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Archive for the ‘LIFE’ Category

STRANGER FROM MILLER’S RAVINE

In LIFE, Millennial Generation, Short Fiction on May 29, 2015 at 12:20 AM

The purpose for my documentation is not due to inspiration, but rather, skepticism. A conversion of doubt, wonder and dread.

     It all came together when local historical records confirmed these events took place. Also, the dates, when and where and whom, proved accurate. I realized how that night, when I heard this story, something had occurred; and, its meaning, I leave for the reader to decide.

     My decision to record and document this may lead to consequences I have no desire to experience.*

      Damn conscience, damn memory, damn story—it haunts with a relentless need to be passed on.  Even now, the reluctance to continue writing flares up. A familiar paralysis of thought slows the movement of my hand.

In memory of the people whom history and folk tales have unjustly excluded, leaving them forgotten.

In memory of those who died knowing what we do not know and hopefully, never shall experience.

     Neither do we have any concept, nor ability for comprehending, how their lives were ended, taken for no reason, except a Dark Fate. May we remember them now. And also, be wary of the cause, for the Stranger still walks among us, eager with pride.

                             *As the Author risks, the Reader also takes a chance. A subsequent vulnerability contingent with this story warrants a word of caution. Reference to these ‘possible’ consequences, if necessary, are well documented and may be found in the concluding Index. –SPH 2001

STRANGERS

CONTINUE READING 

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Goodbye To The House On Peachblossom Creek

In LIFE on June 2, 2012 at 2:00 AM

Take me back to the days when we would swing

from the branches of dogwood trees,

run down to the dock with our minnow nets

to check the crab pots,

or in early summer, before the jellyfish,

jump off the end of the wooden dock

into Peachblossom Creek

We’d swim across the river to the sandbar

to play in the tidal pools

until we were called in for supper.

`     `     `   No one ever tells children the truth.

That point

It comes at some point and then,

childhood dies.

“`     ““     “

it happens slowly so you don’t notice

and once it’s dead,

`     `     `     `     `     `     it’s gone forever.

Days you can never have back.

`

Freedom as pure as a summer’s evening

stripped away as naturally and steadily 

as winter strips the earth of its green.

`

There are no more summer days

for us

at the house

on Peachblossom Creek.

`

We all grew up, our parents grew old,

and our grandfathers passed away.

It’s been years since that land was sold

with its great magnolia trees

that bloom every spring

“`     “   `

…if they’re still there.

…. Perhaps they bloom each year     for another       happy     family?

____

` ` <“•ª*`¬ ))~~~~>>}

But I don’t dare

turn right off the Oxford Road,

the first right after Peachblossom Creek Bridge,

onto Old Country Club Road,

where the gates to the house are less than a mile in,

I don’t dare go back again

`     `     `     The sight of how the years have changed it

`      `      `   I probably won’t recognize it

The House, The HOME,

where we celebrated so many Christmases

and summer nights catching lightning bugs

those years when we were children

those times that can never happen again

as we scattered apart like leaves on the wind

_

No one

ever

told me

that’s

what

growing up

is.

***

©2010, KHC

HE MUST BE SUCH A MAN….

In LIFE on January 21, 2012 at 12:20 PM

For My Own Dark Knight, With Love, From His Own Dizzy Dame

You had me at “FAAAAH-uck You!”

Happy Birthday, Frank, you brilliant and beguiling man!

Down these mean streets a man must go…. (Wearing a black fedora and trench coat, of course.)

THE SIMPLE ART OF MURDER
 
 
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