Beginnings - Whiskey Smooth

A moonless night sky rose above the tall spruce and cypress trees along the wooded path on which Daryl and Coot McGinnis dragged the body. They spoke in low voices, grumbling about not being able to see.

“I swear, why couldn’t we bring flash lights? Coot hissed. “ I durn near kilt myself, walkin into that tree back there!”

“I told you five times!” Daryl retorted. “Ol man Hutchins would have shot us already as sure as lookin at us if he knew that we was on his property.”

“He shoots first and never does ask yer name.” Coot agreed.

“He’s got dem eyes like a hawk. He’d see our lights and figure fer sure that he was bein attacked. He’s probly sittin in the dark on his porch right now, with that rifle across his knees. Crazy ol man! Been nuts ever since his boys was kilt holdin up that bank over in Casaw County.”

“So, shut up already or he’ll kill us both!” Daryl spit through clenched teeth.

“Jeeez, I was just askin.”

“Well, shut up, I’m tryin ta think. Anyway, the gully should be comin up and we can throw ol Henry in and get outa here.”

“Daryl, ya really think that they aint gonna find the body here?” Coot whined.

“No one’s goin to be back in here except Hutchins wont probly wander back this far until spring. Aint no one goin to find him atoll. Well excepten maybe the wolves!” Daryl chuckled.

Coot and Daryl at an opening in the trees, where the ground fell away on one side into a deep gully choked with trees and accumulated dry brush. The gully measured approximately fifty yards across and ran for about a quarter of a mile along the path that they were on.

Daryl dropped the right leg of the man that they were dragging and walked around him, reaching for the arms that had been trailing behind the dead man. Together, Daryl and Coot lifted the body and began swinging it back and forth out over the edge to build momentum. At the height of the third swing, they let go with a grunt and listened. The body disappeared into space before landing and tumbling down the slope accompanied by the sounds of thrashing brush and the snapping of tree limbs.

“Now lets git outa here Daryl, I’m freezing!” Coot complained.

“Yea, let git.” Daryl agreed with a satisfied nod.

They quickly shuffled back up the trail, towards their truck and past the cabin-style home of Grit Hutchins. They stumbled along the trail in the darkness, being unfamiliar with the area at night. When they reached the trees surrounding Hutchin’s place they left the trail behind and took a wide slow birth, wandering through the woods, feeling their way from tree to tree.

“That is my foot, hey get off my foot!” Daryl hissed, pushing Coot backwards into a stunted pine. Coot stumbled back and slid to the ground.

“Hey….I just couldn’t see ya…. Hey man.. help me up. I think…oh..man..I sat in something!”

“Get up and quit whining. Let’s get out of these hear woods, quick!” Daryl commanded under his breath, looking back over his shoulder.

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Beginnings - An Empty Window

Life faded to black for Mr. Harold T. Moffit. Looking up at the peeling, water stained ceiling of his rented rats-nest apartment, he felt the choked and oppressing clutter of folders, papers, filing cabinets and unfulfilled dreams scattered all around him as he lay there on his back, not moving from where he landed after tripping and falling over his own feet. He hadn’t bothered to catch himself as he fell and smacked the dirty wood floor of the apartment bedroom with his forehead.

A deafening silence rang in Moffit’s ears, pounding in his brain, thrusting the last ounce of sanity screaming from his lips. Moffit watched the sun rise and fall on the white textureless wall opposite his small smudged and cracked bedroom window, which sat partially open, inviting the night, the darkness and all of its evils to enter and absorb.

Moffit stared blankly at the open window, willing it to close, to shut him in, to protect him from the world. But even the window taunted him, defied him and sat silently open.

Moffit’s mind slowly, painfully began to wander; meandering back and forth through memories of happiness’s long lost and forgotten. Children in tiny white tennis shoes played in the sand, slipping down slides into his waiting arms. He held them close, kissing their cheeks and foreheads, watching them play and learn. A woman of breathtaking beauty smiled just for him. Her touch on his arm always sent chills. Her soft silky voice soothed his tired soul.

All gone, reality splashed ice water in Moffit’s face. His mind snapped back into fuzzy focus, a dreary, blurry stark white room. A cold breeze was blowing through the open window. There was a realization of warm wet tears, dripping from the sides of his head to his ears, where they remained trapped in the outer folds, tiny pools of heartache. Moffit released a sigh, soft and long. His body relaxed, fingers loose and limp. A crumpled yellow telegram slipped from his fingers to the floor where it laid, words to the ceiling.

It read, “….Dear Mr. Moffit, We regret to inform you that there has been an accident. Tragically, your wife and children have been killed. We send our condolences and our regret for having informed you in this manner but as you have no phone ………….”

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Beginnings - Lightning from Heaven

Heaven sat cross-legged on the floor of her closet. Her long brown loosely cured hair hung in a relaxed ponytail across one shoulder. She wore an old, frayed and torn oversize gray sweat shirt with “Kiss Me!!!” written in bold crimson letters over tight slate blue jeans. Her bare feet, with toenails painted dark blue, tapped to Motley Crue throbbing from an enormous stereo which covered most of the surface area of an oak dresser in the corner of the expansive bedroom.

Heaven leaned back against the wall of the closet and dropped another page of the letter that she was reading into a pile of papers being created on the oatmeal colored carpet beside her. She giggled as her eyes absorbed each word of the final page.

“He is so sweet!” She whispered. With a broad smile, she dropped the last page to the floor, closed here eyes and sighed. Heaven’s heart was light. He loved her. He finally said as much in his letter. She knew that her parents had been wrong about him. They didn’t know him at all. They didn’t know how sweet he was. How he treated her like a woman instead of a little girl.

Her parents would never understand him or their love. They just made judgments. They condemned him for his clothes, his language and the lack of a job or sufficient education. They told her that he was no good and that she was worth more. She had turned sixteen, three months earlier and her parents had dared to threaten to take away her drivers license if she saw him again. He was right about her parents. He had always been right. They didn’t love her like he did. They didn’t care about her happiness.

Her parents were intoxicated with self righteousness when they found out about his arrest. They had known that it would happen sooner or later. Trash, he was filth, a subhuman individual. They had smiled at each other smugly and looked down at her with those “see, we knew best” eyes. She had screamed at them then, the first time that she had dared to raise her voice, to that degree, to her parents. They, of course, blamed her actions and attitudes on his influence. He was gone and they knew that Heaven would see how right they were. Because, of course, they were right!

Michael promised in his letter, which he had written from the county jail and sent to her friend Julia, that they would be together. He said that he missed her. She hung on his every word. He finally wrote that he loved her. She read the words over and over again. Electricity pulsed through her. She knew that this was the real thing. This was love!

She pulled herself to her feet and searched for socks in the pile of washed and folded clothes which had been placed on the floor outside her bedroom door. She didn’t have much time. Michael wanted her to be ready to go with him.

“It’s the only way that we can be together.” He would whisper.

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Beginnings - Toil and Trouble

A mountain of bare stone, but for the occasional small withered pine tree, rose from the most remote section of the forest. With jagged lonely peaks jutting outwardly into the low hanging shroud of gray clouds, the mountain stood erect, a thin veil of mist and smoke swirled, concealing the evil within its granite interior. A vague dirt path, clogged with weeds, cut back and forth, climbing the mountain’s rocky face, around large stone protrusions and along narrow, wind swept ledges, pressed against the soaring vertical cliffs.

The opening to the cave was narrow and hidden in the belly of a rock-choked crease within a clearing along the mountain’s south slope. Through the cave’s entrance, a passage, carved of wind and water, cut into the mountain’s flesh for twenty five feet until opening into an expansive cavern. The room was roughly circular in shape with the ceiling rising in places to sixty feet above the sand strewn floor. Natural vent holes dotted the ceiling, allowing shallow beams of sunlight to cut through and brighten the dark expanse within. The black rock of the cavern walls remained shrouded in shadow. It was chipped and rough but dull with dust.

The floor of the cavern was clear but for loose boulders of varying size and shape, like enormous marbles, scattered throughout. A small, vaguely square alter of mud and small stones rose from its center. The smoothed top of the alter was concave, sloping towards the middle and charred black from the flame and heat of many fires built upon its surface.

Pressed against the far wall, lay piles of matted straw along with two blankets, tattered and stained. The bones of small animals were scattered in little piles in the sand, next to the straw. A woman lay asleep on her side in the makeshift straw bed. She snored softly, her hands clutching and cradling an old leather sack. She wore a long black dress, torn and frayed along the hem. The sleeves had been cut near the shoulder, exposing short withered bony arms with hands and fingers that looked like the talons of a hawk. Her face was pale and sunken into her skull. She had high cheek bones and her nose was long and pointed sharply, curving slightly downward at the tip. Her hair was grey, cut to approximately shoulder length, with subtle white streaks. It was tangled and unkept.

Although the woman slept, one eyelid had not fully closed. Her eye beneath was dull and mottled but for its center which burned a deep amber. The eye twitched and roamed the cavern with each snore as if watching for movement.

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4th of July

We had a fun day today!  I was allowed to cook Brazilian beans and rice and grill hot dogs and chicken!  We had fireworks in the street and completed it with a massive fire cracker explosion!

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Thursday

I've had stomach pains the last few days.  My mind likes to jump to dramatic conclusions and determine that it is the onset of cancer.  I hope that I am just being dramatic.  I just don't feel all that well.

Recently, I feel like I am just existing, that I move from day to day as if I am numb.  I wonder if this is normal.  I think that it stems from a lack of satisfaction and sense of instability at work. I am not enjoying or feeling productive. I know that the lack of productivity is a key component to these feelings.  I am much more alive when I am engaged in a project.  I do feel tremendous pressure that I am not sufficiently providing for my family, both financially and emotionally. 

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Friday fun

Water has been seeping into my office along two walls.  They pulled up the carpet along those two walls  and set large blower fans along the walls to dry out the walls and carpet.  Everything is pressed together in the middle of the room.  I transfered my computer to my manager's office, who had the day off, and set up shop there for the day.

I was supposed to get home early today because of fathers and sons.  The boys have everything packed and in the living room.  I didn't get home until after 6:00 PM.  The boys and I loaded the truck and Heidi had all of the food and supplies ready to go including water, condiments and wipes.  We got everything laoded in the truck and we were off.  We listened to a misc. playlist from my ipod on the way up Spanish Fork canyon. 

We arrived at the campsite before the sun had set behind the mountain.  We parked, got out and began survaying the ground for a suitable place to put up the tent.  I seem to always find the big holes.  We walked back and forth until we came to an agreement to the place.  The boys then began constructing the poles and set up the tent. 

We gathered the essentials from the truck and placed either in the tent or in front of the tent depending on if it was for dinner or for sleeping.  We then went over to the campfire where the men and boys were eating.  I had forgotten camp chairs (this is why we should allow Heidi to survey our pile before we leave) and I sat on the cooler. 

Our system was for me to load the weenie sticks, the boys to cook the weenies while I get the buns and condiments out and then the boys dress their buns for the cooked weenies ( I am trying to see how many times I can say "Weenies") while I redress their weenie stick with more raw weenies.  This went on until we were out of weenies.  I had my own cheese weenies which BR was kind enough to cook for me as well. 

There were games set for the men and boys to do after dinner.  I was willing to participate in one token game to show my support for the elders quorum.  The boys wanted to play the egg tossing game, of course they wanted the egg tossing game, raw eggs at their father, do you see the motivation.  We would go from one distance to the next winning ten five pionts then ten and so forth.  To win each distance, there had to be two throws, to and from.  BR and I got all the way to the final distance before the final egg that I through hit his hand at an angle down by his knee, leg omelet across his pants!  C and I were next.  We also made it to the very end until C's final throw back to me caught me up near my face.  Now from the amount of yolk that exploded from that devil egg, it was obviously an ostrich egg.  It blew up all over my arms, shirt and face to the delight of my boys and the fourteen other bystanders.  I called it a night and went to my tent.

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Another night of baseball

Met Heidi and the girls at the ball park.  C was playing his last regular season game.  He was great!  (Two hits and a walk)  Heidi took the girls home near the end of the game.  BG had a "late over" scheduled with two of  her friends.  Heidi did the girl's nails, provided treats and let them watch a movie downstairs.  BR had to work again tonight and was there until after 10:00 PM.  Heidi went down and picked him up while I played (and lost) to C in a game of Star Craft.

We had stroganoff for dinner over rice with green beans.  It was delicious.  I don't know how she juggles a new baby, A, getting BG to activity days from 1:00PM to 4:00PM (having gathered shoes and coats with her to turn in for a church humanitarian drive), BR to work at 4:45PM and C to the game by 5:00PM and making dinner/feeding everyone a hot meal.  A feat of magic, I could never pull it off.  She is amazing!  I would have a freezer of frozen pizzas if I had to be in charge, no way I could juggle it all.

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Baseball night in Spanish Fork

Spent the evening at the ball park.  BR scored three games last night and was there from 4:45pm to 10:15PM.  C had a game at 6:45PM which ended up starting 30 minutes late and went until 9:00PM.  It was interrupted for about ten minutes due to a quick hail storm the size of marbles.  I was able to watch the majority of the game holding or sitting with my 4 girls.  It was great!  BG sat in a folding chair in front of me and cheered on the team with great enthusiasm wearing a cute pink plaid hat that she picked out during a birthday outing with Grandma Hollist.  A insisted on using the bug spray herself without help and succeeded at completely coating one arm.  The rest of her body may have still been vunerable to bug bites but that left arm was completely protected.  Heidi and I past M back and forth between us, managing the fussiness, until I was done with the squawking and got up and walked her to sleep.  The girls scattered and ran for the car when the storm hit.  I stood under a tree with C.  Both BR and C did well.

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Monday night, beautiful night, all is loud, out a sight!

Played catch with my beautiful daughters, BG and A tonight in the backyard after dinner but before the family home evening lesson.  Hard baseball for BG and soft plastic ball for A.  It then mutated into playing catch with my son C who is currently playing for the Cardinals, a little league team in the city leagues.  It is his first year playing organized baseball of any kind and he is doing well.  I love and am proud of him.  He pitched to me for a while although he does not pitch for the team.  He is a good pitcher, the team is missing out.  I was then thrilled to have BR join us in a triangle game of catch.  He has never shown much interest in sports but he has a great arm.  I was very impressed.  I like the fact that he has his own interest though.  Sports does not have to be his favorite.  I love him very much.  He is my new home teaching companion.  I couldn't be more thrilled!  I loved the few minutes that I could spend with my boys.  They are extremely special to me.
 
My girls seem to twist a whole different side to my heart too.  I loved being summoned by my oldest daughter, BG, to play catch with her, through my bedroom window where I was hastily preparing a monday night lesson that would interest and inspire, failed miserably on both counts.  It was on prayer.  I should have done just that.  I don't have the same feel for teaching the children like Heidi.  She is much more in tune with how to approach them and make in meaningful.

We had home made pizza and bread sticks tonight.  It was fantastic, and I am not a big fan of homemade pizza either, great crust and good toppings and sauce.  The boys declared that they insisted that mom use the sauce with the little sausages in it.  Good choice.

I am currently reading a hardy boys book to BG, something like "secret of the broken blade."  Her first words, as I begin the new chapter, every night are "What just happened"  meaning what was happening at the end of the previous chapter.
I have started a new book with the boys.  I have been venturing into more grownup books.  I started with a few Clive Cussler books.  I am now starting another one of my favorite authors with them in a book called "The Tomb" by F Paul Wilson.  It is a "Repairman Jack" book and it is great.  I read a few chapters a night to them with only occasional modifications for language or subject matter, but not very often.  I would love to read them one of my "prey" novels but I would sound like a stutterer, trying to censor the book language.  I'll stick to Cussler, Wilson, Louis Lamour..........

Finally retired to bed, after checking the girls and putting the newest one in bed, for the time being.  She will be up throughout the night, demonstrating just how much the youngest is spoiled.  Heidi and I watched TV for a few minutes until she drifted off.

I have been up with the youngest already once.  She cries until I pick her up. The youngest is then out like a light on my chest.  This is not normally me, doing this.  Heidi usually is signed up on the list for the night shift but I happened to be up still.  Tonight, she felt like she had a wet diaper so I changed her and held her, on my chest as I lay in bed for a few minutes. I then put her back down and went out to the kitchen to find something else to eat and to play Star Craft for a few minutes.  C and BR are getting so good that I am afraid that I will be humiliated if I  play them too many more times.  I need the practice. 

Didn't get it though.  I stopped to read Dad's blog, then went on to Deborah, Sus and Mer's blogs too.  Since I get to them all through my blog, I ended up back on my blog and decided to add my thoughts for the evening.  The baby is starting to stir again.  Tough love, tough love tough love!  Right?  I'll probably go get her again if she puts forth a little more effort before I drift off to "Fraiser" on my Ipod.
Night Y'all.

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Beginnings - The Devil

The Devil leaned back, put his feet up on his desk and laughed a hearty deep-throated laugh that echoed through the streets of Hell, which rumbled like thunder across barren sand, which shook the walls and rattled the souls of the minions of slaves under his control.


The devil lifted his eyes to heaven and swore in victory. He raised his voice in triumph, cursing and profaning his maker, touting superiority. His eyes burned with hatred, black soulless eyes stared upward, smoldering with pride and arrogance.

He gazed into the mirrors lining the walls of his office and admired his beauty. He was an exquisitely beautiful man, well dressed, well spoken and physically imposing. He could dominate or charm the hearts and souls of those he turned. He used every ounce of his beauty for the work and he was very good at the work.

He could twist and turn the soul of man like a rag to be discarded or make them jump and dance like a marionette on a stage. He had perfected the craft, he knew the souls of man and he knew their desires. He could navigate the dark recesses of their minds, stroking or punishing, tempting or consoling. He blinded them in any way they needed. He was without conscience. He ached for their misery, joyed in their sorrow, reaped ecstasy in their mourning and regret. He dabbled in hopelessness and pride. He was the Devil.

The worlds were turning. He could feel the anger, the sadness and the loneliness increase. He could see the tide of humanity swelling in concert with his will. He had trained his minions well and they worked tirelessly for him. The souls of his father would be under his control in the end, just as he had threatened and boasted when last he spoke with him. There was no doubt. But his father, this was not a thought that he dwelt upon. It made him uncomfortable.

Thoughts of his father made him angry and confused. These were the only times that he felt uncertain, as if not in control. His father, whom he hated, haunted his dreams. Even in their last meeting, when the devil was cast from his father’s presence, as he was spewing forth venom of hatred and loathing; he remembered his father’s eyes.

Those eyes, which had looked upon him since he was young, and whose eyes that he had wanted to please, and from whom he had yearned for approval. They did not look upon him, at last, in anger or disgust. His father’s eyes had been filled with love and sadness as he had banished his son. Tears had filled those eyes as the son turned to leave. The Devil would never be able to cause those eyes to show forth the same hatred that he, himself, felt inside. His father would always love his son.

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Quip's Corner - She told me

She told me once of dreams far off
Of pictures in mind’s distant gaze

She told me once of love and loss
Reduced to faded memories haze

She told me once of passion’s bloom
Left to wither under time’s trodden weight

She told me once of life consumed
The bitter residue of love and hate

She is silent now, her voice is gone
No one visits my mind’s empty room

She has left me now, the hours are long
It is lonely here in my personal tomb

The light is fading fast, the day is failing
And with it now, my sanity trailing

She told me once of dreams far off
I think now that she was going soft

Poof

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Quip's Corner - What Might Have Been

It doesn’t matter what they would say
Together we should have found a way
We let their words tear us apart
It was over before it could start

Then you, with him and me, with her
Certain now of no return
Laid aside, true love’s first bloom
Letting anger and strife consume

What did I ever think would be
Believing love between you and me
Years departed without your glance
Emptiness lacking first love’s enhance

Your picture found in discarded drawer
A familiar smile of promises sure
Thoughts in wonder of how you’ve been
Did memory of us find you again

Your face, now older, beauty undenied
Talk and laughter of time gone by
Our desire burns with love reborn
Deep regrets of lost moments torn

We plan for future, reshape the past
Assured that this time we’d last
But life, in irony, intervened
Collapse, an illness unforeseen

I watch as slowly, you drift away
Holding hands, a promise to stay
Yearning for our love again
I cry out for what might have been

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Beginnings - Night Wind

The wind, erupting from the putrid smelling pit, whipped across the creature’s forehead. He burped up boiled eggs and then pushed through the final cramps, feeling the baby lizard’s head crown from the folds of skin under his armpit. The Alabaster Queen will be so proud of the pending births. She would tell him as much, touting his name to the minions, before eating him at the sacrificial feast.
Pea green blood oozed from his three nostrils into the hair around the tiny oval mouth, filled with blunt yellowed teeth. He was close to completion and his body was giving the signals, telling him as much. The blood, the cramping, the high pitched whine shrieking through his mind indicated that the first of the brood was about to be delivered. He returned to his room to meditate and prepare.

The chanting could be felt as well as heard. Low drudgery, the crunch of bone colliding with bone, guttural groans, wrenching and twisting the very fabric of hell, filled the thick, stagnant, smoke saturated air. Screams of the chosen few cut through the creature’s concentration.

He needed focus. He retreated more deeply into the trance-like state, slumped heavily into the hollow, carved in the rock of the walls. He was hungry; the fever had sapped the creature’s strength. He needed something to satisfy the burning. He needed meat. He could smell charred meat from the various fires, burning throughout the valley. He opened one eye and glanced about furtively.

The twin suns were setting through the haze, hovering over the crimson red colored water. From where he sat, the creature watched the sickly yellow light fight through the smoke, in its final luminescence of the season. There would be no return of the suns in his lifetime. The world would be dark once more, just as had been prophesied by the ancients. The howls of the ceremonial priestesses grew stronger and more anxious in the growing gloom.

He was prepared. He rose, turned toward the wall and, leaning forward to place his head and hands on the floor; he lifted his feet, paused to balance and then continued upward, until his back and legs rested, upside down, against the rough rock. His body convulsed. It was prepared.

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My first attempt

My first attempt at lyrics for Clarke.  The working title is "The Wandering Man"

Stepped off the bus into this no name town
Dropped my bags in the dust as I looked around
No friendly faces looking back at me
What kinda fresh start is this gonna be?

Guitar on one knee, I start to play
No one in mind, I just sing to the day
Sun is shining and the birds are out
I get to the chorus and begin to shout.

Heaven help the wandering man
No one to care or to love
Heaven protect the wandering man
I need some aid from above.

Liftin’ my spirits up, the music flows
Hummin’ loud to the hoppers and toads
People notice and gather ‘round
They catch the rythmn, they like the sound.

Soon they are swaying in their seats
Sitting down around my feet
I giv’em my best one tooth grin
Encouragin’ all to stop and join in

Heaven help the wandering man
No one to care or to love
Heaven protect the wandering man
I need some aid from above.

The lights go out, the sun is down
No one left, is hanging ‘round
Another day, another song
No one stays for very long

Heaven help the wandering man
No one to care or to love
Heaven protect the wandering man
I need some aid from above.

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