...A rising sun the color of an ocean's pearl casts and eerie glow upon an awakening coastline. Jessica watches as thinning tendrils of fog form a veil to the east, rising to meet the sun, only to smolder and vanish in the heat. The whispering rainfall that had caused her teeth to chatter, her flesh to bristle with goose bumps, calms to an occasional drip. And through the gray, pinholes of light begin warming the metal under her fingers.
"Beautiful," Jessica marvels, her gaze finding a rainbow arching over the streets of Goose Creek, several miles to the north.
Vehicles begin streaming over the bridge, their vibrations causing her hold on the guardrail to falter. Throbbing muscles deny her any chance of adjusting her dangling position. She'd lost her footing on the bottom rail minutes earlier. Her legs now dangled and swayed above the river. Pulling herself to safety would be impossible now.
"That's okay," she stammers, answering her own thoughts. "It's better this way. Better for everyone..."
The Fall, available now on Kindle for $.99
Check it out!
http://www.amazon.com/The-Fall-ebook/dp/B00AZBIM68/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1_B0JY
El ;)
...it was on this day, sixteen years ago, that my oldest son, Dylan, was born.
He arrived on the coldest day of the year, having fought the inevitable to more than a week past his due date. Roughly through the mid-way point of what would become a sixteen hour delivery for his soon to be mother, I decided on a costly mistake, by leaving the hospital in order to rush home and let the dog out for a quick bathroom break.
It was during my return to the maternity ward, a mile or so from the entrance, when the car decided it was simply too cold to cooperate any longer, and blew its water pump.
In 1997 I did not own a cell phone.
And so, determined not to miss out on the birth of my son, I braved the frigid temps, and ran the final mile to the hospital...arriving in plenty of time to thaw out, contact the family mechanic, and catch my first born's grand entrance.
That son of mine would go on to become the starting tailback on the gridiron, the saxophone player in the high school band, and a 4.0 student in the class room.
That son of mine would also be the one to dig up a long forgotten manuscript, dating back several years prior to 1997, and find it, (in his words, the most entertaining short story he'd ever read.)
"Dad, this story's gotta be shared! Are you gonna do something about this, or should I?" ...or something like that.
And so I thought about that old story, entitled The Fall. I thought about a boy named Johnny, who spends an evening on the run, trekking across town in order to save the girl of his dreams from making a terrible mistake.
I thought back to that cold day in '97, racing to the hospital, my face burnt from a windchill temp below zero, in order to see the birth of my son, and found the irony too perfect to pass up.
Afterall, there are no coincidences ;)
And so, to my son, on his sixteenth birthday, I've dedicated to him, The Fall, available now on Amazon Kindle.
For a mere $.99, you can see what all the fuss is about.
http://www.amazon.com/The-Fall-ebook/dp/B00AZBIM68/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1_BANV
Happy Birthday, Dylan ;)
El
January, 2013
And here...we...go ;)
El
...have you ever listened to a song and thought, "Wow, could I ever hammer out the perfect scene with that tune drumming in the background!"
That's what this righteous jam does for me.
I listen to the beat, like a countdown to "The Fall's" unveiling, and think, "Yep, it's comin'. It's comin'..."
Enjoy ;)
El
The Fall...
...stepping onto a band of light at the threshold of the bathroom, Johnny craned forward, spotted the man from the driveway leaning into the tub. Followed the man's gaze and found Jessica crumpled into a shivering ball of arms and legs, a damp towel shielding her body.
He released a gasp, hesitating at the entrance a moment too long. She caught sight of his shadow, followed it to the source, her expression running a gamut of emotion, from shock, to relief, to horror, as Johnny managed a blink of his eyes.
And as he stood there, little more than an arm's length from his girlfriend's father, Johnny thought, okay Jessie, I'll do this for you.
He said, "Jessie."
Her father turned with a start, offered a grunt, eyes widening. A set of chafed lips opened, an expression that Johnny recognized as fear, passing over the man's face. There and gone in an instant, as if carried on an ocean's breeze.
Then he lowered his brow. Grizzled cheeks gathered around a clenched jaw. Burly fingers, stained the color of rust, closed to form a pair of clubs, wavering upon the end of each arm. And from his mouth came a warning, painfully gargled as if some of the rust from his hand had somehow made it to the lining of his throat. "Get outta my house."
Johnny managed to find his voice, said, "Jessie, it's gonna be okay."
Bracing one hand on the bathroom wall to steady himself, the other remaining closed to a fist, Jessica's father lifted a boot toward the hall.
Johnny stepped across the threshold, hastening a glance at his girlfriend, still huddled upon the floor of the tub. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, a pair of trembling arms embracing them. Their eyes met, and a word formed on Johnny's lips.
"Run."
Just a teaser...a little something to think about as we approach this week's mid-section ;)
Thanks for reading.
El
...and so here's where I've been these past few weeks.
Saturday the 1st...
My wife and I were enjoying a quiet evening on the couch, taking advantage of our children's decision to join some friends at the local park, catching up on past episodes of Storage Wars. Other than sharing an occasional giggle at the antics of Dave Hester and Daryl Sheets, we spoke little.
We were granted nearly an hour before the creak of our screen door and a yip from our lab, allowed us a moment to prepare for the kids return.
I continued watching the final seconds of an episode where Barry Weiss spent a week's salary on a storage locker full of Good Will items from 1985, when a shadow the size of a small cumulus cloud spread across the ceiling. I felt my wife's grip tighten around my wrist. I turned with a start to find not only my teenage son, but three of his high school buddies from the football team, standing at the entrance of our living room, wearing only their underwear.
Two pairs of Hanes briefs, one set of loose-fitting boxers, and an embarrassing pair of whitey-tighties that would've been snug for my ten year old daughter.
They stood in a single file row, failing to make eye contact, three out of four blushing from the neck up.
A moment later my younger son bounded into the room, fully clothed, cradling his basketball, offering a grin that would've made The Joker envious.
"Okay, so...what did we miss?" my wife asked.
I considered the ball in my twelve year old's hands, read the expression on his face, and offered a guess.
"Lose a bet to your little brother?" I asked the scantily clad teens.
I was granted a nod, then turned to my younger son, The Hoopster.
"So how far was the shot?"
He answered in a burst. "Half court! They said if I made it, they'd walk home in their skivvies...I nailed it on the first try!"
"You boys walked home...like that?" my wife asked, shoulders trembling with laughter.
A collective nod.
"And guess what, Dad!" Young Hoopster added. "A bunch of girls drove by!"
...a week later, I sat in front of my rough draft of "The Fall," glaring at words on a screen, when a thought caused me to open a second tab for my email. In minutes I drummed out a short letter to fellow writer Anne Gallagher, The Piedmont Writer, (here's her blog, http://piedmontwriter.blogspot.com/,
and here's her book, http://www.amazon.com/Remembering-You-a-novel-ebook/dp/B0083IDAU8 ,
it's good, check it out ;) asking her where she continues to find those beautiful covers for her stories.
Being the pal she is, she offered her assistance, and within days, working alongside my son, (now fully clothed,) we found the perfect cover shot for my upcoming shorty.
Anne, a weight's been lifted. I can't thank you enough ;)
It was last week, while sitting behind my desk at the dayjob, when a call came in from home. I glanced at the time, considered what day of the week it was, and thought, "She's calling about another kid."
(My wife and I are foster parents.)
I released a sigh, lifted the phone from it's receiver.
"Hi Hon."
Nothing. I recognized her breathing, short stressful huffs, as if fighting to catch her breath.
I waited a moment longer, then asked, "Okay, who is it?"
"He's only four days old."
"What? Four days? A boy?"
"Yes...and yes."
"What's wrong with him?"
"He's losing too much weight. His birth mom...well, so anyway, he's just a baby."
"Yeah, I figured that much."
"Well, what do you think?"
I grinned at my hulking computer monitor, a spread sheet I'd been working on for three days, due the day prior, not worth the ink it would soon be printed on, thinking how life can change on a dime. One day your laughing at your teenage son's rotten luck, and the next...
"What do I think? I think you already said yes, and that little boy's on his way to the house this very minute..."
In two weeks under my wife's care, the newest member of our family saw his weight match, then surpass his birth weight, receiving an avid thumbs up from our doctor. He's well on his way...
So that was my month, how was yours?
El ;)
