The sheep was humming to herself in the corner of the barn. I know I’ve heard this story somewhere before and decided not to get rattled. Darn that Science Fiction channel! Before I started watching it more, I felt reasonably sane. I was there to check and freshen the animal’s water and nothing was going to spook me enough to shirk those duties. The moment she saw me, the humming stopped and “whoosh” she disappeared. I heard a whisper right away from the cow’s stall and then vowed to give up the Crime channel too. “She’s gone ‘on the lamb‘, dude. Where’s my water?” No more binge TV watching for me!
It’s said that everyone has skeletons in their closet, but Millicent’s closet was about to overflow. Her life of pathological lying had always been a block to her conscience calling for a relief from her hidden stream of suffering. She’d no sooner promise herself to change her ways than her want to be accepted by everyone would dare her not to listen to such ethereal voices. And now, she was a lonely elderly woman wandering hopelessly with no one who’d listen to her. Her dreams of popularity had not ever born fruit and her days were growing fewer. Every lie she’d ever told while trying to ingratiate herself to people had backfired. In a desperate last effort, all she could do was retrace as many steps as she could and confess her lifelong dishonesty. One by one, she reached out for forgiveness to countless estranged friends. Many shut her down before she could start. But a handful of them, forgave her, and a few even returned to her offering a second chance of companionship. That loving power of grace and forgiveness nearly made her knees buckle as joyful redemption from her past came within her reach.
Nope! We weren’t going on a boat again. The kids got seasick the last time and learned nothing more than how to vomit over the railing without falling in. We hadn’t saved enough money to fly anywhere so trapsing the Nature’s Wonders Club of 8-year-olds through our own local natural wonders seemed thebest decision. One of the parents offered to drive us to the base of the trail leading to our famous woodland peak which was the tallest in our state. I would carry a concealed handgun which I’d thoroughly oiled and loaded in private. It was likely I wouldn’t need to shoot it but having it was the wisest thing to do. Some of the parents may have objected but speaking to them about the value of guns in the wild was out of the question. Naive and ignorant of many topics concerning Nature and pro-active safety, discussing my decision would have complicated the matter and brought political resistance into play. Bears and ‘bad guys’ aren’t usually political, but they are, on occasion, more dangerous than those who are.
Now we are at a crime scene! Lights, rescue crews, and State Police surround my huddled, yet safe, group of 6. Professionals worked to preserve the drug evidence and are done with the questioning. We’d had a great time telling ghost stories and roasting marshmallows by the overnight fire, but on our way back in the morning, two men surprised us on the trail. They were most certainly drug smugglers who didn’t want any witnesses. My handgun saved us from certain death by wounding one and detaining the other. The kids had gotten more than a Nature training but a real-life lesson about not allowing strangers to get too close and that carrying a gun can be the right choice. Not one parent has complained about me carrying a gun since.
That was the last straw! He not only was challenging me, but he had resorted to using foul language in front of ladies! A flame rising from the ashes of my childhood fears when listening to my drunken father’s abusive rants at my mother was uncontrollably burning inside me. When I reached for his throat, the walls of the saloon seemed to split open. One large gap spilled a blinding light over the two of us. I was no longer a child cowering underneath my bed. A reckoning was at hand!
The rest is a blur, even now, as I await my moment on the gallows. My own future decided by men longing for a cold beer and a quick resolution had dismissed who I was in favor of who they needed me to be- a murderer.
The world would soon forget, possibly even forgive, me. I had rid this place of a brutal bully who had terrorized every single citizen causing a weight of hopelessness and despair.
As the hangman pulled the lever, I felt my mother’s tender touch sweep along my cheek beckoning me to come home.
I caught a glimpse of my archrival in the crowd and felt like I wanted to curl my ‘tail’ between my legs and light out of the auditorium. The Superintendent and I had had an indelible ‘stain‘ on our pretense of mutual respect since our unfortunate heated confrontation months ago. “Get a grip!” was my brain’s immediate response. “That ‘creep‘ can’t crack your confidence unless you let her.”
I then whispered to myself as I bowed in a moment of prayer, “Lord, please don’t let me defeat myself today. This is for the kids.”
The debate was about to start, and the whirl of noise began to settle as we took our seats on the stage. After a brief introduction by the event organizer, we were called upon to present our cases on the topic of Homeschooling vs Public School.
My job was going to be extra difficult because of the venue itself. There’s no need to wonder about the uphill battle in presenting an argument in front of professionals eyeing me with furrowed brows from the audience. I’d call that a looming pressure. If I couldn’t effectively appeal to these people who are holding their own pre-conceived preferences, they’d easily ‘spin‘ my ‘points’ as proof of Public Schooling superiority.
All we disenchanted parents wanted was the freedom to choose without governmental regulatory interference.
When my turn came, I brought out the BIG guns first.
” You all know the first woman on our esteemed Supreme Court. Sandra Day O’Connor was a brilliant legal scholar, a pioneer in breaking down professional barriers to women, and the product of early homeschooling. Thomas Edison and Theodore Roosevelt spent their whole young lives being homeschooled too.”
It was then that the Superintendent’s defiant face and pursed lips went slack.
mirror toss/tossing troubled clock dawn after willing unceasing stairs brow turning creaking
The mirror in the abandoned mansion was tired of watching the, now terribly troubled, clock which once stood stoically straight directly across from the stairs. Each and every dawn revealed a slightly new discoloration and further leanings. If she had hands, she’d be willing to toss it onto a junk pile thus improving her unpleasant view of the unceasing degradation of the once grand manor. The tired clock was well aware of the mirror’s condescending opinion and decided to put an end to her suffering by furrowing the brow on its rusting, once gloriously ornate, grandfatherly face creaking his hands to stop turning. He’d struggled for too long to keep time in the current unappreciated circumstance, after all. Every tick was forced and the tocks were erratically jumping ahead with an uncertain quickening quiver. The mirror never noticed his sacrifice since time now stood still. There was no more waiting… no more longing… there was no more time for her to reflect on anything.
Since so many other online writers have blogs dedicated to their writings, I’ve decided to jump onto the bandwagon. All posts published here will be either fiction or poetry, some new, and some previously published on various places on the Internet. Some of my works are conventional, and some are quirky. All fiction posted here, except for fan fiction, will include the letters "rose" somewhere, as a tribute to my Baba.
Sillyfrog's Blog 