Paul’s Christmas Surprise

Paul sat in the living room and stared at the Christmas tree. It was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. Presents were piled under the tree. His mother told him he wasn’t to touch any of the packages until Christmas morning.

Paul was curious, like most five-year old boys. He was especially curious about his Christmas presents. But he knew if his mother saw him touching gifts, he would be in big trouble.

Paul woke up in the morning before his parents. He walked by his parent’s bedroom door to listen and see if they were still asleep. He turned on the bathroom light and opened the door. The bathroom gave enough light to see the tags on the presents. While his parents slept, he shook, sniffed them and squeezed his gifts until he knew what was in each package.

Paul didn’t just examine the packages. At night, he crawled out of bed and opened his bedroom door just a crack. Sitting by the door, he could hear almost everything that was said in the living room. He heard lots about each gift.

Listening during naptime was harder. When his mother had company in the afternoon, they talked in the kitchen while Paul took his nap. Inside his bedroom door was too far from the kitchen to hear people there. He needed to sneak into the living room to hear. So far, he hadn’t been caught.

Paul knew what was hidden inside each colorfully wrapped package. Red paper wrapped a gift for him and a gift for his father that were probably clothes. His grandparents sent one wrapped in Sesame street paper that was almost certainly an action figure. The lumpy package from his father felt like a baseball glove. His aunt and uncle wrapped their gift carefully in paper covered with jolly Santas. He had to peel back the tape and open a corner of it to discover it was a Lego pirate ship.

A week before Christmas, three of his mother’s friends came to visit, each bringing his mother a gift. They all sat in the living room, talking about the gifts while his mother made coffee in the kitchen. He was playing behind the couch, and they didn’t know he was in the room.

Of the ladies began bragging that her package held a special new candy. It was shaped like something else, but was actually white chocolate. She talked about how this was a special candy from a new candy shop at the mall. She told the other ladies which one was her gift. When Paul looked over the back of the couch, he saw her pointing to the package with the snowman wrapping that was next to a gift with snowflakes on blue paper.

Like any other five-year old, Paul loved candy. Hearing about the special candy made Paul want it. He thought about that candy every day, and he dreamed about it at night. He just had to have that special candy.

Finally, Paul had an idea. He would get up early on Christmas morning and open the special candy before anyone else. He could pretend he had made a mistake. He would eat the special candy before anyone could stop him.

Everything went as planned. Paul jumped out of bed and grabbed the special gift covered in snowman paper. Just as he started opening it, he heard his father getting up. He quickly tore the paper from the present, trying to get it opened before his father reached him.

His fingers fumbled trying to open the gift. He could hear his father coming closer. Finally he got the present open. Four small pink hearts slid out of the box. Before his father could stop him, he crammed one of the hearts into his mouth and started chewing. It didn’t taste like normal candy, but Paul was sure it would taste better as he chewed to the center.

“Paul, What are you doing? Give those to me” His father grabbed him and snatched the hearts out of his hands. Paul tried to chew faster and swallow the strange tasting heart that was in his mouth, but something was wrong.

Suddenly Paul began heaving and choking. Paul’s father had him in his arms and into the bathroom within seconds. Before Paul quite understood what was happening, he was throwing up. His father held him gently over the toilet, cradling his forehead in one hand, and holding his body with the other one. Paul’s body kept trying to throw up, even though his stomach was empty.

His mother came into the bathroom with a glass of water and a damp washrag, and helped him wash out his mouth.

“What happened?” She asked Father.
“He ate one of these fancy soaps.” Father replied.
“Soap?” His mother cried
“Soap?” Paul couldn’t believe his ears. “It wasn’t candy?”

“No Paul,” his father said. ”When you are older you will be able to read labels. The box clearly says it is soap.”

Paul felt sick the rest of the day. He was too sick to enjoy opening his gifts. When his mother opened the gift wrapped in snowflake paper, she found the delicious white chocolate Paul had been looking for. There were three other gifts that held candy, but Paul was too sick to eat any. His mother gave him soup for Christmas dinner.
By the next day, Paul was starting to feel better. His stomach still hurt, but he could eat and play. His parents thought he made a mistake opening his mother’s present, and hadn’t punished him

Paul knew one thing for sure. He was going to learn to read the word ‘candy’ before he ever tasted anything from a strange box again.

Sparky Lemming

Sparky peeked up from the hole his family called home. His ears were hidden by fur, but that didn’t keep him from hearing the footsteps of a wolf three hundred feet to the west. It was walking away from the lemming village, so Sparky crept further out of his hole. His sharp eyes and keen nose sensed no danger, so he jumped out quickly and ran across the short grass of the tundra until he found a plant with tender shoots. He ate quickly, keeping an eye out for danger. When his belly was full, he stuffed more shoots in his mouth to take back for his family. His sharp eyes saw movement high in the sky, so he raced to the nearest hole and popped down it.

It wasn’t the hole he crawled out of. But the lemmings had an underground maze of tunnels that allowed them to go anywhere in the village. Most of the predators on the tundra liked the taste of lemming, so they were careful. Everyone dug tunnels in every direction, with lots of holes to the surface. Tunnels led to every part of the artic, hyperborean tundra.

He heard a second wolf joined the first, so after storing the fresh grass shoots, he went east for his next foraging trip. He checked the sky carefully before creeping out and running over to fresh food. Suddenly he saw movement close above him in the sky. A hawk had come at him from the direction of the sun, and was almost directly overhead.

With a terrified squeak, Sparky jumped to one side and began running for his life. He zigged and zagged across the tundra, hoping to evade the skilled hunter in the air. The hawk changed course to chase Sparky. The hawk reached out its claws and missed Sparky by less than an inch.

Sparky ran into the tunnel and rested until his racing heart slowed to normal. He ran home to take a nap. He was tired after his adventure, and his belly was full. He would go foraging for food later, after the hawk went somewhere else. The summer days in this northern, hyperborean place were long, and there would be plenty of time later.

George’s Snake

The whole class was excited, but trying to hide it. Those who hadn’t seen George place the baby snake in Miss Potter’s desk had seen the note Kathy Wilkins passed about it. George left the drawer open just bit so the little snake could escape. He didn’t care whether it scared Miss Potter or another student, so long as someone screamed.

Miss Potter had been at the board, diagramming sentence structure for ten minutes. Although our eyes were riveted on her, I don’t think anyone heard a word she said. I know I didn’t. I was too busy watching for the snake to make its appearance. I wondered how the teacher would react.

She finished at the board and moved to her desk. You could hear everyone taking a deep breath as she moved her chair and sat down. She stared at the class a moment. “Do you have any questions?” We silently shook our heads. It was so quiet I could hear the birds singing outside.

Miss Potter smiled the way she always does when she thinks we understand her lectures. “Take out your books and do the exercises I assigned.”

No one wanted to look away. Under her stern stare, we were forced to get out our English books and start the lesson. I tried to read my lesson with one eye and watch Miss Potter with the other. I wasn’t successful, and my paper stayed blank. Looking around, I could see most of the other students had blank papers, too.

Betty Hawkins stared at her paper looking like she was about to pass out. I had never seen a face that white. I remembered that she was terrified of snakes. Her desk was near the front of the room and she had her legs tucked up under her feet.

Miss Potter was opening one of her drawers. She looked around the class with a puzzled look on her face. “You are all being very quiet today. Doesn’t anybody have any questions?” Everyone shook their heads. We noiselessly watched as she took her grade book out and started making marks in it. Where was the snake?

Betty wasn’t the only one getting nervous. More students started watching the floor and moving their feet away from it. Miss Potter opened another desk drawer.

Suddenly I saw the snake. It had crawled onto Miss Potter’s sweater and was making its way, unnoticed towards her neck. I nudged Andy, who sat next to me. He saw the snake and nudged Betty. She put her feet back on the floor. You could see she felt better knowing where the snake was. Within a few moments, everyone was watching it wind its way up the teacher’s sweater.

No one even pretended to do schoolwork now. We all stared at Miss Potter, wondering what would happen when the snake touched her. She looked up and saw us staring. “Did I turn into a space alien or a monster? What has gotten into you today?”

We shook our heads and tried to look at our papers. George giggled and Miss Potter looked at him. “What have you done now, George?”
George looked frantically at his book. “I was laughing at this sentence, Ma’am.”

“Why don’t you share it with us so we can laugh, too?” Miss Potter’s voice was sweet, but I could tell she was getting suspicious. George was always playing tricks in class. Just last week he snuck an envelope onto Miss Potter’s desk that said ‘rattlesnake eggs’. We all laughed when she opened it and it made a rattling noise. With the teacher’s attention on George, the rest of us were staring at the snake. It was still climbing her sweater, getting closer to her neck.

George was looking for a funny sentence in the book. There wasn’t one. So he just read the first one. “The big black dog chased the small white cat out of the yard.”

“What did you find funny in that sentence, George?”

“I don’t know.” He mumbled. He looked at Miss Potter and saw the snake was on her shoulder. He stared at her just like the rest of us.

I guess she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, because she looked over at her shoulder and saw that shiny gopher snake staring at her and flicking its tongue. Her eyes widened and you could see her fists clench. But she was a great teacher. She didn’t scream or yell or anything.

She smiled sweetly as she spoke. “Why, George, how nice of you to bring a snake to share for science class. I’ll be sure to tell your parents how nice you were.”

From the look on George’s face, he didn’t think his parents were going to be happy when Miss. Potter told them what he had done.

She carefully removed the snake from her sweater and invited anyone who wanted to pet him to come up. Betty Hawkins stayed at her seat, but I went up. The snake’s skin wasn’t slimy, even though he looked so shiny. He stuck his tongue out and licked my hand. It tickled.

After everyone had a chance to pet him, the teacher put him in a box until school ended. We all watched her tape the box closed. When we were sure the snake wouldn’t escape again, we went back to our lessons.

Bouncer

Bouncer peered at his victim from behind the bush. The black furry animal was larger than Bouncer, but that didn’t discourage him. Careful not to be seen, he sank to his belly and wormed his way closer to his unsuspecting prey. The dry grass was scratchy against his belly, and the tiny bit of dust his movements raised made him want to sneeze. But he knew a good hunter didn’t let small things like that distract him from the hunt.

He drew near a large stone. Hiding behind it, he was able to lift his belly out of the grass and raise his head so the dust didn’t get into his nose. Only a few feet separated him from his victim. Gathering all his strength, he leaped. But his target was ready for him. Instead of landing on a defenseless back, Bouncer found himself slapped to the ground where he was pinned with his victim’s sharp teeth almost touching the skin at his neck. Bouncer struggled to escape but he was helpless. He looked up at the glowing eyes and the snarling face above him. “Uncle Louie, you always win. It isn’t fair.”

Uncle Louie lifted his large dark paw and released his nephew. “That was a good leap, little Bouncer. I thought I was too far away from the rock for you to make it in one jump.”

“But how did you know I was there? I was as quiet as I could be.” Bouncer looked up at his uncle’s dark, furry face. Instead of answering, his uncle motioned him to be silent, and pointed to a nearby bush. Turning his head just enough to see the bush out of the corner of his eye, Bouncer saw his sister, Sharp Tooth, sneaking toward them.

Bouncer started jumping and dancing around his Uncle Louie, as if trying to coax his uncle to play. He leaped from one side to another, making sure he got just a little closer to his sister’s hiding place each time. He carefully watched her hind legs, looking for the tensed muscles that meant she was about to attack. When she jumped he was ready. He hit her in midair, knocking her away from their uncle. She was surprised at his attack, but quickly grabbed one of his legs with her teeth. They landed and rolled, a growling, snarling mass of teeth and claws. Bouncer accidentally bit her ear too hard, and she gave a squeal of pain. Both of them retreated quickly to opposite ends of the clearing before their uncle could scold them.

Uncle Louie turned his head so the cubs couldn’t see his smile. Training young cubs was his favorite activity. Of course, they didn’t know he was training them. To them it was all games and fun. He pretended not to notice as the two cubs went into a corner together to whisper. They were hatching another plan to try and trick their uncle. He wondered what new ideas they would come up with next.

Marco Meets Speedy

Marco Meets Speedy 

 

Marco was a little mouse who lived a hole at the base of an oaks tree by a small stream. He lived with his father and mother and two younger brothers.

Because Marco was the oldest, he was allowed to go outside the hole by himself if it was sunny outside. On this sunny day, Marco was being a little careless and didn’t stay as close to home as he was supposed to. In fact, he wandered as far as the little stream.

It wouldn’t seem like much of a stream to a human child, but Marco was a very small mouse, so it seemed quite deep to him.

When he heard the slither of snake scales on the sand, he knew he was in trouble. He looked behind, and sure enough, there was a snake coming straight at him. The snake was between him and his house so he couldn’t run home. And he didn’t know how to swim well.

The only thing he could do was climb in a bush and try to hide. The snake saw him, and started to climb the bush after him. Marco scrambled out onto the tiny branches, hoping the snake was too heavy to follow. But the snake kept coming.

Marco had no choice. He had to jump into the water.  He started to swim as soon as he hit the water. He heard the snake land in the water behind him. The snake was swimming after Marco.

Suddenly Marco felt something come up under him and lift him out of the water. He felt a bump and rolled onto the shore near his house.

“Run,” a voice said, and he jumped up and ran home as fast as he could. He turned around once to see if the snake was still chasing him, but only saw a strange rock on the shore.

He was afraid  if he told his parents, they wouldn’t let him play outside again. So he didn’t tell anyone what happened.

The next day he went out to the creek again. He wanted to find who saved him. This time he was more careful and kept watching for snakes or large frogs.

All he saw was the strange rock. He was looking into the water when he heard the voice that helped him the day before.

“Hi. No snakes today. That’s good”

Marco jumped and looked all around. “Who’s that?”

“It’s me, Speedy.” Said the voice. Then the most marvelous thing happened. A small head came out of the rock. “I’m a turtle.”

Marco was amazed. “I thought you were a rock.”

“That’s a pretty good trick, huh?” Said the turtle. “And when I crawl into my shell and close it, I am like a rock, and the predators can’t eat me.”

Marco walked around the turtle and looked at him carefully.” Your name is Speedy? I guess that means you move fast.”

“Very fast.” Agreed the little turtle. “Watch me.” He stuck out four short legs. They seemed barely able to lift his heavy shell. He took one step and then another. His shell was so heavy that he could barely walk. He galumphed instead.

Marco wanted to laugh at the little turtle, but he remembered that Speedy saved him from the snake the day before. He was secretly proud of how fast and graceful his movements were compared to the heavy, clumsy turtle.

The little turtle had walked in a small circle so he was facing the water again. “Here I go.” Speedy said, and he pushed off into the stream.

It seemed to take hardly a minute and the turtle stuck his head out of the water on the other side of the stream. “See, I swim fast.!” Then his head went underwater and he was on the bank near Marco again.

“Wow,” said Marco. “That was fast.” He thought about how hard it had been for him to swim the day before. “I wish I could swim like that.”

“Oh, no. You move so fast on land, and I can’t do that. I wish I could run like you do.”

Marco secretly thought Speedy had the best deal because he could hide in his shell if a snake came. He thought it would be worth it to be clumsy and have to galumph on land if it meant he could have a shell and move so fast in the water.

They spent a lot of time together that summer. Speedy loved giving Marco rides in the water, and Marco would scratch the turtle where his feet wouldn’t reach. When Marco’s brothers left the nest, he introduced them to Speedy. The four of them played lots of games and were great friends forever.

Becky’s Birthday

Becky’s Birthday

Becky stomped into her bedroom and slammed the door.  She was the unluckiest person in the world. Today was her birthday, and no one remembered.  Besides that, she had forgotten to hand in her homework, and her teacher called home and told her stepmother.  So she came home to the news that she was in trouble, and had to go to her room to catch up on her school work.

It wasn’t fair!  She was eleven years old today, and no one cared.  It would have been different if her mother had still been alive.  She thought of earlier birthdays, of candles and balloons and presents and the special strawberry cake her mother made each year.  She choked back a sob, but she couldn’t stop the tears that escaped her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.  She threw her book pack on the floor and stretched herself on her bed and let the tears flow.

She hadn’t expected her family to celebrate her birthday before the weekend.  Her father was out of town on business until then, and she knew her stepmother would wait until he came back to have a party.  But she expected someone to wish her a happy birthday and maybe give her a small gift.

“You better have your homework done when I come up there!”  Her stepmother called out.

Becky sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes.  Her stepmother was okay, but she was strict.  Becky wanted to avoid more trouble until her father came home.  She moved over to her desk and pulled her homework out.

She heard the pounding of her brother’s feet running up the stairs.  He stopped long enough to bang several times on her door before going on.

“Dork- head!”  She shouted.

“Dung brain!” He shouted back.

Even he had forgotten her birthday. 

She was looking for her math book when she found the scrap of paper that had wrapped the package Sarah slipped her in class this morning.  She smiled a moment as she remembered hiding it from the teacher as she unwrapped it in her desk, revealing a bag of Skittles. She had managed to eat them, and even pass some to those sitting near her without getting caught.  Sarah had remembered her birthday.

She was finishing the last of her homework when she heard her stepmother calling her.  She went down to the kitchen, hoping to smell a cake baking.  All she could smell was the roast cooking for that night’s dinner.

“Becky, I’m afraid I have to ask you to feed the horses tonight.  I had to go to town and didn’t have time.”

“Why can’t Steve do it?”  She looked over at her younger brother.  He grinned and made a rude gesture.

“He’s not quite big enough to carry the grain bucket.  It will only take you a few moments.”

Becky grumbled to herself as she trudged out to the barn.  It irritated her to see her brother following her.  She turned around and yelled at him to get lost.  He just stuck his tongue out at her, and kept following.

The horses seemed excited to see her when she reached the barn.  In spite of her bad mood, she was glad to see them.  She got the bucket and filled it with grain.  Each horse got one measure of grain each day.  They greeted her with soft knickers and she stroked them and scratched behind their ears. 

She was getting ready to leave the barn when she heard her brother calling.

“Becky!  Come here.”

“Not today, Steve. I’m busy.”

“I’m stuck.  I need help.”

Becky sighed as she turned around to help him.  He must be in real trouble if he wasn’t calling her names.  “Where are you?”

“Down at the end in the empty stall.  My clothes are caught on a nail.”

Becky trudged past the horses to the empty stall they used when the goats had babies.  Why had her brother gone there?  The door must have closed behind him.  She opened the large door, then stepped into the stall.

“Surprise!”

“Surprise!”

“Happy Birthday!”

She was astounded to see the smiling faces of her friends from school.  Behind them was a decorated table with punch and a birthday cake.  A smaller table held presents.  Sarah ran up to her.

“Were you surprised, Becky?  We all kept the secret.”

“Wow!  I never suspected. You knew today? And you never told me?”  Becky’s heart filled with joy.  She looked up to see her stepmother, and she felt ashamed of how angry she had been earlier.

 “Happy Birthday, Becky.”  Her stepmother said.  “I have another surprise for you.”

 Becky heard the barn door open, and turned to see her father walking in the door.  “Daddy!  You’re home!”  She ran to him.  He wrapped his strong arms around her and lifted her off her feet, twirling her around.

 “I finished early, so I hurried home to be here in time for your party.”

 Becky had never had a party in a barn before, but it was the best birthday she’d ever had.

The Computer Expert

This story was printed in our local newspaper.

The Computer Expert

It was accepted by everyone at the bar that Lance was a computer expert. He had the latest technology, and all the latest programs installed. He bought only the best in virus protection. He used his computer for work and to play games. He could watch movies or TV or listen to music on his machine.

Lance understood terms some of us could barely pronounce. He could rattle off the specifications of his computer so fast no one could follow. He knew what temperature his chip ran at, and how fast his clock speed was. We all knew Lance was the master, and all of us admired him.

It was an honor when Lance started telling stories of how he designed his computer or fixed a problem. We all gathered in respectful silence. He would lecture like a teacher, and I never failed to learn something.

Then one day it happened. Pete, the owner of the bar came out of his office swearing. The computer wasn’t working. He wondered if Lance would look at it.

We filed into the office behind Lance, thrilled to finally see the master at work. I saw what was wrong immediately, but I had no intention of taking away from Lance’s glory. It was only right that he should get the credit for discovering the problem and fixing it.

Lance flicked the switch and nothing happened. He checked the power supply switch on the back. Still nothing. He detached the monitor, then reattached it. No change. Then he traced the power cord back to the power strip. He unplugged everything from the power strip and plugged each cord back carefully. He made sure the toggle on the power switch was on.

Lance was beginning to sweat now. He went to the back of the computer and made sure each cord was connected properly. When nothing he tried worked, he announced it was obviously something wrong inside the computer, and he called for a screwdriver. In spite of his vaunted abilities, he had missed the obvious.

I had watched his incompetence as long as I cared to. While everyone waited for Pete to bring a screwdriver, I walked over to the desk. I picked up the power strip and showed everyone how Pete’s chair had caught on it and unplugged it from the wall. I plugged it in and pressed the button. Lights flashed, the computer beeped, and words began flashing across the screen.

Lance is still considered a great computer expert, and we still enjoy gathering around him at the bar to listen to his stories. But now, if anyone needs their computer fixed, they call me.

Intruders in the Night

This incident really happened. My daughter was only about 7 ot 8 at the time.

Intruders in the Night

     Sometimes life takes us where we don’t want to be.  My husband’s disability did that to me.  His union had no nearby jobs, so he worked for a small contractor who was struggling to get by.  When my husband was injured, we discovered his new boss didn’t have him insured.  The contractor owned nothing and was on the verge of bankruptcy, so we didn’t bother to sue.

      We went from doing okay to barely scraping by.  My husband’s solution to this was to move to a property my mother had bought sight unseen. There he tried to support us by raising a garden and keeping goats and other small animals for meat.  We hoped that, combined with his Social Security would provide enough for us to raise our daughter.

      Suddenly we lived on an abandoned mercury mine in the middle of nowhere.  We were over twenty miles from the nearest town, and fifteen miles from the nearest power pole.  Seven miles of unbelievable dirt roads separated us from our nearest neighbor.

        Just driving to our house was an adventure.  The paved road ended five miles from town, along with everything else.  The dirt road that replaced it was filled with ruts and potholes.  You couldn’t drive more than twenty or thirty miles per hour. 

      Almost twenty miles out of town, the road to our house came off the main road.  First you needed to drive through the creek, then go three miles on a road so rocky and rugged that you stood a good chance of popping a tire if you went over five miles per hour. 

      A fire had gone through the area about ten years earlier, so either side of the road had four foot high brush stretching as far as the eye could see.  Then you came to our driveway.  After opening a gate, you found a nicer dirt road that wound and curved a mile down the mountainside to our house.  Long before you reached the house, you saw the mine.  It was a sandy open pit with piles of tailings, looking like an open wound in the earth.

      The soil was barren and our garden produced small misshapen things that looked nothing like what the seed catalog showed.  So my husband was glad when June came around each year and he could go work in a friend’s cherry orchard.  He came home with a wallet full of money and a few boxes of cherries for me to can.

      While he was gone, my daughter and I would stay busy trying to keep our pitiful garden alive, milking goats and making cheese.  At night, we would listen to drama on public radio while I washed dishes.

      One night, while washing the dishes, I looked up the road and saw light appear on the driveway.  I immediately assumed my husband had returned early, and had car trouble -a normal occurrence for our harsh road.  I ran outside, my eight year old daughter close behind. Sure enough, two flashlights were coming down the driveway, bobbing along as the people carrying them walked over the rough road.  My husband must have brought a friend home.

      I shouted a greeting and the lights went out.  I realized immediately this wasn’t my husband coming home, but strangers trying to reach our house unseen.

      I led my daughter back into the house where we quickly blew out the kerosene lamp.  We didn’t want the strangers to find the cabin too easily, or to be able to see inside.  A full moon lit the landscape and the silvery glow spilled in the windows, giving me plenty of light to see the scared eyes of my child.  I was as scared as she was, but I was the only one there to protect her. 

     I made her hide while I got the shotgun off the wall.  It was always kept loaded for emergencies like this, so I didn’t need to waste time searching for shells.  I left the radio on to keep my daughter company.

     “I’m going to scare them off.”  I told her.  Then I slipped out into the night.

       The full moon gave too much light.  I would be an easy target.  I did my best to stay in the shadows, not an easy task, since there were so few trees. I tried to move randomly, in a ragged pattern so I wouldn’t look human in the pale light.   The strangers had been about a third of a mile from the house when they doused their lights.  I figured they were moving carefully now.  A small clump of trees about a tenth of a mile from the house would give me the cover I needed, so I crept quietly until I reached the concealing shadows. 

     I had a good view and I was well hidden.  I knew the steep walls of the mountains that surrounded the little glen that held our house would echo and disguise the source of my voice.  My heart was pounding in my ears, and my throat was dry.  I had to work up some saliva so I could shout.

     “Who’s there?”  I shouted.  No answer.  “I know you are there. Answer me or I’ll shoot!”  Only silence.  At that point, the part of my mind that questions everything I do asked me if I really saw flashlights, or if my mind was playing tricks.  I thought it over a few seconds.  Those were definitely flashlights I saw.  I shouted again, pretending my husband was out in the dark with me.  “Jay, do you see them?”

     I took careful aim at a pinecone silhouetted near the top of a nearby tree.  I was taking no chances on injuring someone this far from medical help.  “Last chance!”  I shot at the pinecone and missed.  The sound of the gun echoed in the small valley.  I immediately turned and shot at the top of another tree.  The sound echoed from a completely different direction.  I knew from experience that the shape of the surrounding mountains would make the echoes sound like the shots were coming from two separate directions.  The trespassers would think my husband was shooting with me. 

       I waited in the shadows, watching for about twenty minutes.  When I was certain the intruders were gone, I returned to the house to comfort my daughter and relight our kerosene lamp.  I made her sleep with me that night. My husband came home three days later.

       It was four months before I learned what happened that night.  Some people from a government agency wanted to run some tests on the old mine.  Concerned that we might not be eager to have the tests done, they decide to come at night to take their samples. They left their truck at our gate, and walked down our road.   My attempts to scare them were effective, because in their report, they declared there wasn’t enough money in the world to get them to go back to our property.  Their report crossed the desk of someone who grew up in my mother’s neighborhood, and he recognized the name.  He contacted her, and she acquired the samples for them.

 ~

      The funny part is that I was incredibly lonely living so far in the wilderness.  Anyone who came to the house during the day was given the royal welcome because I was so glad to have someone to talk to.  I only shot at people who were sneaking around in the dark.

Choosing a Dog

This story was fun to write.

Choosing a Dog

Penny glanced over her shoulder for one last look before she completed her purchase. She would have to live with this choice for ten or fifteen years, so she needed to make a wise selection.

Five adorable puppy faces watched her, their eyes shining and their tails wagging. All the puppies were pure black, but they would turn silver by the time they were six months old. They weren’t in a proper cage, but were in a corner of a room that had been blocked off with a toddler gate. All of them were at the gate now, standing on their hind legs with their front feet leaning against the gateway.

She appreciated the fact that the owner let her climb over the railing and sit in the enclosure where the puppies could reach her. She wanted to watch the dogs and interact with them before she made her decision.

Penny was pleased when the mother came over to her, asking for attention. That meant the babies were likely to be friendly when they grew up. The father had greeted her when she rang the doorbell, and he had been friendly as well. Penny was pretty confident she would choose a puppy from this litter after she saw the personality and health of the parents.

Penny had been around dogs all of her life. He mother bred Black Labs, and her childhood was filled with litters of puppies. She’d watched them being born, and held them while they were still blind and helpless. She never lost her joy at watching the eyes open. First she would see just a tiny slit, then the eyes would slowly open, staring at her with wide eyed wonder. Once the puppies could see, they would watch for her to come visit them. She loved to watch the sausage-shaped bodies as they tried to walk on legs that were almost too small to hold their fat little bellies off of the floor. As she grew older, her mother allowed her to feed them little bits of puppy food, getting them ready for the day their mother would wean them.

All too soon the day came that her mother would put the notice in the paper. Penny would hope and pray that one puppy would be left unwanted. She longed to have one that was just her dog instead of belonging to the whole family. But each time every puppy was bought.

Now she had a job and a house of her own, so she decided it was time to get a dog. She didn’t want a big dog, like the ones her mother raised. After careful though, she decided to get a small poodle that could sleep on her bed and learn tricks.

When Penny sat in the enclosure, she watched the puppies carefully. She didn’t want the shyest little one, or the runt. She needed a dog confident enough to be secure when she went to work. She didn’t want the first one to come out and greet her either. She was concerned it might be too aggressive.

One puppy pranced over and started nibbling at her fingers.

“Ouch! Too rough.” She said. She knew the dog could be trained to be gentler, but this dog was too adventurous. She picked it up and handed it to the owner, who put it in a box. Since all the puppies looked alike to her, she didn’t know any other way to know which dog was which.

All of them were looking at her now, so she reached over to pet them. One of them cringed and tried to back away. She carefully picked it up, and handed it to the owner. There were now four dogs to choose from.

One of them came over and grabbed her shoelace, growling as it tugged. Another one came over and tried to climb on her lap. She helped it up, and it climbed up to lick her face. One puppy came and tried to jump on the dog that was tugging on her lace. It couldn’t jump high enough, so it grabbed her other lace. She checked the sex of the dogs. She wanted a female, so she handed the two males over the toddler fence for the owner to put in the box with the other pups she’d rejected. She was left with the one that licked her face and one of the ones tugging her shoelace.

Watching them play, she was finding it hard to pick one. If she’d had the money, she would have gladly taken them both, but her budget wouldn’t allow that. She had to make a choice. She held one in each hand and realized one was heavier than the other. If she was breeding, she would want the larger female. But she wasn’t planning on breeding dogs like her mother. She looked carefully at their feet. One of them grabbed her finger and tried to nurse. The soft feel of its mouth on her finger, the trust and love it showed made her decision for her. She stood up, holding her choice carefully while the owner returned the other puppies to the enclosure.

The puppy wriggled as she pulled out her money to pay.

“Have you chosen a name for her yet?”

Penny glanced over her shoulder for one last look at the rest of the litter. In her heart she was sure she’d made the right choice.

“Yes. I was planning on calling her Cuddles.”

That’s a cute name.” The owner said as she walked Penny to the door. “I’m sure Cuddles will make you happy.”

A warm glow filled Penny’s heart as she realized this dog was hers. She would be able to train it and watch it grow. She smiled at the previous owner as she hugged little Cuddles. “I know we’ll be very happy.”

A Day to Paint

This is a departure from my normal stories. It was nice to write about a person painting a picture and the thoughts that went through her head.

 

A Day to Paint

Marnie was excited. She had the whole afternoon off. That gave her time to paint the dead tree in the empty lot across from her house. The owner of the lot was bringing bulldozers next Monday to clear the area for a new office building. She regretted the loss of the picturesque tree, but it would be good to see that trashy lot cleaned and turned into an attractive building.

It took only a few minutes to set up her easel and oil paints, and start working. She began by painting a quick green background that suggested thick forest. The large tree sprouted long before people built the city. The beauty of the tree deserved a beautiful background instead of the garbage that surrounded it

Marnie knew people like that. You could almost see the wild countryside when you were with them, even though they lived in a tiny city apartment. It was like the harsh city life couldn’t erase the wholesomeness of their spirits.

She took her knife and placed thick layers of paint to show the shape and colors of the tree. Passing people were starting to watch her work now, and they could recognize the tree on her canvas. The shape and color were what everyone saw. Most people looked no further, just a quick glimpse. She had friends who knew her the same way. They knew enough to recognize her, but never looked for the details that revealed her soul.

She took her brush and started working in the details that told of the tree’s life, the secrets that defined its essence. Near the top was a large hollow that would have been perfect for an owl or squirrel to nest in. White streaks down the side of the tree near the hole showed that a bird nested in that hole last spring.

Closer to the ground a branch was broken, its splintered end hanging, still attached to the main trunk. The storm that broke it proved too weak to tear it completely away. She thought of the storms she’d gone through with her children. Difficulties tore at her relationships, but like the tree with its branch, were never able to completely severe them.

Further down she saw where a couple had carved their names–Samuel and Beth. She remembered when she and her husband carved their initials in a tree, many years before. She wondered how long ago these names had been carved. Was it before they built the city, when the tree was part of the countryside?

She tried to imagine what it looked like when this was the edge of a small town instead of a run-down neighborhood of a city. Was it a lovely wooded area where lovers met? Or was the tree next to a road where the lovers wanted everyone who went by to see their names?

Barbed wire stuck out of the tree. Long before the city founders divided this area into blocks, the tree had been part of a fence. The tree grew around the wire so that years later, when the time came to tear the fence down, it couldn’t be removed from the tree. The worker cut it, leaving a tail to show where the wire entered the tree. Was the fence there to keep cattle from roaming, or did it once protect a family home?

Garbage was scattered around the tree, old tires and broken glass. Marnie painted attractive bushes to cover the unattractive area around the base of the tree. She wished she could cover the garbage in her life that easily. She realized she had her own ways of hiding the unattractive parts of her life.

She went to the background and detailed a few of the trees to represent the woods that once grew here. She wondered if the trees had died off gradually or if someone had cut them all at once. That was like life, too. Sometimes friends left your life one or two at a time. When you moved, you lost them all at once.

She sketched in a large office building behind the old tree and off to the side. The eventual fate, Bulldozers would knock it down to make room for that building. The picture encompassed the woods of its birth and the end of its existence. Did trees worry about their eternal fate the way people did? Would the tree see the building as a good end or a bad one?

She looked at the finished picture. She liked how it showed the beauty and essence of the old tree and its fortunes. Would her destiny be like the tree’s fate? Would she lose friends slowly? Would she be a vision of strength, encouraging others not to lose hope? Would she outlive everyone she knew and stand alone, waiting for the future to roll over her? She knew the tree’s end. Hers was still unknown.