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The Devil’s House Band

2011-07-09T12:51:00.001-05:00

By: Jesse Edwardson

Johnny Rock has never felt a groove as sweet as the groove he was digging tonight. He and his band, Johnny Rock and the Rollers, were only twenty minutes into their first set and they weren't missing a beat. Sydney the bass player, who Johnny thought looked a little like Bob Ross, that painter guy on TV, was playing with his eyes shut. A sure sign that he was in the zone. Robby the drummer, who was usually drunk before the gig and passed out after the gig, was playing sober and keeping things tight. Ziegler, on keyboards, was already breaking a sweat. They were all feeling the groove, and so was the crowd.

The dance floor was packed with sweaty bodies gyrating to the sounds of the band. Johnny could see everything that happened on the floor from his spot on stage. Girls dancing with only their friends and trying to ignore the guys, guys dancing with their empty beer glasses trying to look cool, and couples who seem to have it all figured out by dancing real close together, Johnny watched it all from behind the mic. He really got off on seeing people enjoy the music he and the band played. It made all the time spent learning to play the guitar worth while.

The band was reaching the end of the song they were playing. Johnny hoped the dance floor wouldn't clear out like it sometimes can at the end of a good song. Dancing people get thirsty and through all of the years playing in bars and nightclubs Johnny has always felt that the band and the bar were caught up in a kind of “tug-o-war” with each other, using the crowd as a rope. The funny thing was though, “last call” always came before the last song of the gig so in a way the band always won the fight.

“Alright, is everyone having a good time?” Johnny spoke into the mic as the last chord of American Band rang out. The crowd cheered back their answer. “Good, good, we are Johnny Rock and the Rollers and let's keep the groove going and the dance floor full with a great Rolling Stones song that's asking for a little Sympathy for the devil!” Johnny announced into the mic.

Robby started drumming the intro. Johnny began singing and Ziegler came in with the piano right on cue.

As Johnny finished the opening line “Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste.” he noticed a door in the back of the club open up. The door was at the top of some stairs. It must be the office of the club owner, Johnny thought. A tall, thin man stepped out onto the landing. He was wearing a pure white suit complete with a vest and a black silk tie. It looked very expensive. The man pulled the door shut and crossed his arms. He stood there on the landing and watched the band.

Johnny caught his eye. The owner gave Johnny a quick wink and slight nod of his head. He nodded back. The owner smiled. Johnny thought maybe the man was feeling the groove just the same as the band and the crowd were. There is just something sublime about a sweet groove.

“Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo,” Sydney and Ziegler came in with the backing vocals and for once they were singing in key. Johnny gave Ziegler a smile of approval, Ziegler winked back. He thought the night couldn't get any better. The dance floor stayed packed and the band was tight.

He glanced back up at the owner. He was still standing with his arms crossed and he was still smiling but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Johnny thought he looked a little creepy. His teeth were blazing white, just like his suit. His eyes looked black, just like his tie. Johnny didn't recall seeing this man earlier when they were setting up their equipment.

And that was when something in Johnny's head clicked. He couldn't remember setting up for the gig. He couldn't remember playing Johnny B. Goode, the song they always open with. He could, however, remember driving here. He remembered arguing with Robby about who was a better drummer, Keith Moon or John Bonham. Then he remembered swerving to miss a dog that was in the middle of the road. He could remember the sound of the tires screeching and finally he remembered seeing a big tree filling the windshield and that was it.

Johnny looked out into the crowd and could finally see, really see everything as it really was. The Glamour had been lifted. Everyone on the dance floor looked exhausted and miserable. He couldn't spot one bartender at the bar. Every glass, every bottle in the joint was empty. He looked over to Ziegler and saw his life long friend staring back at him with horrible fright. Ziegler had already realized what was happening. Sydney, with his Bob Ross beard, kept the backing vocals going like a man who couldn't help himself. “Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo,” he and Ziegler sang in unison. Johnny wasn't quite sure what was really going on but they needed to stop playing. He now felt as though he had been playing non-stop for days.

Johnny was at the climax of the solo and tried to stop playing his guitar. His hands wouldn't obey, they kept right on playing with well practiced skill. His arms ached and his throat felt like he had been breathing fire instead of air, but he could not stop playing or singing.

He looked back up the staircase at the owner. He was still smiling. In his head, Johnny heard the voice of the man at the top of the stairs. “Now you understand. You are mine and you will keep playing that song until I grow tired of it. But don't get your hopes up, it is my favorite.” The owner opened the office door and entered. The last of him that Johnny saw was a thin red tail coming out from under his suit coat. The tip of the tail was shaped like a barbed spear point.

The band played on.

“Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo,”

Tears of my Father

2011-05-29T16:07:00.001-05:00

A Poem

By: Jesse Edwardson

Tears of my Father

saddest of all.

Pent up emotion

cause them to fall.

Eyes of my Father

unwilling to try.

Somewhere, someway

forgot how to cry.

Remembering now

a moment of pain.

Tears of my Father

falling like rain.

Face of my Father

remember and learn.

Tears from his eyes

on cheeks that burn.

Rust Bucket

2011-05-26T13:19:00.001-05:00

A Poem?

By: Jesse L. Edwardson

To all the rust buckets and jalopies and the Detroit rolling iron that never sees fresh oil until the idiot light comes on. The cars that are neglected, abused and ignored. Thank you, for getting us to our destinations that one final time, every time.

Alone in the well? part three

2011-02-22T09:39:00.001-06:00

By: Jesse Edwardson

Richie’s teeth began to chatter, his lips were turning blue, and whatever was in the well with him began to caress his legs. It felt slimy and every time it touched Richie he would kick and let out a scream. He knew that it had to be some little fish or something like that, but he couldn’t help being terrified by it.

Through the top of the well, twelve feet above him, he could see a small patch of sky. It was darkening, he figured it had to be getting close to supper time. Grandma had probably already called everyone in to eat, and by now they had to know he was gone. Hopefully someone would be out looking for him soon. He was near exhaustion. The chunk of wood he was clinging to was helping him stay afloat, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he would last.

The truth of it was hypothermia was rapidly draining Richie of his strength. The snow that had covered the farm all winter had only melted away three weeks ago.

Below the surface of the water Richie felt the fish, or whatever it was, bump his left leg again, this time just below the knee. It seemed to wrap itself around his leg just briefly before he kicked it off. His kicks were becoming weaker and weaker. Soon he won’t be able to kick at all because of the icy water.

“HELLLLLLP!” he called out. “GET ME OUT OF HEEERRE!”

“No one’s coming,” he whispered. “I’m a goner.” More tears ran down his cheeks. Richie rested his head on the chunk of wood and wept silently.

Just then, the thing in the water wrapped around his leg and pulled him down. The water filled his ears and mouth again, and just as quickly as it pulled him down, it let go. He bobbed back up coughing and grabbing for the chunk of wood. His fingers found it and he pulled it tightly to his chest.

“AHHHHHH! cough, cough, cough. HELLLLP!” he yelled again.

“Boy, how in the hell did you wind up down there?” a familiar voice called down from the top of the well.

“Grampa! Get me out of here! There’s something in the water and it’s trying to get me!” Richie called with tears of relief streaming down his face.

“Alright Richie, calm down. I’m gonna have to head back to the house and get some rope. Can you hold on just a little longer?”

“Yes, I think so. But hurry, I’m freezing and something just pulled my leg!”

“Alright alright. I’ll be right back.” Grandpa said as he got back to his feet and started running back to the house.

The old man has never run so fast in his life. He got back to the house, found a rope in the utility room, and quickly explained to everyone where he found Richie. Of course everybody wanted to follow grandpa back to the well and help, but he told them all to sit tight and eat their dinner. Grandma ran to the bedroom, came back with an afghan, and handed it to grandpa.

“That boy has got to be half froze. Make sure you wrap him up in this and carry him back. I bet he won’t be able to walk too good after a fall like that,” Grandma said with tears of worry in her eyes.

“I will dear,” Grandpa said as he went back outside. He paused briefly to grab his flashlight that he keeps by the back door. The sun was almost below the horizon now.

By the time Grandpa returned to the well, Richie was pulled down three more times. Each time he was held down just a little longer than the last. The panic was overwhelming. Richie was sure he was going to die the third time. The thing had grabbed both of his legs this time and held onto him tightly for almost a full minute before finally letting go.

In the middle of a coughing fit, a bunch of rope fell down onto Richie’s head. He looked up to see Grandpa shining a light down at him.

“Richie, grab a hold of that and wrap the loop on the end around you real tight and I’ll pull you up! Ok?” he called down.

“Ok,” Richie answered. He found the loop in the rope and put his arms through it. His arms felt so heavy.

“Have you got it around you boy?”

“Yes!”

“Ok, brace yourself. I’m gonna start pulling you up. If you bounce against the wall just try to walk up it like spider-man. That will help me a lot,” Grandpa instructed Richie.

“Ok Grampa. Please hurry I hate it down here!”

“I bet you do,” Grandpa chuckled as he set his feet.

Grandpa started pulling and the rope bit into Richie’s armpits, but he barely felt it. His small body slowly started to rise out of the cold water. Grandpa grunted as he pulled the rope hand over hand. Luckily for Richie, his grandpa is as strong as an ox.

Just before Richie’s feet left the water, the thing grabbed his right ankle. It’s grip was so powerful this time Richie thought it would pull him back into the water. Above, Grandpa struggled with the rope. It felt like Richie had gotten heavier for a moment. He let out a short grunt, pulled a little harder, and Richie started to rise again. Below, just as his foot slipped out of the things grasp, Richie thought he heard a small voice say Don’t leave me, I want to play…

Richie did the best he could to keep the panic under control and try to climb the wall as Grandpa had told him to. As he neared the top, he could smell fresh air. It was as if he was smelling it for the first time.

When he reached the top, Grandpa let go of the rope with one hand, grabbed Richie by his shirt, and pulled him onto the ground. His footing slipped and he kicked the flashlight into the well.

The flashlight tumbled in the air as it descended into the well. It’s light beam swept down one side and up the other. It hit the water with a splash and slowly began to sink into the murk.

The flashlight passed through the water casting an eerie green glow. As the flashlight sank, it’s glow illuminated a shape in the water. A face, clearly female and quite young. The eyes were closed, but then opened when the flashlight cast it’s glow upon them. The open lids revealed milky grey eyes. Startled by the light, she covered her face and darted into the deeper depths of the well. The last thing the flashlight shone upon before blinking out was her checkered dress and her patent leather shoes.

the end

Alone in the well? part two

2011-02-21T09:36:00.001-06:00

by: Jesse Edwardson

While Richie was panicking in the well, Grandma called from the back door toward the barn. “Supper is ready everyone! Come and get it!” The kids charged out of the barn in a stampede. Grandma smiled and moved aside to let the herd of children rush into the house.

“Now, all of you warsh your hands and and we can dig into this wonderful food your Grandma has made for us,” Grandpa said from his favorite chair in the living room. Half of the kids went into the bathroom to clean up and the other half crowded the kitchen sink. Grandpa got up and crossed the kitchen toward his wife and gave her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. She blushed.

“Ok everybody get settled, find a chair. Amy, can you put Tyler in the highchair for me?” Grandma said as she put a platter of fried chicken on the table.

“Sure Grandma,” Amy answered. “Where’s Richie?”

Everyone looked around the room. “Maybe he’s still hiding in the barn,” Bobby offered.

“I’ll go look,” Grandpa said as he put his old worn out cap on his head.

“Well hurry, I don’t want your dinner to be cold for you,” Grandma said.

“I’m sure he’s just hiding in the hay loft, we’ll be right in.”

The screen door slammed shut behind Grandpa as he stepped out onto the porch and trotted out to the Barn. He called Richie’s name as he entered the dusty and silent barn. The old owl that lived up in the loft was startled by his voice and flew out through the hay door. He probably thought he could have the barn to himself again since the kids left.

“Richie! Are you in here?” he called. No answer. The setting sun shone through the barn windows lighting up a million dust motes floating in the air. “Where is that boy?” Grandpa asked them. Of course the dust had no idea where he was.

He stepped out into the barnyard and called Richie’s name again. Still no answer. “I wonder if that boy wandered out into the woods,” Grandpa said to himself. He headed for the woods calling out the boy’s name. He was beginning to get worried.

Alone in the well? part one

2011-02-20T18:05:00.001-06:00

By: Jesse Edwardson

This story is dedicated to my aunt Mary Day, better known as Mickey, because she is AWESOME!!!

The old boards seemed to disappear from beneath Richie’s feet. What they really did was fall into an old well, leading the way down for the small boy. The largest piece hit the cold water first, followed by a shower of the smaller bits. Richie plunged into the water last. He fell so fast, he hardly had time to gasp.

Completely submerged, the water filled his ears with gurgling silence. The water was ice cold. Panic took hold of him. He began kicking his feet and flailing his arms searching for a handhold or something to stand on. All he found was slimy stone walls and floating bits of wood. Richie managed to pull his way to the surface. He was a decent swimmer for a ten year old. He could doggy-paddle with the best of them. He grabbed hold of a board and coughed out a mouthful of water. The well water tasted awful. If green had a flavor, then this water tasted green.

“HELP!!!” cough, cough. “HELP!!!” he cried.

It was useless to yell. He was the only one out here in Grandpa’s woods. The other kids were still playing in the barn. They were all playing hide and seek. Ritchie left the barn to hide because he was tired of always being found first. He wandered out toward the woods and planned to hide behind a tree when he fell through the old boards that covered the old well.

“HEEEEELP MEEEEE!!!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. His voice bounced off the stone walls of the well and only succeeded in hurting his ears. He yelled for help over and over again but the barn was too far away and there was no way the other kids would hear him.

He was winding up for another scream when he felt something in the water bump against his foot.

“AAHHHHH!” he yelped in surprise. “What was THAT!?” He started kicking his feet and looking over his shoulders trying, in vain, to see what was below the dark surface of the water. It felt as if something reached up from the bottom of the well and tried to untie his shoes.

“HEEEELLLLLP MMEEEEEEE!!!! GET ME OUT OF HEERRRE!!!” he cried again over and over. When he finally stopped screaming, the silence fell heavily into his ears. The well became as quiet as a well kept secret.

Again he felt a tug on his shoelace. He pulled his foot back and tried to swim away. Given the limited space he couldn’t go far. Whatever was in the water followed him and tugged again at his shoelace, this time on the other foot. He kicked both of his feet frantically under the water and started to cry. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he shouted again for help.

Leon part three

2010-02-20T21:04:00.004-06:00

By Jesse Edwardson

The wind bit deeply. It was the coldest Christmas Eve in years.

Leon made the five-block journey to the Fifty Second Street Shelter. No room for him here either. The lady he met just inside the door sincerely felt bad for turning him out. Leon felt no resentment toward her. He understood quite well that space was limited and the children come first.

He left the shelter and headed toward his favorite alley. Having a favorite alley seemed odd at first, but this alley was behind an appliance store and Leon knew that he could find a good cardboard box to sleep in tonight. This alley was also quiet and far from where the gangbangers hang out.

“Oh lord, it sure is cold this evening,” Leon spoke out loud to himself. He pulled his stocking cap down a little tighter over his ears. He didn’t have any gloves, but he had a good coat and he kept his hands deep in the pockets.

On his way to the alley, Leon passed a liquor store. Leon didn’t drink often, he never had, but he thought that a little something sounded good. He turned around on the sidewalk and stepped into the warm store.

Just inside the door Leon stopped to shake off the chill and remove his cap.

“Good evening,” said an old Asian woman behind the counter.

“Good evening ma’am,” replied Leon.

The old woman eyed Leon suspiciously. She figured that he was just some bum trying to stay warm and planned to loiter in her store without buying something. Or worse still, that he may be planning to hold her up. Either way she had her hand under the counter, ready to grab her pistol.

Leon walked down one of the two aisles running the length of the store. He looked at some bottles of wine and could not believe some of the prices. One bottle cost more money than Leon had seen in the past six months.

“Hoo, Lawdy!” he said under his breath. He reached the end of the aisle and found something he could afford. It would cost him nearly half of the money he was carrying, but tonight was special. It was Christmas Eve. He took the bottle to the counter and set it down.

The old woman had relaxed a little but kept her hand near the gun while she rang up Leon’s purchase.

“Three, forty-nine,” she said without any enthusiasm.

“And worth every penny,” Leon replied with a chuckle while handing her four one dollar bills. The old woman didn’t even crack the smallest of grins.

Leon took his change and put it into his pocket. He pulled his cap back onto his head, slipped the bottle under his arm, and buttoned up his coat.

“Well, Merry Christmas,” he said as he turned toward the door. The old woman made no reply. Leon stepped back out into the biting wind and the old woman resumed reading her tabloid.

After a couple of blocks, Leon reached the alley. He tried to keep a box hidden behind a dumpster so that he would have one when he needed it. The box he hid was gone. He looked inside the dumpsters for another box and couldn’t find one anywhere.

“I guess I’ll just have to hunker down between these two dumpsters for the night,” he said to himself. He threw a bag of garbage down and against the wall so that he had something soft to lean on. Leon then sat down between the dumpsters and tried to bundle himself up the best he could. It was going to be a long night.

Leon pulled his wallet from his pocket and opened the pictures that he carried there. He sat staring at the photos of his wife and daughter. A tear leaked from his eye and froze to his cheek.

“I miss you two so much,” he said with a choked voice. His finger traced the face of Lisa. It was her first grade school picture. He could remember all the fuss she and Vivian went through that morning trying to get her hair just right. The dress was the easiest part of getting ready that morning. It was her favorite dress, she always felt so pretty when she wore it.

“Oh baby-girl, you are so beautiful,” he spoke to the picture. “You were so proud of that dress.” Another tear froze to his cheek.

He set his wallet down in his lap with the pictures still open and pulled the bottle of wine from his coat and twisted off the cap.

“Merry Christmas, my lovely ladies!” he toasted and put the bottle to his lips. He drank deeply and when he tipped the bottle back down he took a long shuddering breath.

He looked out into the alley and noticed just how quiet the night was. He wiped the frozen tears from his face and felt just how alone he was. Alone and lonely. Leon was not the kind of man who ever felt sorry for himself, but every once in a while he would realize just how sad his life was.

He looked down at the pictures in his wallet again. He allowed one or two more tears to fall before he returned the wallet to his pocket.

He sat there between the dumpsters sipping his wine and celebrating Christmas, and freezing. The air was so cold that his wine began to slush up.

“Just as well,” he said, setting the bottle down. He pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned against the bag of garbage. Trying the best he could to get comfortable, Leon Robinson settled in for the night.

Some time in the middle of the night, without a watch he had no way to know what time it was, Leon heard a voice.

“Daddy… Daddy. Wake up,” the voice gently cooed.

It’s a voice that Leon thought he recognized, but that couldn’t be right. Leon opened his eyes and saw the face of Lisa, his baby girl, just poking in between the dumpsters.

“Lisa?” Leon said in disbelief. “Is this a dream?”

“No Daddy, it’s no dream. I’ve come for you.” Lisa smiled.

“But you can’t be here baby girl. You’re supposed to be in heaven,” Leon said while tears began to roll freely down his cheeks.

“I was, and Daddy it’s so beautiful there. Come on, stand up,” she said as she took her father’s hand and helped him to his feet.

Leon stood up and realized that he was no longer cold. The tears stayed wet on his face and his daughter Lisa, was holding his hand. He could feel warmth and life in her small hand.

Lisa gently pulled her daddy’s hand and led him along the alley toward the street.

“Oh baby girl, where are you taking me?” Leon asked.

Lisa turned her smiling face up to her father and said, “To see mama.”

Leon stared at her, amazed by what she said. He then looked up toward the street and watched it disappear in a great flood of light. In the light he could see a lone figure waiting. He knew who that was at once.

“Merry Christmas Daddy,” Lisa said as she led her father into the light. Leon entered Heaven while holding his daughter’s hand.

Leon part two

2010-02-18T16:28:00.002-06:00

by Jesse Edwardson

Leon nodded to the man and his wife and said “Hello.” He also smiled and greeted the children. The parents were apprehensive and nervous. It was obvious that they have never spent a holiday in a homeless shelter. Leon felt sorry for them, he knows how they feel.

Once upon a time, Leon had decent job in a factory. He, his wife, Vivian, and their daughter, Lisa lived in an old run-down apartment building on the south-side. Life was pretty good, they didn’t have a lot but they had enough. Leon worked on the third shift, ten p.m. to six a.m. He hated working nights. Their neighborhood could be dangerous at times.

One night, Leon was called into the office by his boss. A neighbor had called because there had been a fire on Leon’s floor. The fire department was still putting out the flames and no one was sure about the safety of Vivian and Lisa. Leon ran home as fast as his feet could take him.

As it turned out, the fire had started in the apartment adjacent to Leon’s. Some fool had fallen asleep with a cigarette in his hand. The fire killed him and two other neighbors along with Vivian and Lisa. Lisa was only six years old. They both died in their sleep from smoke inhalation. Leon’s heart was broken.

Vivian was fifteen years younger than Leon and they tried for many years to have children. They were finally blessed with Lisa one month before Leon’s fiftieth birthday. She was the apple of his eye. His pain is still strong, especially on holidays, but it always makes Leon happy when he sees a whole family. He was thankful for their blessings.

The boy of this family was staring at Leon as he ate his dinner. Leon pretended not to notice at first but then he caught his eye and smiled and gave him a wink. The boy blushed and looked away. Leon laughed.

“What is your name young man?” Leon asked the boy.

“Michael,” he answered.

“Well I’m pleased to meet you Michael, I’m Leon.” Leon put out his hand. Michael took it and gave Leon a firm handshake. Just like his grand-dad had taught him to.

“Hello, Mr. Leon.” said Michael.

This made Leon laugh again. “You can just call me Leon, son.”

“Okay, Leon.” The boy smiled. Leon reminded Michael of his grand-dad.

“Why are you here, Leon?” Michael asked.

“Michael, that is none of your business!” his father scolded. “I’m sorry Sir. He really has better manners than that.”

“That is quite alright. Children love to know things and asking is the best way to get to know things,” Leon said to Michael’s father.

“Well Michael, I’m here because I don’t have a house to live in. Just like most of these people here,” Leon said as he motioned to the rest of the room. “I once had a good job and a beautiful wife and daughter, but now all I’ve got is my grandpa’s harmonica and the clothes on my back. Oh, and my health. I can’t forget about that,” Leon spoke with a kind smile on his face.

“Wow,” said Michael. “It’s kinda like us. Dad lost his job and the landlord kicked us out of our apartment.”

“Michael I’m sure Mr. I’m sorry what is your name?” Michael’s mother asked.

“Leon Robinson, ma’am. You can just call me Leon.”

“Thank you Leon,” she said. “Michael, I’m sure Leon doesn’t want to hear about us. Now please drink your cocoa.”

“It’s quite alright ma’am. I don’t mind. It’s nice talking to your little man here,” Leon said. “I’m very sorry that you were evicted. Times are tough.”

Michael’s mother looked down at her lap while Leon spoke. He could see much struggle she was dealing with.

“You know what?” Leon continued. “You have found the best shelter in the city. They’ve got comfy beds upstairs, good food, and a nice little chapel right through that door over there if you’re so inclined. They take good care of people here.”

Michael’s mom looked up and gave Leon a weak smile.

“Don’t worry honey, we’ll be back on our feet in no time,” Michael’s father whispered in her ear as he kissed her cheek. “I’ll go get us some food,” He said as he took his daughter’s hand and led her to the food line.

“You are a very kind man Mr. Robinson,” she said to Leon.

“Well, thank you ma’am. You have a very nice family, I’m glad to have met you,” Leon said sincerely.

“Where is your wife and daughter, Leon?” Michael piped in.

Leon’s smile faltered a little. “Well Michael, they are in heaven.”

“Oh,” Michael said sadly.

“Mr. Robinson, I am so sorry,” Michael’s mom said, looking quite embarrassed.

“Thank you ma’am, it was quite some time ago. And I do miss them something awful. I’m just thankful that they went together. That way, my little Lisa had a hand to hold as she entered the Kingdom of God,” Leon smiled with a tear in his eye.

“Oh my, they went together?” she asked.

“Yeah, some fool tried to burn our building down and the smoke got to them in their sleep. So they went to heaven together, mother and daughter. I’ll see them again someday,” Leon’s smile returned.

“That is so sad,” Michael said.

Suddenly an announcement came across the loud speakers. “Attention, attention everyone. I would like to let everyone know that our beds have all been filled. Those of you with children will be accommodated. All single adults, we regret to inform you that you will need to find shelter elsewhere for the evening . Please feel free to try the Fifty Second Street Shelter, five blocks east of here. They sometimes have spare beds when we do not. We apologize for this inconvenience. Merry Christmas to you all and may God bless. Thank you.” Click.

“Well, I guess that means me,” Leon said as he stood up.

“Where are you going Leon?” Michael asked.

“I’m gonna have to go to that other shelter and find a bed tonight. There’s no room for me here.”

“But, I don’t want you to go,” Michael said.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be alright,” Leon said to Michael. He turned to his mom and said, “It was wonderful meeting you and your family ma’am. You all have a good night, and don’t worry, you’ll get back on your feet soon.”

“Thank you Leon,” she said. “And you be safe tonight. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Merry Christmas Leon,” Michael said holding out his hand to the old man.

“Merry Christmas Michael,” he replied as they shook hands.

“I want you to have this,” Michael said, handing a small toy to Leon.

“Well, what’s this?” Leon said while turning the toy around in his large hands.

“It’s one of my army men, I want you to have it,” the boy smiled proudly.

“Well, how nice of you Michael. Here, I want you to have this,” Leon handed Michael his harmonica. “You play that when you feel bad and it will make you feel good again.”

“Wow, a real harmonica!” Michael said with wonder.

Michael’s mother watched this exchange with tears running freely down her cheeks.

“Thanks Leon!” Michael said.

“And thank you Michael.”

Michael got up and ran around the long table and gave the old black man a bear hug. Leon returned the hug gladly. They both had tears in their eyes.

Leon straightened up when Michael let go of him. He wiped the tears from his face and buttoned up his coat. “I plan on coming back here tomorrow for the church service, so maybe I’ll see you then,” he said to Michael and his mom.

“Sure thing,” she said, smiling.

“Ok, good night now,” Leon said as he walked away.

“Good night Leon,” Michael and his mom said at the same time.

Leon walked to the front door of the shelter with a smile on his face. He pulled the door open and stepped out into the frozen night.

Leon part one

2010-02-17T18:35:00.003-06:00

by Jesse Edwardson

The homeless shelter was crowded. Who am I kidding? It’s always crowded.

Leon Robinson waited in line for a meal. He was a patient man. He didn’t gripe like some of the people in line ahead and behind him. He just stood quietly, with his stocking cap in his dark and wrinkled hands, and waited for the line to move forward.

Leon liked to watch people to pass the time, so he looked around the room. So many children, he thought. Too many children. It’s so sad. They should be tucked in their beds, in a warm house. He saw single moms, looking lonely and desperate. He also saw many men here. Men like him, black and past his prime, and men unlike him. These men were scrawny strung out junkies and wannabe gang bangers. Everyone here needed something. Some of those here needed everything. Leon only needed a meal and a warm place to sleep.

The line took a step forward.

The front door of the shelter swung open and let in the frozen December wind. A family of four came in. They looked lost and half starved. The father shut the door again as quickly as he could manage. He turned to face the room and gathered his family together in his long arms. They huddled together for a few minutes until a shelter worker approached them with a warm smile and four Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate. They exchanged a few words and the volunteer led them to a crowded school lunch table. The mother and children sat down on the narrow bench while the father remained standing. He looked as if he were guarding them. In a way, he was.

“Hey old man, get to steppin” some crack-head startled Leon out of his reverie. The line had taken a couple of steps forward.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Sorry,” Leon replied. He could remember a time when young people respected their elders. Days long forgotten it would seem. Leon could remind this youngster about respect, but he learned long ago that it’s not worth it. Two stab wounds in his belly has taught Leon to bite his tongue.

Leon finally reached the counter. He picked up a tray and waited to be served.

“Well, hello Mr. Robinson, and Merry Christmas!”

“Hello Sylvia. Thank you. And Happy Hanukkah!” Leon smiled at the short and round lady behind the counter. Leon and Sylvia have known each other for some time now.

Leon has been homeless for quite a while and has always come to the Forty-Seventh Street Shelter. Sylvia has been a volunteer here for over fifteen years.

Sylvia came to America with her husband, Karl Steinman, in the winter of 1939. The rise of the Nazis in their homeland caused them to flee Europe. They found a good life in America and through all of their years together they have tried to give back every chance they could.

“Thank you,” said Sylvia. “What will it be tonight, ham or turkey?”

“A little of both if you can spare it, please,” Leon replied. He didn’t like to ask for too much but it had been days since his last meal.

“Of course dear.” Sylvia placed a slice of ham and a slice of turkey on a plate and handed it across the counter to Leon. He smiled appreciatively.

“Thank you so much Sylvia, I am much obliged.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. There is plenty here for everyone to have seconds, maybe thirds.” Sylvia returned Leon’s smile.

“Well then, thank you for your kindness and your warm smile,” Leon said with a wink.

Sylvia blushed. Leon moved down the counter and filled his tray with corn, stuffing, cranberry sauce, milk, and a slice of pumpkin pie. The shelter must have raised a lot of money to be able to put out a spread like this, Leon thought. He was glad for it.

With his tray full, Leon turned to face the room and search for a seat. The shelter was so full, and far too full for Christmas eve. He spotted a seat next to the family he saw come in earlier. He walked over and sat down. The father had taken a seat too. He must have decided to relax a little.

City Scene

2009-11-21T11:42:00.002-06:00

Tony loves his drive home from work. There is hardly any traffic and the music on the radio is always his favorite.

“I wuv you, you wuv me, we a happy famawee.” He sang along while tapping his fingers on the wheel.

The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Grinning from ear to ear, Tony drove past all the tall buildings and the smiling people on the sidewalk. He waved to a family waiting at the bus stop. “Hewwo.” He called out to them.

“Hi Tony, how ow you today?” The mother of the family called back.

“I’m gweat, fanks for axing!” Tony said.

“We wuv you caa!” The daddy of the family yelled out to Tony.

“Fanks!” Tony called back. He was very proud of his car. It had a huge engine sticking out of the hood and fire painted on the sides. He revved the motor for them. VRROOOOM VRROOOOM!

He drove on. Tony saw Mr. Hooper sweeping the sidewalk in front of his store. Mr. Hooper looked up and waved to Tony. Tony waved back. Then Maurice came out of his Fix-it Shop. Tony waved to him too. At the end of the block Tony came to a stop light. Tony reached out and turned the radio to another station and started singing along with a new song.

“Happy berfday to meee, Happy berfday to meee. Happy BERFDAY dear Tony. Happy berfday to meee!

The light changed and Tony drove on. He was anxious to get home. He was looking forward to eating cookies and brownies for supper tonight, his favorite.

Suddenly, Tony heard a terrible sound.

“GWAAAARRRRWWWWWWwwwww”!

It was terrifying. It was kind of like a pig snort mixed with a donkey sound. It was the loudest noise he had ever heard. It made his heart skip a beat.

“GWAAAARRRRWWWWWWwwwww”!

It was coming from his left. He stopped his car and turned his head slowly. The sight waiting for him made him scream.

Standing in the middle of a side street was the most horrifying sight he had ever seen. A giant orange dinosaur. It had blue spots on it and stubby arms. It started running down the street! The ground shook with each step. Tony’s eyes grew as big as saucers. He couldn’t believe how big the monster was, and it was getting bigger.

“GWAAAARRRRWWWWWWwwwww”! It called out as it ran straight toward Tony’s car.

Tony turned his car to the right and pushed through the other cars around him. The dinosaur was right on his rear bumper when he got himself free. He sped down the street as fast as he could. The dinosaur followed him.

“HEWWP MEE! HEWWP MEE!” He cried out. “THE DINASORE IS GONNA EAT MEE! HEWWP MEE PWEEEEESE!”

Tony crashed into another car and the dinosaur caught up to him.

“GWAAAARRRRWWWWWWwwwww”! The beast cried in triumph. The great orange monster leaned down and grabbed Tony’s car in it’s enormous mouth. The dinosaur raised it up and shook it like a play thing.

Inside the car, Tony was tossed from side to side. He was screaming for his mommy.

“PWEESE MISTER DINASORE, DON’T EAT ME, PWEESE PWEESE PWEESE.” Tony begged as the space in the car closed up. The dinosaur stopped shaking the car and started squeezing it as hard as it could.

The roof of the car pushed poor Tony flat into the front seat. He was crying now. The tears were running down his face in heavy streams as he kept begging, “Pweese, pweese, pweese mister dinasore don’t eat me, don’t eat me!

Just as Tony was sure he would be squashed flat and swallowed by the giant orange monster, he heard another loud noise.

“ERIC, YOUR LUNCH IS READY!” This sound was incredibly loud but pleasant. It made him think of his mommy. New tears started down his cheeks because he was sure he would never see his mommy again.

“ERIC, COME IN HERE AND EAT. WHAT ARE YOU DOING SWEETIE?” The loud voice asked.

“JUST PWAYING WIF MY TOYS MOMMY! I’M COMING!” Another voice called out as Tony’s car fell to the street. Tony looked out of his broken windshield and watched as two enormous feet toddled away. Just then the giant orange dinosaur crashed to the ground. It’s huge eyes were staring blankly at Tony. It laid there motionless.

The End.

Sympathy part four

2009-11-03T15:34:00.004-06:00

Wendy pushed the door open and stepped in. The smell was awful. It was a mixture of old rotting pizza boxes, sweat socks and pot. There was a thick haze in the air and the sun that shone in through the yellowing curtains could never brighten up the atmosphere.

Above the noise of her own sobbing, Wendy could hear the muffled sound of the girl coming from another room. She headed toward the sound and felt the fear and despair rise. She almost collapsed.

Wendy struggled for the strength to speak and called out. “Little girl, I’m here to help. Can you hear me?” She Immediately felt the girl’s fear spike up and then drop.

“Yes, I can hear you.” A weepy voice came through the bedroom closet door. “ That man locked me in the closet. Can you let me out?”

Wendy hurried the best she could toward the door. She found that there was a chain lock on it along with locking door knob that was put on backward so that the push button was on the outside. She pulled the chain off and turned the knob. It unlocked with a solid CLICK. The door swung open and inside was a sight that broke Wendy’s heart. The little girl was sitting on a dusty floor, her face was streaked with tears. Her eyes looked haunted and the seam of her shirt on her shoulder had been pulled apart. She had given that man a fight and Wendy respected her for that.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Wendy whispered as she knelt down to help the little girl stand up. “What’s your name, honey.”

“Isabelle.” She sniffled.

“How old are you?”

“Six.”

Wendy pulled Isabelle to her feet. “What happened? Who is that man?”

“I don’t know. He came to our house to fix the TV. I was playing in the family room and I heard him shouting at my mommy. There was a loud crashing sound and then he ran in and picked me up and put me in his van. I hope my mommy is okay.” Isabelle struggled to tell Wendy this. She spoke with that hitchy trying to catch her breath way that little kids have when they’ve been crying for a long time.

“Oh, sweetie. Did he hurt you?”

“No, he just put me in his van and drove here. He told me to keep quiet or he would hurt me. I tried to be quiet, but I couldn’t help crying. I’m so scared.”

Wendy wrapped her arms around Isabelle and gave her a comforting hug. In that moment hope began to bloom within Wendy. She felt so good to be able to give someone such a wonderful emotion.

Wendy pulled back from Isabelle and looked her in the eyes and said, “Okay, let’s get you the heck out of this rat-hole and get you home.”

“Okay lady, let’s go.” Isabelle smiled and took Wendy’s hand and allowed her to lead her out of the apartment. “Why do you think he stole me, lady?”

“I don’t know Isabelle, and I don’t want to know. By the way, I’m Wendy.” She said, smiling for the second time since leaving the daycare. “Where did that creep go anyway?”

“He said something about the hardware store or something. He was really mad and he swears a lot.”

“I bet he does.”

They were almost to the front door when they heard the door at the bottom of the stairs slam. Wendy went numb for about a second and then the rage started to rise in her. It wiped out all other feelings. Before his rage could completely take over she ran to the door and locked it.

Wendy went back to Isabelle and pulled her to a window. “Thank God.” She said through clenched teeth when she found what she needed to find there. “Here Isabelle, take this in case we get separated.” Wendy handed her cell phone to the six year old girl. “We’re going down the fire escape and getting the hell out of here.” Wendy was beginning to lose control over the emotions rising inside of her. The rage from the man was strong now. He was on the other side of the door.

The knob was twitching side to side and the door itself was shaking. She could hear him yelling. “Who’s in there? Unlock this door!”

Wendy started working on the window. It wouldn’t open. She pushed and pushed. Her anger, his anger, was driving her into a frenzy. Isabelle began to cry and looked terrified. Wendy felt her fear again. The emotions of these two completely different people were tearing her apart. At one moment Wendy was terrified with Isabelle and the next moment she wanted to hurt her.

“OPEN THIS DOOR!” The man was screaming as he slammed his body against the door. The door wouldn’t last much longer. He was coming through it one way or another.

Finally, Wendy pushed her hands through the glass cutting her forearms to ribbons.

“ISABELLE, GO!” She shouted at the crying girl. Wendy’s teeth were grinding together. She looked insane, her eyes wide and arms bleeding. She grabbed Isabelle and pushed her through the broken window.

“You’re hurting me.” Isabelle cried. “Why are you hurting me!?!”

“I CAN’T HELP IT!” There was no way Wendy could explain what is going on inside of her to Isabelle. She could only hope that she could get her out of this apartment before that door broke and let in a monster.

Just then the door gave up the fight. It crashed in with a terrible noise. He stood up in the doorway and paused only long enough to realize that his prize was escaping. Wendy was still facing the window and Isabelle beyond it. He charged ahead hoping to knock down the woman and grabbed the little girl and pull her back in.

Wendy heard the crash and saw Isabelle’s eyes grow wide. The rage that was filling her heart was incredible. It was all there was, it filled the world. “GET OUT OF HERE ISABELLE! I’LL HOLD HIM BACK!”

Isabelle was terrified by the way Wendy looked. She looked just like that bad man. But, somehow she knew Wendy was going to help her. She got down the fire escape and ran as fast as she could.

Wendy saw Isabelle begin to climb down and then she turned to face the charging monster behind her. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins. She braced herself for the blow and when it came her own rage compounded with his borrowed rage and she became a berserker. Wendy leapt back toward him and grabbed him from behind as he was climbing out onto the fire escape. She pulled the man back into the miserable room and threw him to the floor. A new emotion came to Wendy just then. Surprise.

The man tried to regain his feet but Wendy was too quick. She picked up the TV from it’s stand next to the window and slammed it down on the man’s head. The impact blew open the picture tube, and more importantly it crushed his face and opened the front of skull. Pieces of brain tissue, skull and glass went everywhere. He still tried to get up but really all he could do is flail his arms around, kick his feet and make gurgling sounds through his destroyed face. He wouldn’t last on this earth for long and the remaining minutes of his life were excruciating.

Wendy looked down at the what she had done. She was still in a rage but that was fading. Rage was being replaced with shock and fear and dizziness. The dizziness was hers and hers alone. she was losing a lot of blood from her lacerated arms. She stood there watching the man struggle and as he began to grow still Wendy dropped to the floor. She finally realized that she was in trouble. She was going to faint.

Leaving a trail of blood, Wendy crawled toward the door. She felt nothing from the man now. He was gone and that was good, but she needed to get out of here if she was going to save herself. Halfway to the stairs she was able to get back on her feet but quickly went down to her knees again. Wendy laid down on the dusty wooden floor, panting. Her vision was tunneling in. She felt a new emotion now. Peace.

Several miles away, in a quiet cape cod home, a gray haired mother stood over a large pot of home-made soup. She was stirring the soup with an old wooden spoon when a tear ran down her cheek.

Sympathy part three

2009-11-02T18:44:00.003-06:00

Wendy followed the van for blocks. The traffic was working against her. Cars just seemed to be always in the way and she could not catch up. The license plate remained a mystery.

The van stayed at least four vehicles ahead of her, which was sort of a blessing. At that distance the emotional storm inside was well out of her reach. The river of other emotions streaming past her from the other cars was now almost undetectable. Wendy was still reeling from the wave that came out of the van.

The van turned right onto some nearly abandoned side street. Wendy followed. After making the turn she saw the van parking a block ahead. She quickly parked herself, wanting to keep safe distance. Wendy pulled up behind an old chevette that was sitting in front of shuttered up old grocery store. Down the street and through the dirty glass of the chevette she could see a man get out of the van and walk around to the sliding door. He pulled the handle and slid the door open and stepped inside. After a few seconds he hopped back out bringing a little girl with him. He was holding her hand and appeared to be pulling her. Wendy couldn’t see her face but she didn’t need to. She could feel her crying. It was faint at this distance but it was there, and so was the man’s crazy rage. She watched him lead her into a doorway between two store fronts. The door swung shut and they were gone.

Without thinking, Wendy got out of her car and started walking down the sidewalk determined to get the license plate number and hopefully the address. This street, except for a few cars, was completely empty. The buildings felt empty too, well most of them. She was halfway down the block when the door that the man pulled the little girl through opened again. The man came rushing out swearing to himself. He seemed to have forgotten something important. The little girl was not with him but his strange mixture of dark emotions was still with him. It made Wendy catch her breath as her heartbeat quickened it’s pace. That same crazy evil need she felt from the van earlier flowed into her and she hated it. It made her feel dirty and ashamed.

Wendy sidestepped into a doorway so the man wouldn’t see her. He trotted around the van, got in and sped away.

“Well, so much for the license plate number.” Wendy said to herself with a sigh. The man’s emotions left her and for that she was glad.

Now what, she thought. I could just go down there and get the address. Call the cops and go to mom’s house and be done with it. With a deep breath, Wendy stepped out of the doorway and headed down the sidewalk again.

As she approached the door, she started to feel that despair and fear and sadness again. The little girl was close. Wendy started to cry again, she couldn’t help it. Her heart felt broken and her legs were weak.

She stood in front of the door looking up and the number above it. Her vision was blurred by her tears and she couldn’t read the number. I have to go in there and get her out, she realized. This idea was so complete, there was no way she could deny it. That man may come back before I can get her out of here, if that happens I may never make it to moms after all. Maybe this is why I have this so-called gift. Saving that girl from that monster would be worth all the tears I’ve shed, my own and the tears I’ve shed for others. Wendy grasped the door knob, turned it and stepped in.

Immediately inside the door was a staircase leading up to apartments above the store. Wendy started up the stairs and the emotions went up a notch.

Her climb up the stairs was excruciating. Each step brought her closer to the girl. Each step brought her closer to heartbreak. Halfway up she fell to her knees weeping. Her tears fell to the dusty treads of the stairs leaving bright polka-dots in the dirt. Her heart was breaking, but she got back to her feet somehow and continued.

She reached the top of the stairs to find three doors. The little girl was behind one of them. Picking the right one would be difficult for most people, especially when that man could be returning any second. This was easy for Wendy though, all she had to do was face each door in turn. Her sensitivity worked like a metal detector on a public beach. The strongest feeling came from the center door, the back apartment. She reached out with a shaking hand and grabbed the knob. Wendy was certain it would be locked. It wasn’t.

Sympathy part two

2009-10-20T21:22:00.003-05:00

Wendy drove along the busiest street in town thinking about her “gift”. Thinking and feeling. Feeling the emotions of the people in the cars she passed along her way. The sensation was weak compared to the baby. Weak because of the distance from the people and the rapidness of their passing. She has discovered through experience that she usually needed to be within ten or fifteen feet from someone to feel them. This range, if that is what it was, seemed to be expanding as she grew older.

Large crowds are something she avoids at all cost. It is simply impossible to keep your head on straight while being surrounded by a full range of emotions. She can remember once bawling her eyes out while laughing hysterically. It gets so bad that she is convinced that she is losing her mind. Anger and happiness, love and stress, sadness and angst, all mixed up and pulling her in their own directions. This tears Wendy apart. It really is more than a person should have to endure.

She came to a stop light. This is the worst part of driving for her because she is forced to sit in the middle of a big pool of feelings. Of course it never turns out to be that everyone is happy at the same time. There is a guy on a motorcycle behind the car next to her that is so completely pissed off that Wendy wants to punch her fist into the dashboard. While at the same time, the couple in the car in front of the biker are so completely suspicious of each other, Wendy feels like everyone is out to get her. She tries to block these emotions out but it’s impossible. Wendy is only capable of pushing them back a little, very little. The light turns green and everyone gets moving again. This is a relief because now the emotions are once again more like passing thoughts.

If Wendy could talk to anyone other than her mom about her gift she would tell them that she first noticed it at about the age of ten or eleven. It was right before puberty started to kick in, and her own emotional roller coaster left the station.

She would always know when Mom was worried about Dad. Wendy’s father was a cop and he worked in the worst area of the city and of course her mother worried about him constantly. She hid her worry from the children. Well, most of the children.

On the night that her daddy died, Wendy felt her mom’s worry very strongly. Her mom also seemed to have tears in her eyes most of the night, even before the phone call came. Until today, with the baby, Wendy had never felt so much raw emotion. Her own broken heart was breaking into smaller and smaller bits as everyone else’s sorrow pulled at her. It was unbearable, she ran outside to her clubhouse to be alone. Alone with her own pain was better.

Wendy was coming to another stop light.

“Ugh, not another one.” She said to no one.

All the cars slowly came to a stop and the flood began. A car full of kids and a soccer mom were on her left, waiting to turn. They were all happy.

“Well, that’s refreshing. They must be on their way to something fun.” She finally smiled for the first time since leaving the daycare. On her right, a white van with ladder on top pulled up to the stop.

Wendy froze solid from the pain and fear and sorrow and worry and rage and something that could only be called evil need. She had never felt anything like this before. The tears started to flow, the fear gripped her like a stone hand. The sorrow broke her heart and the rage rebuilt it, like an endless cycle. Broken, fixed, broken, fixed. Sadness, anger, sadness, anger. She was spiraling inside. Her hands gripped the wheel so tightly she was leaving dents. The vehicles started moving again but Wendy had no idea. She sat frozen. The van started pulling away and finally the painful swirl loosened it’s grip on her.

HONK! “Move it lady.” Some guy in a brown ball cap yelled from his car behind her.

“Oh, my God!” Was all Wendy could say as she became aware of her surroundings again. She took her foot off the brake pedal and got moving again.

“Oh, my God. Oh my God” She kept saying over and over again. “That was the worst thing ever. What is in that van?” She asked her self. She caught a quick glance at the driver, he didn’t seem to appear angry. But what an anger it was.

“I think that there is someone in that van that desperately needs help. But what can I do?” She asks herself. The van is still in sight, ahead of her.

“Maybe I should follow it and see if I can at least get the license plate number and call the police.”

If her mother was with her she would say, “Maybe this is what your gift is meant for, dear.”

Wendy pushed the gas pedal down a little as she started her pursuit of the van.

Sympathy Part one

2009-10-11T21:13:00.006-05:00

The baby wouldn’t stop crying. Wendy quickly handed her to Darlene. A little too quickly, she almost dropped her.

“I can’t do it, please take her.” Wendy said.

“Um, okay.” Darlene quickly cradled little Emmy before she dropped her.

Wendy practically ran away. She was wiping her eyes as if she were crying right along with the baby. Darlene thought ‘what the hell is her problem, Emmy’s just hungry.’

Wendy rushed out to the front room and apologized to Sarah, the owner of the day care. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do this.” Tears were streaming down her face and she looked as though her mother just died right before her eyes.

“Wendy?!?! what’s the matter?”

“I can’t handle the crying. I am SO sorry. I just can’t do this.” Wendy took her purse out of her cubby and left while Sarah stood dumbstruck.

Wendy ran through the parking lot, still crying. She tripped on a crack in the pavement and nearly fell.
When she reached her car she fumbled through her purse for her keys. She could hardly see through the tears. “Where are they?” She moaned to herself. Her fingers swam past her wallet, a tampon and three small packets of Kleenex and finally found her keys.

“Thank God.” She said looking back to see if anyone was watching her. No one was.
She opened the door and plopped down in the seat. After dropping her purse on the passenger seat she grabbed a handful of Kleenex from the center console. Wendy sat there for few minutes, just to get all the crying out. She has never cried like that before.

When she finally regained some of her composure she started her car and pulled out of the lot. Turning left, she headed for the nearest McDonald’s. She wasn’t hungry, she just wanted to get away from the daycare.
Wendy pulled into a parking stall as far away from any other car as she could. She put the car into park and got her cell phone out. She dialed her mom’s number and waited for her to answer.

“Hello” The same comforting voice she always needed to hear when things got really bad.

“Hi, Mom.” Wendy’s voice was still somewhat choked up. It wouldn’t take a mother to know that something was wrong.

“Wendy… what happened?”

“I don’t know, everything was going good. I was playing with the babies. Having fun, laughing. I felt so good. Then this little sweetie named Emmy started to cry.”

“Uh oh…”

“Yeah, Mom. Uh oh is right. I have never felt such an emotion before. It was so strong. Her wanting and needing combined with something like anger but not quite, It was too much. All I could do was pass her to Darlene and run out. I am so embarrassed.” Wendy’s tears were coming back.

“Baby, I am so sorry for you. You were so excited about that job.”

“I know, what could be happier than babies. I had no idea that the sad emotions could be so powerful. Oh, Mom why am I so sensitive?” Wendy’s vision was all blurry again.

“I know dear, you have a very strange gift.”

“Gift?! It’s more like a curse. No one should have to actually feel other people’s emotions. Aren’t your own emotions bad enough most of the time?”

“Yes honey, I know it can be very bad at times. But I also know that you have this gift for a reason. God has put you here to do something important. Please be strong.”

“I’ll try Mom. Listen, can I come over? I need to be some place quiet, if you know what I mean.”

“Of course you can, you know that . I’ll make you some soup.” Wendy could hear the smile in her mother’s voice. She was too far away from her mother to actually feel her emotions, but sometimes they get through anyway.

“Thanks Mom. I’ll be right there. Bye”

“I’ll be waiting. Bye”

Wendy snapped her phone shut, wiped her eyes and drove off.

Just a bad dream?

2009-09-18T19:52:00.002-05:00

I would like to say right away that the following story was written in 1991. Eric was still seven years to come. This is another father story, but this was not written by a father. At least he wasn't a father yet. I haven't read this story in a LONG time. While reading it over I had to resist the urge to "rewrite" it. Please forgive the run-on sentences and bad grammar. Also, this is the whole story, I didn't know how to break it up into segments.

thanks
Jesse

One night, a short time ago, I had a dream. Almost a nightmare really. Horror so subtle, yet so obvious, I had to write it down.

I was walking. I don't know where, I wish I did, yet the land was so familiar. Where had I been that this place reminded me of? There was no way to tell. The land must have once been very beautiful though, but now it lay in infinite waste. For miles all that could be seen, to my burning eyes, was desolation.

In the distance I could see dry, black, singlets of smoke rising from scattered piles of rubble. From these small bonfires the smoke climbed toward a cloudless pale sky that was bleached by the brightly burning sun. Nothing living broke the horizon, no trees, no bushes, no signs of people, nothing. All that could be seen was the same continuous patch of dusty tan earth that was freckled by the scattered bonfires.

The dry air was thin and hard to breath. I could feel my throat dry as the air passed through it. Every breath increased the volume of my throats screams for water, water that did not exist anymore.

The soil below my feet, dehydrated far more than my throat, was all cracked and crusty and every step created small puffs of dust. It seemed to be screaming in tune with my parched throat for life giving moisture that would never return.

As I walked I kept asking myself, “What could have caused this planet to be dying like this? What had this planet been sacrificed for?”

I walked for miles upon miles. The only thing that kept me going was the need to find something, anything like a person or an animal or some sign of life. With every searching step my frustration grew because no sign of life would appear. I searched every tumble of stones every pile of rubble, all For nothing. It appeared that the only living thing was me.

I continued my search For life as I walked on and noticed the ever slow approach of the distant mountains, or what once were mountains. "My God, what could have caused such destruction on things as mighty as mountains." I whispered to myself, hoping to summon up an answer.

I walked on feeling as if this world were mourning, not For itself but for those who had inhabited her. I felt as if this planet was a mother of some kind and that her children had destroyed each other. The tears Forced themselves onto my cheeks as I walked on and on, keeping my gaze on the rubbled mountains that once knew more glorious days. I mourned for this planet, for this mother.

Finally, near exhaustion, I stopped and bowed my head letting the tears Fall to the ground. Now, as when I walked, my mind was haunted by the realization that all along my path not one sign of life did I see, not a single plant, not the sounds of people or animals, not even the sound of wind. The air was too thin to carry wind. My tears fell to the ground and were instantly dried by the scorching sun. It was almost as if the sun were denying the arid soil of any sort of moisture. I collapsed to my knees, ignoring the pain of the terrible sunburn all over my arms and face, and screamed "Why?" over and over again until my voice was hoarse. This poor planet was dying and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I realized all I could do was sit and watch the pitiful demise of this once wonderful place.

"Could this fate have been prevented?" I wondered as I imagined what this place must have been like long before the vast destruction wasted the planet. I began to think of my own planet, a green planet that I knew could never die such as this one is. A planet where I knew my children and my children's children would live on in peace. They'll live with harmony and respect for the environment, totally unlike the inhabitants of this planet. The leaders of my world would never let our children down by abusing our natural resources or inadvertently destroy us with a war. I believed this of the people of my planet wholeheartedly, or I at least hoped.

I wondered again, "Could this have been prevented?" Of course this could have been prevented, but why would the foolish inhabitants of this planet let such a fate happen to there home. Why would they so foolishly bring such death to their mother.

I sat for long hours, feeling the air thin as I breathed it, thinking of my six year old son, Joseph, and how fortunate he and his generation would be to never see this type of desolation. He would live a long happy life on Earth playing in the parks among the trees with his friends without a care in the world. His world will be full of peace and love and lack the hate and war of my fathers world. I knew I'd be there too, playing with him, teaching him. I knew that being on this planet had to be a dream and that I'd soon wake from it.

I sat, waiting to wake up and, looking around me through tear hazed eyes when I noticed something on the horizon. Something small and dark. I rose to my feet and started for the distant object. The walk was short but tedious as I labored for breath. I don't know why I had to take a closer look at something that was probably a burnt out stump, but I was drawn to it by hope. As I got closer it appeared to be a small, tatteredly dressed, boy around seven years old. I was delighted to finally Find life and my step picked up along with my hope for answers. As I rapidly approached the small boy I noticed his impossibly sunburned skin, skin that mine was slowly starting to resemble. The tears cleared From my eyes and I saw that he appeared to be praying over a cairn that he had probably built with his own hands. I approached him from behind and surprisingly, in the dreadful silence, I did not disturb his prayers. He was praying for God to take his Father into his arms and to keep him safe from harm and the cruelties of this world. With a moment of silence he finished his beautifully simple childish prayers, and looked up at his fathers grave, and asked why something couldn't have been done to save his home. He dropped his head and started to cry .

I suddenly realized what this brave little boy must have gone through. He's the last of his planet, and If he was important before the destruction he is even more important now. I admired his strength and courage. My tears joined his. I stepped around next to him and squatted down to comfort him. I reached out with my left hand and touched his trembling shoulder expecting a startled response but he only went on weeping. He kept his head bowed as he whispered "Why am I the only one left? I'm still only little, I can't save my world... It's too late." With my right hand I gently lifted his chin to look into his face and say something, but what? His head followed my hand's guidance and turned to face me. Our eyes met, and when my heart started to beat again after a shocked pause, I realized that the dirty, tear streaked, red face I gazed upon, was my son's.

When I awoke in the morning, the dream still very vivid, I rose out of bed, where my wife still slept soundly, and walked to Joseph's room. I quietly entered his room where he was sleeping so peacefully, like it seems only children can do. I dare not make a noise that might wake him. I crept toward his bed in the hazy early morning glow that filtered through his curtained window. Reaching his bed I paused for a moment to take in his innocent beauty. I then bent down and, with the talent a parent acquires in the role of tooth fairy, lifted the still sleeping boy into my arms. Holding him close, as a single tear fell from my cheek onto his, I whispered into his ear, "It's not too late, Joey, it's not to late."

I stood there holding my slumbering boy until the sun rose completely and bathed us both, father and son, in it's peaceful early morning light.

Timmy's walk home part four.

2009-08-30T17:35:00.002-05:00

Timmy’s dad, Gordon, was on his way home from work at about the same time that Travis, Chris, Earl and Billy were getting home after being chased out of the empty lot by a cop. He was cruising home in a great mood. He got out a little early and planned to take Timmy and Alice out for dinner at the A&W drive in. Gordon always got excited for his son when school let out for summer and he wanted to do something special for him.

He pulled into the driveway with “What is Life” by George Harrison blaring on the radio. He sat in the driveway, in his car despite the heat, and waited for the song to finish. Gordon loved summertime. He hopped out of the car when the song finally finished and did a little shuffle step up the walk to the porch. He entered the house, it was warm but comfortable. Alice had every window open and the fans running on high.

Gordon walked to the kitchen and dropped his lunch pail on the table. “Timmy” he yelled. No answer of course. “Where is that kid?” He asked the empty room. He saw Alice through the window. She was out in her garden, weeding or seeding he could never tell the difference. Gardening wasn’t his thing but it made her happy and when she was happy, he was happy. Gordon popped open the fridge and grabbed a cold one and walked outside.

Alice was on her hands and knees planting seeds in the freshly turned soil when Gordon sneaked up behind her and pinched her. “Ouch” she shrieked and jumped to her feet. “You’re home early” she giggled.

“Bob wasn’t looking so I stepped out.” Gordon grabbed his wife and gave her a kiss. “What do you say to A&W for dinner tonight?”

“Sounds good to me.” Alice answered. “Timmy will be excited to hear that when he gets home.”

“What do you mean ‘when he gets home’? He’s not home yet?”

“No… wait, what time is it?” Alice suddenly realized that she had lost track of time.

“It’s ten to four.” Gordon said.

“Oh my god! Where’s Timmy? He should’ve been home half an hour ago.” Alice said slightly panicked.

“Uh, well, maybe he stopped at a friends house.” Gordon said, not wanting to add to Alice’s panic. “I’ll call Kevin’s house and see if he’s there.”

“But he always comes straight home.” Alice’s mothering instinct was revving up.

“Well I’ll just call and see.” Gordon knew his son was a good kid and probably just got sidetracked and lost track of time himself. He walked back into the house with his beer and grabbed the phone. Alice followed close behind.

“Hello, Mrs. Brown is Timmy there?” he asked sure that the answer would be yes.

“No, he’s not here. Let me ask Kevin if he’s seen him.” Gordon could hear the muffled voices behind Mrs. Brown’s hand covering the receiver and then she came back on. “Kevin hasn’t seen Timmy since school let out. Sorry. Maybe he’s just gotten off to playing somewhere. Try the park. I’ll let you know If he stops by here.”

“Okay, thank you Mrs. Brown.” Gordon hung up the phone. Alice’s face was white with worry. “She hasn’t seen him.” He told her.

“Where could he be?” She asked in a slightly frantic voice. “Why don’t you go and walk back to the school and see if you can find him. I’ll call his other friends.” Gordon could tell that Alice was trying not to let panic take over. She worried constantly about Timmy.

“Okay, I’ll hike to the school. I’m sure I’ll find him in someone’s front yard.” Gordon gave his wife another kiss and ran out of the house. He got to the sidewalk and turned right. He walked a little faster than he could admit to. Gordon wasn’t sure whether he was worried about his son or not yet. He was.

He marched down the block, looking left and right, calling his name. He was sure he’d see him on some swing set somewhere. Four houses down the block and he hadn’t seen him yet. His steps quickened. One more house and he reached the crosswalk. He trotted across the street and yelled “Timmy” a little louder than he intended to.

Mrs. Morgan happened to be in her front yard, watering her flowers. Gordon asked her if she had seen Timmy. She hadn’t and she had been in her yard since two thirty this afternoon. She promised to keep an eye out for him and tell him to run straight home. Gordon kept walking and calling his son’s name. The worry was really getting to him now and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Two houses after the intersection he walked past the empty lot. Gordon only glanced past the fence at all the junk that lay beyond. He called Timmy’s name a couple times and kept walking. He intended to walk all the way to the school but when he reached the next intersection Gordon stopped. He stood still for a minute and felt his entire body go numb. It was almost as if he had just lost something that he greatly needed. He looked around him and the whole world look different. Colors dulled, sounds of children playing across the street muted. His body felt heavy, like he was walking in syrup.

The empty lot. He knew it. Even though Timmy was told to never play there, Gordon knew. Timmy’s in the lot. Gordon turned around and headed back to the lot. Running by the houses he just past. He was running now but he felt as though he was moving slower than before. Too slow.

He reached the gate and spread it open. Thank God the idiot who owned this lot never locked it up tight. Gordon squeezed through with little struggle.

“TIMMY!” Gordon yelled, nearly screamed.

“TIMMY!” No answer but he knew he was here somewhere. Sometimes dads just know.

Gordon looked around and spotted the book bag and log cabin on a barrel next to the gate. The cabin was broken up but he recognized it as the one he and Timmy glued together a couple of months ago.

“TIMMEEEY” He yelled again and ran into the lot.

Gordon felt a little foolish looking into an old car and somebody’s old ice shanty but he just knew his son was close. But why doesn’t he answer? He tried desperately to keep the worst out of his mind but it kept sneaking up on him. “What if this is bad, really bad?” Some part of his mind kept asking him.

That’s when he saw it. An old Fridgedaire laying on it’s back with the door shut. The world seemed to shrink away from him. He started to walk forward to the fridge. It was taking too long, it’s like the fridge was crawling away from him.

He finally reached it after an eternity, grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. Timmy was inside. For a moment, Gordon’s heart started beating again. The next moment Gordon realized how still his son was and his numbness was replaced with a sudden emptiness. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Timmy and lifted him out of the fridge. His clothes were drenched with sweat and his body was incredibly hot and limp.

“Timmy.” He cried. “Timmy stop foolin’ Daddy’s got you” Gordon stroked his son’s face and felt the still warm tears that streaked down his cheeks.

“NO NO NO NO! I’M NOT TOO LATE! TIMMY WAKE UP!” Gordon screamed at his son. Fathers tears were streaming down Gordon’s face. He pulled his son tightly into his arms and rocked him as if he were still a baby, whispering no no no.

The sun was still shining brightly but everything looked blurry and gray to Gordon and he rocked his boy. He kept thinking, “This is not happening, This is not happening!” But it was. Time stood still.

A sudden gasp broke his train of thought. He looked down into his son’s face and saw his eyes flutter open.

“Dad?” Timmy croaked. “I’m sorry”

Timmy's walk home part three

2009-08-27T19:06:00.003-05:00

The boys zigged and zagged through the scatters of parents and kids walking down the sidewalk. Four of them reached the chain link fence that surrounded the empty lot together. Earl arrived later, he couldn’t run too well. His mom says he’s “big boned” but he knows he’s fat. Earl tries not to let it bother him, but it does.

The gate was closed and locked with a chain, a rather long chain that allowed the two gates to slide apart enough for even Earl to get through. Apparently the owner didn’t care what walked in, or out.

“Ok, everybody in.” said Travis, catching his breath. He slid the gates apart and led the way like some kind of miniature jungle guide.

“Timmy, let’s put your stuff on this barrel.” Billy put the log cabin on top of an old rusted out fifty five gallon drum.

“Ok.” Timmy was a little nervous about actually being inside the fence. He knew he was disobeying his parents and it wasn’t sitting well with him. He looked around and was amazed to see just how much junk was scattered everywhere. He thought his dad was right, this place is a death trap.

“Alright Earl, you’re IT!” Travis exclaimed as he and Chris ran off to their hiding spots.

Earl looked liked he expected this as he yelled, “Aw man, not again.” He spun around and slapped his hands to his thighs then covered his eyes and began counting.

Billy looked at Timmy and said, “You better get movin’ Earl counts real fast.” Just like that he was gone too.

Timmy paused a moment to look at his stuff on the barrel. He hoped no one would come along and swipe his recorder. How would he explain that to his mom and dad? Then he too ran off into the lot to find a good hiding spot. Earl was on TEN.

He could see the other boys running and ducking behind barrels and into old cars. Where to hide, where to hide he thought. There was the remains of some old shack that looked like one of those huts you sit in to ice fish. That’s no good he thought, there are so many holes in it Earl would find him right away. There was an old wooden crate that Timmy actually crawled into. It reeked of that old basement smell that he hated about his grandma’s Christmas ornaments so he crawled back out.

“TWENTY” Timmy heard Earl yell.

“I gotta find one soon, he’s almost to thirty.” That was when Timmy saw an old refrigerator laying on it’s back. He ran over to it and pulled the lever handle. It opened easily. The inside was huge. “Big enough for all three of us.” Timmy said to himself as he climbed in.

It really wasn’t big enough for all three of them, things just appear that way when you’re eight years old. Timmy brought the door down just as Earl cried “THIRTY”

The next sound he heard was a hard metallic “click.” It didn’t register that he had just locked himself into an old Fridgedaire. He was just surprised by the sudden quiet. The noises from the sidewalk were just cut-off by that sudden “click.” Timmy didn’t even hear Earl yell “READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!”

Timmy was only in the fridge for a few seconds before he thought to himself, “Man, it’s hot in here.” The old Fridgedaire had been laying in this old lot for years and every summer it had collected heat. Almost as if it had a secret dream of being an oven. Today, the cloudless sky had allowed the sun to cook it up to well over a hundred degrees.

He sat there crouched down in the hot and stifling darkness for what felt like at least half an hour. It was only three minutes. The quiet interior of the fridge was kind of creepy. The only sounds he heard now was his own breathing and the small click that his throat made when he swallowed. He was trying to be as quiet as possible. He didn’t want to be found first, after all. The heat was making him feel a little dizzy, but he was sure he would soon hear Earl shouting for him and telling him that he gives up.

A few more minutes passed and the poor kid couldn’t take it anymore, the sweat was pouring off of him in buckets. The dizziness was getting worse. Timmy decided to give up first. He tried to push the door open. It wouldn’t budge.

Timmy finally realized what had “clicked” when the door shut.

It was fifteen minutes past three o’clock.

Timmy's walk home part two

2009-08-15T16:57:00.007-05:00

The sidewalk was crowded with kids and parents. Each one smiling and laughing or running. The kids running weren’t loaded down with stuff like Timmy was. Timmy thought these kids were lucky.

Just then a group of kids ran by and bumped Timmy from the side. His book bag swung out in front of him and nearly tripped him. His Abe Lincoln log cabin tipped out from under his arm and crashed to the sidewalk. The roof came part way off and the front came all the way off. He watched it fall in disbelief. He worked so hard on it. As he was bending to pick it up Billy Shuster from his class was running by and almost finished the log cabin off. His left foot nearly landed squarely on the unbroken remains of the cabin. Luckily he did some kind of half-jump side step and missed it entirely. He almost lost his balance but saved himself by swinging his arms.

“Ah man Timmy. That bites!” Billy said in a serious tone. He squatted down next to Timmy and helped him pick up the pieces.

“It’s no big deal. I can fix it.” Timmy said. “My dad will let me use his hot glue gun and it will be as good as new.” Timmy was pretty level headed kid. It took a lot to upset him.

“Well, that’s cool.” Billy said as he started walking along with Timmy, carrying the front of the cabin and half the roof because now it did fall all the way off.

“Where’s all your stuff?” Timmy asked Billy, wondering why Billy wasn’t loaded down the same way he was.

“I threw everything out. I didn’t make anything cool like this cabin, and my other projects were just dumb.”

“What about all your pencils and crayons and junk?” Timmy asked

“Threw ‘em out. They were all stubs anyway. Hey, what are you doing right now?” Billy asked.

“Walking home. Duh.” Timmy smirked.

“No dummy, I mean, are you doin’ anything right away when you get home.” Billy said smiling back.

“Just waiting for my dad to get home and have dinner. Why?”

“Me and Travis and a couple of his friends are gonna play in that abandoned lot down the street from your house. Wanna come?” Billy asked excitedly.

“I don’t know, my mom says that that place in dangerous. Broken glass, boards with nails sticking out of ‘em, maybe even rats.”

“Nah, it ain’t that bad. We play there all the time and I’ve never seen a rat.” This was a little white lie. Billy has actually been out in this lot with his older cousin, shooting rats with his pellet gun. Billy didn’t feel like he was lying though, the rats always ran away from people. He just really wanted Timmy to come along.

“I don’t know, my mom will worry if I don’t get home right after school. Besides, just what am I supposed to do with all this stuff?” Timmy really wanted to go. The empty lot looked like fun. He walked past it every day to and from school. It was only a block from his house. His parents never let him play there though because of all the junk laying around. There was old cars and window panes and steel drums and old used up appliances all over the place. Dad called it a “death trap.” He called city hall to complain about it a few times but they never did anything about it.

“Your mom won’t even know your late. We’ll just play one round of hide and seek and you’ll be home before you know it.” Billy said in his best big-brother voice.

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe just one game wouldn’t take too long.” Timmy answered, trying not to sound too unsure about it.

“Ok, cool.” Billy said excitedly. “Look, there’s Travis and his buddies now. Let’s run so that you won’t be too late for sure.”

The two boys took off like a streak like only boys can do. They ran up to meet Travis and his friends Earl and Chris. Billy yelled, “Hey Trav, Timmy’s gonna play too.”

“Cool.” Travis answered. “Let’s go.”

The five boys ran down the sidewalk together. The sweat ran down their faces and into their eyes, but they didn’t care how hot it was, summer had started and that’s all that matters.

They were two blocks from school..

Timmy's walk home part one

2009-08-14T21:28:00.003-05:00

Timmy was glad that the school year was over, just like every other kid at Johnson Elementary. He walked out of the squat brick building at three o’clock loaded down with all the things that seem to collect in the bottom of his desk and in his locker. He carried his book bag, so stuffed with folders, notebooks and projects, it was near bursting. His other hand was loaded with his recorder from music class and his Abe Lincoln log cabin that he made in history class. He got a B-minus on the cabin, he thought that he deserved an A but you can’t argue with Mrs. Fenrick.

The afternoon was very bright and sunny, also quite humid. Summer came in early and hot. This whole week the thermometer never dropped below eighty-five. It was the hottest May in twenty years according to the weather man on channel thirteen. Timmy liked to watch the news with his dad, he felt like he was learning important stuff. Most third graders in 1971 would think Timmy was weird for watching the news with his dad but he didn’t care. His dad worked a lot and sitting in his big chair with him was special.

Timmy usually walked home with his best friend Alex, but today Alex got to go home early because his family was going on a vacation. So Timmy walked home alone. It’s not a long walk, only four blocks. His mother worries about him, but she knows that he has to grow up someday. Timmy’s father teases his mother about this. “Cut the apron strings, Alice. The boy can handle it.” He would say. Timmy is not sure what his dad is talking about but laughs along with him anyway.

Other kids speed past him on their way to the sidewalk and freedom. One kid, a big clumsy boy named Earl, nearly knocks the log cabin from under Timmy’s arm. He didn’t mean to, and looks back at Timmy with an “oops sorry” sort of smile. Timmy smiles back and Earl runs off. Everyone is in such a good mood. Even the school bully Michael has what passes for a genuine smile on his face. That’s good because it means that no one is gonna get beat up this afternoon. Timmy reaches the sidewalk and turns left toward home.