Messages from Nowhere (ch. 1)

Fast musical notes on a music sheet
Image by Horia Varlan via Flickr

The notes were repeating in Stephen’s head again. It was a torment he had come to accept. In fact, he had almost been swept away with
pride, picturing himself some kind of strange prophet, communicating with aliens or angels or something. The music did make him feel a little dizzy, though. Stephen went outside to take a short walk and get a little sun. It was still morning, so not too hot. He figured that the fresh air might clear his head some. When he stepped out of his door and onto the warm cement, he looked down and saw ants crawling all over  the place. He hated ants.  He put his hand to his forehead and felt several scars there that reminded him of what his eccentricities had cost him growing up. Teasing, fighting, injuries.  Being a little abnormal could be really inconvenient at times. Stephen remembered one time when he had really gotten his butt kicked after an argument over some strange idea he had. The other boy had repeatedly hit him across the face with a big, rusty can, then shoved his face into an ant pile. Stephen hurt and bled so bad that his mother found him crawling down the sidewalk back to his house.  She took him inside and tenderly nursed his wounds, some of which would become those scars he now felt on his head. It just didn’t seem worth it.  Stephen did have some good ideas at times, but socially, he was a slug.

The Sunday Whirl

Wordle 16

Family Friction

Picture of graves decorated with flags at Arli...
Image via Wikipedia

Two of a kind,

One that used to be,

And one that is now.

Time in a flip,

The old are young,

And the young are mature.

 

Then, darkness falls.

A deep depression and

A bit of dementia.

 

I tried to barricade

Myself in a room

In your house,

But it was your room,

Your house.

 

I had become an outsider.

We had grown apart.

The jolly trickster that

Was my grandfather

Had become an unhappy

Old man.

And I had hit a wall,

Fallen into a deep pit.

 

We butted heads

Until we made it home.

To the end, you were true.

And I would not appreciate

Your love and loyalty

For many years, long

Past your time to die.

 

As I sat in the car,

Listening to the 21-gun

Salute, I remembered

The stories you used to

Tell me about the war.

 

And I realized that time

Had taken its toll on a

Wonderful man, a man

That provided for a wife

And family and then

For another generation of

Five grandsons, all of whom

Adored you.

 

I know that despite

Our differences, you look

Down on me from

Heaven…and smile.