The Clown Without His Make-up
Category: Writing and Poetry

             The Clown Without His Make-up

 I remember the sweet aromas of peanuts and popcorn like it was yesterday.  Do you hear that? Listen......That's the children clapping and cheering, from days gone by.  These memories will be forever burned in my mind.  I remember their smiles, some toothles and some not.  It was the same as when I was a child, my mom and dad on a crisp fall day would take me to the big top.  We used to sit up in the stands while the clowns were entertaining us.  I loved the clowns, their big puffy red hair and big floppy shoes was something I would never forget.  I liked clowns so much that I too became a clown.  I don't understand why these memories of my life are starting to fade? Why would something like that, start to become a shadow from the past?  Now here I am, in bed; just a clown without his make-up.  I have no family by my bedside, my mother and father passed on years ago, and my only friends were from the circus.  They were clowns, just as I, except they removed there make-up many years ago. "It's not time to remove mine!" "My life as a clown can not end!"  "I'm too scared and not ready to take it off!"!  "I still remember the circus as if it was yesterday!"  They say the show isn't over till the fat lady sings.  "She's not sung her last song yet....  "JUST LISTEN!"

6:55 PM - 6 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

The Lonely Man
Category: Writing and Poetry

The lonely Man

The day started out like any other.  The alarm goes off at five, I get out of bed, start my water boiling for tea, then take a quick shower; so I can be at the flower shop for 6:00.   I am a simple man, I've spent my whole life living in the same old town, except things are different now, all of my friends are now deceased; but being eighty years old it's not that uncommon.  My wife of fifty wonderful years died a year ago today, so the pain of having no one makes it far more worse.  Not only did we go back fifty wonderful years of marriage, but we were childhood friends as well.  I remember the first time I saw her; she was with her parents at church Easter morning, back in 1935.  She was sitting in a pew directly to the left of me.  Father John was talking about the resurrection of Jesus or something to that affect; she was so beautiful I couldn't take my eyes off of her.  At the end of the sermon father John stopped my parents.

"Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Whitiger." My parents spoke "Good morning Father." My mother continued on "What a wonderful sermon Father.  "Thank you Mrs.  Whitiger," he replied.  Father John then looked at me "Your kind of quiet Charlie, tell me did a cat get your tongue," as he tapped his finger on my cap. My parents laughed.  Father John then looked over his shoulder and then stepped away, "excuse me for one moment I'd like to introduce you to some people, my parents replied "We'll wait over here on the side father" "Thank You, be right back" father john then stepped away. 

My parents started talking amongst themselves while I watched father john walk down to the couple where the girl that I saw were sitting.  Father John then leaned over the pew and started talking to them.  He then motioned with his hand to come follow him to where we were standing.  I turned away so they wouldn't think that I was watching every move they make.

 "Thank you for waiting," father John said to us; he continued on, while he put his hand on the other couples shoulders. "Mr. and Mrs. Whitiger I would like to introduce you to new members of our town and parish.  This is Tom Kennan and his lovely wife Beth and his daughter Marybeth;" my parents put out there hands with a friendly gesture. "It's a pleasure to meet you."  The Kennan's extended the same gesture. Father John continued on while looking at Beth Kennan, he then turned his glance to my mother with a big proud smile "Mrs. Whitiger here teaches the Sunday Choir, and from what I've heard," he then looked at Mrs. Kennan with that same smile, Mrs. Kennan, "you did the same at your parish?" Mrs. Kennan spoke, acting very surprised father John knew that, "why….yes….I…..did; father." Father John Chuckled. "Father Murphy from your old church called me and told me that he was losing a member of his church,"  someone with a voice of an angel" You can tell by the look on Mrs. Kennan's face she was utterly embarrassed yet flattered.  Father John continued talking, "I would be honored Mrs. Keenan if you sang with us," he then looked at my mother, "of course if Mrs. Whitiger doesn't mind."  My mom replied "of course not.  Welcome to the choir." Both ladies started walking together out of the church doors while talking, my mom stopped and turned around and winked, "Charlie would you be a dear and show Marybeth around, Mrs. Kennan and I need to go over a few things before next weekend, "but mom, "CHARLIE" ….she gave me a stern look, I mumbled quietly "OK." I kept my head down and motioned with my hands to Marybeth, "come on, ummmm." at that moment I forgot her name, she replied.  "It's Mary" she said with a big bright smile.  I quietly replied "Let's go out to the playground.  I kept my head down as we walked outside.  She stopped me, "Charlie, I saw you looking at me through-out the whole mass.  I replied back with my head down "Yea so."  She then put her fingers up under my chin and lifted my head up so we were eye level, "what's stopping you now." Like spring flowers; that day was the start of a blossoming friendship.

The steam pot started to whistle and the reminiscence of Marybeth and I walking out the church door that morning started to fade. I then added the hot water to the tea and started to stir in the honey.   The circle like movement of the liquid in the cup made me reflect of the time when Marybeth and I were at the playground on the merry go round.  The circle like movement was very exhilarating, as I glanced over at Marybeth I noticed her long dark curly hair blowing ever so gently in the wind like a flower petal in a breeze, I also noticed her porcelain like complexion glowing in the sunlight.  The feelings I had for her seemed uncommon for a ten year old boy. I should be concentrating more so on guy friends and how throwing worms at the girls would be more fun.  Then again your average ten year old boy doesn't have best friend who's a girl, regardless of the reasons I could not see myself without her.  She was my best friend and that's never going to change.  The merry go-round started to slowdown and it seemed as if the whole world was slowing down with it.  We were lying on our backs on the floor of the merry go-round our heads were next to each other and our eyes were facing the sky.  It was such a beautiful day on both levels.

"Charlie" Marybeth said "do you believe in god?" I responded as if it was a pop quiz for unstudied material.  "I guess I do; Father John said he exists. The bible says he exists.  Why would the bible lie? "I suppose," she replied back.  "Do you remember the first day we met in church, father john was talking about the resurrection of Jesus?" "I guess," I replied not having a clue what she was talking about.  She then sat straight up with a smile.  "CHARLIE WHITIGER you have no idea what Father John said that day do you?" I then sat up "I remember, sort of… he was talking about life after death.  Jesus' life after he was removed from the cross."  Marybeth then spoke "Do you believe in life after death? I replied "I hope there is an existence after we die" "Me too", she said.  I would hate that once we die we would never be friends again. "That's never going to happen" I said as I gave her a big hug.  She then pushed me away gently and got up off of the merry go round.  "When we die and we DO comeback" she slowly started to walk away with a devilish smirk upon her face, "ARE YOU GOING TO GOO GOO EYE ME IN CHURCH AGAIN AND THEN BE AFRAID TO TALK TO ME!?"  She started to laugh and then run.  I yelled back "I DID NOT GOO GOO EYE YOU! I started to chase after her but she had such a head start I couldn't catch her.  As she was running I heard her yelling "GOO GOO EYE CHARLIE, GOO GOO EYE CHARLIE" I started yelling back to her YOU JUST WAIT TILL I CATCH YOU MARYBETH!" After I finally caught up with her I realized that I chased her about a hundred yards into a nearby forest.  After stopping I reached out and held her hand; "Look Charlie" as she was pointing to the left of us with the opposite hand "LOOK, at the fog", "We better turn back," I said to her. "It's easy to get lost in these woods" We both turned around and headed back in the same direction we came in from.  Marybeth started talking.  "Do you know what me and my friends back home used to do when the fog rolled in?"  She continued, "The person who sees the fog first waits for the perfect moment and the yells "PIRATES" she then let go of my hand and started running.  I couldn't help but to join in with the fun, "WE BETER GET BACK TO THE SHIP" as we ran out of the forest back to the merry go-round.

The memories from that day were like never ending echo in a vast cavern, before my wife passed away I remember numerous times that we talked about it.  It was definitely one of the most wonderful days of our whole life together.  I quickly looked at my watch "ohh my god it's running late I need to get to the flower shop; the rise and shine customers we'll be waiting at the door." I quickly tied my shoes and hurried out into the cool damp air.  I couldn't help but notice that it was unusually quiet this morning.  There were no cars driving by my house, which is unusual, being on a main road and I also didn't see the morning joggers, even the birds were silent, it's as if the whole world stopped leaving me behind, as I fumbled with my car keys I noticed off in the distance a fog bank creeping along the ground towards me in a nearby field. I carefully hurried to the car; as I unlocked the door I lost my footing and slipped on an ice patch banging my head on the pavement.  After a few moments of excruciating pain I managed to pull myself up off of the ground and make my way into the car, by then the fog was upon me I then shut the door leaving the fog outside.  As I adjusted my car seat I noticed in the rear view mirror a small silhouette running out of the fog towards me, I then heard the muffled sounds of a screaming child yelling THE PIRATES ARE COMING THE PIRATES ARE COMING. I opened the car door and stepped out into the cool damp air once again, but this time I was watching my footing more carefully.  I ran up to the little girl and spoke to her "Do you know what time it young lady?" she replied "It's time to RUN TO THE SHIP. Ignoring what she said, I continued speaking to her, "sweetie your parents must be worried sick about you, what is your name? The little girl replied, "You know my name". I continued on "sorry sweetie I don't" She giggled and replied "that's because you were too busy goo goo eyeing me during mass.  My knees gave out and my heart seemed to stop, a tear came rolling out of my eyes and onto my cheek, I started to weep "oh my god," Marybeth. I cupped my hands onto my face.  She replied with a happy tone to her voice "Charlie, you did listen." She reached out her hand and grabbed mine "now lets' get back to the ship before the pirates get us" I reached my hand out to hers and when I grabbed it my elderly hands disappeared and took on the form of a child's and everything in my elderly years disappeared around me before my eyes only to be replaced by the forest "Marybeth where are we going?" She replied "were going home Charlie" "you don't want to be lost in the forest in the fog, do you? After a few minutes of walking we came to the playground that we ran from almost seventy years ago.  We then climbed up onto the monkey bars to watch the sunset.  I looked at Marybeth and started to cry, she turned and looked at me, "why the tears Charlie?" I then started to cry uncontrollably not worrying about holding back any tears.  I then started repeating myself, "I was so alone, I was so alone," "I was so;" she stopped me in mid sentence. "SHHHHH" she said as she put her fingers on my lips, "you're not going to be alone again" she said in a calm loving voice.  "This is just the beginning; we'll now be together forever". She then put her arms tightly around me and rested her head on my shoulders and all the pain of loneliness vanished with the sun set.

7:14 AM - 12 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

The Phone Call
Category: Writing and Poetry

RING……..RING…….RING! Who the fuck is calling at this hour, I said to myself.  I quickly hurried up the stairs from the basement to answer the phone, almost tripping over the rugs which lay at the top.  Just as I was about to reach for the phone the ringing stopped.  

SHIT!!  Oh well it can't be that important,  

 I started to turn and head back downstairs when the ringing started again.  I quickly grabbed the receiver "Hello"?  There is nothing but silence on the other end but the soft breathing told me differently,  "Hello, who is this?" asking with an irritated tone.  Finally an older weak voice on the other end responded softly "Hi Dean can you help me move something upstairs.   I dropped the phone immediately and started shaking; the voice on the other end was my elderly neighbor.  He died a year ago today.

The Phone Call

This isn't funny, I yelled to the phone! 

Once again the voice responded "can you help me move something upstairs? This time the voice sound more haunting than earthbound.   I slammed the phone on the hook almost breaking the stand, and quickly passed the call off as a sick demented joke.  I laughed too myself as I headed downstairs, Ring……..Ring……..Ring………Ring……….The answering machine picked up with a familiar recording.  "You've reached Dean; sorry I can't come to the phone but please leave a message……beeeeeeeeeeep". "Can you help me move something upstairs," all of a sudden there was an inhuman cackle off laughter on the recording.

"I trusted you!!!!!! "the voice yelled

The answering machine stopped cutting off the hideous laughter. I quickly ran to my garage which was connected to the basement, and from the garage window you can see the old house from where this call was supposedly coming from.   As I slowly peeked around the window to look at the old abandoned home.  The feeling of old leathered hands started rubbing my neck followed by the stench of rotting flesh.  I slowly started to turn my head to see who or what was behind me.  The dead face met me half way.  YOU DID THISSSSSSS!

I woke up startled in bed.  Only a nightmare I said to myself, a vivid realistic nightmare.  After breakfast I hurried down to the basement to look at the coins I acquired from the old guy a year ago, but before I rounded the corner I stopped dead in my tracks because on the floor before me was foot prints in the saw dust.  I then heard the faint echo of laughter, and heard the whipering words "tonight is your night".

8:27 PM - 6 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Torn and Tattered Tracks (reworked)
Category: Writing and Poetry

Torn and Tattered Tracks

  As I walk these torn and tattered tracks I imagine a time of days forgotten. I imagine towns folk walking to church on a cold winters day as the train passes them by. I imagine everyone waving to each other with a big smile. If they are strangers, they'll soon be friends 

 Off in the distance I saw a town store which is frequently visited by the locals.  I imagined the store with long wooden floorboards and a few shelves up against the wall; on it is flour, spices and some cast iron utensils.  On the opposite side of the wall I imagined jars of wonderful colored candies' nestled high up on the shelf, I can almost smell the sweet scent of licorice, cluttered within.  The owner, a tall man greets customers at the counter.  He has graying thin hair and wired rim glasses.  The towns' folk know him as Mr. Bitterman. He always wears a white oversized apron and a big smile.

As I start to imagine other wonderful thoughts about this place, the unpleasant sound of a dirt bike passing me, brings me back to my time; as soon as the sound dissipates. The Torn and Tattered tracks from which I walk beckons me back.  This time it's Christmas, all the folks are gathered in an old barn.  They are singing Christmas Hymns and exchanging homemade gifts.  I imagined a group of children smiling and cicling Mr. Bitterman while he puts the star upon the Christmas Tree

A jogger passing me by rudelly bumped me on my shoulder, snapping me back into the present time.  I yelled sorry to the jogger but the plugs from his IPod drowned out my apologies, after he rounded the corner and vanished into woods I stopped to take a breather.

As I was leaning against a tree regaining my breath, I noticed an old horseshoe rusted on the ground. I then stepped back in past  This time my imagination was putting me into a  Blacksmith's shop, before I went in, I heard the clanging of a heavy iron mallet upon an Anvil, and smelled smoldering hot coals in the forge. In the forge was a black medium sized horseshoe held by heavy tongs; the glowing of the red was slowly fading taking on the black wrought iron color.  I then noticed a fenced in mare through a soot covered window; perhaps the shoe is hers, 

being deep in thought I tripped over and old rubber tire snapping back into my time, as I got up and brushed the dirt from my pants I noticed and old tunnel up ahead.  I heard cars racing over the tunnel, "perhaps the interstate" I say myself.  I noticed graffiti spewed upon the tunnel walls left from "my time".  On the ground, under and Old Oak tree was smashed bottles littered about.  I suddenly became very depressed as I looked around, and immediately turned back down The Torn and Tattered Tracks, I would very much rather be, from the time those tracks were from.

6:43 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Memoirs of a Puppy

Memoirs of a Puppy

"What did I do to deserve this "I did everything I possibly could of done to make them love me?" "I greeted them by the door when they got home from a hard day's work."  "I ate my entire Din din like a good puppy" now here I am cold tired and very scared.

I thought of a time when I had a couch to sleep on and a blanket to cover myself up with, now my couch has been replaced with the cold damp earth and my blanket is a pile of fallen leaves

"What did I do so wrong to end up here outside in this cold world? I did everything right I thought. After thinking about the past I started to cry I Prayed that my Mommy and daddy would come get me" I started to pray

"Please forgive me I'm really sorry I made a mistake I promise from the bottom of my heart that it won't happen again."  "Please forgive me." The wind started to pick up followed by cold raindrops. I closed my tear filled eyes and went asleep and hoped that I would never wake up, that wish never came true because a few hours later the closing of a gate awoken me; but being curious I mustard up enough strength to follow the noise.  A few minutes of endless walking I came upon a clearing in the woods.  I cautiously poked my head from under a bush to investigate the sound and saw a tall man tinkering with his car.  He had long dark hair just barely touching his shoulder. The height of the man gave me an uneasy feeling but his face seemed kind enough for me to approach; also being on the other side of the gate made approaching him a lot easier, He took notice of me almost immediately.  He calmly spoke

"Come here pup" He then started to tap his knees quickly with the palm of his hand I carefully crawled to him in fear that once I'm within an arm's length he'll slap me in the face like my daddy used to do.  I started to shake uncontrollably.  He spoke once again

"Come here puppy  Don't be scared I won't hurt you."

   I moved a little closer.  There was silence from the man.  His hands than started to slowly move to his coat pocket and then pull out a cookie.  I grabbed it from immediately through the fence; I figured if he is going to hit me I would have at least had a meal.  I closed my eyes waiting for a slap on my face, but instead of a slap it was a caressing pat on my head.  The joy of his warm hands touching me made me forget of my horrible past, instead of feeling like a burden I felt like I was loved again. The man stepped away from the fence

I yelled to him, PLEASE DON"T GO! I won't grab food from your hands Like that again!  I PROMISE! I WANT TO BE LOVED AGAIN!  I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME? I want to have a warm couch and a warm blanket and be held and be told how much joy I bring.  PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! I'm cold and wet and hungry; before I finished the sentence, the gate opened up and the man knelt on his knees and called to me.

"Come here pup" "Everything is going to be OK" I have a home for you."  You'll have new sister and a mommy that will love you forever.  You'll have a warm blanket a warm couch and every night when we get home from work, we will hold you tightly to our chest because our hearts will beat as one.  The man stuck to his promise and now I'm here sitting with my big sister by my side and my new mommy and daddy are in the kitchen making something that smells good.  I'm not worried about not getting anything; they always make enough for me and my sister

So that's my story I went from being thrown out into the cold dark woods alone, to a home, with a big sister and a mommy and daddy that love me.  I have a warm couch and a new blanket and "I know" it's forever, because I made a mistake the other day and they still love me

Authors note:  This story is not just about out a puppy lost in the woods.  Please this holiday season don't forget the less fortunate.  Everyone needs a chance.  Until then I hope you have wonderful holiday. 

Dean M Jevons

9:41 PM - 6 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

The Coffin Bells
Category: Writing and Poetry

As I sit watching, waiting, listening for the bells the dead may ring. This time of year is always the worse. I'm a caretaker by day a watchman by night. Sleepless nights I do remember armed with a shovel and my prayers, its All Hallows Eve a night where the dead don't rest; "a night I don't rest."

One particular Hallows Eve I'll never forget, the year was October 31 1712; I was working that night at the ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Grounds Hill Cemetery, in my hometown, it was high on a cliff overlooking Dublin Bay. I remember the fog lifting off the ocean and crawling up the side of a cliff; like Ivy upon a castle wall. Its rolling wave like motion is covering the cemetery floor blanketing me in a sheet of thick white mist. The smell of salt water was in the air. There was an eerie feeling that night, a feeling as strong as a stench of a rotting corpse, highly unlikely being that all corpses are buried in the ground beneath me, the sounds of singing and dancing was off in the distance coming from a local pub I frequent a lot.

"I'd much rather be there drinking a stout with my mates" I say to myself.

The steeple of the church was off in distance slightly above the tree line. I was alone with only my thoughts and my heart beat to keep me company. I was there that night to keep a watchful eye on the coffin bells. They seem to ring more on Hallows Eve than any other night.

I hear the echo of a hoot owl off in the distance drowning out all sounds that were upon me. I gazed at my watch squinting my eyes to take a look at the time.

"Midnight," I said to myself "the witching hour."

The spirits are now walking about this earth freely and there's no mask to cover my face, and only my prayers are there to protect me. I looked to the left and then to the right glancing as far out as I can into the wide open space.

The Cemetery stones are nothing but small shadows' with no definitive features; the owl hoots one last time and then the bells started. My heart started racing and my breathing picked up. I must track down the sound to unbury whoever it may be and free them from their wooden casket before they actually die.

"The Doctors never get it right."

I hurried to where the sound seemed to be coming from and heard the muffled cries of a terrified young girl, coming from beneath the earth; her finger nails were scratching the top of the coffin; it will be a matter of time before she suffocates or dies from share fright.

I started digging the hole when in back of me another bell started ringing from another tomb.

A few seconds later others followed, I took a few more shovel full's out of the first hole I started to dig, when I turned and started the other. The Screams and the scratching seemed to be boxing me in against my own coffin, an imaginary one!

I dropped the shovel and put my hand tightly upon my ears to block out the screams! I too started yelling with hope's a passerby would hear me. I knew deep down it wouldn't happen. The smart ones wouldn't be in a cemetery at this hour. I finally curled up in a ball and passed out.

A few hours later I awoke. I looked around and saw that everything that happened was just a bad dream.

"I must off fallen asleep", I picked myself up from off the ground with a sigh of relief, and I took notice of my watch. It's 1:00AM. I still have time for a drink. I left my shovel behind, leaning against an old rock wall and closed the gate's behind me where the coffin bells ring.

Back at the cemetery there is a faint sound in the air of a coffin bell ringing…. Then silence.

2007 Dean M Jevons

Edited by TraciG 2007-10-14 2:15 AM

8:46 AM - 15 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

The Park
Category: Writing and Poetry

    The Park

      This house is not a home without my soul mate.  It was back in 1925 when we fell in love with it.  The house had wooden floors throughout, with A descending spiral stair case and a long decorative banister; which started in the upstairs hallway and ending in a huge foyer down below. It's been our home ever since.  What set this home above the rest was a beautiful old park across the street, which carved the way to memories that would last a life time.  From my living room I can see it.  I can still remember it as if it was yesterday.  One snowy evening me and my wife decided on making a snowman in the park, so we put on our snow gear and went out to brave the cold.  What started out as building the perfect snowman ended up with the perfect snowball fight.  My wife got the first hit right off my head.  We laughed in hysterics as the melted snow dripped down the back of my shirt soaking me from top to bottom.  The second hit was me hitting her in the foot, "you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn" she told me as she laughed, as I wrestled her down ever so gently in the cold snow and kissed her ever so gently on her lips.  It was a wonderful evening indeed.  When I met my wife she was a mere ten years younger than I, she had beautiful long brown hair and her eyes were so brown that when she looked at me it was as if she was looking right into my soul.  As we got up from the cold earth and brushed the snow from our bodies, I pulled her ever so closely to me and started to dance; even though we heard no music.  Every snowflake hitting the ground was a beat and every puff of cold wind blowing through the leafless trees, along with our hearts beating in unison became our musical symphony. It told the tale of too young people in love whose lives are touched with happiness that would span a life time.  As the ghosts of the past started to fade from the park before me, I felt a tear roll out of my eyes and down my cheek.  I came to the self realization that I'm alone right now.  I turned away from the window leaving the view of the park behind and headed towards the kitchen.  I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror that was up on the wall above the Fireplace.  I'm not as striking as I was; I still have hair but it was thinning and the wrinkles of time are spewed upon my face. Even though I knew it wouldn't work I still touched my face with my palms hoping that a little bit of pressure and the occasional stretch would bring me back to my youthful self. My gaze was interrupted by my dog barking outside "I'd better hurry, it's going to be a cold night."  As I slowly left the living room and hurried to the kitchen the ghosts of the past started appearing before me. It was one morning on a cold December Day, my wife was up earlier than usual; "probably surprising me with a big breakfast" I thought to myself, as I hurriedly climbed out of bed like a child would on Christmas.  I quickly slid on my slippers and bathrobe and headed downstairs. As I reached the bottom of the stairwell I poked my head around the corner and saw my wife with the most beautiful smile standing by the Christmas tree with a little puppy nestled against her chest.  The puppy had a little red bow tied around her neck. On the bow were the words "To My wonderful husband and soul mate.  I love you with all of my heart." She immediately put the puppy down upon my feet and the puppy jumped into my arms and proceeded to kiss me all over my face, my wife then embraced the both of us. "I love you" she said quietly.  As those words stated to fade like an echo in a cavern, they were replaced soon with the whining of puppy.  I hurried to back door in hopes that I'll be greeted like the very first day I got her.  I slowly opened the door with a big smile. My smile suddenly vanished; the only thing greeting me at the door was an old rusty chain attached to the metal railing, and attached to the chain was and old dog house.  The roof was falling off the frame and the words "Chloe" were peeling away in scattered bits of paint chips.  I slowly shut the door behind me, leaving the present time outside in the cold.  It's so tough being alone in this time capsule of life I thought to myself.  I then turned around and walked back to the living room.  I took one last fleeting glimpse of the park across the street through the window of time and saw ghosts of me and my soul mate holding hands and walking to church one morning.  The church she sang in was down the street a few blocks from the park.  I then started remembering how beautiful her voice sounded while singing Silent Night; it was almost angelic. When she started to sing it was if all the angels from heaven would come down and accompany her. As I turned my gaze from the window, I started humming silent night to myself and turned and looked at the time;" It's time to go to bed," I said myself.   "Tomorrow is another day;" and I have to get up early because I'm picking up my soul mate at the train station, she's been away for a few weeks in Boston visiting her brother.  I would also like to give Chloe a bath; she misses her mommy as much as I do.  I started hearing the whining again, in the upstairs bedroom. I yelled up to her "I'm coming girl!"  It's too bad that her arthritis is so bad. And she would rather be upstairs in the bedroom, then outside in her dog house. " I can't blame her."  "It's in pretty bad shape".  I shut the light off in the living room and headed upstairs.  My weeks of loneliness will soon come to end because ever since my wife and I have been married we've never been apart.  And these few weeks away from her is killing me. 

9:55 PM - 12 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Magical Mother Nature
Category: Writing and Poetry

       Magical Mother Nature

This morning as I was getting out of work.  I slightly shuddered because of the cool air coming out of the hills.   Once my eyes adjusted to the bright morning light I looked off  in the distance slightly up a hill and caught a glimpse of some redish, orange hues ever so gently painting on the leaves.  It was a quick reminder of how magical nature can be.  I imagined the smell of warm apple cider boiled from fresh picked Macintosh apples, the taste was just a few steps away.  A slight breeze blew for the north bringing on the scent of fresh cut hay, some for the cattle and some for a child to stuff into one of dads worn out flannel shirts.  I imagined pumpkins of all shapes and sizes waiting to picked from the greenish vine.  I imagined the sweet taste of candy corns placed upon my tongue and I imagined me raking up a big pile of fallen leaves, only so I can throw myself in and vanish beaneath the colors and become part of the wonderment of nature. 

Copywrite 2007 by Dean M Jevons

 

I would also like to repost one of my favorite writes

                         Endless Beauty

As I stare out my window, I notice leaves falling from the trees in a circular cascade of beauty. I notice the array of colorful hues of red, yellow, orange and green. The in-air display of waltzing beauty mesmerizes the watchful eye. You think to yourself how is something as beautiful as colorful leaves represent an end to something? Why can't beauty that captivates the mind be endless. With that thought, I then realized that a first snowflake that ever so gently touches your tongue opens up a new beauty, and a new beginning to other beautiful thoughts.

Copywrite 2007 by Dean M Jevons

2:45 AM - 16 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

ClICK
Current mood: irritated
Category: Writing and Poetry

              CLICK

Click "suicide bomber kills;" Click "the body was found hanging from" Click "we'll go forward to defend our nation we are strong;" Click "It is not about freedom it's about death and;" Click, "Shots rang out in the hallway four students age 12-14 were found dead;" Click, Click "He was caught in the crossfire apparently a drug deal gone wrong;" CLICK! "he sexually molested me and," CLICK! "HE WAS KILLED" CLICK! "SHE WAS SEXUALLY ASSUALTED AND MURDERED CLICK! "Two More young Soldiers were laid to rest" CLICK!!  CLICK!! CLICK!!  MURDER! SEXUAL ASSAULT! DEATH! MASS KILLING!  CHILDREN KILLING CHILDREN!  WAR! DEATH! DESTRUCTION!!

               "Forgive father for I have sinned"  BOOM!!

"We are live on location from the mobile newsroom "After hearing the gunshots, a neighbor found him dead sprawled upon the floor, with a self inflicted gun shotto the head a note left behind from the deceased claimed that this was the only way to put an end to this." HMMM? A sad situation…Next an update of the weather…

             When Will This All End.  CLICK.

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poem
Category: Writing and Poetry

  "The School"

The first I heard about this school was is an online dance forum.  The photos were black and white yet there was something that compelled me to drive up there to see it for myself, so one crisp clear autumn day on a Sunday afternoon I set out to Madison, CT to see the school myself.  The drive was tiresome yet, there was a tingly feeling that compelled me to continue on.  I'm not new to ballet I was a prodigy as a child.  I still remember the feeling I got when I first performed in front of an audience.  Every Grande Plie I made, every Gaynor Minden Point shoe I took was as if some unknown force was assisting me.  I knew right then an there that if I was lucky enough to have a little girl I would introduce her to the ballet. At Twenty three I had a little girl.   After finally arriving at the driveway that leads up to the school a sensation I never quite experienced before started to happen.  It was a combination of sadness yet a hint of excitability.  The driveway going up was just like I pictured there were Maple trees bordering the driveway, every leave blossomed a colored hue of Autumn and the smell of crisp cool air with a hint of apples added to my senses I quickly headed up the gravel driveway and parked in front of a old auditorium which was connected to a beautiful old well kept building.  There were know other cars insight, which I didn't expect to see anyway, being later in the day and on a Sunday.  I got out of my car and walked around the front of the building.  I started to hear beautiful music that I've never heard before.  It's as if all the angels in heaven were there composing it.  I noticed a doorway to the right of me that was slightly ajar, "That must be where the music is coming from"  I opened the door a little bit to peek in like a child would do on Christmas Eve to catch a glimpse of Santa. That's when I saw five children on stage dancing to the music. The hypnotic sound of the composition was beckoning me in.  The eyes from the children met mine and I felt so exhilarated.  I had to go in to get a closer look.  They wanted me to. I felt it in my soul.  I sat down on a seat in front of the stage and the children performed for me.  Once the dance was over the children curtseyed and blew kisses and exited stage left behind the curtain that was the last I saw them. After a few minutes a woman came walking down behind me almost startling me. She was a thinner woman, a little younger than I, she had long beautiful brown hair, her eyes were blue as the sky and she moved like she was floating on air.  Her gracefulness' was that of a Ballerina "Can I help you Ms"…. I cut her off "Cindy Murphy" I held out my hand and she in-turn reached her hand out. After shaking I quickly let go of her hand without her taking notice because her hand was ice cold. "I'm sorry" I said "I shouldn't have been in here." "That's quite alright" she replied, I continued on "When I pulled up I heard the most beautiful music so I went to see where it was coming from. "There's know one here but you and I" she snapped back….."But the children on stage" I replied. The teacher replied back "The last children that performed was last semester I assure there's know one here."  I shook my head in disbelief thinking that maybe she was referring to something unrelated.  "Tell me Mrs. I paused because she didn't tell me her last name. "Emerson," she replied back. I continued. "How long has this school been in operation, and "why hadn't I heard about it", knowing that I was not a stranger to dance.  Mrs. Emerson continued on "Hartley Started in 1919 and the students that grace these halls are children of dancers who were students themselves. If there is any information regarding this school it might have been written from a student who once attended." It was a reasonable explanation because I did find this school in some kind of online forum. Mrs. Emerson continued on, "If you look over here on the wall, you'll see class pictures dating back to the beginning."  I stopped dead in my tracks and an uneasy feeling came over me.  I noticed a photo dating back to 1925 the children in it were the same children that performed moments earlier on stage in front of me.  Playing dumb and trying very hard to compose myself in front of Mrs. Emerson, I asked her to elaborate on the story of these children.  She bowed her head and took on a softer tone in her voice. "It's a sad story indeed, from what I've been told from an older faculty member, was that there was a terrible fire in the south wing, where the auditorium now sits." "Apparently it was a faulty wire that ignited, killing the children, and the teacher." Mrs. Emerson voice became a whisper. "Those poor children never performed in front of an audience" Her voice picked up.  "From what I've been told they were the best dancers to ever grace these halls at Hartley".  There was silence.  "Excuse me Mrs. Murphy" she said "I have to attend to an urgent matter."  "Once you're done looking, would you mind showing your way out" I replied back quietly. "No, It was a pleasure to meet you," by the time I turned around to offer a hand shake Mrs. Emerson was gone leaving me and all the photos from the past alone.  There was an eerie silence.  I regained my composure and started heading out the door when my eyes noticed a dusty old photo with a newer frame.  I wiped the dust away to read the engraving.  It said in memory of Mrs. Emerson founder of "Hartley." I knew right away that she was teacher who perished in the fire. My heart stopped, I then gathered my things and left immediately.

PART 2

   The Diner

After I left "Hartley. I drove a few miles down the road and noticed a small dinner on the right. I pulled in thinking a cup of coffee would calm me down.  The events that happened earlier that day was running through my head.  My analytical part of my brain was running different scenarios that can possibly explain what I witnessed at "Hartley".  I finally came to the conclusion that "Mrs. Emerson" was a great granddaughter of the founder, and the similarities between them were uncanny.. The students that I saw on stage were not the same on the photo and Mrs. Emerson thought I asked her if there is going to be other students performing over summer recess.  I knew deep inside  that wasn't the case  but it did help me to calm down long enough so I can go into the diner and have a cup of coffee and maybe some desert.  I entered the diner with my nerves intact.  The ambiance of the diner was that of a 50's hop.  There was a old jukebox in the corner.  Billy Holiday was playing and the bright seats and metal counter tops took my mind off what transpired earlier.  I helped myself to a booth stationed next to the door way and proceeded to open up the menu when a waitress in late 50's immediately came to my table "How you doing sugar" Her hair was wrapped in a tight bun and her clothing almost looked like what the "Pink ladies" in Grease wore.  "OK I guess" I continued on "I would love a cup off coffee." "I got a fresh pot right here" as she proceeded to fill up my cup." The waitress then looked at me with a concerned look" "What the matter sugar you looked like you've just seen a ghost" I smiled with a nervous smile knowing that she wasn't that far off from the truth.  The waitress then sat down few booths down next to the jukebox and opened up a newspaper.  A few minutes passed and she replied with her face facing the newspaper. "It's a crying shame, they've finally got the permits for tearing down the old dance school up the road," "although it is about time" she continued, it's been boarded up for as long as I can remember.  I immediately cut her off. "I didn't know there were two schools in this town" The waitress replied back "There only one "Hartley" I immediately started shaking, "Thank You for the coffee," "How much will that be." "For you sugar it's free" The waitress then left and went into the back. A few seconds later a younger waitress came to the table. "Sorry for the wait miss" she replied, ""could I take your order?" I replied back "I've already been waited on." "OK," as she walked away with a confused look.  I picked up my cup of coffee to take a sip and it was bone dry. There was never any liquid in that cup to begin with.  I started shaking and I quickly ran out to the car to leave this nightmare behind me.  Meanwhile back in the dinner.  The younger waitress was sweeping up and an elderly cook from the back walked up behind her and put his arms around her.  "What's the mater pumpkin" asking with a concerned look. "Ohh daddy," as she through her arms around him.  "I miss mom so much" a tear started running down her cheek and he wiped it with his ruff fingers. "Me too" he replied, he then started sniffling but with a smile on his face "I can sleep soundly at night knowing that we gave mom the best years of her life. "Do you what I miss most about her" she continued on. "I miss how she would call everyone "Sugar" and how she would sit over in that booth by the jukebox and read the paper." He started laughing. "I still don't know how she would read with "Billie Holiday blaring in her ears.  "I have an idea" he continued on. "Let's say we close this place down early and go shoot pool at moms' favorite place." A smile appeared on her face "I got stripes!" she said.  "That's my little girl." They both put on there jackets and headed into the night. 

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