The following information has been derived from my own imagination.
I expect you the reader to be critical and provide input to me, an individual seeking a hobby in writing fiction.
---------------------------------------------
The Man-Boy named Eugene stares at the Poplar tree from his mother's bedroom window.
"I have a cancerous predisposition," he stated objectively.
This conclusion was generated from his review of the internets.
As a young child this home was full of glory; more than humanity and mankind has ever witnessed. During this time, he received a collection of gifts and bear-hugs from his generous but older brothers and sisters. You see, he is the boy from the second marriage and was conceived during the Autumn of their lives. As he grew older, I witnessed winter ascend the ridge and enter the yellow double-wide .
The great "sorrow" began during the month of April in his sixteenth year of the Lord.
The boy awoke early one morning and dressed himself in green camouflage and winter boots. It was the second day of spring turkey season but the morning was unusually cold. During this time in life, he moved quickly with focus and determination. In a matter of moments he was in the holler surrounded by a hillside to the northeast and southwest, as he traversed up a mountain crick.
He witnessed his breath as he hid behind a rotting log. The wooden box lay in his left hand and the gobblers song was released throughout the forest. His grin was crooked and he viewed the undergrowth on the hillside. The land was filled with a variety of browns and grays that could make a person dull and at peace.
The boy suddenly thrusted his body onto the log, breaking it in half. The turkey-call did not attract a gobbler this morning but instead a hen ran past his face faster than blue lightening. As he fell, the end of the 22 - Pump rifle hit him between the eyes. The bird was dragging a wing on the ground and had obviously been shot by a near-by rival.
He was infuriated by the thought of a hunter in the vicinity. Thus, his body ran with his small rifle up the mountain in the direction that the hen had originated from. The small landing that he had arrived at had been cleared of timber one hundred years ago.
The two demons were startled by the boys appearance and the third animal glared at him with hatred. Eugene was equally surprised by witnessing the two coyotes feeding on the group of small birds. I am unsure if you have seen a coyote in your life but they are an eyesore in nature; battered, bruised, unkept and unclean; thin and desperate like a furry gray alcoholic. The large black dog, on the other hand, observed the boy from a distance.
The smaller coyote continued to feed, while the larger animal considered attacking the human being. The boy however, had no conscious response - the trigger was immediately pulled and the pin initiated the trajectory of the bullet. The blunt piece of medal entered the nasal cavity and for a moment he imagined warm water entering his nose. But a burning sensation followed and he fell to the ground. The bones from his nose descended into his throat and he suffocated quickly.
The other coyote, the larger one, was startled and ran swiftly but he too felt the result of Eugene's impulse. The second bullet clipt his left thigh and the third entered the top of his tale. He began to cry as if his mother was nearby for a rescue. But she wasn't and the only friend that he could see was this worthless black mongrel. He wanted to bight that silly animal; for he just stood there foolishly glaring at the boy firing a gun.
Eugene could not assess who was at fault; maybe it was the mother hen that had attempted to persuade the three dogs from the landing, the wild black dog that was unafraid, or the animal that died suddenly. It possibly could have been a combination of the entire experience that attracted the loss in his family.
The boy's father passed-on during the week after the incident and his mother battled colon cancer across the span of several years, until he turned the age of twenty-two.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Red's Rules
The following information has been derived from my own imagination.
I expect you the reader to be critical and provide input to me, an individual seeking a hobby in writing fiction.
---------------------------------------------------
Louise resides to the East of the Man-Boy's property line. Randal G. Marcum owns the more valuable land in the West, where the sun often sets over the bald ridge top. In many instances, the sun languishes in the clouds and there is no distinction between day or night.
Following the death of "Daddy", Eugene tried to record everything that his father had taught him. These memories became strict regulations in his life that he would attempt to know but not necessarily understand:
1. "Tie your boots properly"
2. "Don't hit yourself, son"
3. "Wake-up at the crack of dawn"
Eugene would wake up at dawn, eat breakfast, and eventually fall back into his warm bed an hour later.
One bright morning he closed his eyes while he snuggled his poor head into the dirt-filled pillow.
In the year of 1990 he was fifteen years old, when his father woke him before school.
"Son, I need to speak to you", his father stated in a stern manner.
Eugene merely nodded his head and peered out the bedroom window and into the Autumn air. "Do you understand that we are living in the midst of a historical moment," the older man stated with an intensity in his eyes.
"No Sir," Eugene responded in a confused tone.
As you may know, Mr. Earl J. Dingess had never missed a single moment of a Cincinnati Reds game in the previous 17 years. The sad part was, the family did not have cable television and he had used his imagination and the radio to watch these games. During this year, by way of a heavenly miracle, the Reds had won their pinnate race and was rolling into the world series.
Many of the fans believed that it was divine intervention but nonetheless, Earl had been placed into a sore situation by God. He needed to watch those ball-games and he had no access or opportunity.
"Son," Earl continued, "it is my duty as loyal fan to the Big-Red Machine that we watch those games, you see."
The man went on to explain that he had pondered this problem for many hours but there was only one solution, "Randal G. Marcum will provide," he explained.
The following morning the boy and his father awoke at 2:37 A.M. and immediately walked through the backdoor at 2:38 A.M. Eugene's heart raced a thousand miles an hour and he grinned during the upward march through the holler. The two strong-men carried the eighteen foot ladder across the weeds, rocks, and sapplings.
Once they arrived at the edge of the bald knob, they sucked for air like a newborn. The place where they stood was holy.
Eugene suddenly realized that his fingertips were numb from grappling the ladder across the holler. His father in his opposing hand held the white bucket with tools, including a red hammer and U-shaped nails.
The two men walked to the Alien structure that was tent-like in design but it stood thirty feet in the sky. They could have walked below the red saucer but instead their eyes were focused upwards.
"That thang is EEEnormus," Eugene state in awe.
"Why would someone waste that much lumber on a dang deerstand," his father replied.
"I hear that there is a water-bed inside."
The building held a suffering spirit that smiled and sneered at the men on the ground, as he chewed on LIFE cereal. The large raccoon viewed them with hatred that is rarely observed in this world.
I expect you the reader to be critical and provide input to me, an individual seeking a hobby in writing fiction.
---------------------------------------------------
Louise resides to the East of the Man-Boy's property line. Randal G. Marcum owns the more valuable land in the West, where the sun often sets over the bald ridge top. In many instances, the sun languishes in the clouds and there is no distinction between day or night.
Following the death of "Daddy", Eugene tried to record everything that his father had taught him. These memories became strict regulations in his life that he would attempt to know but not necessarily understand:
1. "Tie your boots properly"
2. "Don't hit yourself, son"
3. "Wake-up at the crack of dawn"
Eugene would wake up at dawn, eat breakfast, and eventually fall back into his warm bed an hour later.
One bright morning he closed his eyes while he snuggled his poor head into the dirt-filled pillow.
In the year of 1990 he was fifteen years old, when his father woke him before school.
"Son, I need to speak to you", his father stated in a stern manner.
Eugene merely nodded his head and peered out the bedroom window and into the Autumn air. "Do you understand that we are living in the midst of a historical moment," the older man stated with an intensity in his eyes.
"No Sir," Eugene responded in a confused tone.
As you may know, Mr. Earl J. Dingess had never missed a single moment of a Cincinnati Reds game in the previous 17 years. The sad part was, the family did not have cable television and he had used his imagination and the radio to watch these games. During this year, by way of a heavenly miracle, the Reds had won their pinnate race and was rolling into the world series.
Many of the fans believed that it was divine intervention but nonetheless, Earl had been placed into a sore situation by God. He needed to watch those ball-games and he had no access or opportunity.
"Son," Earl continued, "it is my duty as loyal fan to the Big-Red Machine that we watch those games, you see."
The man went on to explain that he had pondered this problem for many hours but there was only one solution, "Randal G. Marcum will provide," he explained.
The following morning the boy and his father awoke at 2:37 A.M. and immediately walked through the backdoor at 2:38 A.M. Eugene's heart raced a thousand miles an hour and he grinned during the upward march through the holler. The two strong-men carried the eighteen foot ladder across the weeds, rocks, and sapplings.
Once they arrived at the edge of the bald knob, they sucked for air like a newborn. The place where they stood was holy.
Eugene suddenly realized that his fingertips were numb from grappling the ladder across the holler. His father in his opposing hand held the white bucket with tools, including a red hammer and U-shaped nails.
The two men walked to the Alien structure that was tent-like in design but it stood thirty feet in the sky. They could have walked below the red saucer but instead their eyes were focused upwards.
"That thang is EEEnormus," Eugene state in awe.
"Why would someone waste that much lumber on a dang deerstand," his father replied.
"I hear that there is a water-bed inside."
The building held a suffering spirit that smiled and sneered at the men on the ground, as he chewed on LIFE cereal. The large raccoon viewed them with hatred that is rarely observed in this world.
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Bust of the Lord
The following information has been derived from my own imagination.
I expect you the reader to be critical and provide input to me, an individual seeking a hobby in writing fiction.
---------------------------------------------
The boy-man with the fine hair decides to write a haiku poem. During his most successful year in school, the third grade, he became a master of the art.
The initial draft of the poem is as follows:
The Bust of the Lord
Sets Alone with Felix the Cat
The Kitty has Aids
His aunty is named Louise and she controls all of the money.
A realization sweeps over him: "he has not been outside of the double-wide for three days". Not a soul has called his phone or knocked on his yellow door.
He also concludes that the kitchen no longer holds the key to his current existence:
He arrives at the blue trailer and he notices that the Chrysler is not in the driveway. The front yard and stoop is home to fifteen cats. The cats vary in size, color, and facial features; five are old beyond oldness, two are completely black, four are small kittens, and one is white.
The door swings open and he enters the cramped kitchen. There are no remnants of cats in the home, just newspapers and magazines. Louise has focused her life in the modern area on saving cats and examining the National Examiner (a lovely tabloid).
This obsession led her to purchase the neighboring two story farm house on a near-by hill. This house has a newly established community of twenty two cats. She however has chosen to live in her "blue home", commonly known as a "national blue" colored single-wide.
There are no potatoes in the cupboard and the boy begins to cry. He walks away from the kitchen and down the narrow hallway, while his broad shoulders scrape across the panel walls.
The door to the room at the end of the home is opened slowly. The room is empty except for a small wooden dresser that is 20 years old with no polish or dirt. The top of the dresser upholds a symbiotic collection of two sacred beings, The Messiah and a rather ill kitty-cat. The bust of the Lord stands a foot tall. He is looking to the sky and is wearing a purple garment. Felix lays his body around the shoulders of Jesus and he is resting when the boy arrives. The black spotted cat opens one eye and then his mouth. He attempts to acknowledge his awareness of Eugene with a simple "Hello" but today he feels weak.
I expect you the reader to be critical and provide input to me, an individual seeking a hobby in writing fiction.
---------------------------------------------
The boy-man with the fine hair decides to write a haiku poem. During his most successful year in school, the third grade, he became a master of the art.
The initial draft of the poem is as follows:
The Bust of the Lord
Sets Alone with Felix the Cat
The Kitty has Aids
His aunty is named Louise and she controls all of the money.
A realization sweeps over him: "he has not been outside of the double-wide for three days". Not a soul has called his phone or knocked on his yellow door.
He also concludes that the kitchen no longer holds the key to his current existence:
- Instant mashed potatoes
- No internal thoughts
- Low heart rate
- Eyelids partially open
- Pupils unaffected by the glory of the sun
He arrives at the blue trailer and he notices that the Chrysler is not in the driveway. The front yard and stoop is home to fifteen cats. The cats vary in size, color, and facial features; five are old beyond oldness, two are completely black, four are small kittens, and one is white.
The door swings open and he enters the cramped kitchen. There are no remnants of cats in the home, just newspapers and magazines. Louise has focused her life in the modern area on saving cats and examining the National Examiner (a lovely tabloid).
This obsession led her to purchase the neighboring two story farm house on a near-by hill. This house has a newly established community of twenty two cats. She however has chosen to live in her "blue home", commonly known as a "national blue" colored single-wide.
There are no potatoes in the cupboard and the boy begins to cry. He walks away from the kitchen and down the narrow hallway, while his broad shoulders scrape across the panel walls.
The door to the room at the end of the home is opened slowly. The room is empty except for a small wooden dresser that is 20 years old with no polish or dirt. The top of the dresser upholds a symbiotic collection of two sacred beings, The Messiah and a rather ill kitty-cat. The bust of the Lord stands a foot tall. He is looking to the sky and is wearing a purple garment. Felix lays his body around the shoulders of Jesus and he is resting when the boy arrives. The black spotted cat opens one eye and then his mouth. He attempts to acknowledge his awareness of Eugene with a simple "Hello" but today he feels weak.
Sick In My Double-Wide
The following information has been derived from my own imagination.
I expect you the reader to be critical and provide input to me, an individual seeking a hobby in writing fiction.
The beginning section of this story is as follows:
---------------------------------------------------------
The barn is poor but it has a soul; no walls, or innerds. It has seen brighter days. The young man with dusty blond hair stands next to the building confused, in the purest form. Now that his father has past onto his reward, he is unable to rebuild the structure.
As he stares at the barn - light pours through the building and onto his young face.
He thinks in his mind, "There is so much Television".
Realization has been spawned, "It is time for him to become a man but he is certain that he is neither trained in a vocation or in love".
Ambition is also lacking in his small heart.
He states loudly while facing toward the rolling crick, "Jesus, what the hell am I going to do".
In his mind, he understands exactly what the next step will be. For the first time in a week there is certainty in his life.
I watch as he crosses the field like a man with spiritual power and discipline. He pulls his shoulders forward and throws his head in a backward motion. The average fighter would likely fear the image of this young man as he trots towards his shelter, a small yellow manufactured home (more commonly known as a double-wide).
The door swings wide open and the autumn wind rushes into the home.
"I know exactly what I am going to do", he voices to himself in a commanding way.
His body is thrusted into the gray recliner - the remote control is rapidly taken control of - and the sports channel is heard throughout the holler.
Amen
I expect you the reader to be critical and provide input to me, an individual seeking a hobby in writing fiction.
The beginning section of this story is as follows:
---------------------------------------------------------
The barn is poor but it has a soul; no walls, or innerds. It has seen brighter days. The young man with dusty blond hair stands next to the building confused, in the purest form. Now that his father has past onto his reward, he is unable to rebuild the structure.
As he stares at the barn - light pours through the building and onto his young face.
He thinks in his mind, "There is so much Television".
Realization has been spawned, "It is time for him to become a man but he is certain that he is neither trained in a vocation or in love".
Ambition is also lacking in his small heart.
He states loudly while facing toward the rolling crick, "Jesus, what the hell am I going to do".
In his mind, he understands exactly what the next step will be. For the first time in a week there is certainty in his life.
I watch as he crosses the field like a man with spiritual power and discipline. He pulls his shoulders forward and throws his head in a backward motion. The average fighter would likely fear the image of this young man as he trots towards his shelter, a small yellow manufactured home (more commonly known as a double-wide).
The door swings wide open and the autumn wind rushes into the home.
"I know exactly what I am going to do", he voices to himself in a commanding way.
His body is thrusted into the gray recliner - the remote control is rapidly taken control of - and the sports channel is heard throughout the holler.
Amen
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