid bird!” I let loose. Gasping for breath I started walking again and the savage turned and continued.

            We trudged on for about a mile, when the light began to fade and the clouds got darker and darker. I was beat, it seemed that we had walked for days, not hours. Just as I was about to call for a rest, we left the brush and tree line,  into a wide open meadow. The grass was about waist high and the most impossible green I had ever seen. It drooped from the weight of the rain.

            Coimirceor stopped. I wasn’t paying attention to him and ran right into his back. He grunted but didn’t move. The raven cawed in alarm and flew away, Intoit growled.

            Wiley said, “What have we here?” I looked at him, he was looking beyond Coimirceor. I did too. My mouth dropped open.

            The knights were arrayed shoulder to shoulder, blocking our way. Their lances were leveled at us. Sitting his athletic bay stallion, directly in front of us was the Custer look-alike. He was smiling ear to ear. So much for fooling  the bad guys. Coimirceor grunted in agreement but didn’t take his eyes away from the threat in front of us. He held his nasty spear in a ready, but threatening position.

            He  barked out a string of gibb…er, words and shook the spear for emphasis. Not surprising, I didn’t understand a word of what he said.  And there was no translation either. The Custer look-alike sat there without responding to the tirade.

            “I believe…HE (Custer pointed at me) will come with us.”

            The savage shook his head, “NO, I am the guardian of the vale, the VOICE assigned me to watch over him as well. You may not have him.”

            Coimirceor had spoken and I understood him! What the…what! “Why did we have to go through all of the sign language rig-a-ma- role?” I tugged on his rabbit skin cape. He ignored me.

            The Son of the Morning Star barked out an order and the knights came to attention, raising their lances.  He barked another, they backed their horses ten steps. Custer backed his stallion almost to the line of his knights and reined him into a spin, right 360° then back the other way. When  the horse stopped, Custer pulled the reins back. The stallion rose on his hind legs in a picture perfect ‘Levade’ and held it for a ten count. Custer let him down, and walked the stallion forward until he was just out of reach of the deadly spear. He stopped, drew his saber and pointed it at me, ignoring Coimirceor, “YOU…you think you have escaped me, and I allow that you have this time, but I will have you in the end.” He spun the stallion, and spurred away. The knights turned as one unit, formed into columns and followed their leader.

            I was dumbstruck. “What the HELL was that?” I asked.  Intoit was sniffing the tracks that were left from the raiders. He lifted his leg and squirted Custer’s track. Wiley watched with amusement, I could tell from his lolling-tongue grin.

            Coimirceor turned to me, scowling he lifted the spearpoint so that it was pointing up. He let it lean on one shoulder and proceeded to explain in sign language. “They are the collectors of the vale.  Any one who tries to cross the vale are their prey.  Sometimes the VOICE assigns us to protect the travelers, sometimes we just take them to the raiders.  It’s your lucky day. We gotta ways to go yet, so pack up and let’ go.”

            We walked for about another mile and the rain fell steadily, but it didn’t get any darker. I guess that it was dreary enough. We had been crossing the tall green grass flats and I was happy that the land was mostly level. I was beat. Wiley spoke up, “You have just a little ways to go and you will be across. The last bit will be the toughest, since you are so tired but, you can make it.”

Dreamscape - The End

DREAMSCAPE

EPISODE #4

            Wiley growled at me, “Are you ready to die…right now? Because you will you know, if you attract the raider’s attention. They don’t fool around!”

            “NO, I’M NOT!” I shouted back at Wiley and gave a dirty look to the savage as well. “I AM JUST SICK … and tired of being confused. Today started out OK, but then it started to rain. And…and…”, I finished lamely. “And that savage cut me with his spearpoint!”

            Coimircoer scowled at me and lifted the point of the spear in my direction, he shook it. The translation came across loud and clear, “You’re lucky I didn’t spit you like a chicken!”

            Wearily I nodded. “OK”

            Coimirceor peeked over the ridge, he stood and gave a thumbs up. I thought I knew what it meant without the translation, you know, “A-OK.” But no, the savage’s interpreted voice spoke, “The coast is clear.”

            He smiled and resumed his march. Intoit rose out of the tall grass and followed, resuming his position on the left flank. The gargling croak of the raven rang out from above. Wiley turned and looked my way. I arose and shouldered my pack and moved out.

            Wiley kept pace with me. He assumed that superior canine grin that was becoming irritating. We walked and walked. Intoit’s hackles raised when we crossed the track of the raider’s. To tell you the truth, my hackles raised too. The thought of iron-clad knights led by the Son of the Morning Star, the hero of the Little Big Horn, dead though he may be, frightened me to no end. Coimirceor snorted at me and Intoit. He didn’t look left nor right. He trudged on. What choice did the rest of us have? We followed.

            Did I say that the rain continued? It did, if anything it rained harder if that was possible. The light was cut further and the clouds rolled and twisted. But our feet were dry, the rain didn’t spot my spectacles. We climbed and descended ridge after gully, over and over. Out of the blue, a sharp pain blasted me starting in the angry red scar and radiating outward until it met itself in my back. A dry hacking  cough  over took me and I bent at the waist, trying to catch my breath.

            Coimirceor stopped and looked back at me, his hands flashed in a series of signs. “You ready? We have to get you to the other side before the bad guys know you’re here.”

            Intoit snuck in behind me and goosed me with his nose. Then he growled.

            “Yikes! What was that?” I said as I stood straight up. The raven gargled his laughing croak. “Shut up you stupid bird!” I let loose. Gasping for breath I started walking again and the savage turned and continued.

            We trudged on for about a mile, when the light began to fade and the clouds got darker and darker. I was beat, it seemed that we had walked for days, not hours. Just as I was about to call for a rest, we left the brush and tree line,  into a wide open meadow. The grass was about waist high and the most impossible green I had ever seen. It drooped from the weight of the rain.

            Coimirceor stopped. I wasn’t paying attention to him and ran right into his back. He grunted but didn’t move. The raven cawed in alarm and flew away, Intoit growled.

            Wiley said, “What have we here?” I looked at him, he was looking beyond Coimirceor. I did too. My mouth dropped open.

            The knights were arrayed shoulder to shoulder, blocking our way. Their lances were leveled at us. Sitting his athletic bay stallion, directly in front of us was the Custer look-alike. He was smiling ear to ear. So much for fooling  the bad guys. Coimirceor grunted in agreement but didn’t take his eyes away from the threat in front of us. He held his nasty spear in a ready, but threatening position.

            He  barked out a string of gibb…er, words and shook the spear for emphasis. Not surprising, I didn’t understand a word of what he said.  And there was no translation either. The Custer look-alike sat there without responding to the tirade.

            “I believe…HE (Custer pointed at me) will come with us.”

            The savage shook his head, “NO, I am the guardian of the vale, the VOICE assigned me to watch over him as well. You may not have him.”

            Coimirceor had spoken and I understood him! What the…what! “Why did we have to go through all of the sign language rig-a-ma- role?” I tugged on his rabbit skin cape. He ignored me.

            The Son of the Morning Star barked out an order and the knights came to attention, raising their lances.  He barked another, they backed their horses ten steps. Custer backed his stallion almost to the line of his knights and reined him into a spin, right 360° then back the other way. When  the horse stopped, Custer pulled the reins back. The stallion rose on his hind legs in a picture perfect ‘Levade’ and held it for a ten count. Custer let him down, and walked the stallion forward until he was just out of reach of the deadly spear. He stopped, drew his saber and pointed it at me, ignoring Coimirceor, “YOU…you think you have escaped me, and I allow that you have this time, but I will have you in the end.” He spun the stallion, and spurred away. The knights turned as one unit, formed into columns and followed their leader.

            I was dumbstruck. “What the HELL was that?” I asked.  Intoit was sniffing the tracks that were left from the raiders. He lifted his leg and squirted Custer’s track. Wiley watched with amusement, I could tell from his lolling-tongue grin.

            Coimirceor turned to me, scowling he lifted the spearpoint so that it was pointing up. He let it lean on one shoulder and proceeded to explain in sign language. “They are the collectors of the vale.  Any one who tries to cross the vale are their prey.  Sometimes the VOICE assigns us to protect the travelers, sometimes we just take them to the raiders.  It’s your lucky day. We gotta ways to go yet, so pack up and let’ go.”

            We walked for about another mile and the rain fell steadily, but it didn’t get any darker. I guess that it was dreary enough. We had been crossing the tall green grass flats and I was happy that the land was mostly level. I was beat. Wiley spoke up, “You have just a little ways to go and you will be across. The last bit will be the toughest, since you are so tired but, you can make it.”

The End - Part Two

PART TWO

            I nodded and grunted in agreement. I put my head down and trudged on.

            We came to another sudden stop and I nearly ran into the savage again. I stopped in time and raised my eyes to see what the interruption was. All I could see was Coimirceor’s back, so I stepped to the side. I gasped. We faced a long steep hillside that seemed to go on forever. I couldn’t see the top from where we stood.

            “It looks like a pyramid” I offered.

            “Can we go around?”

            “Guys…”

            Coimirceor began to sing. I couldn’t understand the words and there wasn’t any translation, but the rhythm was like a marching song.  He beckoned us forward with the spear and he began the long trek up the long slope.

            I watched, but not for long, Intoit goosed me with his nose and Wiley growled out, “Let’s get going.”

            I heaved a long sigh and began the ordeal.

            We climbed and climbed, the slope became steeper the farther that we went. My heart pounded like an old steam engine, I wondered if the others could hear it, it beat so loud in my own ears. My breath roared in and out. I was just at the point where I was about to collapse, when Intoit and Wiley moved closer and put their heads beneath my hands.

            “Hold onto our fur and we will help you.” Wiley said. I couldn’t say no, my breathing was too rapid to speak. We went on. For about another 50 yards. Then we topped the brow of the hill so suddenly I lost my footing and fell on my face. The coyotes used their noses under my arms to help me rise.

            When I got to my feet and raised my face, the sight before me was so amazing, my mouth dropped open. My eyes widened to their maximum size, I am sure, for they were barely able to ‘see’ what stood before me.

            The most beautiful tree that I have ever seen rose to the sky. It was covered with large leaves of every shape and every color imaginable. The tree stood in the exact center of the flat top of the hill and spread it’s limbs in a huge circle that shaded the largest part of the space. Birds flitted in and out of the limbs and spaces between the leaves, their song in perfect harmony with Coimirceor. Intoit and Wiley began to sing the coyote song and it harmonized as well. The sound swelled in volume, I tried to match it, but could not.

            The song came to a sudden end, the silence was deafening after the crescendo. A sudden pain ripped my chest along the angry scar and a tearing cough forced its way past my lips.

            Coimirceor turned to me, his hands flew in a blizzard of signs. “You have crossed the vale, I have met the expectations of the Voice. I hope we do not meet for many turns of the wheel of life yet to be. If we do, the trip across the vale may not be so easy. Try to learn some things before you come to this place again. It will make our job easier. Thank your brothers for their help before you leave us.” He spread his arms in a sign that had no translation, then he made a chopping motion with his spear hand. “Enough!”  With that he grasped the spear that he had leaned on his shoulder and raised it in to the air, a sudden “Ky-yi-Yippee-i-oooo” burst from his lips and he was off at a fast trot.

            As I watched his form disappear over the edge of the hill, Wiley said, “Follow me”, and he led me across the hill top under the tree.

            As we reached the other side and left the shade thrown by the huge tree, I asked the coyote, “What is this place?”

            Wiley let the superior canine grin cross his face before he answered, “You don’t recognize it? You have been here before you know, only going the other way.”

            “NO, I don’t recall being here.”

            “This is the Tree of Life” Wiley said this with some seriousness and reverence.

            Scared, I asked, “Have I died?”

            “Not this time, if you had, you would be riding with the knights of the vale and that goofy Yellow Hair. Instead, you got to hang with the savage.” With this, Wiley burst into coyote laugh.

            “What’s next?” I asked somewhat relieved.

            “Follow me” and he led me over the edge of the hill. I slipped and started sliding down the grassy slope. Wiley and Intoit raced beside me as I gained speed. I slid forever, I gained so much speed that I began to leave the coyote’s behind. I saw that I was heading toward the edge of a drop off and I tried to slow down by spreading my arms and grabbing at the grass. It slipped through my fingers, the scared feeling  returned, I cried out.

            “Don’t fight it, just let it happen…don’t fight it…”

            I slipped over the edge and fell.

            “Don’t fight it…”, and I hit the bottom in a flash of light. My eyes flew open, and slammed closed again when the bright light bored into my eyes. I opened them carefully to see an angel in my face, she was pulling a tube from my throat.

            “Don’t fight it…cough…harder”.

            A racking cough rumbled in my chest, it felt like hell, I couldn’t breath. Then pop, the tube was free, I coughed and gasped. My chest hurt.

            I looked at the nurse, then saw other angels standing around the room. They had tears in their eyes, I wondered why. The first one said, ”What do you think of this.” She pointed to my chest.  An angry red scar/cut marked my chest from throat to the bottom of my ribcage. It throbbed. I closed my eyes, the room faded for an instant. The fading echoes of a yipping coyote song teased my hearing.  Then Wiley’s face floated in front of me, grinning that damned canine grin. He barked like any other coyote but the yips translated into, “Do you understand now?”

            I groaned, and opened my eyes. “How bad was it?” I croaked.

Just like that damned raven.

THE END