Wait for It

Thunder and lightning

wait for it…

then raindrops colliding

Howling wind and dark skies

wait for it…

a hurricane arrives

With no apparent threat

wait for it…

the earthquake struck at sunset

The once calm sea

wait for it…

suddenly turned choppy

Bright lights in the sky

wait for it…

stars in an endless supply

-30-

Time After Time

Bodie Stark urged the black stallion on to greater speed as the red demons closed in and he could hear their guttural screeching shredding the brisk night air.

He looked back once and saw the three nightriders whose skeletal skulls were beaming with an eerie light that made their feathers glow beneath the full moon. Their eagerness to catch him was palpable as they screamed curses and lashed their hell-seed stallions on to greater speeds. Suddenly Stark came to a dead end – a cliff. He turned to face his tormentors and drew his Bowie knife from its leather sheath for the final confrontation. Then he was tumbling into a dark ravine before he knew what happened. The darkness closed in…

Stark woke, like so many other times recently, shouting “Stop!” The nightmare was getting worse in the last two weeks and his nerves were frayed to the point of breaking and going insane. Opening his eyes cautiously he looked around the bleak room. A nightstand and a table with two chairs completed the scene. The wooden single bed he was on was covered with two gray horse blankets. He lay on top of the blankets trying to blink the nightmare away in the light of the day streaming through a single window’s glass panes. His thoughts drifted back to a month ago when he and his three comrades discovered the gold mine. Stark, being the most experienced woodsman among the group was following the river when he started spotting some gold nuggets that grew in size and quantity as he worked upriver. His partners got more excited the further they went until they came to a waterfall where two large gold veins were exposed beneath the cascading falls. The four men danced for joy. They had found what surely was going to be a massive gold payload.

The first day they camped in a clearing near the waterfall and celebrated their fantastic find. The whiskey bottle was passed around until the four men emptied it and passed out on the ground in the large tent, they’d put up the day before. No one stayed up to watch for unexpected visitors. It was a careless thing to do out in the wild and in the middle of the Appalachians in 1888. But their luck held, and their sleep was undisturbed. That morning, they had some black coffee and hard tack with strips of cured venison. As they ate, they agreed to split up into two-man teams and scout around the area before coming back and panning for gold in the crystal-clear waters of the river. Stark and the youngest man, William, went up stream while the other two men, John and Henry, circled around the site east to west looking for signs of humans. In particular for signs of the Cherokee people whose land they were trespassing on.

What needs to be said is that four explorers weren’t paragons of virtue and they were all greedy men with little or no consciences. They were rough and hearty men of their time surviving the wilderness for years on their strength and cunning. Each man had different ideas about what to do with his unexpected wealth. The only thing they were unified in was agreeing not to tell anybody about the location and sticking together until they got back to civilization. After that it got a little vague.

After scouting around Henry and John were heading back to camp when they heard a bird call. Then another from another location in answer. When the Cherokee war party burst through the forest in the waning light they fell upon the two unfortunates and promptly killed them and took their scalps. Stark and William had made it back to camp and were building a fire as the sun went down. They both knew it wasn’t a good sign that their partners weren’t back yet. The two men sat back-to-back near the campfire clutching their Winchester rifles and wondering when the attack would come. The night hours drug on as they both fought exhaustion to stay awake fearing for their lives. Stark should have known better. Most Cherokee bands didn’t like to fight at night unlike the Comanche who traditionally raided Mexico during the full moon so they could see at night. Just before daybreak the men gathered their processions and saddled up their horses. They lingered for a couple of hours and panned for gold, both quickly filling up little leather sacks of nuggets and stashing them in their saddlebags. They didn’t bother making coffee and satisfied themselves with water and some venison jerky while they rode back to the little mining town they had left from days ago. Both were lost in their thoughts when the arrows came! One struck Stark in his right shoulder. Then William suddenly looked like a porcupine as several arrows pierced his chest. His body collapsed and fell off his horse awkwardly. Meanwhile Stark recovered enough to pull out his Winchester and start firing point blank at his pursuers. Two immediately tumbled off their horses and the third managed to stay on his horse for a hundred yards before falling off with a bullet in his heart. Stark didn’t linger. He drove his horse hard as he left the chaos behind him. When he got to town, he found the doctor in the second saloon he searched and convinced him to tend to the wound. He’d broken the arrow off, and the stub burned like hell.

Stark took another swig from the near empty whiskey bottle in his hotel room and wondered how he could make the nightmare go away. He pulled the two leather pouches out of his jacket which hung on a hook on the door. He slowly walked over to the table and pulled a chair back and sat down. He placed the bags of little gold nuggets the size of human teeth before him and stared at them as if seeking an answer to his problem. He hadn’t shown anyone his gold since coming back to town. After considering everything he decided the gold was haunted and if he didn’t return it to the river, he’d never have any peace. It was a crazy idea, but he was desperate. Having to live through that death race every night was just too much to bear. He was tired but set out for the golden waterfall hoping for an end to the misery his nights had become.

When Stark was knee deep in the crystal-clear waters of the river he emptied the contents out of each pouch. He watched as the gold nuggets joined the others on the riverbed and took a deep sigh. He knew the nightmares would end now. And he was right. The next day some Cherokee warriors came upon Stark asleep and promptly brained him.

-30-

American Biography

Plymouth Rock was one big step for immigrants

But Native Americans saw the writing on the wall

Their cultures were being crushed despite being vigilant

And there wasn’t any way to avoid their fate for once and all

Then so-called progress spread from sea-to-sea

and the newcomers began to pollute the country

Modernization

Industrialization

Indoctrination

Civilization

Over population

Automation

Militarization

Violations

Fortifications

The result?

A divided nation

A Deadly Game of Blackjack

I nervously eyed the dealer as I settled into my chair. It took all of my will power to resist wiping off the ribbon of sweat that trailed down from my high forehead. I knew Frankie and Sal were watching me closely. Looking for signs of fear. Their boss, Big Boy Roy Zizzi was sitting at a nearby table sipping Bourbon and playing footsies with a red-hot blond who laughed shrilly at everything he said. I waited for someone to explain the rules of the game I was about to play.

Finally Big Boy Roy Zizzi got up and ambled over to me. His girth stretched the dress jacket to the point of tearing as he bent over and said,

Myron my friend you’re a lucky man. I could have shot you in the back of the head and your body deposited in the desert by Frankie and Sal. But we’ve known each other for years before our little fall out here. You were my number one soldier. But your greed got the better of you. When I found out you were skimming money from two of my casinos. I had to take some swift action. The rules are simple. You get 10 chips. Bet any amount you want. But if you lose those 10 chips you get a free ride to the desert east of here.

Wait a moment! How can I win and save my life?

“You have to double those 10 chips. Your dealer tonight is Belinda who just happens to be the best dealer in both of my casinos. She has a great sense of humor. So, let’s get this party started!”

I looked up and caught Belinda smiling. She seemed to be enjoying herself. I looked at the card shoe next to her hand. It held four decks. It was better than playing against one deck in my experience. Especially if there were other players at the table. But now it was just me and Belinda. I watched her quickly deal the cards. It was like watching water flow in one smooth movement.

My face card was a king. My down card was a four. She had an Ace. Her down card could be anything. Her hand hovered over the shoe as she asked me what I wanted to do?

“Stand,” I replied.

She flipped over her down card. “Eight!” she almost purred. I lost the first hand and found myself staring down at the nine remaining chips with a mounting fear.

For 12 grueling hours I managed to stay afloat but was down to two chips. After a few hours I grew to understand that she could have won every hand but kept giving me last-minute reprieves. Frankie and Sal were slumped down in two chairs by the wall and Big Boy Roy Zizzi – to his credit – was still going strong at the table with his blond bimbo.

I took a chance and bet my last two chips. I was exhausted from the tension. Belinda’s mysterious smile gave me hope. My face card was a 10. My down card was a jack. Her face card was a seven. When she turned over her down card it was a six. She drew another card. It was a queen. She busted!

Let it ride,” I told her. And I won the next hand. And the next. I was up to 16 chips and flush with excitement when Big Boy Roy Zizzi broke away from his blond bimbo and waddled over to our table. He looked at my 16 coins. Then at Belinda. He nodded. She nodded and smiled at me. I lost.

-30-

When Books Are Burned

ashes… ashes

fall down

to the ground

when books burn

knowledge goes

up in smoke

in a moment

of madness

that generations

will forever regret

***

The Delivery Man

Clint’s apartment offered a panoramic 10th story view of Portland which could be enhanced if one desired by looking through the telescope on the deck.

The telescope was a Gskyer 70 mm with lots of interesting attachments. He could watch ants climbing up a lime tree in someone’s backyard five miles away if he felt like it. His favorite attachment was a 5×24 Finderscope and mounting bracket with cross hair lines that helped locate objects and subjects. He spent many pleasant hours looking at the world unfold outside as he sipped 18 year-old James Buchanan’s Special Reserve Blended Scotch Whiskey.

He was single and a successful day trader who worked from home. He didn’t like being around other people. Crowds made him uneasy. He didn’t mind one-on-one conversations with friends or strangers however. He was well-educated and graduated top of the class at Webster University, a national top ten business college. His soft spoken voice could calm people in distress and hold people’s interest when he told a story.

His rugged good looks turned more than one female’s head in admiration. Yet Clint never had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend. Never. His adopted parents never pressured him to date and often went out of their way to help him avoid large gatherings… like school. His adopted mother was a special education teacher who home schooled him when she came home from work. He absorbed knowledge like a sponge, but seldom showed emotion. Joy, or anger. Grief, or elation. Happiness, or sorrow. It was his poker face that made some people a little uneasy when around him. That, and his pale blue eyes, which seemed to sparkle with an unknown energy that suggested an icy presence lurking inside.

Money was no problem for Clint. He was very successful at investing his money in the market, and had over a million dollars in savings. His problem was entertaining himself. The television and the internet provided entertainment up to a point, but the day came when it wasn’t enough.

Clint adopted the persona of a deliveryman. He would bring surprise packages to houses, apartments, motel and hotel rooms, and businesses. He purchased numerous deliveryman outfits with different company names on the back and his front pocket. He wore fake glasses. The contents of the packages varied; some were bombs, some were piles of cash, some were just pranks using jack-in-the-boxes. He always felt calm about his deliveries regardless of their contents. It was a strange feeling for someone who experienced very little human traits.

One day while peering through his telescope, Clint watched a little drama going on a few miles away and near one of the many bridges below. One of his talents was lip reading. Despite turning their heads away from him at times, Clint pieced together what they were fighting about in minutes. It was enough to inspire him to deliver a special package to the house later that day.

He pulled up to the house in his General Delivery van and brought his package to the front porch of the house. It was where he saw them arguing. He calmly drove back to his apartment and went outside to his telescope. After lighting up a joint he inhaled deeply, savoring his favorite strain of cannabis, Grand Daddy Purp. Grinning in anticipation, he peered through the 400mm lens he had substituted for the 70mm and settled in for a long wait.

Two hours later the occupant of the house, a woman, stepped out onto the front porch. She peered around as if looking for someone, but the street was deserted in the growing dusk. Then she looked down and saw the package. It was the size of a shoebox and was wrapped in brown paper with a yellow ribbon and bow. There was no card. Her name wasn’t on it. She looked around again, straining her eyes against the withering light. Eyes back down. A step towards it. Clint imagined how hard her heart must be pounding as she neared the package. She hovered for a moment over it then bent down. Fear and curiosity crawled across her brow as she contemplated the package.

Finally she reached out and pulled the ribbon…

This was the part Clint enjoyed. Life, or death? What would it be? He knew she was risking everything. If the package killed her she’d never come up with the ransom money for her only child, a daughter. Still, in her desperation she hoped the package contained good news.

Clint watched, squinting in the growing gray sky, as she opened the top and pulled out the wads of money. Twenty-five thousand dollars in cash! Enough to get her daughter back.

When the man came for the ransom she had it. A moment later her daughter was freed from a car parked nearby. The man left without a word. As he got into the passenger seat of the car Clint took several photos with his wireless camera attachment to his Gskyer telescope. It would help him find the man so he could send him a package too. One without money in it.

The end.

Apocalypse Road

Everything was reduced to a survival mode

when mankind walked down Apocalypse Road

the journey was slow but sure

after each world war

until there were no more

and civilization broke down

in every city and town

leaving few humans around

and those that did survive

fought every day to stay alive

until the Apocalypse finally did arrive

no surprise

but

there’s still stars in the sky

and planets and meteorites

that still exist in forever nights

solar systems and galaxies

planets with water and trees

and life evolving mysteries

Strange Days

have you ever had a day when everything seems strange?

like normal routines interrupted with a sudden change?

days when nothing seems right?

days darker than night?

days when you wonder what you’re doing?

days when you feel like people are pursuing?

days when you find nothing going your way?

days when you just don’t get to have your say?

days that seemed like some sort of odd dream?

days when to your horror nothing was as it seems?

then you’re just agreeing

that you’re a human being!

The Returning Knight’s Story

(Editor’s note: I’m experimenting with a hybrid writing genre combining Flash Fiction/Poetry – let me know what you think. Does it work? Input appreciated – 326 words)

after years he returned from his duty as a crusader in a foreign land, riding a weary war horse in battered and bloody armor, the knight struggled not to think about the terrible things he saw in the Holy Land, where massacres of innocents were common and his soul shriveled watching and participating in…

the sun bore down mercilessly on his and his horse’s rusting armor, and his tortured brain, as he stared from behind unblinking eyes down the long dusty lane, where clusters of cobblestones laid by Roman engineers still existed after hundreds of years, reminded him of the rubble he left behind…

lurking behind his empty eyes was a shadow of recognition that he was once a husband and a father living peacefully in a green valley, where he and his bride were born so long ago, before the Catholic church came by and said he had to go, and defend Christianity for the sake of humanity, or be excommunicated by the church…

that man was just a memory as the knight rode down the road and considered what lay ahead with no emotion like he was dead, but instead he plowed ahead with no plan in mind, no speech to give about his harsh life when he thought about his young wife…

finally the day arrived and the familiar landscape of home rose like a blessing in green rows of trees surrounded by grassy knolls and a farm house at the bottom of the hill ahead, as the knight’s powerful horse picked up it’s gait unconsciously for his master to see his wife standing by a tree…

no Muslim warrior ever wounded the knight so badly

than after talking with her by the tree, when she said she thought he was dead and married again and was happy, with a tear in her eye that he could see, she turned and went back to her new family …

the knight got back on his horse, and rode into history.

***

Lighten Your Load

are you carrying a rucksack

of worries?

a load of emotional rocks?

a stack of negative stories?

stuck in a mental box?

then it’s time

to lighten your load

and shine

cast away

your worries

enjoy your day

there’s no guarantee

another will come your way

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