Warning: Contains mild cursing

This story is set in Pentameter City. A fictional place where the residents often get caught up in any number of difficult situations.

Danny’s Big Deal

It's just after 9 pm, on a Friday night in Pentameter City. The first weekend of summer. The streets are alive and gritty, with deals going down all over. Young toughs prowl the strip, restless, full of energy, and looking for action. Drag racing on Thunder Road lets them blow off steam. Cops won't step in unless there's bloodshed, and even then they're slow to arrive. The young punks know this, and it makes them crazy with power, willing to try anything to shake off the shackles of boredom and conformity that their parents place on them all week.

All except for Gatts, that's what his friends call him, Danny De Gatt is his real name. A nineteen-year-old dropout, with a fix for nose candy. His parents know they cannot control him, so they let him do whatever he wants, and they clean up his mess. They're rich, have high-paying jobs, and have connections all over the city. Deckland De Gatt, Danny's father, owns Gatt's Construction and pulls in over $800,000 a year. He and the state governor play golf together and go fishing and hunting on the weekends, along with the Chief of Police, Maxwell Raiford. They all belong to the Gentlemen's Club.

Danny's mother, Rachel De Gatt, is secretary for the state attorney. His name is, Franklin Lombard. Both he and Rachel share a long history of on and off again affairs. She knows Franklin adores her, and would do anything she asks, and when it comes to her only son...that kind of power goes a long way. Both Mommy and Daddy pulled out all the stops for his last little fuck-up. He ended up with just a warning and six months’ probation. His probation ended just one week ago, and he's taking full advantage of that fact tonight.

Danny is driving his "Stallion" as he likes to call his 61' Midnight black convertible, through downtown Pentameter. He's got a deal going down, and he's late to make the score. His driving is reckless at best. Weaving in and out of traffic, barely missing other cars, he does not care. All he can think about is getting that cash so he can buy some more blow to satisfy his need for the potent white powder.

He drives by the spot where the deal is supposed to happen. He slows down and looks to make sure the buyer's car is parked nearby. It is, so he continues on, turns down a side street, parks his car behind a boarded-up warehouse, and begins to walk toward the meeting place. Which in this case, happens to be an old antique store that went out of business long ago.

There is only one way into the place. He gets to the building that the store is a part of, walks down the alleyway, and knocks twice on a side door, then waits and knocks once more. An old tattooed war vet cracks the door open a little, sees who it is, and lets him in without a word. He descends a flight of stairs, to below ground level. When he gets to the bottom, he walks over to a door that leads into the storeroom, which is just under the antique shop. He knocks a couple of times, and a heavy-set, mean-looking fellow, opens the door and beckons Danny in with a mock gesture of welcome.

"So glad you decided to grace us with your presence," the guy says to Danny.

"Hey Lonnie, I had some major business to take care of, that's why I'm late."

"The agreed meeting time was 9 pm Gatts. You knew that and still took your sweet old time. So don't blame me if the guy backs out."

Danny smirked, and said, "He won't back out, trust me."

"If you say so man, but you'd better hurry your ass up, this guy is in no mood to play."

Danny nodded briefly, and asked in a low voice," You check him out already?"

"Yep, he's clean."

Danny nodded again, turned and walked away to another part of the storeroom. He went around the corner, to where some big Persian rugs were lined up against the wall. Sitting next to them was a big crème-colored sofa, out of view from the rest of the storage area. There on the sofa, sat a man who although dressed nicely, had a dangerous air about him.

The man stood up and nodded, as he saw Danny approach.

"You Danny?" the man said.

"Yeah. My friends call me Gatts."

"I don't care what they call you. I'm only here for one thing, and I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Well, some things came up that had to be dealt with right then. So if you wanna make the deal, let's do it. If not, then get the hell out, and stop wasting my time."

"Look, Danny, or Gatts, or whatever the hell they call you. You talked to my man, right? So you know who I am, and what I can do for you. I'm willing to send a lot of business your way. But you have to play by my rules. Got it?"

Gatts looked the man, straight in the eye, and drew two steps closer. "I don't play by anyone's rules. You got that?" Danny said calmly, with half a shrug. Then he turned and began to walk away.

The man reached out and placed his hand on Danny's shoulder.

"Wait a minute Gatts! I have to get that stuff right now. Some friends of mine, or associates, I should say, are waiting on me. So let's just make the trade, stop the bullshit...and I'll be on my way."

"Fine," Danny said. "You got the cash?"

The man pulled out a gold money clip, which held a large-sized roll of hundred dollar bills. He peeled off five and handed them to Danny.

"Here you are. Five hundred, just like you said. Now, where's my rocks?”

Danny reached into the upper left side of his jacket and pulled out a plastic baggy, which contained five chunks of crack cocaine. He then handed the baggy over to the man. The guy opened the baggy, took out each rock, looked at it, smelled it, then he tasted one. Once he was satisfied with the contents, he stuck the baggy in his suit pocket. Then

he nodded and smiled at Danny.

"Everything looks good."

"Of course. Now, was there anything else you wanted?"

"Hmmm, not right at this moment. But if I think of anything, I'll have my man get in touch with you. A pleasure doing business with you Gatts."

"Likewise...uh, what's your name again?" Gatts asked him.

"Just call me, Trevor, alright?"

"Sure Trevor, and listen....spread the word around, okay? Because I'm real easy to find."

Trevor smiled without answering then walked around the corner, leaving Gatts to recline on the sofa alone, and muse happily, about the little taste of heaven, soon to come his way.

A couple of hours had passed, when Lonnie poked his head around the corner and called to Danny.

“Hey man, there’s a dude out here, who says you’re late with his payment.”

“Fuck! Where is he Lon?”

“He’s still out in the alleyway, Riker wouldn’t let him in.”

“Okay. Tell Riker I’ll be up there in a few.”

“Alight,” Lonnie answered, then disappeared around the corner again.

Danny then went over to the big green-colored sofa, which was across from the one he sat on, and slid his hand under one of the cushions.

As he reached back, his fingers touched what he was looking for, his snub-nose 38 special.

“Ahhhh, there you are, my little friend.”

He pulled the gun out, then reached around, stuffed it into the small of his back, and headed towards the front door of the storage area. As he approached the door, Lonnie held it open for him.

“Good luck man,” Lonnie said, with a worried grin on his face.

Danny winked at him, as he walked calmly through the door.

As he approached the flight of stairs that led to the main door, the grizzled old vet, Riker, stood at the top, with his hand on the knob.

“You ready Gatts?” he asked.

“Yeah, open it.”

Riker opened the door, as Danny bounded lightly up the stairs then stepped outside. He stood in the alleyway and looked around. There, right across from him, he saw a tall, gaunt figure standing in a shadowed doorway. He walked over a few steps and halted.

“Rico, is that you?” Danny said.

The tall lanky frame of Rico Galazari stepped into the dim light of the alley. He stood there, perfectly still, like a statue of some fearless warrior who time and all the elements of nature had worn down, yet was not able to destroy.

The dark-skinned, menacing figure walked towards Danny and stood across from him. He stared Gatts, dead in the eyes, and slowly stroked his long, black goatee with bony fingers.

“You better have my money Gatts, or only one of us is leaving this alley alive,” Rico stated in a deep, gravely voice.

“Look Rico, I almost got it all together man. You just gimme a few more days, that’s it.”

“Bullshit Gatts!” Rico yelled, suddenly becoming livid. “You’d better come up with my money right now, or I’m gonna bust a cap in that skinny white ass.”

“C’mon Rico. Just a few more days man. You’ve waited this long, right? What’s a few more days gonna matter?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to Gatts? I’m not one of your mangy-ass, dope-head friends you can blow off anytime you want. Now, you’d best come up with my cash real fast, or I’m gonna plant you six feet under."

Suddenly, Rico started whispering something to Danny that caught him by surprise.

(“Run Gatts. Get outta here now kid.”)

Danny drew his head back like he had been slapped in the face.

“What the hell you talking about Rico? I’m not gonna run anywhere… and why are you whispering like that? There something wrong with your voice all of a sudden?”

(“I ain’t playing around man…get the hell outta here while you still can.”)

Just then, Danny caught something moving out of the corner of his eye. He glanced further up the alleyway and noticed some shadows shifting, around a large stack of barrels.

“Oh shit. Rico, you sold me out, you lousy bastard!" Danny said, as he started to back away slowly, then broke into a full sprint.

Just as he did, two cops came darting out from behind the barrels and ran after him, full speed.

“Come back here Gatts!” the older cop yelled. “Don’t make me shoot you, kid.”

As both of the officers ran after Danny, the younger of them holstered his gun and shot after Danny like a bullet. He hadn’t followed him long when he got almost within arm’s reach of him. Suddenly the young rookie hurled himself at Danny and body-tackled him to the ground. They wrestled around a little, and eventually, the newest member of Pentameter City’s finest got the upper hand. Just then, the older officer, Sergeant Roy O’ Donnelly came trotting up to the scene.

“Good job Buckner. Guess I don’t have that lightning speed like I used to in the old days.”

“No problem Sarge. I live for catching little punks like this. C’mon

Gatts, get your ass up,” Buckner said, as he rose slowly to his feet, pulling Danny up along with him.

Once he got Danny up, he pulled his arms behind his back and slapped the cuffs on him.

Danny stood there; silently fuming that had allowed himself to be caught so easily.

Buckner looked down and saw the gun that Danny was packing lying on the ground. He reached down and picked it up. Then, he turned the gun around admiringly.

“Well, I’ll be damned, a snubby! One thing I got to say for you Gatts; you got good taste in guns. I have one of these myself. I hope you got a license for this thing.”

“Yeah, my dog ate it, so frigging what?” Danny said as the eager young officer patted him down.

Buckner reached up and grabbed a fistful of Danny’s shirt.

“Just keep popping off, you little wise-ass punk and I’ll make you eat this gun!”

O’Donnelly reached over and pushed Buckner off him gently. Then, he stood there shaking his head.

“You never should’ve run, Danny. When I have to chase someone, then I get real upset, and it becomes a little more personal for me. You get what I’m saying, kid?”

Gatts shifted about, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying, O’Donnelly. Big frigging deal. What exactly am I being busted for? You pigs never caught me doing a single thing. So tell me right now, why this maniac ran after me like a bat out of hell, and what you got on me?”

“Dealing kid. We got you for dealing again.”

“Bullshit O’ Donnelly! I just got off probation. You really think I’m gonna do some stupid shit like that?”

“Look, forget trying to deny it, kid. You know that guy you sold to, Trevor? We found him with the goods still on him. We pressed him real hard, and he gave you up. So, c’mon Danny, let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Fuck you O’Donnelly! I’m going to make it real hard on yer ass!”

Buckner smacked Danny upside his head and pushed him against a nearby wall, and shoved his elbow into the middle of his back.

“Watch your mouth, you vile little punk! You’re talking to a twice-decorated, 20-year vet! Show some respect!" Sergeant O’Donnelly held his hand up, attempting to calm the young rookie down.

“Easy there Buck, Danny’s a good kid. He’s just been steered in the wrong direction too many times by the wrong people. Ain’t that right, Danny?”

Buckner took his hands off Danny, allowing him to turn around and face the older cop.

“Yeah, I guess so…whatever,” Danny said. “What I wanna know is how in the hell you ever got Rico involved? I never pictured him as a rat, not after all the shit he’s done.”

“That’s exactly how we got him to talk. We got so much dirt on him, we made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Know what I mean kid?”

"No, I don't know what you mean O' Donnelly. Why don't you explain it to me," Danny said as he stood there frowning sullenly for a few moments. Then he turned his head away and spit out a tiny bit of blood.

“We needed him to flush you out kid,” O’Donnelly continued. “You know that hideout too well. We never would’ve been able to find you if we came busting in there like a couple of bulls. So we offered him a pass, if...he led us to you and flushed you out for us.”

"I wish you had come busting in there," Danny said. "If you did, I promise you we would not be having this conversation right now."

“"Sure kid, whatever you say. Alright Buck, read him his rights.”

“Gladly,” Buckner said. “You have the right to remain silent, you little punk. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, then you'll rot in jail where yer little ass belongs…”

“Yeah, whatever...okay? I know the drill,” Danny said impatiently. “Now, just take me downtown and book me so we can get this shit over with. I got some business to take care of.”

Both the law officers grabbed Danny’s arms and led him back to the spot where they had parked their squad car.

Once they got there, they put him in the car and drove off.

When they got Danny to the police station, they performed the typical

screening process for inmates, which took about three hours. When they were all through he was allowed to make his one phone call. Danny dialed his dad’s cell number and waited. The phone rang three or four times, and finally, his dad picked up.

“Hello?” Deckland answered.

“Hello, Dad. They picked me up again.”

“Danny? Where in the hell are you Son?”

“I’m in jail Dad. They got me for dealing crack again.”

There was a moment of tense silence.

“Jesus Christ Danny! Your mother and I just moved heaven and earth to get you off the last time, and now you’re telling me you’re back in prison…AGAIN?" Danny’s father screamed the last word so loud that everyone around him stopped what they were doing and looked in his direction. Danny held his hand over the receiver.

“I’m sorry Dad. I promise this is the last time. Just get me outta here,” Danny said almost pleadingly.

There was another moment of silence, which for Danny, seemed like an eternity.

“No, Son. Not this time. I think you’re better off where you are. You need to get off the powder, and if this is the only way to make that happen, then so be it.”

“Look, Dad, I give you my word, it’ll never happen again. You just gotta help me out this one last time, please. You’re right, I do need to get off that shit, it’s messing with my head. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. But, if you get me off the hook this one last time, I’ll get some help, Dad. I promise.”

“Look Danny…that’s the same thing you said last time, and the time before that, remember? It’s not going to happen again, son. I’m sorry, you did the crime, you do the time.”

“Wait, Dad. Please…DAD!” Danny yelled.

The line went dead. Danny pulled the phone away and stared at it, almost in tears, then he

placed it back on the hook.

O’Donnelly was waiting off to the side until Danny finished his call. At that moment, he walked over and stood beside him. “I’m sorry, kid, I'll have to put you in the cell now."

Danny stood there, just staring at the floor.

O’Donnelly placed his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “C’mon son, let’s go.”

The two of them walked over to the holding cell, and after he unlocked it, O’ Donnelly pulled the cage door open, allowing the worried, young Danny Gatts to walk inside. Then, he closed it and locked it up again.

Danny walked over and just sat on the floor. There was one other inmate in there with him, but Danny paid him no attention. He just sat there with his back to the wall, and his face in his hands.

After a few minutes, Danny looked up at his cellmate; a black dude, about his size, but much older looking. The guy nodded his head and smiled.

“What they git you for man?” he asked Danny.

“Dealing crack,” Danny answered, as he went over and sat on the bench, right next to him.

“Name’s Curtis my man, what’s yours?”

“Danny. What did they get you on, Curtis?”

“Got me on a charge of Domestic Violence.”

“What did you do man?” Danny inquired.

“Me and my wife had it out, and I just slapped her around her a little, that’s all.”

Danny sat there, shaking his head. “What happened, you catch her cheating on you?”

“Nah, we got into an argument, and she said some stupid shit that wasn't true. We fight all the time. Only problem this time was, my little boy saw me hitting her. My little six-year-old son, saw me beating up his mom.” Then he slammed his fist down on the bench.

"Aw hell, man. How am I gonna explain to my little boy, why I was beating up on his momma?" That shit stays with a kid forever. I don’t want that little boy growing up like I did. I don’t want him out on the streets, getting all mixed up in crime and drugs. Hell, man, that's the age when I started going bad.”

Danny just nodded his head sympathetically.

Then, Curtis started to mist up a little. “Man, I think about my son all the time. I worry about him constantly. A father doesn’t want his son growing up to be a bum. He wants him to live a good life. A father wants his son to have all the things he never had. I wish I could just protect that little boy from everything bad out there. I wish I could just pick him up in my arms right now, tell him how much I love him, and that everything is going to be alright.” Then, Curtis started to weep.

Danny sat there this whole time, just listening.

“Curtis, now I think I understand how my dad must feel. My father has helped me so many times, and I just keep on messing around and ending up back in here again. I know he wants me to live a good life, to get out there and make something of myself. But, I just get back on the street man, and end up making the same mistakes over and over, and I know he’s sick of it. He wanted to help me just now when I called him on the phone, I could sense it in his voice. But, I guess he felt at some point, like he had to let me go to live my life as I see fit, and I know how much that hurt him.”

Curtis just sat, staring at Danny the whole time and shaking his head.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you again, Dad. I’m so sorry,” Danny kept saying over and over again, as he held himself, and rocked back and forth on the bench, trying to ease the pain and guilt he was feeling.

Curtis, though in pain himself, could see that here was someone who was suffering way more than he was. He suddenly reached over and put his hand on Danny’s shoulder.

“Listen, Danny. Your dad still loves you man. Sure he’s mad at you right now because you screwed up, and probably a little hurt too cause he can’t help you like he wants. But he’ll never stop loving you, my friend. Take it from me, Danny, no matter how bad you mess up, your dad will always love you. A father loves his son more than anything else on this earth, and that will never change. Just give him a little time, Danny. He’ll forgive you.”

Danny’s face brightened a little. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said.

Then, Danny went over to the other bench and lay down, trying to figure things out. After they talked a little more, both of them nodded off. About two hours later, O’Donnelly came over, trying to rouse the young inmate.

“Wake up, Danny!”

Both of the cellmates stirred on their benches. Danny sat up, looked around, and saw O’Donnelly standing outside the cell door.

“Let’s go, kid…you’re sprung.”

“I am, by who?”

O’Donnelly stepped aside and Danny’s father walked up.

“Dad! Man, am I glad to see you,” Danny said, as he walked over, reached between the bars and shook his father’s hand.

“I bet you are, Son. C’mon, let’s get you out of here and take you home where you belong.”

“Okay, Dad, I’m coming. Just one second” Then he went over to where Curtis was still sitting, reached down, and shook his hand.

“Don’t worry about your boy, Curtis. A son loves his father more than anything else on this earth, and that’s something I should know about. He’ll turn out alright. I know he will.”

“Thanks, Danny, Curtis said. Then, he stood up and they embraced each other for a few seconds.

“No, thank you, Curtis. You’ve helped me make up my mind about a

lot of things and I’m grateful.

Curtis smiled. “No problem, Danny. You’ve helped me a lot too. I won’t forget you, kid.”

“Same here Curt,” Danny said, as he gave him a fist-tap, then walked over to where his father was waiting outside the cell. After Danny got signed out and collected all of his belongings. The two of them walked out to the car and got in.

“Thanks, Dad. I wasn’t sure if you were going to get me out or not,” Danny said, as they headed back home.

“Neither was I, Son.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Well, you’re my boy. And even though you make me mad sometimes, I still love you, and there was no way I could leave you in there to rot.”

“I knew you couldn’t, Dad."

"But, listen to me, Danny. I pulled a lot of strings to get you out this time. I mean I had to call in some pretty big favors. So please, don’t disappoint me again.”

“I won’t, Dad. I've learned my lesson, and I give you my word. I’m done with all that crap. Today is a brand new beginning for me.”

“That’s good to hear, Son. It really is. But, I just want to tell you now, your mother doesn’t know anything about all this. She has no idea that her son got thrown in jail twice this year for the same thing, and it would break her heart if she found out. So, please just do me a favor and don’t bring it up when she’s around. We’ll get around to telling her eventually, just not right now. I don't think she could handle it.

“I won’t tell her yet, Dad. I promise you that.”

“Good boy. So, it looks like you made yourself a new friend while you were in there.”

“I did, Dad. Curtis is a really great guy. He explained to me that a father loves his son more than anything else on this earth and that helped me see things from your point of view. It made me understand the kind of pain you must’ve been going through because of what I had done.”

“This Curtis sounds like a very wise man, Danny. Is that all you learned from him?”

“No sir. I also learned that listening to someone else’s problems can sometimes help you see where you’ve gone wrong in your own life. He gave me hope and that’s something I’ve been without for a long, long time. I wish we didn’t have to leave him there.”

Right then Danny’s father put the brakes on, turned the car around and headed back in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing Dad? I thought we were going home.”

“Not just yet, Danny. We’re going to get your friend out first. Anyone who gives my son that kind of outlook on life doesn’t need to be spending the night in a place like that.”

“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best!”

That day, Danny obtained two of the most precious things he could ever hope to find.

He got a second chance at life and a friend who understands.

Disruptive thoughts

of life

intruded upon the peaceful

scenery of the Sunday park.

As a slow-moving

sad-faced old gentlemen

frozen by the years

of solitude

made small talk

with the chattering

afternoon bird crowd.

Reclining in a death pose

upon the bench

he frowned at the sky

as the Sun forced him

out of his pretended

grave shell

and the wandering wind

gently prodded him

with thoughts of decay.

"I was free once,” the wind whispered,

“before the soft feather down of clouds

framed my presence with sea swirls

and land rot.

Now I am told where to blow.

Gone are the days

when I skimmed over the ocean

in limitless contemplation of all life.

The East?

The East always demanded more of me than I was willing to give.

The West?

The West loved me for the legends I blew through their land.

The North?

Yes, The North owns my heart, and always will.

The South?

The South never wanted me, though they were always glad whenever I showed up.

That is my tale.

So move over my old friend.

Let me rest my weary bones beside you.

Share in your pain.

Until the dark mistress arrives

To cover our presence

With the black light

Of obscurity."

The Sun is shining, and it’s a beautiful summer's day in a Trendy New York neighborhood. Rich kids are outside playing with friends. Little dogs are trying to keep up with their pint-size masters. While ever-watchful mothers are peeking out the windows from time to time, doing their best to keep an eye on their precocious offspring.

Suddenly a door opens and a neatly done-up woman steps outside to the front walkway and calls her children in for lunch. As she does, a slick-looking man walks up and stands off to the side, carrying a large, black suitcase.

The woman looks him up and down as he stands there smiling at her pleasantly. She ignores him for a couple of minutes as she gazes about calling her sons’ names, trying to determine where they have gotten to. Realizing he won’t go away, she grows annoyed with his presence and finally addresses him.

“Yes sir, is there something I can help you with?”

He steps forward and opens his suitcase. “Yes Ma’am, as a matter of fact, there is,” he answers. “Can I interest you in purchasing one of these books?”

She glances down briefly and sees that the books all have black shiny leather covers, and written on each of them in slim, gold, fanciful lettering are the words, “The Book of Self.”

The books are somewhat appealing to her in an odd sort of way and so she feels a little tempted to reach out, pick one up, and start reading. But in the end, she smiles at the salesman while shaking her head.

“I’m sorry sir, but between taking care of my business and trying to keep up with my rowdy kids, I simply don’t have the time for much reading. So I’m afraid I’ll have to say no. Besides, I have way too many other problems in my life right now to be bothered with such nonsense.”

The man smiles and nods his head sympathetically. “Miss, I understand what you're saying completely. But these books are far from being nonsense. And with your problems, that's all the more reason why you should give them a chance.”

The woman laughs a bit nervously, backs away then heads towards her home as the man follows her and pulls out a book. When she reaches her door, she turns towards him

again. “I’m sorry sir but in all honesty, I seriously doubt that any book has the ability to solve what I am going through."

“Well ma'am, quite frankly you will never know until you try. So will you at least take a look inside the book? Afterwards, if you still remain unmoved by what you find there I’ll gladly be on my way.”

The woman stands there for several seconds, debating what to do.

“Sure, if it will get you away from my doorstep and on to bother somebody else, I’ll take a minute or two and see what’s inside.”

“Thank you, miss, you won’t regret it…I promise.”

“I’ll decide that for myself if you don't mind” the woman answers as she reaches out and takes the book that the ever-persistent salesman offers her. She holds it in her hands and studies the front cover briefly. Finally, she opens the book and as she does her eyes fall upon the following words, “She opened the cover, began reading, and was amazed to find that the words were spontaneously writing themselves at that precise moment.” She quickly closes the book and hands it back to the man.

“I - I’m not sure I understand miss. So, you are not interested in buying a book now?” The man says, clearly confused by the woman’s reluctance to accept the evidence of her own eyes. Nevertheless, he takes the book back and prepares to place it in the suitcase.

“Wait!” She yells a second later as she reaches out and snatches the book back, opens it and starts reading again. The book continues with the words, “She changed her mind grabbed the book out of the salesman’s hands and continued reading what she found there. At that moment her sons came running up and stood off to the side as she followed the words which narrated the events that were taking place around her.” She suddenly closes the book and moves from in front of the doorway.

“Go inside, boys, lunch is on the table,” she tells them. The two of them step around their mother, but instead of going in the house normally, they both turn around and back up through the open doorway as they closely eye this strange man who now has their mother’s complete attention.

Once they’re inside, she reaches in and pulls the door shut after them. A second later she opens the book and reads,” She closed the door once they went in, then she opened the book and began reading again.” She only read for a few seconds then closed the book hard, so that the covers came together with a loud snap. Then, she thrust the book back at the man, as though she wanted nothing else to do with it.

“Look sir, I don’t know what kind of trick you’re trying to pull here, or what kind of scam

you’re running in order to make me buy these books from you, but it’s not going to work, GOT IT?”

“Look, Ma’am, I’m not sure what you mean, but I assure you that this is no sca-”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I mean mister. I am an honest, sensible, God-fearing woman and I will not allow some evil trash like that into this home. Now, you’d best be on your way sir, before my husband comes home for lunch and asks you to leave in a manner that is, how shall I put this? A lot less gentle than you’re probably used to.”

“Fine ma’am, I apologize for having wasted your time,” the man says as he takes the book back somewhat reluctantly, places it in the suitcase with the others and snaps the case shut. Then, right before he turns to leave he heaves a heavy sigh and smiles at the woman. “I just hope you don’t live to regret this decision. There have been others like yourself who have turned down this same opportunity and ended up deeply lamenting their choice later on.”

“I don’t see how,” the woman answered, as she stands at her door, preparing to go inside. “If all the book does is simply tell a person what’s taking place around them, then it really can’t be much of a help, can it?”

“Well, that really depends on the owner of the book.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Please explain that statement,” the lady said as she closes the door, which she had partly opened. She now stands there with her arms folded in front of herself.

“Well, as odd as it sounds, these books actually have the ability to learn about their owners and in some cases, help them correct their actions, or keep them from making rash decisions. But the person must be willing to open up the book every day to see what is written there, and they must also be willing to open themselves up as well. It has to be a mutual give-and-take relationship. Then, when the book knows enough about a person it can start to anticipate their choices and help direct them to make wiser, more informed decisions.”

“I’m sorry sir, but I find that a little hard to believe. How can any book have such power? Even books like these that seem to almost have a mind and will of their own.”

“I do not know miss, it’s beyond my ability to figure out as well. All I know is that they’ve helped my wife and me a great deal.”

“Wait, you mean you own one of these books too?”

“Oh yes. I possess about a dozen of them, and most of my friends do as well.”

“How did they come into your possession? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Certainly not. Several years ago I visited an Indian mystic who lived high up in a monastery in the Himalayas. I had gone through quite an ordeal in my life before I arrived there. My first wife and our young son had been killed when a bandit had broken into our home and…and…” (Here he stops and begins swallowing hard as he tries to keep the memory of the tragedy from overwhelming him)

“I’m sorry sir, but I can see I’ve asked a question about things you may not be ready to–“

He holds his hand up as he tries to compose himself. “No, just give me a minute, please. I’ll be ok, honestly.” Afterwards, he takes a few deep breaths and manages to regain his composure.

“Look, if this is too hard for you, then why don’t we simply forget it. And I’ll buy a book just for having caused you to relive what must’ve been a very painful time in your life.”

“No...I’m fine now, thank you. Besides, it does me good to share my story from time to time. But, back to what I was saying, after their passing, I had a hard time coming to grips with what happened. I became a recluse for several months and had contemplated suicide before-“

“Oh my…how awful that must’ve been for you.”

“Yes, yes it was. But a long-time friend of mine eventually helped me to get through my dark night of the soul and actually informed me about the Indian mystic I mentioned. He had apparently met this ancient sage once before when he was a young boy.”

“How did they meet?” the woman inquired.

“His father needed both mental and physical healing after he had been grievously wounded in the war,” the salesman continued, “and so he was directed by some of the locals to this old healer who was very well-known among the people. Some of them agreed to take him there for a small fee. He paid the fee and brought his son along as well because he thought it would be a good learning experience for the boy, and so it was.”

“So, what happened when you finally encountered this ancient mystic?”

“When I arrived there, he informed me that he already knew I was coming, and he told

me many other things about my life as well. Afterwards, he invited me to sit down in front of his fire, I did so, then he asked me what I most desired in life. And so I told him that I wanted the ability to help myself.”

“That’s a good thing to ask for,” the woman noted.

“Yes, I thought so too, and apparently…he did as well.”

“What do you mean, did he tell you so?”

“No, but he sat there for quite a long time, grinning and nodding as he rocked himself back and forth with his eyes closed. I don’t know, but I kinda got the impression that he was pleased. Finally he told me that there were two things he could do for me.”

“What two things did he say he could do?”

“He said that he could give me the ability to help myself or to help others. He said that if I chose the first, I would travel far, learn many things and become a great man. But, he added, if I picked the second choice, then I would end up changing many lives, help others to do the same and perhaps bring peace to a small part of the world and leave a great legacy behind.”

“Obviously you chose the latter of the two,” the lady stated.

“I did, and I’ve not regretted it since.”

“But, you’ve still not explained to me how the book came into being.”

“I was just about to do that. After I made my choice, we went into a part of the monastery where there was a large collection of books, scrolls and such. He went over to one shelf in particular, pushed aside several dusty volumes of ancient lore, reached back, pulled out a large canvas bag and handed it to me.”

“And let me guess, the book he wanted you to have was in the canvas bag, right?” The woman said with a self-congratulatory grin, sure that she had guessed the answer.

“No, not quite. We went over to the fire, and he told me to open the bag and take out what was there, and so I did.”

“And what was it you took out?”

“A small scroll wrapped up in some type of animal skin. He then ordered me to toss it into the fire, and I did so. Afterwards, we sat back down and he began throwing some

herbs and incense into the flames, while muttering strange incantations. Afterwards, the flames began leaping up high. Then they began to crackle and as odd as it may sound, it almost seemed as if the fire was speaking back to him.”

“Oh my, that does sound odd, and kind of scary as well. What did he tell you to do next?”

“As the flames died down a little, but continued burning he gave me some herbs to eat, which I did. Then he told me that I must rest there for one day and one night.”

“Are you serious? He really told you that you had to sleep there in front of the fire for that long?”

“That’s correct.”

“I mean, weren’t you worried that he might…do something to you?”

“No, not at all. If you ever met the man you’d understand what I mean. He seemed completely harmless to me and in no way capable of hurting anyone, or anything for that matter. But, for the record, I did ask him why I had to sleep there.”

“And, what did he say?”

“He explained to me that I must sleep while the fire slept so that all my thoughts, words, memories, actions, emotions and knowledge could be gathered into the fire as well, in order for me to have the gift he offered.”

“And that’s when you fell asleep, right?”

“Yes, that is…I think so. Frankly, I don’t even remember falling asleep, I do recall waking up, however.”

“And how did you feel once you woke up?”

“Honestly, I felt different in a good sort of way, like there was an awareness deep inside of me that everything was going to be fine now. But, anyway, when I did finally awaken, I saw that the fire was out, but it was still smoldering a little. That’s when I saw the book lying right there in the middle of the ashes, but it had no title on it. The ancient one then bade me come to his side of the fire. Then, he told me to kneel, wet my finger, dip it into the ashes, and write on the front cover whatever title I thought suited the book best.”

“And, so you called it the Book of Self, right?”

“Well, not right away, I ran several names by the old one first, to see what he thought of

them.”

“What were the other names you came up with? I’m eager to hear them,” the lady inquired as she sat down on the front step. Afterwards, the salesman set his suitcase down and sat right next to her.

“The first title that I ran by him was, The Book of Self-Helping which I thought suited the book perfectly. However, he said if I gave it that title the book would simply write about itself and no one else. Essentially he said the book would just help itself.

“Oh, well…that’s not much good then, is it?” The woman observed.

“No, it’s not. But, I still had another idea for a title which I thought might work.”

“And what was that?”

“I suggested we call it, The Help Guide for Everyone. But that name also he said was equally bad. He told me that the book would then write endless little passages about every single person in my life. From my family and friends to the mailman, pizza delivery boy, grocery clerk down the street and our family dentist as well. In other words, the book would focus on everyone at the same time, and thus it would be unable to help anyone.”

“Oh my, all those people.”

“Yes, all those people is right. Then, I said perhaps I should just call it, The Book of Help but that too he said would accomplish nothing. So, as I was attempting to think of something else, I said simply, The Book of Self. And at that point, I was still trying to think of another word to add on when he stopped me and said that’s perfect!”

“What’s perfect?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I said…what’s perfect? And he answered, The Book of Self. That he said, was the best title I could give to it. I asked why, and he told me that it would then write only about the person who possessed it.”

“But, it wrote passages about my kids just now.”

“Well, it will of course include others in its pages, but only as how they relate to whoever owns the book.”

“Oh, I see.”

“And so, once he laid his hands on my shoulders, I wet my finger, dipped it into the ashes

and wrote on the cover the title it now bears, and just as he said, it fit perfectly.”

“My word, that is a fascinating story, I must admit. So what happens when you start to run out of books, do you go back to this Indian Sage and get more?”

“No. Actually when I do start to run low, the book just reproduces itself and when I open the suitcase again, it is filled once more.”

“That’s amazing!” The woman exclaimed. “But, why do you have a dozen of them yourself? Is your life so complicated that you fill-up the pages that fast?”

“No, the books never fill themselves up. Whenever I get close to the end of a book, it simply adds more pages on its own. I have a dozen of them so that I can give away some to family, friends and whoever else I encounter that may be in need of one.”

“Well, if you don’t mind telling me, what exactly do you do with all the money you make from your sales?”

“Well naturally, some of it helps towards paying my bills and such. If I have enough left over, I may donate a little to my favorite charity. And the rest I send to the old man who then uses it to purchase things he needs to continue helping others just as he helped me. Also, I should mention that I do have a full-time job. This is something I only do on the side.”

“Yes. Well, that is one unbelievable story regardless, and I can see now why you try so hard to sell them. So, I guess there really is something special to these books after all.”

“Yep, there really is,” the salesman stated, “I’m living proof of that.”

“I agree, you certainly are. But there was one other thing I've been wondering about. If I do buy one, will the book continue to write about me even when it's closed, or only when I open it?"

"Oh both, to be sure. As a matter of fact, once you've had it in your possession for a while, you can randomly open it, and find any number of chapters written about your life. Including your family and friends, your job, your hobbies, the choices you make about certain things, and all else besides. At that point, once the book becomes familiar enough with your life, dreams, goals, wishes, and plans then it will also come to form certain opinions about you, which it will also share as well."

"Oh my!" The woman exclaimed. "That is truly amazing. Well, you've definitely sold me on them. I'll take one...no two!" The woman said, suddenly realizing that an extra book may just come in handy.

“Fine, here you are,” the salesman said, handing her the first book she’d been looking at and another one as well. “That’ll be forty dollars even,” he stated.

“Okay. Just one second while I go in and retrieve the money from my purse. I hope you don’t mind waiting, um……I’m sorry sir, but I never did catch your name.”

“The name is Gregory…Gregory Von Hildebrand. And what might your name be, ma’am?”

“My name is Eleanor. And I am both very pleased and very fortunate to have met you, Gregory,” the lady said as she extended her hand towards him.

“I feel the same way, Eleanor,” he answered as he smiled, took her hand in his, then shook it briefly and held it awhile before finally releasing it.

“Well if you’ll excuse me please, I promise, I shan’t be long,” Eleanor said giddily as she turns and goes bouncing lightly up the steps. Once inside she sets the books down, reaches into her pocketbook, opens her purse and takes out the money. She then turns and quickly walks back through the open door.

Once outside though, she sees that the salesman has disappeared and left a receipt taped to the metal railing.

She pulls the receipt off, looks at it, and reads, “Two books/Total Price/$40/Paid in full.”

“I don’t get it,” she says to herself. “Why would he not want to collect his fee?” She then turns it over and on the back is written a little note.

“It’s enough that you were willing to pay, but you’ll find that the best things in life sometimes cost you nothing – Gregory”

She walks into her home, a little disappointed that she had not been able to thank the man properly. Then, after she places the money back into her purse, she opens one of the books and her eyes fall upon the latest entry.

“And so her hope was turned to both disappointment and then joy. As she lost her chance to thank the kind salesman, but was rewarded with a new best friend who would come to know her entire life story from cover to cover.”

The End?

He smiled in wretched sadness.

Weeping brittle tears of joy at the empty hole

his life had become.

He wrote a letter in pencil to his dearly departed friend

but ran out of ink.

So he started all over again

at the end.

“I think of you sometimes when the warm winter wind blows

dragging with it dust drops of water.

It forms your face in the street.

But then the cold-hearted Sun dries your smile away.

Still, I remember.

I recall fondly the time we spent apart.

I still have all those letters you never sent me.

Thank you for those.

All those trips we took together

I’m sorry I never showed up.

All those late-night conversations we never had

I still replay them over and over in my mind.

I hope I never see you again

one day soon.

I miss hearing the sound of your silence.

Eve and the boys send love and flowers.

We all miss you terribly

you rotten bastard.

Hope you’re doing well

in Hell.

Regretfully,

Your friend Adam.

After he got the news, his arms went limp and the rose fell to the floor. He stood there, staring at it for a few moments. Unable to move or even think. Finally, he unfolded the paper and began reading again the poem he had composed for her.

"Though we're apart and my life is a desert, love can still bloom in the driest of places. Like a rose that waters itself with the tears of missing you."

He stopped short, unable to finish. Then stooping down, he picked up the flower, and put it under his nose, allowing its fragrance to linger there. As he stood up and inhaled deeply, he recalled the place where they had first met.

It was at a little sidewalk café, in Paris, where he often went to work on his journal. He was sitting alone, she with friends. He was jotting down some random observations about the music and the cuisine when she came up softly. She cleared her throat a little, causing him to gaze up and stare at her in stunned silence.

She stood there like a lovely European dream. Her long, flowing, blond hair was soft-lifted by the breeze, playing all around her head in delicate little tangles. Her deep blue, sea green eyes regarded him with surprised interest, as her smooth skin shimmered in the hot Paris sun like rose-colored pearl. For a few moments, he was unable to speak.

Finally, he slipped back into this new reality where anything was possible as long as she was a part of it.

"Wha-What may I do for you?" He said, barely able to control his emotions.

She went to speak, and her soft voice sounded cool, clear, and musical. Like the whisper of magic fairy chimes, tinkling softly in an open doorway on a pleasant spring day.

"May I have this chair?" She asked, coming up close and placing both her arms around it as if she could not bear to be parted from it. "You see, a friend of mine has just arrived, and she has no place to sit."

Then she stepped aside and allowed him to peer behind her, where he saw two attractive ladies sitting at a table. While a third one stood close by, gazing his way with a hopeful expression.

He could refuse her nothing. "Yes, you may have it most certainly. Just as long as you promise to come and sit with me after your friends leave."

She tilted her head a little to one side, gazed at him with eyes wet and glistening, then she made a sigh that he would never forget. Seeming to laugh and cry in the same breath.

"Oh, I cannot, for we are all leaving together, you see. Ah well, I shall just find one somewhere else I suppose." Then she went to turn away when he stopped her.

"Wait! I shall not hear of such a thing!" He proclaimed indignantly. "You shall surely take that chair for your friend. It is my gift to you. Enjoy."

Then she giggled and clapped her hands together gleefully like a young schoolgirl. "Oh goody! Thank you so much kind, sir. You truly are an angel."

"No Madam, you are the angel. I am but a wandering soul, waiting for the salvation only your sweet love can provide."

She looked him directly in the eyes and mouthed the words thank you. As she slid her tongue out seductively and let it touch the front of her lips. Then she smiled, waved a little, and after lifting up the chair, she set it down for her friend. Then they both sat down together, ordered some drinks and all of them started talking.

He tried to continue working on his journal. But each time he did, he would hear her laughter rise above that of the others, and it left his soul intoxicated. Or he would hear her talking and her voice became like a siren song. Seeming to sound higher, clearer, and more beautiful than all the rest. It almost caused him to lose control of his emotions. So that in a second or two he felt as if he might rise up and declare his love for her. Regardless of who was around or what happened afterwards.

Suddenly, he shot a quick glance here and there to see if anyone else had become aware of his growing infatuation with her. No one had. Then, he dropped his pen on the table, closed the journal, sat back in his chair, and lit up a cigarette. Resigning himself to defeat.

Several minutes later he put the cigarette out and began collecting up his journal, some notes, and other miscellaneous things he had brought with him. He placed everything within a small leather carrying case. Determined to come back in a day or two when hopefully, there would be no more distractions.

Then, just as he stood up to leave, her perfume instantly reached out, caught hold of him, and enfolded his senses within a cloud of bliss. He stood there helplessly with his eyes closed, seeming to breathe in a mystical flower of paradise right after the world was new-created.

He knew he couldn't leave like this, so he sat down again and quickly wrote a few lines about her. Then he casually dropped the paper in front of her as he passed. She opened it there and read quietly to herself.

"I am intrigued by the perfume you are wearing. I remember smelling that same fragrance before. It was at the Musée du Louvre. I was admiring that painting, "The Birth of Venus" by Botticelli. You were still lingering in the air, as I arrived.

I had just missed you. I have not been able to forget you since.

You came down from the painting, and into my life. I long to inhale you more deeply. Here is my number, can we meet?"

She called later that night, and they met the very next morning. In the same café, at the same table. From that moment on, his heart belonged to her.

On their first day sightseeing together, they walked under the Arc de Triomphe du Carousel where he kissed her and declared his love. In that moment he told her later, he had outdone Napoleon himself and taken possession of Europe's greatest treasure.

Afterwards, while strolling through the Jardin des Tuileries, they held hands as they admired the paintings, the statues and immersed themselves in the garden's breath-taking beauty. It was there he found a flower unlike the others and named it after her.

"La Fleur d'Elise."

Later, they walked the Champs-Élysées and stopped along the way to browse the luxury shops, cafés and cinemas.

As evening approached, they visited the Eiffel Tower and the Grands Boulevard area in the 9th Arrondisement, where they enjoyed some of the Parisian nightlife. Then they went back to their little café and had dinner.

Afterwards, they ordered a bottle of wine and sat there discussing music, art, poetry and theater. Towards the end of the night, they kissed once more and exchanged love vows, both of them swearing never to think of anyone else while they were apart.

Theirs was a sweet, simple relationship in which they constantly discovered new things about each other to cherish. He told her that he loved the way she tilted her head to one side ever so slightly while speaking. She said that she enjoyed the gleam of adoration in his eyes whenever he spoke to her. They thought it would never end.

But, that was more than a month ago, and a lot had changed since then. He mistook a friend for her lover and grew extremely jealous. Demanded to know who he was and why she was spending time with him. Angry words were exchanged and accusations made that she could not forgive. He had become unreasonable in his suspicions, so she broke it off.

Now she was gone. Had returned to London, her neighbor told him, barely an hour ago. He had just missed again her it seems. Yet her perfume was hanging heavy in the air as always. Then, the neighbor handed him a note from her.

He opened it up and read the final words which she had left for him.

"You sweet, silly man. You will find me...everywhere. Fondly, your Elise."

He nodded his head sadly and wiped away a few tears. Afterwards, he gave the rose to the neighbor, then placed the poem and the note in his pocket. Dejected but accepting, he walked out the front door and back down the street to the little café at which they had first met. Where he knew her fragrance would still be waiting to haunt him forever.

With the memory of a love that would never grow.

Drifting quietly over the slumbering land

comes the unfolding blanket of snowflakes.

They look like a flock of whirling stars.

Joyful and laughing, they gather in groups.

Chasing each other and playing seasonal games.

Or they drift aimlessly

like confused runaway children.

Frightened and alone.

The leaves bid them a dry welcome

as they lay there whimpering softly

about their Springtime loves.

When in youthful green colors

they bedecked the trees.

And waved adoringly

To the sweet, young blossoms below.

Occasionally one would sacrifice itself

and float to the ground.

Landing near a cherished flower.

There, for just a short time

they would bask

in its special and unique fragrance.

Now, those days gone

they lay dried and decaying

upon the broken-hearted Earth.

Restless, they move about in deserted places.

As the hopeless snowflakes approach.

I, a skillful hunter seek the shy reclusive doe.

Lying in wait that I may pierce her suddenly

with an arrow from Cupid’s bow.

Beneath the sheltering trees occasionally I behold her reposing

gazing at her reflection in the watery sky.

Then I wonder if it’s for love of me that she’s pining.

As her teardrops dapple the grateful roses, which sigh.

The songbirds perch above with restless wings

living to serve only her.

As they bring rich and luscious fruits in abundance

causing the taste buds of her heart to stir.

Then I see my chance, and as I aim and shoot

she leaps clear of my shaft with graceful ease.

Turning back she gives me a carefree, inviting glance

then disappears into the shadows beyond the trees.

Her movements are so fluid like water in motion

each step she takes is sweet music divine.

Causing the soul of all creation to rejoice in my love’s presence

with visions of her beauty that transcend the sublime.

Harken now

as the westerly wind softly intones a low

mournful dirge.

While the reeds at the water’s edge

pick up the sad refrains

and over them

they transpose their quavering

illusionary measures.

Broken up occasionally by a discordant sigh.

The birds passing by

pause a moment

as they listen crestfallen

to the slow, sorrowful lament.

Which they keep time to

with a dull thrumming of the wings.

And a sweet blending-over

of fading trills.

Which becomes barely perceptible

amidst the echo-booms

of the loud thundercloud drums.

And the intermittent tinkling sound

of the raindrops.

As they pelt the leaves

on the musical tree of magic colors.

Which having once danced

and enjoyed life and freedom so much

now stands condemned.

Hopelessly rooted

to this one solitary spot.

And so it droops over now

with dampened spirits.

As it beholds the birds,

the wind, the reeds

and all the other players

in this lonely cheerless pastoral.

Trying to recall a time

when it didn’t once glance backwards

and think of things precious

that were

but are no more.

While the grey, somber sky

conductor

of this orchestrated

remembrance

soothes

their saddened spirits

by serenading them

with a melodious rainbow.

Which heralds

the promise of a new day.

When all of nature

will once again

sing in tune.

Take these flowers from before me.

They are good for nothing.

Remove them from my sight!

These tear-smitten love growths.

See how they droop and wilt in my hands?

I will rip off their soft, pink deceptions.

Their faded hues hurt my eyes

with honest lies.

I want to behold some monstrous nosegays

sick of adorning the pale stem of scented finery.

Hate embellished roses, that’s what I want to see.

Bouquets of long-suffering flesh petals

blood-stained.

That makes the senses recoil with their pungent wind-sprays.

Mutated orchids disdain the garden.

Blooming in gaudy defiance from the trash heap.

Unplucked

they vomit forth their foul gushings with stifled breath.

Graceful in decay.

They shoot forth with lilting smiles

like the houseplant

cursing the hand that nurtures.

Blessed in uprooting.

Becoming more glorious when cast away.

Refusing life in tragic colors

that beautify

the dust where they lie.

Never a day passed

when he wasn’t there

watching the rose

white star birds

grazing in the cloudy air.

Soaring beyond sight

to appear once again.

The Fairy Terns

miracles of nature

this child was their life-long friend.

Over time, he was welcomed

following the pattern they flew.

from sky to sea

and back again

he was immersed in sunlit blue.

When he got married

they attended the rites

dazzling the couple

with flawless ballets

of graceful, inspired flight.

When his first child was born

they celebrated the birth

by directing sunlight

to enfold the infant

endowing its soul with mirth.

When his marriage ended

and his heart was broken

they hovered near him all that day

singing a song

too sad to be spoken.

When his son died in the war

and his soul was beyond healing

they wept rainbow tears

of impassioned color

to reflect what he was feeling.

Then, one day he came

and they weren’t there anymore.

He waited and watched

but they returned not

to the sky nor to the shore.

Afterwards he became depressed

when he knew his dearlings were gone

he felt deep inside

that they no longer loved him

so he made himself move on.

Many years later

after he drove everyone away

the cancer came

his breathing slowed down

his life-force a fading grey.

Slowly his limbs failed him

and he knew the end was near.

So he asked some neighbors

to take him back

to the beach which he held so dear.

They did as he wished

and left him alone.

So, there he remained

from dawn to dusk

till his body became like stone.

As his eyes began to close

he suddenly heard a sound.

Looked up and saw dozens

of Fairy Terns

slowly circling round.

One by one they descended

and covered him with their wings.

They took his pain

upon themselves

like fluttering heavenly kings.

As they flew off again

to the faraway lands

he held the last one gently

and wept

precious jewels into the sand.

The Sunlight was fading

as he let it be.

And when it flew away

He closed his eyes

as his body set his spirit free.