Month: May 2013

by

I Don’t Believe Anymore

(aka Sherry’s First)

by Miles Rost

(Author’s note: Start the music before reading)

The town was stunned.

Parents, teachers, administrators, and students were mystified.

The newspapers didn’t know what to say, at first.

Many of the witnesses could not believe what they saw.

For those who witnessed Charlene Herrera keel over in 6th period Chemistry class, they were in a daze. Some even trying to block out the memory of what seemed to happen.

Sherry Makinami was a witness to what happened. What people didn’t know, and what she was unsure of, was that she may have been the one who caused it.

She read the headline in the morning paper: STROKE TAKES LIFE OF LAKE GROVE SCHOOLGIRL

She remembered everything, and what was happening that day.

A junior at Lake Grove High School, Sherry was not exactly the pick of the litter. She was mostly average. Average height, average weight, and didn’t really stand out. She did her work at school, socialized a little bit, but didn’t stand out in anything. She was not the type of person to be outspoken, as she rarely raised her hand in class. She kept to herself many times.

This made her a bit of a target for some in her grade, including Charlene. 6th period chemistry class, the last class of the day, was always the worst for Sherry. No matter where she sat, there was some form of adversity. She had to adapt to survive, but chemistry was an unadaptable situation.

For most of the day, she was being harassed by Charlene and her entourage. The real events, where it all came to a head, started with a missed question, and an experiment.

The chemistry teacher, Mr. Palachuk, was finishing his lesson before they were to do their lab work.

“Alright, class. As a quick review, who can tell me why the alkali metals are reactive as they continue down the chart?”

Sherry was about to raise her hand, when she felt a solid piece of something hit the back of her head and proceed to plop to the ground. She felt behind her head, and looked at it. She saw what was a remnant of a spitball that was in her hair. Sherry turned around, sighed, and looked back at the teacher.

Someone gave the answer to the question, and he let everyone move to their workstations. The directions were clear, to experiment with alkali earth metals and see what happened.

Sherry moved to her workstation and looked at the metals in front of her. She started to do a little bit of work, when she was bumped from the side. Water spilled across her hands, and she looked over at the rotund form of Charlene’s bottom.

“Oops! I didn’t even see you there!” she said with a sickly and sweet smile, “You should have said something if you saw me coming.”

Sherry just looked at her, and shook her head. She picked up a piece of magnesium ribbon with her tongs, and put one of the ends in the bunsen burner. It glowed brightly, as the white flames slowly traveled down the strip. She was studying it intently, when she spotted someone about to crash into her side.

Charlene moved backwards again, this time pushing Sherry over. She fell with her to the floor. People started laughing and joking.

“Charlene, what are you doing?! That’s on fire!”

Charlene sneered.

“And she finally speaks, only to yell at me,” she said, looking down at Sherry. Sherry got up and put sand on the magnesium strip, while Charlene and her entourage in class laughed.

Sherry looked at her intensely. She felt the anger in her chest beat heavily, threatening to betray the calm exterior by which she stared at her.

I wish she would just go away.

The thought spread across her sub-consciousness, peeking itself into the conscious for just a moment. She turned and looked down at the magnesium, covered in sand. She kept looking down, but pointed her eyes straight in Charlene’s direction.

I want her to leave me alone, she cried out in her mind, I want her to leave everyone alone!

Suddenly, without warning, Charlene winced. A small pain started in the center of her head. She put one of her hands to her head and tried to feel where it was, as it wasn’t a normal headache. As the seconds ticked by, the pain grew.

She doesn’t know pain, she doesn’t know anything, Sherry thought, spitting the words out in her mind.

The pain in Charlene’s head grew. For her, it was like a migraine that just went supernova. She clutched her head and gritted her teeth.

“Char, what’s going on?” one of her friends asked.

“I don’t know. My head is just….owwwwwww.” she cried out, the pain ratcheting up a notch.

Sherry continued with her gaze, not moving an inch and not doing anything. She didn’t seem like she was doing anything except sulking.

Charlene started to scream, as the pain in her head grew to a point. Her brain felt like it wanted to rip her skull open and run away. The pressure grew to be incredible. Blood leaked from her nose, and started to drip onto the floor.

For a split second, the screaming stopped. For Charlene, the last feeling she had was of a pop and a pressure release in her brain.

Her body crumpled like a weighted tent, splaying her on the ground, her head hitting the floor with a sickening *crack*.

Sherry looked over at her lifeless form, and did the only thing she could do.

She screamed, then fainted.

——–

The next day, as she looked at the paper and read the headline, she looked at her family at the table. They were all silent as they ate breakfast.

Her mom put down her butter knife, and looked at her daughter.

“Sherry, I think we need to talk,” she said, plainly.

Sherry looked back at her mom, and tears started to fall down her face.

“Mom? Did I do this?”

Her mom got up from her chair, walked over to her, and put her arms around her daughter.

“That’s why we need to talk. I think I know what happened, and it’s something that you’ve inherited. It looks like we’re gonna have to have ‘The Talk’.”

Sherry breathed a heavy breath, and she started sobbing into her mom’s shoulder uncontrollably.

by

Lunatic Fringe

by Miles Rost

The bright wintry white ground of rural Idaho was not a place for any normal man to be traveling in the middle of the night. This was forbidden lands, a hunting ground for animals and man alike. If you were one of the hunted, you were likely running scared. If you were a hunter, you were patient in your tracking.

Rick Manetti was not supposed to be one of the hunted. He was trying to find his way to a house so he could call for a tow truck. Instead, he ended up at the wrong place, in the wrong part of Idaho, at the worst possible time.

He slowly sneaked through the woods, trying to keep as silent as possible while trying to put distance between himself and his pursuers. He looked at the moon in the sky, and heard a wolf cry in the distance. He knew that he could follow the moon’s path towards the freeway, but he was likely many miles from it. He would likely die before reaching it. He looked behind him, and kept sneaking. He heard a similar wolf-like call, but one that was more like a whistle. He knew that his stalkers were not too far away from him.

He stepped over a large log. As he tried to swing his leg over, he stumbled and fell forward. The noise he made wasn’t massive, but it was enough to hear the sound of rustling a distance away. He looked up, and he knew they were near. He looked to both sides, and behind him. Seeing distant lamps, he scrambled up onto his feet and took off running the way he was originally going.

With a couple of barks from a dog behind him, the chase was now on.

Rick ran as quick as he could, looking for anything that could remove his scent or help him in slowing down the pursuers. He went through the trees quickly, and before too long, he found himself looking at a wide expanse of white. A clearing, a field, or even a lake; whatever it was, Rick was going to run through it.

He ran as fast as his heart could stand, and he felt like he was putting distance between his pursuers. He kept going as far as he could, until he had to slow down. By this time, he cleared about 3/4 of the gigantic clearing. He looked behind him and didn’t see lights.

“I pray that I lost them,” he said to himself, aloud.

Just then he heard the unmistakable click-clack of a bullet being loaded into a shotgun. Off to his left the sound came, and as he looked, he saw two men and a woman with weapons in hand.

“Who the hell are you?” the larger of the two men demanded, focusing keen eyes on his target.

“I’m a motorist, I’ve been chased by these crazy guys for going on 3 hours now. Are you one of them?”

“We’re not. Again, who the hell are you?”

“Rick Manetti.”

“Social?”

Rick gave him his social security number

“Follow us. We’ll get you away from the crazy weed barons.”

“Wait…why should I follow you?”

“We’re the Lunatic Fringe. We’re the resistance. And they are trying to kill each one of us too. You’re not the only potential victim of these joyriding murder fetishists.”

Rick was relieved. His thoughts turned from escape to punishment. And he was going to make sure they got it.

by

Old

by Miles Rost

“Happy Birthday, Grandpa!”

Gordon “Pete” Stack would normally have been happy to see his grandchildren on this birthday, but he just was not very happy. He had all that he would have needed: a wonderful wife who had been with him for nearly 45 years, three great children who were credits to his family, and now he had a few awesome grandchildren who were becoming grandteenagers.

This day, his 69th birthday, he was just not pleased with anything.

He sat on the porch of his nice estate overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and studied the world. He saw what he remembered and what the world had become, and he was quite displeased by all of it. And it seemed to all land in his mind on this very day.

Two of his grandchildren, 12-year old Sasha and 14-year old Mariska, came out to the porch and sat down on a swinging rocker next to him.

“Grandpa, you don’t seem like you’re very happy to see us today,” Mariska said, looking over at him with concern.

“Bah. It’s not you,” he grumbled, as he shifted his weight in his chair, “I was just thinking back on my life a bit, and seeing where I’ve been. There were many things I missed, but many things that I also took delight in. Those days are gone now.”

“Like what?”

He looked over at them, and it was like someone clicked the detonator on a time-travel bomb.

“Well, let’s see. You have in today’s world some singer who sings like a boy, looks like a girl, and can’t spell beaver right…”

Sasha snorted at this, finding it a little funny.

“You have people who tell you lies and market it as the truth, while the truth from your ancestors becomes lies to be disbelieved…”

Mariska just sighed at this.

“…And you have a bunch of spoiled brats who aren’t willing to take care of their own families, expecting the world to give it all to them, all while they smoke weed. Do you know what I had when I was young?”

Sasha and Mariska looked at him, and leaned forward in anticipation.

“I had great singers like Buddy Holly, and great bands like the Rolling Stones.. The first time I heard “Peggy Sue” I was 12 years old. The Russians had their rocket ships and the war was cold. It was a different age at that time, kids.”

“Really, grandpa?”

“Shoot, the first time I ever smoked. Guess what? Paranoid. The  first time I heard “Satisfaction”, I was young and unemployed.”

The kids looked at him like he was from another world, but still fascinated.

“Let me tell you. Things were much different, and in my opinion, much better. We had a lot more of the desire to create and build things. Big things, great things. Now, it’s all small stuff like microchips, processors, and other such junk.”

They looked at him, still riveted to his words.

“Down the decades every year, summer leaves and my birthday’s here. Watch, all my friends’ll stand up, cheer, and say ‘Man, you’re old!‘”

Mariska smiled and patted his arm.

“But, Grandpa. You’re not old. You’re just an advanced teenager. You’re still young, you’re just still young with a different time period in your mind.”

Pete finally cracked a smile at this.

“Well, let’s just say that I have some things that your parents don’t know, and I’m willing to give you some of my wisdom. It’ll be my birthday gift to you.”

His smile became a wily grin, as Sasha and Mariska moved closer to hear what he had to say. Just as he was about to say something, one of his old friends started walking up the walkway. He turned his head towards the old friend, grabbed his shotgun, and walked up to the edge of the stairs.

His old friend started to say hello, when Pete yelled at him

“Get off my lawn!”

by

Long Tall Glasses (I Can Dance)

by Miles Rost

The day of reckoning had come.

In a gigantic building just off the main drag in downtown Portland, Oregon, nearly 700 people milled around the ground floor. On the 4th floor of the building, it was announced that there would be a major banquet occurring. The announcement of the 15 new dancers of the Portland Ballet would happen at the same time as the banquet.

For half of the dancers, this was a happy occasion for them. For the other half, it meant certain doom as they couldn’t even gain a pound. And for one man, it was an opportunity to not only get a chance at a possible paying gig, but a chance to eat. It would sure beat eating ramen and cream of mushroom soup every night.

Larry Burnell’s admission to the audition was a complete accident. A street person, he was not someone people would think as having any sort of talent. In fact, most people thought of him as a complete bum.

The day before the audition, he was walking from his claimed piece of a sidewalk down 1st Street close to the Morrison Bridge, walking towards the Union Gospel Mission to get a blanket. He saw a red envelope on the ground and looked at it carefully. The name on the envelope was close to his: Lawrence Burnett, and it was addressed to someone at Portland State University. He looked inside and saw his ticket.

He went back to his small camp and rummaged through his stuff, picking up a small harmonica case. He pulled the harmonica out and picked out two $100 bills. It was all he had left, and he was going to use it to try and take advantage of this situation. He went to the local YMCA and took a shower, cleaning himself really well. He even was able to use some floral shampoo that someone left in the showers. After changing into some semi-nice clothes that he used for interviews, he went to a barber to get a shave and a haircut.

He went into the shop looking like a bedraggled 45 year old, and came out looking like a university student. The most important part was complete. He took a dollar and made a call to his mother, who lived in North Portland. While they were estranged, he still  had some stuff there at her place. He asked her if he could come up and pick up a couple items from his boxes. She agreed, and that evening, he had his dancing clothes in his hands and ready to go. He went back down to his pad, and had one of his neighbors watch his stuff for the night. He would return the next night.

He slept at a cheap motel that night, so he could have a great night’s rest. He knew that would be important.

He went to the information desk at the gigantic building that day, refreshed and looking nothing like his bedraggled self the night before.

“Can I help you?” the lady at the counter asked.

“Yes, I am here for the audition.”

“Name?”

“The envelope says Lawrence Burnett. I’m afraid that they got my name wrong.”

“What’s your actual name?”

“Lawrence Burnell.”

After a little shifting, she gave him his numbers, and told him to go to the third floor to wait. He did as they said, and waited. He waited for nearly 3 hours, and his number was finally called.

“Number 699!”

“Right here!”

“Come with me, please.”

He was led to a large ballroom and a long set of tables with 7 judges behind it.

“You are,” the head judge started to say, flipping his chart up, “Lawrence Burnell?”

“That is my name, yes.”

“What do you do for a living.”

“I am a man of the road, most times. I’m a student at this time, though.”

“A man of the road?”

“A hobo, by name.”

“You….are a….hobo?”

“I hope that I don’t have to repeat myself…”

The head judge just sighed, and put on his best air.

“Are you here for the food, by perchance?”

“Actually, I have been trained in the arts in prior years and I believe that I can do a great job with the Portland Ballet.”

“Well, before you can eat, you gotta dance like Fred Astaire.”

“Wouldn’t Mikhail Baryshnikov be more like what I’m going for?”

The other judges bust out laughing at the head judge for such a mixup.

“Can you dance?”

“Of course I can dance. You bet I can dance.”

The judges gave him the piece of music. It was one that Larry recognized very well, as he danced it in the 1980s with the Sydney Ballet in Australia. Dancing to the song “No Promises” by Icehouse, he did his moves. All of the members of the judging team were shocked that a man of the road would be so good at this.

He ended the performance, and the judges looked stunned. The head judge then cleared his throat.

“Alright, we’ll tally up the score and at the banquet, you’ll find out the results. Please go to the door on your left and proceed to the banquet hall.”

He did, and when he got to the banquet hall, he looked around at the food that was set up. Being one of the last dancers, he got there just as they opened things up. A young lady approached him and smiled.

“Admiring the food aren’t ya?”

“Is there water coming from my eyes?”

She laughed, and put out her hand.

“Jenny Carazzo.”

“Larry Burnell.”

He was so astonished by what he saw in the food, he didn’t pay much attention to Jenny.

“Oh my, they got ham. They have turkey. And…is that caviar?!?!”

Jenny seemed to be willing to finish his sentence for him.

“They also have long tall glasses of wine up to…YAR!”

She made a big motion with her hands.

He smiled, and asked her if he could join her for the evening’s proceedings. She agreed, and they both filled up on food and drink. They had a great time, while some others were worried about their figures. After a couple hours, the head judge from Larry’s tryout came up to the podium and cleared his throat again.

“We are going to announce the lucky people who will have a position with the Portland Ballet this year. When your name is called, please assemble in a line at the front of the podium.”

5 names were announced, and the winners went up to the front and waved.

“The 6th member of this year’s troupe is Jenny Carazzo.”

Jenny jumped up and gave a hoot. She gave Larry a hug and bolted up to the front. To say that she was happy would have been a great understatement.

8 more members were called, and Larry just kept eating and drinking.

‘The last name on our list is a surprise, as it was someone that we didn’t know had prior experience. We have a former member of the Sydney Ballet in our midst, and I’d like to welcome the last person who will dance for the Portland Ballet this year. Mr. Larry Burnell.”

Larry’s eyes popped out of his head at this, and after swallowing the food that he was eating, he wiped off his mouth and went to the front. He stood next to Jenny as he heard the applause.

Jenny looked at him in shock.

“You actually had to audition, when you were a member of a troupe before?”

“Jenny, that was almost 25 years ago. Another place, another time. I’ve been homeless since ’99. I’m just happy to be able to do this now, and rebuild my life.”

“Me too, Larry. Me too.”

by

Somebody’s Eyes

by Miles Rost

College was always a bit of a bear for some students, especially those who are in relationships. Even more so for those who are waiting for a relationship. It happened at every campus in the known world, and the University of Oregon was no different.

Sherry Makinami was a vivacious student in her sophomore year at UO. She was lucky to be in her Music History program, and also lucky to have a great friend in Scott Schmidt, someone who she met on orientation day in freshman year. She looked towards him as someone who was not only there when the chips were down, but someone who she could easily give a lot of attention to. She wished that she could have more with him than just friendship, but he was already taken by an insanely controlling and jealous girl, Delia Mendez.

It was a cold October day when her chance finally came. She was walking towards the Knight Library, where she worked part-time as an information desk researcher, getting ready for an intense evening and night of studying. She walked towards the doors, when she was wheeled around, a hand firmly grasping her arm. She looked up and into the eyes of Scott, who looked as though his face was red and bleary.

“Sherry, I need to talk to you,” he said, firmly but with a waver in his voice.

Sherry just nodded and went with him to their favorite campus hangout, the popular Rennie’s Landing. Over a couple of Rennie’s burgers, Scott laid it out for her how Delia kicked him to the curb for the leader of the Multicultural Center. He told her how much of a mistake it was, and how he felt like she spoiled him for others.

“Scott, I have something you need to know,” Sherry said, looking into his hazel eyes, “I have waited for a long time to tell you, and I know this may not be the proper time, but I want you to give me a chance.”

Scott looked at her, a little puzzled by her request.

“Delia treated you like a toy. I would never do that. We’ve been friends for nearly a year and a half, and I want more.”

“More?”

“I want you. I love that we’re friends, but I want us to do more. I have been falling for you for a long time, Scott.”

Scott finally was able to put two and two together, and he was quite shocked with her admission.

“I need a little time, but ask me in a week. I need to heal a bit from Delia.”

“Take the time you need. I will be patient and wait for you.”

After a week had passed, Scott answered Sherry with a yes, and they both started dating each other. For the next 4 months, it was an incredible time of fun, getting to know each other further, and even the occasional snogging in the basement music rooms underneath Spiller Hall.

A bright spring monday found the couple walking from the dormitories on the east side of campus toward their first class of the day, all the way on the other side of campus. They talked about what was going to happen in class, and just enjoyed each other’s time wrapped around each other. As they passed the campus amphitheatre, Sherry’s maroon colored hair started to feel like it was standing on end. She felt very unnerved by what she felt. She looked across the amphitheatre as they continued to walk, and she found what was causing the problem.

She saw Delia Mendez staring and glaring directly at her. Never blinking, it was as if she was trying to bore holes through Sherry’s head.

She looked at Scott, and moved her head closer to his neck, resting it on his shoulder. Scott looked down at her and wondered why she was a little more close now. He liked it.

Everyday for the next week, the same exact thing played out multiple times all over campus. Even when Sherry wasn’t around Scott, she still felt those eyes boring through her.

She finally couldn’t bear with it, and she finally broke down and told Scott during one of their downtimes.

“I think Delia is stalking us.”

“Why would Delia be stalking us?” Scott wondered aloud, “She dumped me for Tarik Narala, the head of the MCC. I’m not interested in her, I’m only interested in you.”

“I don’t know, I just think that she may not be with Tarik anymore. And she may be trying to force her way between us.”

“If she’s doing all that you’ve said, then it looks like we’ll have to be a bit more guarded.”

Sherry blinked, hesitating to ask what that meant. She usually knew what that was code for: to hide and go to classes separately.

“What that means, Sherry, is that I will have to start looking out along with you.”

Sherry breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry for seeming worried, I just have this feeling that she knows. I have a feeling she won’t let go of you, and that she’s waiting for a right time to take you back, away from me.”

Scott moved in and gave her a firm, loving hug.

“That is not going to happen. She tried to make me her toy. I remember it. She won’t be grabbing me from you.”

She moved in closer to him and rested, relaxed in knowing that he would be with her.

The next morning, they walked together towards their first class, as usual. This time, though, at the same area as the previous weeks, the couple now came face to face with Delia and a few others who made a line across the main path. Sherry and Scott stopped just before the line of people, and looked at Delia.

Delia pointed her dark skinned hands at Scott.

“Give him to me.”

Sherry looked at her, and gently moved in front of him.

“No.”

“Sherry Makinami, I am going to take back my property. There is nothing you can do about it.”

Sherry looked at her, and she steeled her resolve.

“I’m sorry. You set him free, and he came to me. He came straight to me. He’s mine, and he’s not a plaything.”

Delia chuckled, and returned to a sour looking face.

“You will hand him over, or my guys will take him by force.”

“Is that a threat, Delia?” Scott said, “Because if it is, that means that I feel like my life is in danger.”

“Oh, you know me, Scott. I wouldn’t do that. I just happen to believe that you are still mine, and I am going to take you.”

Sherry looked at her, finally disgusted with everything. She was getting mad, and this was not going to be good if Delia did what Sherry thought she was going to do.

“Over my dead and mangled body, Delia.”

Delia just smirked.

“Granted.”

She put her hand out and gave a swift forward motion. The men in the line next to her proceeded to walk over to Scott and grab him.

Sherry realized that he was now officially in danger, and she had to act. She took off her glasses, and stared directly into Delia’s eyes. She stared for a good long time, moving her hands from her side to her head. Her face started to form into a snarl of concentration, her eyes never leaving contact.

Delia didn’t notice it at first, but she noticed quickly that she was starting to get a small headache. As the seconds went by, the headache got worse and worse. The pain increased tenfold, and her eyes opened wide in a panic. She started to scream out loud from the pressure that was building in her head. It was unbearable, feeling like her head was being torn apart. The last thing she saw was Sherry’s hand moving swiftly down into the ground, and the sidewalk coming up quick to meet her.

As soon as Delia’s face planted into the sidewalk, the men that were getting real close to hurting Scott suddenly let go.

“What the hell are we doing here? We’re missing practice!” They said to each other, mumbling about things and grabbing their stuff to get out of there.

Scott looked at Sherry, who was now kneeling on the ground and in tears. Her face was covered in tears, the water pouring down her face like Multnomah Falls. He walked up behind her, knelt down, and hugged her tight, yet gently.

“I…” she started saying, through sobs, “…I didn’t want to do that. But….they were going to hurt you…”

He held her and quietly shushed her, whispering in her ear to let all of it go.

“I guess I need to tell you about this, Scott…” she said, sniffling, as it was going to be a long story that would easily take a couple of days for her to tell.

He just kept hugging her, and looking at her. He slowly moved around to the front, and looked straight into her eyes.

“I love you no matter what, Sherry. Let us talk about this over at Rennie’s. It’ll be easier for both of us,” he told her.

Somehow, in her heart, Sherry knew that things were not going to be the same between herself and the student populace of the University of Oregon. However, she knew that she had a keeper in Scott, and she would reveal everything to him that day.

by

Healing Waters

by Miles Rost

Steven Latrell was an ordinary man. One of the most unassuming people you could have ever met. Middle aged, salt-and-pepper hair, had a couple of grown kids who loved him and a wife that cared deeply for him. He wasn’t much of a man of faith, but he called himself a believer.

His life changed with one voicemail left on his cell phone.

“Steve, this is Dr. Langston at Memorial Hospital. You need to come back to the hospital as soon as you can.”

Within a few days, Steve received the news that every man in the world dreads to hear.

“You have prostate cancer. Stage 4. The most we can say is that you should get your affairs in order and be ready for things.”

Steve didn’t know what he could do. He felt shock, especially since his father’s side of the family never had the occurrences of cancer. Most of them died of old age in the fields of North Dakota. He felt anger, that all the work he put into having a life and a great family was now about to be gone from his sight.

“Honey, I am going to take a walk. I will be back in a little while,” he called in, calmly. His wife gave a shoutback of acknowledgement, and he went off walking.

He walked  down his street until he couldn’t go straight anymore. He looked to the left and saw nothing but fields and fences. To his right, he saw trees and grasses. Following his heart, he went right and followed the road through the trees. He walked for a good while, getting lost in the news and thoughts that he was focused on.

After a while, he saw a path that looked like it was barely taken. He looked in his heart, and realizing that there really wasn’t anything to lose, he decided to take it. He walked down the path and through a thick grove of trees and thicket. After walking for a good while, he came upon a stump of a grand old tree. He was about to walk past it, when he noticed words carved into the top.

Where do we go when the world forsakes us, where the healing waters flow

Curious, he thought to himself, as he then started to walk again. He walked for a shorter distance, and came upon a beautiful river and a wider lake-like area. He smiled at seeing this beautiful, nearly untouched piece of paradise.

“Come out to find answers, have ya?”

Steve turned and looked in the direction of the words that came past his ears. He saw an older man sitting on a stump, looking into the water. He looked like he had been in that swamp his whole life, but yet had a calm about him that said, “Listen.”

Steve looked back at him and gave him a wry smile.

“When you find out that you just received your ticket off of Earth, it makes you want to go somewhere and think,” he said.

The old man looked at him, and shifted himself. His overalls shifted along with, showing a bit of the boniness of his upper body.

“What you got?”

“Stage 4 prostate cancer. They think I’ll survive 8 weeks at most.”

“How are you with God?”

Steve sighed at the question, one he was asked many times.

“Honestly, not good. I have never really been a churchgoer, and I believe that Christ saved me, but I also don’t feel like I want to go.”

“What is church to you?”

Steve sat and thought for a few moments.

“It’s a place to go and meet with other people. It’s a set location somewhere.”

The old man leaned forward and gave him an impish smile.

“Would you believe you’re in church now?”

Steve was taken aback by this. It didn’t make sense to him.

“What…do you mean?”

“Well, Christ said that when two or three are gathered together in worship of Him, he’d be there. Church can describe a building, or more importantly, it can describe the body of believers in Christ. There is a difference between a church building and The Church.”

Steve thought about that for a moment, processing it in his mind.

“I never really thought of it that way.”

“You believe Christ saved you, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You should have nothing to worry about, then. Talk to our Father about the things that you’ve done, square them away, and you’re ready for action.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“When you’re facing a doctor imposed deadline of 8 weeks, it can be.”

Steve sat down, his back leaning against a tree, the damp soil soaking into his khakis. The old man looked back at him and slowly stood up. He walked over to the water, and smiled.

“You have a choice, young man. You can take the time you have left to do great things for God’s service, or you can waste them. Someone asked me once “Where do we go when all our time’s been wasted?” I answered him by saying we go where God wants us to.”

Steve looked at him and started to listen a little bit more.

“Have you ever been baptized, young man?”

Steve blinked, and though for a few seconds.

“I don’t think I have. Never had a reason to do it.”

“Don’t you think you have a reason now?”

“But, aren’t ministers supposed to do that?”

“Sonny, In God’s kingdom and at some point, we’re all ministers.”

Steve nodded.

“Think you’re ready to give the rest of your time here on Earth to finishing your business with family and making a mark for God on the world?”

Steve thought about it, and smiled. He was ready. He waded into the water, where the old man was waiting. With a quick prayer, and a blessing that seemed to be divinely inspired, Steve Latrell was baptized.

They walked out of the semi-cool river, and Steve dried off as much as he could with a seemingly new towel the old man gave him. Steve looked at him, and smiled.

“Have you been waiting down here for me?”

“Nah. I’ve been down here for nearly 50 years. This is a place where people go to either face their mortality, get right with God, or take their own life. I’m here, simply, as a minister who helps people with their choices.”

Steve nodded.

“I guess it’s time to go back, and put everything in order.”

“Just remember something, young man: Let go, Let God, and do good. That’s your job, besides making disciples of the nations.”

Steve looked back, nodded, and proceeded to leave the beautiful lake area.

In the short time he had left, he spent enough time with his wife and kids to help them with their impending loss. And in the 6 weeks since that day, he spent almost the rest of his time volunteering with the local church’s youth groups.

He got ready for bed on week 7, and looked at his wife.

“There is a river running deep into my soul. Rushing like a vision over me, it flows…”

His wife looked at him, and blinked.

“I’m actually at peace. Christ’s been working in my life. I think I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

“Where do we go when the world forsakes us?  Where do we go when we’re getting to the very end of things? We go where the healing waters flow.”

She looked at him funny, and gave her husband a kiss.

“I love you, honey. And even if you are gone tomorrow, I know that we’ll see each other again. Maybe even where those healing waters are.”

Steve got into bed and turned off the light, and held his wife tight through the night.

That was the last thing that Steve Latrell, a lay minister of God, did in his time on Earth. At 5:45AM, he left the Earth and went to where the healing waters flow.

The old man that sat by the river looked up at the sky at that precise moment.

“Lord, you have another of your men now,” he said, calmly, “Thank you for bringing him back to you in such a quick way.”

by

Guardian Angel

(aka “I Will Wait For You: Chapter 2)

by Miles Rost

A long while ago, I had told the story of an incident where my “future wife spirit” had come to visit me and inform me that I was to wait for her. Naturally, I was skeptical, and after it was all over, I wasn’t able to get any sleep the rest of that night.

The next day, for the record, I was incredibly useless at work and was raked over the coals by my boss for being a “paperweight around the ankles of this firm”. One day, I vow I will leave that company and never look back.

To say the least, it got worse. I had the prescience of mind to go and visit my pastor, who deemed me as being either incredibly insane, a newly initiated member of a cult, or a new apostle. In that order. He wasn’t much of a help on this, lemme tell ya.

Fast forward to three months later. By this time, I nearly forgot about what happened. I went through my daily life, doing what I do, and just being sad about my situation. I came home from work as the sun was at the most perfect position in the sky. I walked out to my patio, opened a bottle of IPA, and looked out over the neighborhood and at the sun. It was probably the first time since that night when I actually had peace in my heart.

I went back inside and sat down on my bed, as I was in a studio apartment. I felt a bit sad, because while I was at peace with most things, I was back to the old habit of mine about seeing my life ticking away. I even kicked myself a little bit because I was thinking about an old girlfriend who I likely could have been in a long-term relationship with, had I not been a greedy little buggard.

In the midst of this darkening of my mood, and as the sun went down over the horizon, a gust of wind came in from the window. I looked up and I saw the misty form from before, this time being a little bit more corporeal. She sat next to me on my bed and smiled.

This time, I was able to recognize that it was a feminine smile, and that she was much more defined as feminine, though I was unable to see the rest of the defining features of her.

“Seems like you were starting to forget about me.”

I looked at her and sighed heavily.

“Well, I figured that you were a one-time dream that was the result of eating a spicy pizza.”

She giggled at my statement, which in my eyes was kind of cute.

“When it comes to God and things, that has a tendency of being the case. But, I’m here now.”

“So, my future wife spirit, why have you come today?”

She smirked as she stood, and turned towards me.

“I am here to spend a little time with you. The time will come soon when we meet, and you’ve had a lot of problems lately.”

I looked at her with a little disbelief, and decided that now would be the best time to really challenge her and see if she was exactly what she said she was.

“Okay, what would some of these problems be?”

“Well, you hate your job and want to get away from there, but you can’t because you need the money to pay the bills that got you the job in the first place.”

I pikued at this. Okay, first guess is a lucky one.

“Then, in the process of forgetting what happened before when I last visited, you became lonely and were thinking about an old girlfriend of yours.”

Okay, that froze me.

“That’s why it was decided for me to come over here and spend a little time with you while my person sleeps.”

This is the point where I suddenly felt sad about everything, and that she knew so much about what was going on. It was pathetic, that I seemed to be so hopeless in my life, that I needed a reminder about things from the spirit of my future wife. I even started to shed a couple of tears, which made her sit beside me on the floor by my bed. She brushed her finger against my face, and the cold appendage took away one of my tears.

“Don’t cry. I’m here, I’m strong. You don’t have to hide what you feel from me.”

“But how can I even trust you? I mean, you say all of these things, and I remember asking you about your service to Christ before. But, still, you’re just a spirit. How am I supposed to know if this is truly happening, or if I’m being tricked?”

She sat for a second, and said something that I never would have expected.

“I think that “go with your gut” would be good advice.”

Aaaand that’s where I became sold on the idea that this was, in fact, the spirit of my future wife.

That night, I pretty much told her everything. Everything I felt, everything that I was dealing with. And I talked about my regrets to her.

“Regrets only keep you where you used to be. I can see that there is joy deep down inside, someone who is so alive. That’s why I’m here tonight. I’m here to be your guardian in a way.”

“A guardian…wife spirit?”

She giggled at my suggestion, and she smiled. Before we knew it, the night had passed and there was dawn that was about to break. She looked up and gasped.

“Oh, this is not good. I’m going to be waking up soon, and I don’t want to leave.”

“What would happen if you did stay?”

“Simply put, I would disappear. Consciousness would wake my dreaming self, and until the next major time I’d dream, I would not be able to come here.”

The thought of her disappearing in front of me was not a good one for my psyche.

“It’s a cold morning, my guardian wife spirit. You should fly back to yourself. Don’t worry about me, I think I’ll be fine now.”

She smiled at me, and gave me a ghostly kiss on my forehead. It…felt cold, but yet warm at the same time.

“I will hopefully see you in the waking world very soon. Keep praying for me, that you’ll see me. And keep yourself ready. Christ’s gonna make things happen in pretty short order here.”

I was about to say something, but she suddenly wisped out of the room and through the window. As the first crack of sunlight started rising above the buildings, I was filled with a bit of sadness, and yet a little bit of hope.

“She’s actually out there,” I said to myself, as I proceeded to call my boss and leave a message saying that I was sick for the day. Yeah, after this event, there was no way I was going into work.