Quiet Morning



Saturday morning and sunny, but where is everybody? As I pass the new and used car lots with their acres of multicolored chunks of metal, I hear disembodied, loudspeaker voices relaying directives to invisible employees. All the lots seem abandoned. The blandishments to purchase are all but obscured behind the misted windscreens. All except for one poor van, that is. Banished to the far corner of a lot, for what misbehavior one can scarcely imagine, she makes a plea for help to escape with a large sign crying ‘Rent Me’ in her windscreen. But I can’t oblige.

At last I see another person. A woman in a dark red jacket and cap is jogging with small steps on the opposite side of the road. Attached by leads were two Yorkshire terriers dressed in matching red jackets with blue trim. One was running in front and the other was following the jogger. Their legs were just a blur below the fringes of hair hanging below their coats as they kept pace with their mistress.

Past the pet store with their robo-doors opening to let cool fresh air in and warm pet-smelling air out, I reach my goal, the bookstore. The shop was busy as I picked up my latte, but as I sat down, the place emptied. Strange, the soles of my shoes were clean, I checked. Then my glasses broke and I had to stop writing.


Larry and the Bear  cont’d.
6
Blue Falls, July 28

Moira and Bill were up early and taking the opportunity to finish their packing while Larry was still asleep. They then turned to wrapping his birthday presents. The two picture books were easy to wrap but Bill was struggling with the Buzz Lightyear toy.
         “Haven’t we any thicker paper,” he asked Moira, “this stuff keeps tearing?”
          “No, that’s all we’ve got. Take Buzz out of the packaging, that’ll make it easier. I must say, I’ll be glad to see the back of that scrungy old bear that he keeps dragging about. He’s too old to be carrying a bear around!” She turned back to wrapping up the Erector Set they had got him along with the Lego pirates ship. A few more minutes and everything was ready,
        “I’ll go wake him, can you help carry in his presents?” said Moira and they went quietly into Larry’s room.

They stared at the empty bed, looked at each other and Bill said
            “I didn’t hear him get up, is he in the kitchen?”
Moira went over to the bed and put her hand under the covers; the bed was cold,
            “He’s been up some time, his bed’s not warm.” She hurried to the kitchen, followed by Bill. Bill rushed out to check the garage and garden while Moira checked the house, looking under beds and behind the couch in case he was playing some game. Her puzzlement turned to anger and then to anxiety. She and Bill met back in the kitchen,
            “No sign out there,” he said, struggling to keep calm.
            “Not anywhere in the house.” Moira was getting breathless as the panic started to take over. “Call 911, somebody might have grabbed him.”
            “Stay calm, he’s probably playing in the wood across the road, I’ll check that out,” and Bill was out of the door as he finished speaking.
Moira stood at the door and watched Bill as he ran across the road and into the wood. She could hear him calling at first and then the sound got fainter as he got deeper into the wood. She sat on the step with her arms wrapped tight round, hugging herself and started to cry.

Bill came back fifteen minutes later, extremely anxious and out of breath,
            “No sign, I’ll call 911, something’s happened.”

Blue Falls was only a small community and boasted two officers, Police Chief George Kennedy and P.O. Walt Robinson. Both were on the Pritchard’s doorstep five minutes after Bill’s call. They made notes as Bill, with his arm around Moira to comfort her, explained that Larry had just disappeared and that they hadn’t heard anything. They had searched the house and he had been over to the woods and shouted and searched there.
           “Any sign of a break-in?” asked George.
           “No.” said Bill, “Nothing strange at all.”
           “Anything missing?”
           “We didn’t notice anything, I’ll go and look again,” said Moira and went off to the boy’s bedroom. She was back almost immediately, “His ratty old bear and his backpack are gone.”
           “What color pack?” asked Walt as he made notes.
           “It was supposed to look like a monkey, you know, the straps looked like arms and its legs and tail dangled from the back. Its sort of brownish,” said Bill and Moira buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.
           “Okay, we’ll get the call out,” said George, “try not to worry, I’m sure we’ll find him pretty damn quick. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything at all. You’ve got my number, call me if you hear anything or if you just want to talk. We’re not going to let anything bad happen to our kids around here.” He nodded his head at Walt as a signal to get moving and left with “now don’t you worry Mrs. Pritchard, we’ll find him.”

The rest of the day Bill and Moira sat around their living room, not daring to get far away from the phone but wanting to go out and look or do something, ANYTHING. They were in limbo in their room like two figures in a snow globe, just waiting, waiting, waiting….
TBC

Last Bus


The last bus out of town is my usual Thursday night ride. It is usually quiet with only two or three people on it, hurrying to be home and tucked up at a proper hour. Not last night though. The bus was crowded with young people wrapped up against the chill night, many with woolly Peruvian hats with earflaps with braided ties, and the noise level was reminiscent of a school bus out on a field trip. Not at all what the staid traveler has become used to.

Had there been a time shift, or had I just been asleep when the local demographic had changed? But nothing as exciting as that had occurred; there had been no wormhole between the college door and the bus station that I had inadvertently stepped through into a parallel universe. Well not exactly, but almost. A few stops before mine, the bus emptied outside the local cinema. The line to the box office stretched out of the Mall and a hundred yards around the building. The new Harry Potter movie was opening. My universe was safe after all.


Larry and the Bear cont’d

5
Green Ore, July 28

Kevin was working on his latest wall hanging, working a flat pebble into the weave of green and blue wool threads when Suzie came in with a gallon of milk and a straggly monkey in her left hand, leading a strange boy with her right. Nothing ever seemed to faze Kevin and after a quick glance over his left shoulder, he turned back to his problem with the pebble and said
         “Hi love, who’s your new friend? Babysitting or a pick-up?”
         “Neither, I found him in the car when I came out of the store.”
That got Kevin’s attention, he swung round on his stool and  came over to sit cross-legged in front of the boy.
       “Hi, I’m Kevin, what’s your name, and what’s the name of your bear?” and Kevin held out his hand and waited for it to be shaken. He got no response to his hand and only,
           “His name’s Snuggie.”
         “That’s nice,” and Kevin gravely shook Snuggie’s paw, “but I need to call you something too.”
The boy began to feel panic, he wasn’t going to tell them that he was Larry Pritchard as then he would be off to the Johnson’s. After a moment he said
         “John, my name’s John.”
        “Okay John, its nice to meet you. Do you have a family name?” but all he got from 'John' was a shaking of the head as he pulled away, backing into Suzie.

While Kevin had been charming 'John', Suzie had checked out the backpack and pulled out the juice boxes, the pack of Poptarts and the scrunched up mass of brownies, and she put all of these on the kitchen table. She spotted the clean clothes and took 'John’s' hand again saying
        “I’m just going to help John get washed. While we’re gone, can you make breakfast, please. How about scrambled egg and toast?” and they left Kevin on the floor with his instructions.

There were two rounds of toast ready and the eggs halfway done by the time that John and Suzie returned. A large glass of milk was poured and placed on the table with John  enthroned in front of it after two cushions had been placed on the chair.

Suzie went over to give Kevin a hand and said quietly
     “What’re we going to do? He’s not from round here, I haven’t seen him before and how did he get in the car?”
       “I don’t know love, we’ll just have to see. We can’t get the police coming in until we’ve got the weed harvest in and distributed. He’s quiet; he doesn’t look like he’s going to be any trouble. We can keep him for a few days, at least he won’t scratch the furniture like that cat you tried to rescue last month.” At this point he shared out the scrambled eggs and Suzie carried two plates across to the table,
      “Hey John, would you like to come out with me and feed the chickens after breakfast? We can see if they’ve laid some more eggs.”
         “Yes please.” And ‘John’ got stuck into breakfast.

       TBC

Morning Walk



Brisk walk this morning as there was bright sun giving the lie to all the predictions of rain, but that may come later. The cormorants were drying their wings as usual. The egret and heron took to the air from opposite sides of the road and changed places. The fishing looked poor this morning as the water was murky from the influx of water with the recent rain.

No signs on our ‘bridge to nowhere’ today so it now appears to be open. There were red holiday lights illuminating the outline last night and the stores are starting to set up Holiday Displays hurrying the end of the year to us, at a rush. On returning home, I was greeted with a puff of scented air set off by the motion sensor on the air freshener; not as great a welcome as one would get with a dog, but a welcome nevertheless.




Larry and the Bear cont'd

4
Arrival

Seventy miles down the highway, Kevin turned off along a narrow side road and then onto a track. With a scrunching of tires on the gravel track, the Corolla pulled up in front of a small shack settled back a little way in the trees and just a short walk to the river. Kevin and Suzie got out and went into the house while the boy turned over and drifted back into a deep sleep. 

Kevin and Suzie had moved to Green Ore six months ago from the town of Bruston after Kevin’s grandfather left him a small annuity and a little cash to help his career as a fiber artist. His wall hangings, made on a two foot folding hand loom, only provide a small income and the annuity enabled them to move into the country and allowed Kevin to concentrate on his art. At twenty-four, he looks the part of an emerging artist; a willowy five feet ten with long dark brown hair, a straggly beard and wearing a loose dark blue jumper knitted by Suzie on 10 gauge needles. Suzie is a full six inches shorter, slim with long fair hair and a love of colorful long dresses made out of coarse weave cloth. Unlike Kevin who was an only child, she has four younger brothers whom she hasn’t seen for the past two years and, at nineteen, is happy keeping house, looking after the four chickens penned in the yard and Kevin, mostly in that order.

By any standards, Green Ore was small, consisting of a store, a gas station and a bar located on the highway and half a dozen properties scattered around. There had been the start of a mine there once but the deposit ran out not long after the mine was built, and now it’s only reason for existence is the highway and the travelers that stop for gas or some food. There was not a great deal of excitement in Green Ore these days.

Slowly the sun forced back the night shadows, but the car was well shaded by the trees and the boy still slept. Suzie climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine and winding down the window,
“Be back in a minute with the milk, is there anything else you need, love?”
“No, just milk. See you in a minute,” and Kevin went back in as Suzie pulled out of the track.

The boy was awake now and keeping silent with panic building as he had no idea where he was or who was driving. He stayed as low and in as tight a ball as he could, hugging Snuggie and wishing for it to stop. The car turned left and stopped. The driver’s door opened and then shut with a whumpf that sounded final. He lay there for a few minutes until he thought it was safe and then slowly got up and peered out of the window. Yes, it looked safe, no one was about and he tried the door – still locked. He tried the door on the other side, that too was locked. The only way out seemed to be over the seats and try the front door. He put on his monkey pack and tried to climb over the seat but his pack kept getting hung up on the broken light fixture and then Suzie came back carrying a gallon of milk.

She saw him on the back seat, and opening the passenger door said
“Well, who are you and what are you doing in there?”
He said nothing as he stood still on the back seat staring at this complete stranger. He was too frightened to speak and just stared back at Suzie with eyes wide and tears just starting to run down his cheeks. The patch of dark blue spreading from the middle of his pale blue pants and down the left leg caught Suzie’s attention and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor little guy.
“Well I haven’t seen you around here before. Let’s get you home and into some dry clothes and we’ll make everything alright.”  He still hadn’t moved so she tried “Do you have a name?” and this time he just shook his head.
“That’s a nice bear, what’s his name? Can I shake his paw?” and this got a response as he held the bear a few inches in her direction and said quietly
“His name’s Snuggie and he’s my bear.”

             TBC


Writing or Acting

The process of writing fiction has all the craft techniques in common with writing in general such as books on travel, history or technical books for most disciplines. The creative process of fiction writing seems to have more in common with acting than most of the other creative arts such as painting or sculpture for example.

This came as a surprise as I had envisaged acting as a more reactive activity being dependent on the written word as a starting point. However, the process of getting into character is just that which the author has to do if the fiction is going to flow onto the page. This is surely why writer’s can easily lose control of their characters and, sometimes must follow where the character demands to go.

It is easy to tell when ‘the magic’ is happening, you get into the characters head and see and hear what they seeing and hearing, but you can only listen to what they are saying. You know that if you are ‘into character’, the revision process will be much more extensive. Here an author has an advantage over an actor; the revisions by an author are finished in private but an actor will often be working on the fly at each performance.



Larry and the Bear cont’d.
3
The Wood

As he got to the trees he paused and looked back, there were no lights so he could get a drink at last. The first juice box was broached and his thirst quenched. He stuffed the spent box back into his monkey-pack, as he’d been taught not to litter, slung the pack on his shoulders and went down the path. The further in he went, the less he could see in the dappled moonlight. The shadows were bad, but the night noises were worse with the rustling of small mammals were transformed into noises from wolves or bears in his mind. The sudden hoot of an owl made him crouch by a tree, clutching the trunk and hoping whatever it was wouldn’t see him. When things seemed still enough to risk moving, he scrambled up and ran along the path, tripping and getting up, tripping and getting up until he saw that it was lighter ahead. He’d come to a track.

Panting but feeling a little safer, he looked along the track and saw an old Corolla sedan parked and no one was in it. None of the creatures stalking him in the woods could get in; he would be safe in there! He opened the rear door and looked in. The interior lights had stopped working long ago, but he could see some blankets between the front and back seat. As he climbed in, the door closed behind him with ‘whumpf’. For a moment he panicked and tried to open the door, but the child lock was on and he was stuck inside. He hugged Snuggie and told him,
“Don’t worry Snuggie we’ll find a way out in the morning, and we’ll be safe ‘till then.”
He put his monkey-pack on the floor for a pillow and covered himself with one of the blankets. As he lay there with his eyes tight shut and hugging his bear, the smell of the Brownies in his bag helped make him feel secure and he fell asleep.

At one o’clock Kevin Waites opened the driver’s door and got behind the wheel. He pulled his door shut as quietly as possible, as did Suzie King who had slipped into the passenger seat. Neither wanted to attract attention of anyone who might happen to be around. As Kevin started the engine and drove off, the boy woke up and hugged Snuggie tighter. He kept as quiet as possible not knowing what else to do.
“The weed will be ready to harvest in a couple of weeks,” said Kevin as he turned south along the highway.
“Yeah,” replied Suzie, “it will be good to get that finished and the buds distributed to our group of medical users. It’ll be a nice bit of cash!”
There was no more conversation for a while and the steady low engine noise, lulled the boy back to sleep leaving Snuggie on guard.

TBC

Anti-nodes


The route of my morning walk changed today as I scouted a new circular route taking in a stretch of riverbank. The change was opportune as today a series of life threads came together to produce an anti-node of unpredictability – I felt uncertainty at this point as to whether it should have been a node of predictability. However it is definitely the former, as the unpredicatibilties have all come together to reinforce each other and so maximize the effect.

It started with the weather forecast for today. Over the past five days it has changed from sun to rain, back to sun, then cloudy and this morning rain was forecast and outside it’s mostly cloudy. Then there was filling a prescription at the pharmacist who had filled the last one that I took in and now said that now it was impossible, so I took it to another pharmacist who filled it within an hour. Other minor things joined in the vendetta, culminating in my computer refusing to wake up when asked. It totally ignored all my blandishments until I finally got down on my knees and took hold of its surge protector; the little terror had eased the plug halfway out of the socket that it has been stuck in, untampered with for the past three and a half months! So clearly I had to make my morning walk fit the anti-node.


Larry and the Bear cont’d.
2
The Escape

All the Pritchards went to bed early; Bill and Moira had to start early next morning with their packing for the cruise, packing the boy’s stuff for the stay with the Johnsons (“and he’ll want all these toys” complained Moira) as well as getting things ready for his small birthday party before they took him to the Johnson’s.

The boy had been very quiet and had gone to bed without a murmur. Moira thought he must be eager to get to his birthday. But he had his plan prepared and as soon as the light was out, he climbed out of bed and pulled his backpack out of the closet. It was small and made to look like a monkey. He knew what he had to take; he packed a pair of socks, a shirt some underwear and another pair of pants just like he’d seen his Mom do when they went to stay at Grandpop’s last Christmas. He would wear his big coat, he decided, it had a big enough pocket to put Snuggie in. He got dressed and then went back to bed to wait, and he fell asleep.

He woke up feeling very hot and thirsty and pushed his bedclothes back. He could just see the face of his clock in the pale light. Mickey’s hands were both straight up above his head and that told him it was very late. Everything was quiet in the house when he opened his bedroom door, so holding Snuggie close he dragged his backpack and his coat down the stairs and into the kitchen. When he opened the ‘fridge, he saw a box of ‘Poptarts’ as well as the plate of Brownies. The Brownies were covered in ‘Clingfilm’, so he used that to wrap them in and then put them in his pack along with the “Poptarts’. Before he closed the door, he saw some individual juice boxes and filled up his pack with three of those. They were all blackcurrant, his favorite. He was very thirsty now but he knew that he would have to wait to have one until he’d escaped to the wood. He closed the door quietly and put on his coat and monkey-pack, and then slowly unlocked the backdoor and crept out closing it quietly behind him.

The edge of the woods was across the road and over a hundred yard stretch of grass and the boy reached the cover of the trees in just two minutes. This was public land and the trees were not dense here, and the underbrush was kept cleared to minimize any fire hazard to the houses in this small community of Blue Falls. The animal tracks through the trees made walking easy and some of the tracks had morphed into paths by the habitual use of the local dog owners. 
                                                                                                                                                      TBC