Ghosts part 8 M/F Story

Series:  Strange Tales   Story:  Ghosts   by M Kizzia   part 8

            The base of the bus stop sign was broken off and jagged.  The police had put some orange cones around it and strung yellow “Police Line, Do Not Cross” streamers between the cones, otherwise, though, it hardly looked like anything happened.  People were walking up and down the street, cars were moving in their early to mid-day routine, and they even saw a bus pull to the stop and wait a minute before starting up again.

            “This is it?”  Mya complained.  “We died here, just yesterday afternoon, and this is all there is to show for it?”  She certainly sounded very teenager.

            “What did you expect?”  Nathan asked the rhetorical question.  “Unless there is a personal connection, the world of the living does not want to think about the dead and dying.  Death is a subject best left buried in normal conversations, if you know what I mean.”

            “Fuck you.”  Both Mya and Nathan heard the words and were startled by them.  They looked and saw a young man just inside the gate, staring at them.  He came out to confront them.  “What did you expect, a monument?  In a week, no one will even remember that we ever existed.”

            “My mother won’t forget.”  Mya insisted.

            “And my daughter won’t let anyone else forget.”  Nathan added.

            “Fuck you.”  The young man said.  It seemed to be his favorite phrase.  “I don’t care what people think.  I’m still here.  God can’t get rid of me that easily.”

            “Why would God want to get rid of you?”  Mya asked, showing her innocence once more.

            “Because God owes me, stupid.  I got nothing but bad all my life, so God owes me tons and tons of good, and I will accuse him to stinkin’ high heaven and bring down the whole racist lot of them if I have to.”

            “But why do you think God owes you?  Who told you that?”  Mya really did not understand, but Nathan drew her a little closer for her own protection.  He had an idea of where this man was coming from and he knew it was a hair trigger from violence.

            The young man looked at Mya like she was as thick as the fence post and almost as smart.  He pointed sharply at Nathan in his suit.  “I don’t expect some motherfucking rich man and his daughter to understand, but I learned from a very early age that I did not have a chance in this world.  I was born poor trash and I would never be anything other than poor trash.  You see?”

            “What’s being poor got to do with it?”  Mya was searching for understanding and looked up at Nathan thinking that maybe he could explain it to her.

            “Man, are you stupid!”  The young man backed up a little, threw his hands to the sky and almost turned in a circle before settling down to explain.  “My mama and grandma told me all my life that a poor man in this Goddamn America would never get a break, and they were right.”

            “Maybe you shouldn’t have listened to them.”  Mya suggested.

            “What?  Not listen to my mama and grandma?”  The young man looked at Nathan for support in his argument, but Nathan could only shrug.

            “Don’t look at me.  My mother was a penniless immigrant and my grandmother died at Auschwitz.”  That made both Mya and the man pause and stare for a minute.  Mya had heard the word and knew it was something terrible, and a lot of people were killed.  The young man knew exactly what Auschwitz was.

            “You a fuckin’ Jew?”

            “In part.”  Nathan said, looking at Mya in a kind of reflex action to see if it made any difference to her.  It did not, and Nathan wondered if she ever met a real Jew before.  Probably, he decided.  “I’m actually sort of a Baptist-Jew.”

            “Awesome.”  The young man settled down a little in his attitude and vocabulary.  “So tell me, Jew-boy, how did you manage such a hot lookin’ daughter.”  He leered at Mya and Nathan almost said something, but Mya nudged him.

            “Do you really like what you see?”  Mya asked, setting her hands on her hips and swaying just a little as if to show herself off.

            “Mama, you and I could make love all night.  Sweet sixteen I bet, and I could kiss you all over.”  The young man responded.  Then Mya pushed it too far.  She leaned forward to emphasize her young breasts just a little and she lowered her voice in imitation of a movie she once saw. 

“Do you like what you see?”  She asked again.  She was maybe fifteen or so by then and quite capable of enticing any young man with such a move, but of course she was just play-acting, imitating a movie.  She had no idea of the reaction she would provoke.  The man leapt for her, no doubt with the intention of raping her on the spot, and Mya screamed.  A woman waiting at the bus stop also screamed and backed up a couple of steps.  Nathan reached for Mya to pull her to safety, but he was a bit slow.  The young man went right through Mya as if she was just a ghost, which she was.  The man fell on his knees on the pavement and let out a frustration scream of his own.

“It’s not fair!  God, you owe me big time!  Goddamn you God.  It’s not fair!”

Nathan hustled Mya through the iron gate and up toward the park bench before he scolded her.  “Ok?  Are you happy?  Do you see what a good looking young woman can do to a man?  Part of growing up has to be learning to keep your sexy self to yourself.  There are certain things you just don’t go around flaunting all over the place unless you want reactions like you just got.”

“Am I really good looking?”  Mya heard him, or at least the part of what he said that her teenage mind could process.  “Am I really sexy?”

Nathan stopped.  He remembered scolding his own daughter more than once, and he thought that this time he could afford to be a little softer.  “Yes.”  He said.  “You are very beautiful and enormously attractive, and I think you are doing a remarkable job of growing up under the circumstances, but you have to promise to be more careful on just what you do.”  He was speaking out of genuine concern, and she knew it.

“I promise.”  Mya said, raising her hand as if signifying a pledge not to be broken, though to be sure, she was not exactly certain what she was promising.  Her mind was stuck on the words very beautiful and enormously attractive.  She needed to hear that.  She needed her best friend in the whole world to say that.

Ghosts part 7 M/F Story

Series:  Strange Tales   Story:  Ghosts part 7   by M Kizzia

            “I have a daughter, Lisa, and she is basically a good girl, or she would be if she would just let go of her Jezebel spirit.”  Nathan talked as they walked.

            “Her what?”  Mya asked as she chose to let go of Nathan’s hand and walk at his side.  She felt like she was getting too big to be hand holding like that, and anyway, he said she was growing up so she decided she had better start acting more grown up.

            “It means she always has to be in charge and control everything.”  He said.  “She has driven out three of the last four preachers at the church.”

            “I thought priests got appointed.”  Mya said.  She did not understand.

            “Not in the Baptist Church,”

            “Oh, we’re Episcopalian.”

            “I’m sort of a mix myself.”  Nathan let out a little smile.  “I guess that is why I fit well with the Baptists.”

            “I’ve always been Episcopalian.”  Mya said in all honestly.

            “Anyway, I have a daughter, Lisa, and she is all right I suppose, but a hard woman.  She does not put up with any nonsense and does not have much of a sense of humor.”

            “So you are married?”  Mya said, seriously, but it was like a question.

            “Was married.”  Nathan answered, coming to a stop.  He stooped to pick up a stone from the curb and tossed it into someone’s yard.  He missed the tree he was only half aiming at.  “Mildred ran out on Lisa and me when Lisa was about your age, seven I mean.  Actually, she was eight.”

            “I’m not eight anymore.”  Mya said with a grin.  Once again, Mya had accepted all that was happening to them.  It was Nathan who was having a hard time thinking of her as anything other than a crippled seven-year-old.

            “So she abandoned us.”  Nathan went to pick up the story but he felt Mya’s hand on his cheek and in his hair.

            “Poor baby.”  Mya said, softly and with all gentleness.  Nathan turned, and there must have been something in his eyes because the girl quickly withdrew her hand and looked almost like she was scolded, even without a word.  “It is what my grandma always says.”  She cringed a little as if defending herself.

            Nathan softened.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”  He did not want to upset her because after all, she was only a child.  “I got over it.  What?”  He asked what because she was staring at him.  Her hand reached very hesitantly for his hair again, and he did nothing to stop her, so she combed it behind his ear.

            “You have brown hair.  It’s nice.  You know it isn’t so gray anymore.”  He did not know, but to be sure, he found the whole idea of getting younger a bit disturbing.  He was glad for her, that she was growing up, but he was not sure he wanted to get much younger.  He lived a good long life and he was afraid that he might start to forget who he was.  He decided that he needed to get them back on the subject so he started walking again and she walked at his side.

            “Anyway.”  He exaggerated the word.  “I have two grandchildren.  My granddaughter, Susan, is twenty-eight and lives in California with her husband and two perfect children.”  He rolled his eyes for her and that made Mya giggle.  “My son, Stephen is local, and still married, sort of, and they have a daughter, my great-grand Emily.  She is eight.”

            “What do you mean, sort of still married?”

            “Separated.”  Nathan shrugged.  “But they are in counseling so who knows?  Maybe they will reconcile.  Personally, I am not holding my breath.”

            “You don’t sound very happy with any of your family.”  Mya said, thinking hard about it.

            Nathan shrugged again.  “I suppose I blame myself.”  He held up his hand to keep her quiet until he explained.  “I am the one who raised Lisa to be the way she is.  I don’t know, but I think she needed her mother, a mother, any mother.  I was working way too much and I put too much on her shoulders at too young an age.  I made her grow up too fast, you see?  That is my only real concern for you.”

            “I will be fine.”  Mya said quickly, taking his hand once again to reassure him.  “I don’t need to be in charge of anything.”

            He glanced at her.  “You say that now, but wait until you’re a little older.”

            “You mean ten minutes from now?”  She asked, and they both laughed a little.

            “Anyway.”  Nathan stressed the word again.  “I’m the one who made Lisa into a hard woman, and she raised Susan and Stephen to be warped in their own ways.”

            “I think your wife might be blamed for some of it.”  Mya suggested.

            Nathan shook his head.  “I can’t blame her.  She wasn’t there.”

            “Exactly.”  Mya said.  “My mother and I are alone, too.  I know that is not the way it is supposed to be.  My father should be there.  I am sure I missed out on lots of things because he was not there.”  She paused, wondering ever so briefly if she was clinging to this man because he could maybe be the father she never had.  “I am sure my mother has had me take responsibilities that I should not have to take, or have taken, back, you know, when I was seven.”

            Nathan let out his breath in what was almost a little growl.  “Parents talk all of the time about raising their children, but I think most of the time all we do is ruin them.  We fill them with our disappointments, our anger and frustrations with life and twist their little minds until they become something they were never meant to be.  I suppose that is the nature of sin.  I never realized it before, the way the sins of the fathers keep getting passed on from one generation to the next and twisted in the process until it becomes something downright wicked.”

            “Stop it.”  Mya interrupted his tirade.  “I am sure you did just what you told me to do.  I am sure you did the best you could and my grandmother used to say you can’t expect to do any better than your best.”

            “I suppose.”  Nathan said, but then he became quiet for a time.

            “How come you never remarried?”  Mya asked at last.  Nathan looked at her for a minute before he answered; wondering what was going on in that little mind of hers.

            “Because it never seemed the right time or the right woman, I don’t know.  It had to be right for Lisa, you know.  Not just for me.”  He shook his head and looked away from the girl, taking a deep breath before speaking again.  “I guess I did not want to go through all of that again.  I was thirty-four when Mildred left, but I still feel the sting of her rejection.  She ran off with a minister, though how you reconcile infidelity with ministry, I – I.”  He shrugged again, not having the words.  When he looked again at Mya, she was deep in thought.  He nudged her rather than ask what was on her mind.

            “Uh?”  She looked up.  “I was just thinking that I hope my mother remarries, especially now that I am, you know, gone and all.  I think she needs a chance to start over, and I was thinking that maybe I was kind of standing in the way of that, do you think so?”

            “I don’t know.”  Nathan said.  “I can’t imagine you standing in the way of anyone’s happiness.”  He smiled and she did too, drawing a little closer and striving to match his stride as he walked.  Nathan noticed that Mya now stood as tall as the half-way point between his elbow and shoulder.  She was certainly growing.  Her bumps were getting bigger, too, and she was showing more curves in that figure. She was turning into a beautiful young woman and he was happy for her.  He put his arm around her in his happiness and in true affection.  “You’re as tall as my heart now.”  He said, sounding very much like the grandfather that he thought of himself, or the father Mya presently imagined him to be, and she stopped and gave him a big hug.

Reflection on Science vs. Religion

            It really is nonsense, you know.  Science deals with matter and energy and the interplay between those two worlds.  Religion deals with what matters and what energizes, if I can play with those two words.  There is no crossover (or minimal at best).  Science and Religion should walk hand in hand through life.

            Of course, you realize it is not just religion that runs in non-scientific realms.  We should include philosophy, history, law, and a host of other non-scientific subjects.  As my friend at the University says, “You can get a degree in the Arts (BA) or the Sciences (BS) and both are equally valid; but to be well rounded you probably need some of both.”  I concur.  Hand in hand is the way all of the arts (including religion) and sciences should be.

            I think the trouble brews when people on one side cross over to the other side, as it were, without justification, reason or often common sense; and invariably without admitting that this is what they have done.  I recall Carl Sagan’s opening of his most famous book:  “This universe is all there is, all there was and all there ever will be.”  How does he know this?  It is a plain and clear philosophical statement based on rather obvious presuppositions and it certainly isn’t remotely a scientific statement.  I found it a strange way to begin a science book; yet I suspect he wanted to cut off any appeal to religion at the outset, but in doing so I fear he cut off his proverbial nose to spite his face.  Since then, scientists (such as Hawking) have toyed with the idea of parallel universes, among other things.  So it goes.

            On the other side, I know there are sincere people (I trust they are sincere and well meaning, too) who insist that the world was created not all that long ago in a literal seven days.  I can see the hair rising up on the back of the neck as I say that.  Nothing could be further from even the most basic facts we have been able to discern, scientifically, about the universe in which we live.  I do wish, though, we could all try and reason with such people and bring them to a point of common sense rather than ridicule them with our sharp and sarcastic tongues.  Ridicule will only deepen the determination – and sarcasm is not a good social skill.

            But here it is:  Most scientists I know are believers and attend church regularly, and most theologians I know respect the science that made possible a fresh cup of coffee every morning (even if the laws of motion and gravity do not always cooperate when one is still half asleep).  But for the most part, theologians and scientists respect and appreciate each other.  Rather, it is in the board rooms, the news rooms, the schoolrooms, on the street corners and in the work places and play places where religion and science duke it out – in places where there aren’t any real theologians or scientists.  That is where you find the fundamentalist who gets (rightly) angry at being ridiculed but who nevertheless steps into his car, drives home, turns on the lights and television to stew.  (Technology may be the step-child of science, but without science there would be no child at all).  So he enjoys the benefits of science, but I suppose it must be a pick and choose as to what scientific facts he will accept and what he will reject.  A sad story.

            On the other hand, though, no matter how firmly the other person says they will only accept as “Real” those things that science has proved or likely will prove, you and I both know they do not live in a world devoid of love, beauty, and at least the hope of justice (all non-scientific concepts).  No one lives there, nor would any sane person want to.  But then, philosophy, history, the law, the arts – these are not the issue.  It just seems to be religion, and if I may be blunt, I would guess it is often the concept of God that such people find most irksome.

            There were ten of us out back a few nights ago.  It was a lovely evening with the sun setting dutifully in the west.  One woman remarked at how beautiful the sunset was and in no time there were eight of ten in agreement.  It was a beautiful sunset.  The ninth person said it was beautiful, too, what he could see of it.  You see, he confessed that he was color blind so all he saw was shades of tan and browns; yet he accepted the word of the other witnesses and said he saw the beauty in what he could see.

            Now, the tenth shook his head, and he apologized.  “I’m sorry.  I have never been able to see sunsets as beautiful.”  It was like he was confessing some flaw in his character or make-up.  It was like he wanted to see the beauty, a beauty which he had no doubt was there, only he was not capable.  We all hugged him and assured him that we all have our blind spots and that was OK.

            I suppose he could have been crass.  He might have said, grumpily, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”  That is this kind of thing we hear a lot of these days.  It suggests that beauty is only an opinion and even if everyone in the world disagrees with him, his opinion is still as good as any.  There is a subject worthy of consideration, but for now I want to point out what he did not say – what no sane person would imagine saying:

            “Beauty is an illusion, a fantasy.  You are all living in a fairy tale.  Can’t you handle the real world?  I think maybe you are all suffering from some pathological delusion.”

            Of course no one would really say that about a beautiful sunset, or anything declared “beautiful” because beauty is clearly something real even if it is not a proper concept for scientific study.  Yet when it comes to religion in general, and especially to God…

A thought about Sarah you-know-who

People, for God’s sake leave the poor woman alone!  She was a VP candidate, normally worthy of about two seconds of scrutiny.  I would bet there are plenty of Americans who have no idea who Joe Biden is.  Palin was a VP candidate, and lost no less.

Look:  regardless of how you view her personally, politically, or whatever, she is a human being.  Trysaying that three times fast.  She is a human being.  I haven’t seen this big or this vicious a feeding frenzy in the media since… well, ever.  I don’t believe even the eternally despised Bush (the one responsible for every ill conceived of by the  human mind) was treated this badly.

A word to the wise to the Washington Press Corps and their Talking Head friends on the tube:  even the dullest Americans are beginning to catch on.  I am hearing from the most ordinary folks (most of whom you would not know on a bet) that “If the media hates this person, they must be pretty good.”  And, “If the media likes this person, we better watch out for them!”  I would strongly recommend backing off for a while.  Don’t think for a minute the viciousness won’t translate into votes, so for now, why don’t we all…chill.

Ghosts part 6 M/F Story

Series:  Strange Tales   Story:  Ghosts   by M Kizzia   part 6  

            Nathan woke when Mya wiggled a little to get into a more comfortable position.  He felt her breasts against his ribs and he imagined she was also making little curves in the beanpole of a body she had been.  The breasts were still small, but he imagined she did not grow that much while they slept.  All the same, he hoped they were nice ones for her sake, in whatever way she imagined breasts should be nice.  He looked down and he knew he had judged about right.  Mya appeared to be about thirteen, fourteen at most, and she was looking up at him.  Her hand came up to touch his face – not such a little hand now, but he spoke before she could say anything.

            “You have bumps.”  He said.

            “I have bumps?”  Mya’s mouth opened in a tremendous smile and her eyes and hands shot instantly to her own chest.  “I have bumps!”  She declared and she rushed into the bathroom and shut the door.

            Nathan sat up more slowly.  It was not that he was stiff like he used to be when he woke at home, but because he was savoring the morning and feeling truly rested for the first time in ages.  He thought of Mya as he heard a little squeal of delight come right through the door.  If she was fourteen, he recognized that she was now twice as old as she had been only a day ago.  He was happy for her when he thought about it.  He had no idea what kind of relationships they might form in the next million years, or more.  He could not encompass that though; but even so, he felt that she should not have to go into eternity always being referred to as a kid.  He had heard the word used twice already and both times he heard it spoken unkindly.

            He looked down at his own clothes.  They were not as wrinkled as they had been, and what is more, his handkerchief was pressed and clean again, as if it had never been used.  He imagined Mya’s clothes were adjusting as well as she got older and taller, though he could not imagine how that might work.  He did not worry about it.  He did not know how a lot of things worked, like microwave ovens, but it never stopped him before.

            After waiting for a very long time, Nathan stepped to the door and knocked.  “Are you all right in there?”  He asked, raising his voice just a bit against the wood.

            “Yes.  I’m fine.”  The answer came sharply through the door.  Something was happening but he could not guess what.

            “I’ll be right here when you are ready.”  He told her.

            “Fine!  I’ll just be a minute!”  She responded, and Nathan shook his head, wondering what it was about women and bathrooms.  He imagined he would never understand that either, so he did not let it bother him.  He stepped into the hall and watched the shift change at the nurse’s desk.  He followed one of the morning nurses with his eyes as she went from room to room with her tray of morning medicine.  Out of curiosity, he looked in on room 312, but there was a new man in the bed and the business man had gone; then he hustled back to 307.  He did not want to be found wandering when he was supposed to be waiting patiently for Mya.

            Nathan paused outside the door to their room.  There was a woman on her knees in the hall, cleaning.  He thought little of it until he saw her give a furtive glance in his direction and immediately she started scrubbing a little harder for a few strokes of her brush.  This was a hospital, he remembered.  It was where people often went to die.  Nathan imagined that most of the staff was immune to having ghosts wander the halls, but there would always be some that were sensitive to it.  The woman glanced his way again and squinted as if she could not quite grasp what she was seeing, or thought she was seeing, or maybe she was not quite seeing at all.  Again, she started scrubbing harder for a few strokes, and Nathan wondered if the woman thought that she could clean and sterilize the ghosts away.  Nathan was sure that was one thing she could not do, and he felt a momentary twinge of sorrow for the woman.  He could almost taste the woman’s fear, a kind of palpable sense of foreboding.  He felt it as surely as he had felt the cruelty of the woman with the puppy and concluded that ghosts must be hyper-sensitive to the emotional state of the living.  He imagined this woman might have a break down, or anyway, this would likely be a very shot-lived job.  He felt sorry for her again, as he walked slowly back into his room.

            Mya did not come out of the bathroom until it was seven, nearly and hour after she went in.

            “All better?”  He asked.

            Mya sat on the bed.  She was not ready to walk yet.  It seemed like she wanted to talk and so Nathan took a seat on the bed opposite to her and prepared himself to listen.

            “I know in my head that I am really only seven years old.”  Mya started right in.  “But I also know I am a teenager.  I know this isn’t going to make any sense, but I don’t think I am just growing up on the outside.”

            “No.”  Nathan interrupted.  “I have watched you and listened to you so I believe you, even if it doesn’t make any sense.”  He was smiling.

            “I want pizza, and I don’t even like pizza.”  She was joking and testing herself, and Nathan gave her a little laugh.  It was the least he could do.

            “But what is wrong with that?”  He asked.  “You told me you did not want to stay little forever.”

            Mya nodded.  “I don’t.”  She said.  “But it is all happening so fast.  Shouldn’t growing up take time, I mean to learn things and explore things and all that?”

            “Oh, I don’t know.”  Nathan turned thoughtful.  “There really isn’t a whole lot to learn about being an adult, at least not much more than you knew by the time you were seven.  Be good, do your best, love your neighbor and that sort of thing.  When you grow up you have to take more responsibility for yourself and your own actions, decisions and choices.  You know, like when the bird leaves the nest it must fly on its own, but you seemed like a very sensible and responsible girl since the first time I saw you.  I can’t imagine trying to hitch a ride on a city bus at age seven.  That must have taken great courage.”

            Mya smiled and turned a little red.  She fanned her face for a moment as she spoke.  “You have no idea.  I was scared out of my mind.  To be honest, I just did not know what else to do.”

            Nathan nodded and smiled his most reassuring smile.  “Being an adult is a lot like that.  Most grown-ups do things just because they don’t know what else to do.  You have to be over eighty, I think, before you realize it doesn’t matter mostly what we do, as long as what we do is done in love and kindness.”

            Mya smiled again and looked down into her lap where she was worrying her own hands.

            Nathan asked because he picked up on the clue.  “So what took you so long in the bathroom?”

            “I think I had a period.”  Mya said, not looking up at first.  “Mother explained it all to me and I did not really understand what she was talking about, but now it kind of makes sense.  I felt all crampy and then all fatish, though I had already taken off my clothes and I did not notice getting any fatter in the mirror.  Then I felt like I had to go, you know?  I sat down on the toilet and tried, but nothing happened until I noticed I was bleeding a little.”  She looked up.  “I didn’t know ghosts could bleed.”  She said.

            “I didn’t know there were really ghosts until yesterday.”  Nathan countered with a motion that suggested she should go on and finish the story.

            “Well, that’s it.  Then I got better and got dressed and came out.”

            “But I thought such things lasted for three or four days.”  Nathan said, sounding unsure.

            “Oh, a week.”  Mya responded with her eyes as big as they could be.  “But that’s what I mean about everything happening so fast.”

            “Still, you experienced something.”  He pointed out.

            Mya made a very teen age, exasperated expression come to her face and she threw her hands out to slap the bed, palm up, on either side of her.  “But that is what I mean about not experiencing things.  How can I really grow up without experiencing things?”

            “Hmm.”  Nathan tried to get serious again.  “Have you experienced frustration and anger as well as accomplishment and satisfaction?  Have you ever been worried and afraid sometimes and felt safe and secure at other times?  Have you known sadness as well as joy, hate and love, cruelty and kindness?  Have you ever felt the excitement of trying to go to sleep on Christmas eve?”  Mya was nodding.  “Then I would say you have already experienced everything there is to experience.  Grown-ups just experience these same things, though the world is full of fools these days who seem determined to cut back on the joy, love and kindness part.”

            “I’ve never experienced falling in love with a boy.”  Mya said a bit shyly.

            “And never had your heart broken either.”  Nathan said, raising a wise, old finger to emphasize his point.

            Mya puffed a teenage puff.  “I would still like to fall in love with a boy.”  She insisted.

            “Bah.”  Nathan shrugged it off.  “Boys are not so special.”

            Mya rolled her eyes.  She had practiced that in the mirror, but she did not need to tell him that.  “Now you sound like my real grandfather.”  She said.

            “He must be a very wise man.”  Nathan said, standing and puffing out his chest just a little.  “Now, shall we go?”

            “Go where?”  Mya suddenly got serious.

            “To see your real grandfather?”  Nathan suggested.  Mya shook her head.  “Well how about just your regular father?”  Mya’s head shake became more pronounced. 

“Dad left me and mother when I was just a baby.”  She said.

            “Well, how about your mother then?”  Mya’s head shook hardest of all.

            “I’m not ready for that yet.”  She said, and then she added something that did not surprise Nathan at all since he was feeling the same tug on his soul.  “I think we need to go back to the place where the bus, you know.”

            “The scene of the accident?”

            “The scene of the crime.”

            “Yes.”  Nathan said.  “I was feeling that myself but I wanted to hear it from you.  I was willing to fight the feeling if you said you needed to go somewhere else.”

            “No.”  She said, holding out her hand for him to take.  It was a bigger hand by then and they were more truly holding hands now rather than Nathan enfolding her little hand in his palm.  “I go where you go.”  She finished her thought and Nathan simply nodded as they started walking, choosing the stairs this time, and without Nathan thinking twice about the choice.

            “But what about you?”  Mya asked, drawing the thought from somewhere in her growing-up mind.  “Don’t you have family?”

            “I’ll tell you on the way.”  He said, and they went through the sliding doors and out on to the street past the man attempting to fix them.  Apparently, they were opening and closing at all sorts of times, and all on their own.

Ghosts part 5 M/F Story

Series:  Strange Tales   Story:  Ghosts   by M Kizzia   part 5  

            “Come on.”  Mya said, taking the lead.  She grabbed Nathan’s hand before she stopped briefly at the hospital map on the wall.  She seemed to know where she was headed.  This time they took the stairs down one flight and she pulled him through the authorized personnel only hallway to enter a different wing of the hospital.  Nathan guessed where they were going, but he said nothing.  They spent a long time looking through the glass at all of the babies, but she did not want to go inside.  At last, Nathan thought they needed to change venues, so he asked as kindly as he could.

            “Are you hungry?”  Mya looked up at him with a forlorn expression that proposed never leave her face.  It broke Nathan’s heart to see it.  He realized that he missed the little girl smile that had meant so much to him and kept him steady, especially at the first.  Mya had accepted the truth before he did, and she kept him going with her smile.  She kept him from thinking too hard about it all and maybe becoming morose.  Little Mya had no morose in her until the subject of bumps and babies came up.  Now, she was in danger of becoming hopelessly mired in her own sense of loss and what would never be, and Nathan desperately wanted to save her from that.  She certainly deserved better than to be depressed forever.  “I could go for some Italian right now.  Do you like Italian food?”

            Mya looked up at him with her tear streaked face and those big brown eyes with their sadness etched into the black depths.  She said nothing, but she did not resist him when he took her hand and headed them toward the stairs.  Nathan hoped there was food left in the hospital cafeteria since the time was getting on, but he would not have been surprised if it was all cleaned up and put away for the night.  Hospitals, like grade schools, tended to run on a very strict schedule.

            The cafeteria was located on level B-1, which was ground level at the back of the building.  There was still some service, though only one worker behind the line, wiping a spill around the macaroni and cheese.  A couple of men and a few women in white coats were sitting around, talking quietly and nursing their coffee and tea, having pretty much finished eating.  Nathan supposed they were doctors, nurses, or more likely attendants of some sort hanging out to get the full extent of their breaks.  There were a few tables with dirty dishes, but the man behind the counter did not seem in any hurry to get out and clean them up.  Instead, the man looked at the clock on the wall as if waiting for the right moment to close.

            Nathan also looked.  It was nearly eight-thirty, perhaps five or five and a-half hours since the accident.  He brought Mya up to the line, but they quickly realized that they could not pick up the trays, plates or silverware.  Their hands simply passed through the items, and while it was a bit of a shock at first, Mya spent the next few minutes passing her hands through all sorts of things; and she nearly smiled at the sensation.

            Nathan looked at the food.  There was some spaghetti in a kind of dark brown crust that might have been an attempt at meat sauce.  It was real thick spaghetti and it did not look too appetizing.  Still, he would not have minded a taste, though to be honest, he was not hungry in the least.

            “I don’t think we can eat anymore.”  Mya said, putting her hands right into the hot macaroni and cheese and swirling them around with no effect on the dish or her hands whatsoever.  “But that’s OK, I wasn’t really hungry.”

            “Me neither.”  Nathan said, and he looked up to see a big man staring at the deserts.  To his surprise, the big man turned and looked right at them and with a quick comparison to the attendant behind the counter, Nathan recognized that this was another ghost.

            “I’m hungry.”  The man said.

            “You’re fat.”  Mya said as she stepped up beside Nathan.  She clicked her finger nails on the metal cafeteria rail a couple of times and Nathan thought she needed some chewing gum to complete the pre-teen picture.  “You should go on a diet.”

            “Screw you, kid.”  The fat man said.

            “That was very rude.”  Nathan turned and scolded Mya.  She looked up at him with some concern to be sure he still liked her.  She knew she was being rude, only now, after being scolded, she felt she paid her penalty and so she did not feel like saying she was sorry.

            The fat man looked down for a minute before turning his eyes again at the deserts.  “The doctor said it was the fat that killed me.  What does he know?  The quack.”  He looked at them again before his eyes were drawn back to that last piece of chocolate cake.  “I didn’t think it would be like this.”  He said, and he seemed to need to confess.  Nathan stayed to listen, so Mya stayed, too.  “I used to eat everything and anything I wanted.  Mom was a great cook, and there was always plenty of junk around the house, you know, cookies, chips, Hot Pockets, frozen waffles.  God, I can’t think about it.”  He paused to take in a deep breath.  “I didn’t think it would be like this.”  He began again.  “I pretty much lived my life whatever the hell way I wanted.  I didn’t let anyone tell me no.  I lost a couple of jobs, but screw them.  I screwed everyone I wanted and when I wasn’t screwing, I was eating.  God there was this one restaurant that made… but forget it.  I thought when I died, like it would not happen so quick.  I thought I still had years left to live and I thought I would straighten things out some when I got older.”  He looked at them again.  “I didn’t have the time.  It all went by so quick.”  He looked again at the cake and reached for it only to have his hand pass right through.  “I thought when I died all of these old habits would be taken away, you know?”  He looked up one last time and asked.  “Why are we still here?”

            “Maybe so you can have one last chance to straighten things out.”  Nathan suggested what he and Mya were both thinking.

            “Maybe you need to let go of some things.”  Mya suggested, reaching for Nathan’s hand which he readily gave her.

            The man merely nodded and then ignored them.  His hunger had him once again.

            Mya and Nathan went out from there wondering what to do next.  Then Nathan saw Mya yawn a big yawn and he thought they might find a deserted room in which to rest.  He led the girl back to the elevator.  He was feeling better than he had in years and feeling no pain at all, but he still was not sure about climbing a bunch of steps.  Fortunately, the elevator was empty at eight-forty-five in the evening.  They went again to the third floor, but Mya resisted seeing her grandmother.  Thus they wandered in the other direction, past 315, 314 and 313.  They found someone in room 312, and would have moved on if he had not shouted out to them.  When they entered the room, Nathan noticed the bed was stripped clean and the man was sitting on the edge of it, fully clothed as if waiting for a ride home.  There was another patient in the room, but he was sleeping.

            “What is going on?”  The man asked right away.  “I can’t get anyone to listen to me, not the doctors or nurses or anyone.”

            “What do you think is going on?”  Mya spoke right up before Nathan could get a word in.  Her words were not exactly meant to be rude as if to suggest the man was being stupid or something, but they came out that way and might have been taken that way.  Nathan pulled her hand up to his chest and patted her hand to keep her quiet, even as her grandmother had patted that same hand.

            “I don’t know.”  The man spoke honestly to them, but there was something else behind those blue eyes.  Nathan and Mya just stared into those eyes until the blue turned a little gray and the man turned his eyes to the floor.  “I think I am dead.”

            Mya almost said something, but Nathan hushed her and spoke instead.  “I think you may be right.”  He said calmly.

            The man slid off the bed and threw his fists up to cover his eyes.  He turned his back on them and began to spout.  “I have a wife and three kids who need me.  I can’t be dead.  You don’t understand.  I was just working on a big deal at work that was going to make my career.  We were going to be set for life after that, and… and I was going to be able to spend some quality time with Sharon and the kids.  I can’t be dead.  I never got the quality time.  It isn’t fair!”  He blustered himself out and despite the closed eyes and the fists over the eyes and also the fact that his back was turned, both Mya and Nathan knew he was crying, just a little.

            Nathan thought that you have to smell the roses every day as you go along or otherwise you will never catch them in bloom.  That was what his mother taught him, but of course he did not say that out loud.  He looked down.  Mya was being good.  She was feeling the man’s pain, and she looked up to get Nathan’s unspoken assent before she said anything at all.

            “It will be all right.”  She said.  “That is what I keep getting told, and…”  She looked up to catch Nathan’s eyes again.  “And I believe him.”  Nathan smiled, dropped Mya’s hand and threw his arm around her for a big squeeze.  He needed to hear that as much as she needed to say it.

            “What do you know?”  The man turned on them with a little anger.  They felt it, but not nearly as they felt the cruelty of the puppy owner, perhaps because this man was not among the living.  “You know nothing.  You don’t understand.  How could you?  A girl and a doddering old man.  I have to get back to work.  I have to finish the project.  I have to succeed.  I spent my whole life striving to be successful.  I got the right wife, the right kids, and the right job; and now, just when I am on the verge of reaching my dream, my only dream, I have it yanked out from beneath my feet.  It isn’t fair, I tell you.  It isn’t fair!”

            “I’m sorry.”  Nathan said.  It was the least he could say and probably also the most he could say.

            “Forget it.”  The man said, having vented for the moment.  He threw his hands out as if dismissing them.  “It isn’t your fault.  I wouldn’t expect you to understand.  There is nothing you can do about it.  Just leave me alone for a while.  Please.  I need to think about this.  I need to think.”  He sat again on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes, dropped his head, put his thumb to his temple and began to slowly rub his fingers across his forehead like a man in deep concentration.

            Nathan turned Mya by the shoulders until they faced the door, and before she could say anything else.  Then he withdrew his arm and took her hand once again.  Room 307 had two empty beds, and as Mya seemed to be yawning up a storm, he thought that this was as good as they were going to find.

            “Now we are definitely past my bedtime.”  Mya said.

            “Mine too.”  Nathan agreed, and he was not entirely joking.  Any time after nine o’clock was late for him.  “Do you want the bed by the door?”  He asked.  Normally, the gentlemanly thing would have been for him to take the bed by the door to protect her against any intruders.  At least that was the right instinct, but in this case, since she was already dead, he imagined there was not much that could hurt her, and he also imagined if they brought someone to the room in the middle of the night they would more than likely put the person in the bed by the window, interrupting him, not her.  Mya was just looking at him.

            “OK.”  She said, sitting on the bed, but she did not sound too sure.

            Nathan nodded and opened the bathroom door, just to check things out, not that he had to go or anything.  He turned on the light and paused at the sight in the mirror that greeted him.  It was his own reflection, and he was first of all surprised that he even had a reflection.  “Of course, I’m not a vampire.”  He mumbled to himself and grinned at his own humor.  Then he touched his teeth.  They looked good, better than he had seen them in some time.  He had let them go a little and raised his eyebrows at himself for that thought.  Then he wiggled his eyebrows and looked quickly at his hand.  It was still fairly wrinkled, but not so bad, and most of the age spotting was gone.  He looked again at his face.  The hair was still gray, but there seemed more of it, and in fact he thought that maybe he looked more like he had when he retired at about seventy-two, or maybe when he first retired at sixty-eight.  He definitely did not look eighty-four, and it was the first time he admitted that while Mya was growing up, he was getting younger.  It was also the first time he wondered if they might meet somewhere in the middle.

            “Let me see.”  Mya pushed her way into the room and Nathan backed up.  She smiled at her reflection, pouted her lips, checked out the curve in her eyebrows and puffed her chest out, but there were no bumps yet.  “I am growing up.”  Mya said with some excitement.  “I am.”

            “Yes you are.”  Nathan confirmed as he turned away.  “But right now I am tired, even if you are not.”    He lay down on the bed.  “Funny our not being able to eat but our being able to sleep.”  He reached down and pulled up the hospital blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed, and let his head rest on the pillow.

            “We’re not asleep yet.”  Mya said as she turned out the bathroom light and crawled under Nathan’s blanket.  She curled up with him like any young girl might curl up beside her grandfather on a cold winter’s night, and Nathan willingly slipped a protective arm around the girl.  Neither was uncomfortable with the arrangement and soon enough they were both fast asleep.

Ghosts part 4 M/F Morning Story

People, take a chance to relax a little at the beginning of the week and to prepare for a good weekend.

Series:  Strange Tales   Story:  Ghosts   by M Kizzia   part 4         

            “Do you know your Grandmother’s name?”  Nathan asked, finally breaking the silence.  They had walked right into the hospital lobby through the sliding doors which opened readily for them.  One young man in the waiting area gave the doors a strange and uncomfortable look when they opened and no one came in, but otherwise neither Nathan nor Mya caused any disturbance.  Now that they reached the front desk, though, Nathan had to ask.  He decided it would be far easier to look her up than wander the halls for half the night.  The sun was already nearly set.

            “Marylin Thorn.”  Mya said without hesitation.  Nathan nodded and started to reach for the front register when he heard a woman’s voice.

            “Marylin Thorn is in room 317.”  The woman behind the desk said without once looking up.

            “Thank you.”  Mya responded.

            “Yes, thanks.”  And Nathan hustled Mya away from that area.  He did not want to scare anyone.  Without thinking things through, both went to the elevators and Mya pushed the button.

            “Mother always lets me push the buttons.”  She said.  Nathan wondered how this was going to work out.

            When the elevator came, there was one man in the car.  He did not get off as they scooted by, but he did stick his head out the door to see if there was anyone there.  The man shrugged and stood back while the elevator doors closed and Nathan stopped Mya’s hand from pushing the button for floor three.  He noticed they were going down one more flight.

            “But we have to go to three.”  Mya protested at full volume.

            “Shh!  I know.  Just wait, please.”  Nathan answered as quietly as he could and he saw the man lift his head as if he was hearing something but he was not quite sure what he was hearing.  Fortunately, the doors opened fairly quickly and the man got out, stiffening his collar tight against his neck as if suddenly chilled.  “Now.”  Nathan said, and Mya pushed the three just before a big woman got on and pushed four, frowning once at the man who just left.  Nathan matched the woman’s frown, because he thought if the woman stood by the doors, there was no way they would be able to scoot around her to get out on the third floor.  Fortunately, the woman pushed to the back and Nathan and Mya were just able to squeeze past her without touching her.  They got off quickly when the doors opened on three before someone else got on.

            “Three seventeen, now let’s see.”  Nathan said, looking at the numbers and arrows on the wall.

            “Down here.”  Mya said, taking Nathan’s hand and leading the way.  Now that she was on the floor, she was remembering better.  In fact, Mya was finding her memory and her mind overall was becoming very sharp and focused.  She was thinking and seeing life through pre-teen eyes by then because she was indeed growing up even as Nathan was getting younger, not that they knew it, exactly.  His mind, by contrast, was mercifully forgetting all sorts of embarrassing and difficult moments as the years dropped away, even though his mind was also sharpening overall with the clarity of youth.  With Nathan, though, he thought it was only how he felt.  That long walk down so many city blocks, and without the least hint of pain or difficulty, had done him wonders.  But with Mya it was becoming obvious if they cared to notice.  Still, they really did not realize any of this until Grandma noticed, and said as much when they saw her.

            “She has Alzheimer’s.”  Mya warned before they entered the room. 

            What they found was a bit of a surprise.  The woman was physically curled up in a ball, her knees drawn up to her chest and her hands in tight little fists pulled right to her chin; but that was just her body.  The woman herself, or at least the image and outline of the woman, like her spirit or her ghost, was sitting up, legs outstretched and hands resting comfortably at her side.  The woman appeared to be asleep at the moment, so they came in quietly and Mya pulled up a chair.  As she sat, she reached out.  “Grandma?”  And she found that she could touch the woman, or at least she could touch her grandmother’s spirit hand.

            Grandma opened her eyes slowly.  “Mya.”  She recognized the girl right away; her spirit-self did all the talking and was very animated.  The body in the bed, by contrast, barely fluttered her eyes.

            “Grandma.  I wanted to see you.  I – I.  Are you better?”

            “No dear.”  Grandma said, taking a firm hold of Mya’s hand and reaching over with her other hand to pat-pat that hand.  “I’ll be gone soon I think.  Sometimes the body doesn’t have the good sense to quit, but I am very sick, Pneumonia, you know.  Still, I am content to wait.  It would be wrong to rush these things, though I hope they have the good sense to let me go when the time comes.”  She stole a glance at Nathan before returning her eyes to her granddaughter.  “But now stand up so I can get a good last look at you.”  And while Mya stood, Nathan was thinking that this woman’s body might be wracked with Alzheimer’s and pneumonia, but her spirit seemed strong and healthy and very aware.  It was something that people – living people should know.  Too bad there was no way to tell them.

            Mya turned once slowly all of the way around.  Nathan had his hands at his side at the moment and he noticed that presently the little girl was nearly as tall as his elbow where she had started out barely as tall as his wrist.

            “My, how grown up you are getting.”  Grandma made the expected comment before adding a thought.  “What are you now, nine or ten?  Pretty soon you will be getting bumps of your own.”

            “Grandma.”  Mya protested, sounding like a true pre-teen, and she sat, turning a little red and glanced briefly at Nathan.

            Grandma explained for the stranger in the room.  “When Mya was just a baby with a limited vocabulary she called them bumps every time she wanted to nurse.”  Grandma was smiling and Nathan was smiling, too, as he looked at Mya and watched her turn a bit redder.

            “Grandma.  This is my friend.”  Mya said, attempting to change the subject.

            “Nathan.”  He introduced himself.  “You have a fine granddaughter.  She missed her school bus, so I took it upon myself to bring her to see you.  I have a great-grand just about her age.”

            “Very gentlemanly of you.”  Grandma said.  “But I should say, posh!  You hardly look old enough to have a ten-year-old granddaughter, much less a great-grand.”

            “Grandma, I’m only seven.”  Mya said, though that did not sound right at the moment even to her own ears.

            Grandma lifted her brows and her body shifted ever so slightly in the bed.  “You know I cannot speak to your mother like I can to you.  That is very frustrating.  I tend to sleep a lot when she is here.”  Grandma sat up a little straighter and her body moved a little again.  “I think you had better tell me what happened.”

            Mya started slowly, but she finished the story in a rush, leaving out nothing, including the part about the angel.  Nathan found some tears as she talked, and Mya had some tears as well.  Grandma’s eyes filled up with tears, but it was her body that let a few of those tears fall while she went back to patting Mya’s hand, saying, “My baby.  My poor baby.”

            “It will be all right, Grandma.”  Mya was trying hard to be positive about it all.

            “I won’t leave her alone.”  Nathan said.  It was a promise.

            “I am so glad that you are not alone.”  Grandma said, finally taking her hands back.  “He seems a fine man.  Don’t be afraid.”

            “That is what the angel said.”  Mya responded, and as she thought about the angel, she found her tears were finished and she was feeling much better.

            “I am so sorry, my baby, but right now I am tired.  I am so very, very tired.”  And they watched as the old woman closed her eyes.  A few more tears fell from the woman’s physical body. 

Mya did not want to leave right away, so they stayed for a little while and watched the old woman sleep, but soon enough Nathan stepped up and put his hands gently on Mya’s shoulders.  He helped her rise from the chair.  He wanted to get her moving before the tears returned, but he was not quick enough.  Mya threw her arms around him and cried into his belly, while he smoothed her long black hair with his hand and patted her back, making reassuring sounds.  He led her back into the hall just before the nurse came into the room.

            “It will be all right.”  He told her.  “Everything is going to be all right.”  And he helped her down the hall only to stop in front of the water fountain.  “Are you thirsty?”  She was.  There was a tall water fountain there, and a second fountain which was lower to the ground for the children.  Mya had to stand on her toes, but she seemed delighted that she could reach the big fountain.

            “I don’t want to stay little forever.”  She said when she pulled back from the water.  Some of the water dripped off her chin and down the front of her dress.  She looked and wiped the water with her hand, but she was looking at her chest.  “When I get breasts, I hope they are nice ones.”  She said.

            Nathan felt a little embarrassed on hearing that.  He could hardly say I hope they are, too; but he felt he had to say something.  “I would not think that was so important.”  That was what he said.  When she looked up at him with deep questions in her eyes, he put his foot in it.  “Breasts are for babies, right?”  He regretted saying that as soon as it was out of his mouth.  Mya wailed and began to cry again in earnest.  The nurse came out of the room and looked up at the ceiling before shivering a bit and walking hurriedly back to the nurse’s station.  Poor Mya was wracked with tears, and all Nathan could do was hold her and let her weep.  He dared not say anything more.  He dared not open his mouth.  But when she collapsed to the floor, Nathan got right down with her.  “There, there.  It will be all right.”  He felt he could say that much, even as he was finding a few tears of his own.

            After a time, when Mya’s and Nathan’s eyes were both red, and Mya’s breathing was only interrupted now and then with moments of sniffles, Nathan got out his handkerchief and found it was clean, so he took a corner to wipe her face and have her blow her nose

Ghosts part 3 M/F Morning Story

Series:  Strange Tales   Story:  Ghosts   by M Kizzia   part 3

            “Oh, look.”  Mya spoke first.  There was a puppy on a leash looking right at them, wagging his tail and panting with his tongue.  It was a little Labrador and obviously very young.  Mya let go of Nathan’s hand to get down and pet the puppy.  She did not think about it, she just did it, and the puppy responded with a lick.  “Oh, cutie.”  She called it.  The woman on the other end of the leash was gabbing with another woman.  Mya did not care about that.  “Yes, cutie.”  She said, and she looked up at Nathan who was smiling.  “Come and say hello.  He won’t bite.”

            Nathan was reluctant to squat down.  He was very afraid for his knees, but as he did, he found that his knees were well up to the task and did not hurt at all.  That was as much pleasure for him as a chance to pet the puppy.  The puppy responded by lifting its paws to his shoulders and giving him a lick.  Everyone was smiling and happy until the woman jerked the leash.

            “Egbert, behave!”  The woman said sternly and she tugged a couple of unkind tugs on the leash until the puppy came to obedience at her feet.  The woman had a cruel streak in her and Nathan was surprised at how strongly he felt the woman’s cruelty.  He looked down at Mya and saw that her eyes were wide.  She felt it too. Nathan and Mya did not interfere, even when the puppy looked at them, sadly.  “Yes, Egbert is an old family name.”  The woman was saying.  “I promised my mother I would use it for one of my children.”  The woman laughed; or at least Nathan and Mya guessed that the sound was supposed to be a laugh.  The two women returned then to their inspection of the disaster, and since neither Mya nor Nathan were interested in going there, they said good-bye to the puppy and walked, hand in hand in the opposite direction

            “Poor Egbert.”  Mya said.  “He is going to have to live his whole life with that name.”

            “Poor Egbert.”  Nathan agreed.  “And with that woman.”  He added, but his mind was on other things, and at once he saw what he was looking for.  There was a distraught looking young man sitting on the curb, ignoring everything that was going on around him as if lost in deep thought.  Nathan stopped their forward progress for a good, long look.  The young man’s black hair appeared unmoved by the wind, though of itself that meant nothing.  He decided a comparison was in order so he looked back at the woman and her dog.  He was astounded.  The woman behind looked as real as any he saw in life, but the young man on the curb looked more real.  It did not make sense, but that was the only way he could understand it.

            Mya, who had been standing still and patient, got it at about the same time.  “He’s a ghost.”  She said.  Nathan nodded, and he was fairly sure that this was the ghost of the suicide bomber.

            “Hello, friend.”  Nathan interrupted the man’s thoughts.  Nathan had decided that he had no ill will toward the man.  After all, he had lived a long and rich enough life in his own small way.  He did feel strongly for Mya, however, that this man’s actions were decidedly unfair to her, young as she was.  That was why he refused to abandon her, he told himself, though the truth was he felt he needed the little girl as much as she might need him.  “Friend?”  Nathan almost reached out to touch the man’s shoulder, but the man turned suddenly to stare at them with dark eyes filled with fear and hatred.

            “Go away!”  The young man said.  “Why can’t you demons leave me alone?  Go away!”

            Nathan squatted, now that he knew he could do that, and he looked toward the man, eye to eye, though he kept his distance and made no further move to touch him.  “Can I help?”  He asked, feeling Mya squat down next to him.

            “Maybe we could help.”  Mya agreed with Nathan, and there was a slight softening in the man’s eyes as he turned a little to take in the girl.

            “There is nothing you can do.  It is done.”  The young man said through gritted teeth.

            “But what is the matter?”  Mya was very sensitive to the young man’s pain, though that was just a blessing of human sensitivity sometimes found in the very young and rarely found in adults, it was not a hyper sensitivity such as they both had felt in the cruelty of the puppy owner.  Nathan had to catch Mya’s hand to keep her from reaching out and touching the young man softly, as she had petted the puppy.

            “It is done.”  The young man said again, and then he shifted his gaze to the heavens.  “Why am I not in paradise?  They all said I would be in paradise!”

            Mya took the question seriously and responded with the only answer she could come up with.  “Maybe they did not tell you the truth.”  She spoke in her most encouraging voice, but Nathan had to move fast.  He grabbed Mya around the middle and pulled her out of reach just as the man’s face turned wicked, and his arms, with hands formed like claws, reached out to scratch her, to grab her, to hurt her in whatever way he could.

            “Leave me alone, demons!  They warned me about your wicked tongues.”  The young man shouted, but very quickly a voice of reason interrupted, coming from the side of the confrontation.

            “Surely you did not believe the slaughter of the innocents was your ticket to heaven.”  The voice said.

            “Liar!  You are all liars!  I will listen no more!  Leave me alone, you demons!  Leave me alone!”  He had his hands over his ears so there would be no talking to him, and he turned his face back to the curb.

            “There is no reaching him at present.”  The voice said, and Nathan and Mya turned to see something they both expected to see and dared not hope to see.  Mya shivered and went straight to her knees, drawing a hesitant Nathan down with her.  It was not that Nathan did not believe in what he was seeing, but rather his rational, worldly mind was more developed, and after all, he had never seen an angel before.  He felt it, though, in his deepest marrow; that sense of awesome wonder, and not a little fear that showed in the trembling in his bones and in the pit of his stomach – that sense that he was naked in a way he had never been before and that sense came with the realization that not every corner of his naked life was exactly clean.  It made him lower his eyes, not that he could have looked into the golden glare of those orbs regardless of how much they smiled.  He imagined Mya, being seven, had far less filth on her plate, but then he did not know for sure.  It does not take some people very long at all to build up all sorts of wickedness in their lives.  Maybe she felt it more strongly and that was why she humbled herself first of all. 

            “Some people prefer to live in a box.”  The angel spoke and both Mya and Nathan could do nothing but listen.  “They imagine they have put God in a box and believe that they understand his eternal, almighty nature, but in reality, all they have done is box up their own minds and hearts.  You must pray for him before the box becomes as hard as concrete.”  The angel paused and both Nathan and Mya ventured to look up.  Perhaps they were drawn to do so.  The Angel was looking at someone beside him.  It was the old woman from the bus.  Nathan was sure of that, even if she no longer looked like the old woman.  She had become, well, it was hard to tell what age exactly; like she was ageless, young one moment but very old as well.  What is more, she looked all sparkly, like Christmas lights on a grand old tree, and the lights were blindingly bright even if they looked dim beside the glowing presence of the angel.  Anyway, her eyes were on the angel and she was smiling, even when the angel turned again to look at Mya and Nathan.

            “Do not be afraid.”  The angel said.  “For you there are two times, a time between and a half time.”  And then it was gone – the angel was just not there anymore, and the young suicide had gone as well, probably run off somewhere.  The sparkling woman turned toward Mya and Nathan.  Nathan was not quite sure where the woman’s eyes were focusing, so he could not be sure if she saw them or not or if her smile was for them or not, though he liked to think it was.  All he could say for sure was her sparkling presence got very bright for a moment before she vanished as surely as the angel.

            Nathan had tears in his eyes from the strain of all that bright light, or so he told himself.  Mya also had tears in her eyes, but neither of them felt sad in the least.  Indeed, when Nathan helped the girl up from the sidewalk, she seemed elated.  Her hands had been held palm to palm in the classic image of a child at prayer, and though she readily gave up her pose to take Nathan’s hand once again, she still seemed to be praying, so Nathan kept quiet.  Thus, neither said a thing as they walked the many blocks to the hospital.

Ghosts part 2 M/F Morning Story

Everyone dies in part 1.  My son thought that would make it a very short story, but that is where the story begins.

Series:  Strange Tales   Story:  Ghosts   by M Kizzia   part 2

            Nathan opened his eyes.  He was sitting on a park bench up on a grassy knoll, looking through an iron picket fence at a very confusing street scene.  People were running around, screaming, while cars and trucks were screeching to a halt in both directions and things, big pieces of things were falling from the sky.  Nathan felt the little hand in his hand and he looked down to see Mya staring up at him, her legs dangling from the edge of the bench where they did not quite reach the ground.

            “I think we are dead.”  Mya said.  There was no sorrow, no fear and no surprise in her voice.  She just simply said it outright like it was the most obvious fact.

            “No.”  Nathan quickly shook his head.  “We were blown free of the explosion, weren’t we?”  They were blown free to land perfectly side by side on a park bench?  He wondered.  Perhaps they crawled up on the bench before they became fully aware of what they were doing?

            “I think we’re dead.”  Mya repeated herself and she turned her eyes from his old face to the strange goings on in the street.  She was holding his hand, too, or rather her little hand was engulfed in his wrinkled old paw, but she seemed perfectly content with that and in no hurry to break free.

            “No.”  Nathan said again, but there was no conviction in the word.  He also looked to the street and realized that everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.  Pieces of the bus were still falling and bouncing very slowly off the pavement.  People were still screaming in long, drawn out sounds while tires were still screeching; and after a moment they both felt something low and loud in the pit of their stomachs which tickled as the pitch rose up the scale.  Mya giggled at the feeling while Nathan identified it.  “The police.  Maybe an ambulance.”

            “Too late.”  Mya said, a deep sadness echoed finally in the midst of her giggle.  She looked again at the face of the old man beside her.

            “We can’t be dead.”  Nathan protested.  “That would make us ghosts.”  He turned his eyes again to that innocent little face, but she looked away.  She straightened her legs and stared at her shoes.

            “I’m afraid of ghosts.”  She said.

            Nathan did what he wanted to do, the world be damned.  He dropped the girl’s hand and put his arm tenderly and lovingly around the little girl’s shoulder, hugging her as he spoke.  “I won’t let any bad ghosts get you.  Hush.  Everything will be all right.”  And they watched for a long time while police cars, ambulances, fire trucks and tow trucks all showed up; while men and women did the work for which they were trained and the innocent pedestrians backed away but stared long and hard at all of the broken pieces scattered in the street and along the side of the road.  They watched the traffic start again, slowly, and it seemed forever that only one lane was  moving at a time, and the cars and trucks went very slowly besides, not to be careful of the workers in the street, but because they, too, wanted to gawk at the scene.  Last of all, there were cameras and reporters who came to make a record of it all for the evening news.  That was when Nathan let out the sigh he thought he had used up, and he looked down again at the little girl beside him.  She was looking up at him, her face a little closer to his than he imagined it would be, and she lifted her hand to touch his face once more, even as she touched him in the bus.  Nathan stayed silent and did not move, letting the girl examine his ancient eyes.

            “You’re not as old as you were before.”  Mya concluded.  “You don’t look as old as my grandmother anymore.”

            Nathan took his arm back and Mya sat up while he looked down at his hands.  He still saw the wrinkles and the age spots, though perhaps not so bad.  The power of suggestion?  Surely his suit was as wrinkled as ever.  He looked at the girl and noticed her legs were not dangling so much.  She could touch the ground with her toes, but then he told himself that this was the way it was before, only he had not seen properly.  He rubbed his eyes a little and spoke.  “Your grandmother is in the hospital?”  This time it was a question.

            “Yes.”  Mya said as she slipped her hands beneath her tight covered thighs in order to let her legs swing free.

            Nathan looked to the sky to judge the time.  The hospital was a long walk, but curiously he felt up to it.  Certainly he did not feel up to trying another bus.  “I know how to get there.  Would you like to go there and see her?”  He asked.  He thought they could reasonably arrive before dark.  “I could go with you.”  He added, in case she did not catch the implication.

            Mya looked up at him once again and nodded.  “Mother says Grandma is dying.  Maybe Grandma could help us.”  The girl made no explanation about what she was thinking, but she also made no move to get off the park bench, so Nathan stood.  He got up like a well practiced old man, expecting his knees to scream, his lower back to protest and his stiff neck to make itself known, but none of those things happened.  To be sure, Nathan felt a little frightened when he realized that he felt nothing at all.  The forever pain, arthritis, agonizing stiffness and constant struggle against gravity were all gone.  Maybe they really were ghosts.  He tried not to think about it too hard, reaching instead for Mya’s hand.  He needed her reassuring touch.

            Mya looked up and readily put her hand in his, realizing that she needed his touch as well.  “You are a very nice man.”  She said, having decided that he was a kind, older gentleman.  She trusted him, and even more importantly, she liked him.  Mya never knew her grandfather very well.  She was only three when he died, but she thought that this man might be like him.  She felt safe when she was holding his hand, and so she took it readily and they began to walk, side by side, to find a place where they could get beyond the fence and back out on to the sidewalk.

            Nathan was growing in his concern about what exactly was going on.  He was walking easily and without pain of any kind.  It was not that he felt he could run or dance or anything like that, but his lack of pain appeared to be the last nail in the coffin, so to speak, and he said as much at last.  “I think we’re dead.”

            “I know that we are.”  Mya said without so much as lifting her eyes.  She was thinking about something and probably thinking about many things, and there was a little tear in the corner of her eye.  They had come to a gate in the fence and stopped so Nathan turned to the girl who was now taller than his wrist but not yet as tall as his elbow, and he put one hand on each of her shoulders and bent down a little to garner her full attention.

            “Now, how do you know we are dead?”  He asked, and he tried to smile his most reassuring smile.

            Mya said nothing.  She simply pointed at her feet and Nathan looked down at two perfectly normal shoes.  He started to shake his head before he gasped.  He had forgotten that she was lame, a cripple with a misshapen foot.  He had forgotten about the funny shoe which had evidently been designed to help her walk.  He looked at the girl’s feet and honestly could not remember which foot it was.  Both shoes looked identical and normal, and Nathan had no doubt the feet inside were normal, too.  He let go and took a step back.  Mya looked up at him and almost showed some fear.  Her eyes said, please don’t leave me alone.  Please, I don’t want to be alone.

            Nathan caught the look and returned one hand to pat the girl gently on the shoulder.  “Let’s go see your grandmother.”  He said, and then he turned toward the gate and tried hard not to hesitate.  He was not sure if he could open the simple latch, being a little afraid that his ghost hand might pass right through the solid metal.  That would have frightened him perhaps beyond repair, so it took a great deal of courage to get his fingers to reach out.  When he took hold of the latch, he let out his breath and heard Mya do the same.  The gate easily swung open, and then Nathan stepped aside “After you.”  He said, graciously and raised his hand in an inviting gesture.  Mya smiled for him.

            “Thank you.”  She said, trying very hard to sound like a real lady, and they stepped out of the gate and back into the real, everyday world, Nathan being sure to close the gate tight behind them.

Mid-Week Reflections: A New Political Party?

A New Political Party?

            People, I am very unhappy with all of the political parties that are presently active in this Great Experiment we call the United States.  Judging by the increase in the ranks of registered independents, I assume I am not alone; yet when I thought about it, I came to realize that independents really cannot fix anything.  Every future vote and every political choice will still be between hacks from one party or another.  SO, I was thinking we need a new party, an independent party, if you will.

            Now, I will probably lose half my readers in saying this, but I still see the virtue in this nation: the Great Experiment, and I would like to see the experiment continue.  Because of that, I imagined a name for the new party that would strike a chord with anyone who has read the Declaration of Independence; like, maybe the Independence Party; but the problem with the Independence name is, what are we seeking independence from?  Pogo put it very well when he said, “We have met the enemy and they is us.”  I want to fix “us” not go split personality, so I have to say no to the Independence Party.

            I thought next about the Inalienable Rights Party?  But, that is precisely one of the things I am so unhappy about.  More people, in particular Judges, have found more inalienable rights (even inillegalalienable rights) than our founders could have ever imagined.  I am not one who believes the founders are spinning in their graves, but I think their heads may be spinning.

            Then I rejected the Life Party because there are already plenty of Right to Life people around, and I rejected the Liberty Party because I assumed I would be sued by the Libertarians.  As far as I can tell, Libertarians believe people should be allowed to live without interference – as long as it doesn’t infringe on their copy write.  SO, what does that leave?

            Allow me to introduce the Pursuit of Happiness Party.  We should at least be able to attract the under thirties and the college crowd, do you think?  Hey!  Get ‘em while they are young.  Yes:  The Pursuit of Happiness Party wants YOU.

            Of course, I don’t expect our party will be perfect either.  Surely we will have our share of arguments, like the one today at work where two co-workers argued about who had lost more brain cells for various reasons in their pursuit of happiness.  I said, “Don’t worry about it.”  (Always the peacemaker)  “Most people only use 10% of their brains anyway.  Heck, I know some people who only use 2%, but they mostly belong to political parties.”