Archives

THE SIMPLE THINGS

Lorraine Jenkins was tired. Between going to nursing school, and pulling a double at the nursing home, Lorraine had every cause to complain. But what purpose would that serve. Her ambition was driven by the need to help people.

She had come up the ranks the hard way, a slim black woman with manly features, but a very compassionate heart. Her mother had done volunteer work in the black hospital in Selma. A product of segregation, Floridine took pride in her work.She put all the compassion she had into caring for her patients. Lorraine recalled how tired and worn her mother looked after hard days. She was touched by how her mother would cry for hours when one of her charges has lost their struggle with life.

And here she was, a single woman dedicated to her work so much that she knew nothing of a social life. Her dream was to finish school and be the nurse her mother always strived to be.

But Lorraine was tired after an exceptionally hard day, Mr. Kettering in room 14 was fighting Pancreatic Cancer. He had been failing rapidly. Lorraine felt the end was drawing near. But Kettering had a spirit; he put up a fight. He was determined to survive to the new year. He promised his granddaughter he would be around for the Holiday.

Lorraine knew such promises were not his to make. But she smiled and nodded. And her eyes had met Mr. Kettering’s and the twinkle that lived there mesmerized her. Somehow, she knew he would not falter.

As she turned on the lights to her small Christmas tree, she sighed. It was one week to the dawn of a new year. Mr. Kettering had made it to Christmas. She smiled inwardly. The old guy was half way home. Lorraine took comfort in that fact. A monumental achievement. A “promise” kept. A simple thing.

PERFECT, MAJESTIC, WARM

PerfectMajesticWarm

“… a poke of light to crack the horizon’s stoic shell…”

The storm had passed. And every last remnant was fading faster than two hearts could imagine. Forgiveness came in hushed whispers of the heart. Yet memory reminded, that hind-sight was alright if it provided a lesson. He learned the hard way. He always learned the hard way.

The early bird did indeed get the spoils, as work and its toils became the obligation to end his lack of motivation. Settled under the covers until the nagging need to proceed overwhelmed him, Will’s feet finally kicked free of flannel confinement. Poking aimlessly with pointed toes in search of his slippers, the call of the wild overcame him to fore go the footwear to traipse across the tile’s frozen tundra for relief.

Will had this belief that his days mirrored the mood of his early waking moments. Often tense and hectic, he picked a bad day to give caffeine the finger and lingered with his orange juice a bit too long. His thoughts previewed the day ahead. He dreaded his Monday meetings, he had over-scheduled his clients, squeezing two lunch dates into his incredibly shrinking day. Travel tumbler clutched and briefcase under his elbow, Will started for the office.

A text buzzed his phone. He didn’t reach for it. The tone said it was urgent. It didn’t matter. Will drove toward the complex.

The stretch of Highway was relatively clear this time of morning. It seemed this corner of the world had been untouched my human interference. Off to his left in a clearance of trees, it began. A glimmer first; a poke of light to crack the horizon’s stoic shell. Edging skyward, It rose in rapid progression. Will’s indiscretion would set the stage for a great day. He pulled off to park and watched the rapid rise of a new day dawning. He sat fawning over it’s beauty, and out of duty to his heart, he called her.

“Good Morning Sunshine!” he began. “I saw this incredible sunrise on my way in this morning.It reminded me so much of you!”

A mumble; sleepy, sexy, nearly incoherent – it was laced with her heart.

“I love you very much” she finally broadcast in her warm comfort.

“I love you very much, too!” Will repeated passionately. It was going to be a fabulous day!

A SHOW OF SIGNS – DEMON DESCENT

tears3_preview

image courtesy of Digital Blasphemy

The Warrior knew.

Armageddon was at hand. Hell be damned.

He had seen the mark of Man left behind when He had descended, for this battle needed its Supreme Commander. Hell would be damned for sure. But not without a fight.

The agents of evil had infiltrated the gates, posing and passing as obedient servants of He who is to come again. The temptation is strong for those who are not prepared. Thankfully, Michael’s sword cut swiftly to separate the rebels from the Defenders.

The Warrior had been a Defender. He still was actually, But his “assignment” had been changed. He was to wait for the Coming and the Downfall. The mark of Man had affirmed the Arrival of Him. Now, the Warrior awaited the descent.

He remained vigilant; a sentinel charged to protect all that was Holy. His eyes were trained on the horizon. Tranquility took residence briefly, but he knew it was a matter of…

A thunderous rumble reverberated in the distant sky. A cacophony of screams and explosions; cackles and war cries. The sky became inflamed with the brightness of a million stars released from hope, each star a fallen soul discharged from the multitudes to avenge their infiltration. Plummeting to earth, scorching all that surrounded their impact to stand erect and strong; a combatant in the name of Darkness. The Warrior unsheathed his weapon; it’s glistening a signal to all.

The battle had begun.

The Warrior knew better this time.

Heaven and Hell be damned.

***

This is a continuance of one of my earliest FLASHY FICTION pieces. From “A SHOW OF SIGNS” (https://wallegories.wordpress.com/2011/08/31/a-show-of-signs/) Posted at FLASHY FICTION on 19 Jan 2010

GOSSELIN’S GALLERY – 3 MAY 2013

(Via Photobucket: loveej)

KITE EXHIBIT #1 – Chrysalis Interrupted

He wished he could fly. Furio Cappulscalco had a fascination with flight. He wanted to pick up and just soar into the clouds. But he knew little boys couldn’t fly. Why, he got into trouble trying to cross the street by himself.

He stood in the clearing by the lake, watching the kites dip and soar in the sky above the trees. He loved the graceful movements as the paper fliers performed an airborne ballet.

Furio wanted a kite. But he couldn’t afford to buy one, so he gathered things he found in the trash. Newspapers and colored tissues paper became the shell and tree branches were the frame.There was a spool of kite string that had torn and was tangled. Furio spent some time straightening the string and his make-shift kite was ready. He ran north and the kite bounced on the hard ground, He ran south and it did cartwheels in the dirt.

Furio checked the wind direction and he ran headlong into it. The kite seemed like it was going to elevate, but suddenly the kite “dipsy-doodled) into the edge of the lake.

Capuscalco was upset. His “kite” was a mangled mess. The colors from the tissue started to run and color the newspaper. An old man sat nearby feeding the pigeons and watching Furio.

“Your kite needs a tail, young man” the gentleman instructed.

“Kites ain’t got no tails” the boy snapped.

The man stood up from the bench and came by Furio.

“May I?” he asked the boy.

The lad held up the mass of kite to the man.

“She’s not so bad”, the man started, ” fix this here, tie this there…”

Then the man undid his necktie. He attached it to the bottom of the kite.

“Here, good as new!” handing the kite back.

Furio looked it over and wasn’t impressed. It looked the same as the mess he had made.

“Trust me son, she’s a beauty!”

Furio laid the bundle of paper on the ground and walk a ways along the shore of the lake. He took a deep breath and started to run trailing the string behind him. The kite dragged along the ground briefly and then went up into the air. As the kite unfurled, it spread open and took a beautiful new shape,

That’s when Furio smiled. The wadded bundle of paper looked like a cocoon, a chrysalis. But as it opened it was a butterfly. It soared and swooped in the sky. And trailing beneath it was the necktie tail.

Furio turned to thank the old man. But he was gone. The boy was pleased. He appreciated the kindness of the stranger. It gave him hope.

KITE EXHIBIT #2 – Spirits in the Sky

kites

(Via Photobucket: crysta1994)

Angeline drifted to the edge of the vale beneath Cherubine Mountain. Other souls had gather there as well. Today was the Day of Ascending.

The gentle souls were draped in white; long flowing gowns that fluttered in the wind. The rugged souls came in deeper hues oranges ablaze and blue and greens; aquamarine and gold. The colors were fit for celebration.

The angels came to watch the fanfare as the horns sounded and all the souls bristled excitedly. One by one they stepped forward gentle, graceful steps that became lighter and lighter.

The angles pursed their lips and blew to create the wind that lifted the souls skyward. In an upward motion, the spirits became kite-like and soared toward the heavens. Angeline watched in awe as one by one her friends ascended.

It was her turn. Tentative steps drew her into the opening where once souls of her kind had assembled. One step, two steps… Angeline felt lighter than air. Three steps, four… her feet no longer contacted the ground.

By her sixth step. Angeline had taken flight; a beautiful flowing kite, an offering to the creator. The sky at once was full of kites flying freely. No strings attached.