The Lost Son – Part II

from indianscowboys via flickr
from indianscowboys via flickr

He made his way to the forest, and had gone inside of it, through a trail that Two Wolves had shown him. Once he was in the forest for a while, the sun was beginning to rise, and he could see everything clearly. Up and over logs, around rocks, down into a ravine, and up the other side he went. As he traveled he noticed deer tracks. There were two – no three – deer not far up ahead according to what the trail was telling him. He thought about hunting, but no, he needed to get deep into the forest and away from the village.

It was bitter cold, some of the worst he had seen, and that was another reason to keep moving. He was still being driven by what he felt inside, but he knew he would have to build a fire by nightfall in order to survive. This was the kind of weather that could kill a man.

The trail ended at a large group of boulders, which he climbed. At the top he could see nothing but trees, and a small creek. This is where he wanted to be, the deep forest. No one would find him now. There was some thick brush that would be difficult to get through and that is exactly where he went.

At the village, it took a while for his mother to realize he had left. When she woke both her husband and Talking Eagle were not in the lodge, and she thought maybe they had gone out to talk. She prayed that there would be healing in her family. Her heart ached and tears filled her eyes. A short time later though, Bull Elk came inside and stared at her. He looked terrified. He did not say, good morning, or I’m sorry, he stammered, “I cannot find him, our son is gone”. Her mouth dropped open and her heart sank. He continued, “I’ve looked everywhere, the trail he left is headed for the forest”.

Bison in SnowThey both ran to the lodge of Standing on the Mountain, and the village sprang into action once the word had spread. There was no reason to ask why, or how did this happen? The people knew already, but more importantly they judged no one, and only wanted to help in some way. A group of men volunteered to go into the forest without horses, including all of the Grie men. They were Seven Hawks, and his son Wild Horse, Strong Bear, Buffalo Talker, and the boy’s father, Bull Elk.

Standing on the Mountain thought for a moment, as they were all assembled together, and asked Bull Elk if any Grie men needed to stay in the village. Bull Elk was having trouble facing the people, but he looked up and said, “The Grie people are safe here among the Tsi, and we know that”.

Most of the Tsi men also wanted to go looking for the young man, but not everyone should go. Hawk in the Sky mentioned that the group needed to be small, because of the thickness of the brush in the forest. Fifteen year old Two Wolves spoke up, and said, “I should go. I know the forest better than anyone. Besides, Talking Eagle is my friend.” It was true on both counts, and everyone knew it.

It was decided that 8 men would go, the 5 Grie men, Standing on the Mountain, Hawk in the Sky, and Two Wolves. Songbird was scared for Two Wolves, and she told him so when she had the chance. They were too young to be married, but they were very much in love. He embraced her, and told her he would be back, but he needed to help a friend. She shook her head yes. No one objected to their embracing, in fact it was expected. After all, the Creator had put these two together.

The men left quickly, and were in the forest in no time, led by the young man Two Wolves. Standing on the Mountain couldn’t help thinking, how remarkable this young man was. Here he was just fifteen, and he was leading the men.

According to the trail, Talking Eagle was about 3-4 hours ahead of them.

Dawn Snow

Happy New Year!

Wishing you all – the best in the upcoming year!

I look forward to more of your wonderful blogs in 2015!

The Lost Son Part III, next time! Peace to you!

Writing © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

The Lost Son

Harley Upton Jr. (Diego James Robles) from indiancountrytodaymedianetwork
Harley Upton Jr. (Diego James Robles) – Apache from indiancountrytodaymedianetwork

His father was angry again, and he couldn’t take it anymore. Why did he always have to yell? There was something wrong with his father for sure, but he dared not say anything. Fifteen year old Talking Eagle loved his father but not when he was like this. He had had this problem for a long time, but it was worse now that they were in a new village.

No matter what his mother (Holds the Fire) did, his father would not get out of this mood. She tried yelling back, but that did not go very far. She tried talking softly, and even touching him but he pushed her away. He was an impossible, snarling animal, and Talking Eagle was fed up.

The topic was always the same. Bull Elk felt betrayed by his own people because they did not want to start a new Grie village. They had come to the Tsi village only for safety in the middle of winter, and they were to start another village in the spring (or so he thought). What was to become of their customs, their ways? Were they all supposed to become Tsi? Were they even to give up their language? “Never!” shouted Bull Elk at the top of his lungs.

Talking Eagle was sure that everyone in the village heard that outburst. He was becoming so angry at his father for humiliating them in the eyes of all the people, that he thought he would burst. Holds the Fire was trying to calm him down and moved in closer to her husband, but he pushed her away again. Talking Eagle jumped up and started yelling, “Stop pushing her! Stop pushing her!”. A swift blow came to Talking Eagle’s face from the back of his father’s hand, which knocked him sideways. His father had never done this before, and all of them, even his father were in shock. Nobody said anything. Talking Eagle instinctively placed a hand on his face, and found that his lip was bleeding.

Holds the Fire was weeping now. Her son had never seen her weep like this, unless someone had died. Perhaps they were dying. His family was dying right before his eyes, and he wanted no part of it. He was about to leave, when someone came to their lodge, and scratched at their door.   Horse at Night

Standing on the Mountain came in with concern written on his face. Being a tall man, he also carried a certain amount authority and calmness. The spiritual leader of the Tsi, spoke in perfect Grie, and asked to talk to Bull Elk outside. They talked for what seemed like a long time. Through her tears, Holds the Fire tried to gather herself together, but she did move her bedding as far away as she could from where her husband would be sleeping. Talking Eagle laid down in his place but did not sleep. Instead he made plans. He knew exactly where he would go.

When his father came back in, he stood and looked around but said nothing. He laid down as well, but no one slept for a long time. Talking Eagle was thinking about what he needed to take with him. He would also dress with many layers and travel to the forest. Should he take a horse? No he thought, some parts of the forest were too thick with brush for a horse.

He loved the forest. He and Two Wolves and some of the other young men would go there, just for fun, or to do some hunting. It was peaceful there, not like this place. He needed to be away from here. As soon as he could hear his parents sleeping, he would leave.

Eventually he fell asleep too, but woke up with a start. He quietly moved around the lodge gathering what he needed, and dressed as warm as he could, especially his feet. Grabbing his weapons, he slipped quietly out of the lodge. He could not stay in this place any longer. Night

Next time Part II of The Lost Son. Thanks for reading! Peace to you!

 Writing © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

New Dreams

Sheena Cain - Jingle Dress Dancer
Sheena Cain – Jingle Dress Dancer

Microfiction: This is the continuing story of the Tsi people, and the Grie people, who live together in the same village. They live near a forest, on the Great Plains of Canada, in the 1700’s. For new readers, Thunder Speaking and Bluebird are a young couple that have just been married.

No one saw the young couple much for several days, which was to be expected. They were enjoying each other. Laughter could be heard coming from their lodge sometimes, so the people were happy for them. Couples, young and old, not only had knowing smiles on their faces, but looked at each other more intently!

The young couple would talk for hours inside, while he made weapons and tools, and she made clothing. The snows were getting deep now, and no one went much of anywhere. He often watched her, amazed. He was surprised by her in a number of ways.

from texasbirds.info
from texasbirds.info

He did not know that a woman could be so tender. She helped him daily with his injured arm, and fussed at him gently to take care of it. Her gentleness when she unwrapped it, melted him. She often kissed his arm and spoke sweet things to him.

He was also amazed at how wise and practical she was. He had been making a new bow, a long one, much longer than the Tsi people normally made, and he was very proud of it. He had also carved some beautiful designs on it, and was just about finished it, when Bluebird asked him, “Shouldn’t you have a smaller bow?” “The longer one will be difficult to pull”. He was stunned. Of course, she was right – his arm was not strong enough for this bow yet! He had not even thought of that.

At night he dreamed about her, mostly about the two of them in the summer, walking, and riding together, looking at birds in the forest, or listening to the river flowing over rocks. She was a friend to him, but so much more than that. She was his very life.

Bluebird dreamed about him too, but in a different way. She dreamed about his strength, his connection to the Creator, and how he was willing to talk about anything. She had never met a man like this, and she was always amazed at the loved they shared. She could see eternity in his eyes.

She also dreamed about sunsets, but they were always strange. In the dreams there were the brilliant colors of orange, red, and pink, but then, as she was looking at the colors, she heard a baby crying. The two always went together, the sunset and the baby. The dreams always ended with an image in her mind, of her holding a beautiful baby boy. She knew these dreams were important but she did not know what they meant.

On the other side of the village, Cricket in the Meadow was having dreams too, and some visions while she was praying, but she did not like the looks of them. They were dreams about dark clouds, and a storm brewing. The storm kept coming closer, and would always stop over one lodge. She knew trouble was coming, and it could turn deadly. The storm always stopped over the lodge of Bull Elk. Everyone knew that he was disappointed, over the Grie wanting to stay here in this village with the Tsi, instead of building a new Grie village. But there was more, and it had to do with anger.

One day the sun was shining, and Bluebird felt a need to get outside. After a short walk, the idea came to her that she should talk to her husband about the dreams she had been having. She called to him, and Thunder Speaking came outside, carrying another robe for her. He wrapped her in it, smiling, and proud of himself for taking care of such a beautiful woman. They looked at the sky together, with him embracing her, and she told him about the sunsets, and the baby crying.

They talked about it for a while, watching their breath make smoke. As they were talking, she realized what it was all about. The two went together – the sunsets, and the baby – because it was all about the baby’s name. She didn’t know if she was pregnant yet, but when she did have a child, it would be a boy – and his name would be….yes….his name would be….“Fire in the Sky”. After all “Sunset” was a girl’s name.

Sunset

Writing © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

Elizabeth’s Race

finish line

She was only 8 or 9 at the time,

at the park with some friends,

they wanted to have a race.

They’re off!

They sprinted down the track,

she was never a good runner,

one leg went off to the side, but she ran.

That day, no Olympic Champion tried harder,

she tried and tried,

but lagged behind,

half way around the track,

she was in last place.

Would the asthma get her?

Still trying with all her might,

then disaster struck –

she fell.

Down she went, flat out,

skinned up knee,

She’s hurt!

I wanted to go get her, but my wife held me back,

she said, “No, wait”.

She got back up – and ran the race –

hobbling,

I was so proud of the way she finished,

a champion in my eyes.

She still speaks to me, “Dad never give up,

no matter how injured you may get in life,

keep going with strength,

from the Creator.”

“Never,

ever,

 give up.”

Thank you Elizabeth!

And thank you God,

for my daughter.

 Heart

Poetry © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

The Old Man on the Street Corner – Conclusion

Vacation 1136

Staff Sargent Gordon McConnell (retired) woke up in the veteran’s hospital the next day. He was a bit disoriented and did not remember much about the day before, only that he had been yelling. There was an IV in his arm, along with a lot of doctors and nurses, running around.

They asked him a lot of questions. Was he taking his diabetes medication? He couldn’t remember. Had he been diagnosed with PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) in the past? He honestly couldn’t remember much of anything, but he did remember taking pills every day, that is until……until his wife…died. Everything went downhill after that.

The Army sent psychologists to his room to ask him questions but he wouldn’t say much. He didn’t trust them. He never did trust officers, they seemed to know more about paperwork, than about war, at least that was his experience. Besides he knew he had a memory problem, and he didn’t want to trust anyone except the nurses, because they gave him the medication he needed and they were nice to him.

He had a visitor everyday as well. A nice guy – he wore a suit all the time, and a fancy one at that. What was his name? Was it…..? Yes, it was John. He trusted John. He told John everything, day after day, at least what he could remember.

He told John that he did have an apartment once, and told him about where it was. One day he had gotten lost and days later, when he thought he had found it, his key did not work. So he had been on the streets ever since. “Was that after your wife died?” Gordon couldn’t hold back the tears when John asked him that, but he shook his head. “Was her name….Beverly?” John asked softly. Gordon shook his head yes again, and wept with his face in his hands.

John Stancill worked quickly to find Gordon’s apartment, and to see what had happened to it. The woman at the rental office wasn’t too friendly, and seemed to enjoy telling him, that Gordon McConnell was in the process of being evicted. The rent was two months past due. He held back his anger, but he did ask, if she knew that Mrs. McConnell had died recently. “Well…no…I’m sorry”. She changed her tune even further when John got out his check book, and took care of everything.

John and Gordon became good friends. The Army wouldn’t release Gordon to go home by himself, so John promised to pay for in home nursing care six days a week. John himself would be there on Sundays. At first the Army said no, but then John showed them his investment portfolio. Even John was surprised at how much he was worth now. This got him thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could try a different type of work, and do something he always wanted to do.

He visited Gordon almost every night, and brought pizza, Gordon’s favorite. Gordon became like a father to him, and gave him great advice, including about women.

One night John came visiting without his suit and tie on, instead he wore a sweater and blue jeans! He told Gordon he had left his rat race job that made him work around the clock. He had enrolled in a cooking school, and loved it. He loved the fast pace of it, and more importantly the aspect of being creative. He felt alive again!

He had time now for reading books, going for long walks, and yes even dating. He met a girl at school he really liked. Her name was Susan, and she had a great personality. She was always making jokes, which forced him to not take his self so seriously (a problem he knew he had). She was sensitive though too, and well…um….there was also her appearance! Gosh.

Gordon didn’t know if John would marry Susan or not, but he was hoping he would live long enough to see it if they did get married, and that there would be enough of his own mind left, so he could remember it all.

from veterans.ky.gov via google
from veterans.ky.gov via google

Please remember the homeless this holiday season. Just one life can make an incredible difference, and we all have value! Peace!

Writing © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

The Old Man on the Street Corner

from clayforsberg.net
from clayforsberg.net

He hated the homeless. Why should he feel guilty about wearing a suit, and having a good job in the financial market? After all he worked hard for his money. Even when he wasn’t working he was working, at home on the computer, or on the phone. He was always trying to find out which way the market was leaning.

Yet every day there they were, with their signs, saying “Need Food, God bless”. Each one seemed to have a particular corner, like a salesman with a territory. He wondered if they ever fought over which corner to be on.

He noticed one of them in particular, on the corner of Independence and Main Street. He was an old man, and had to be at least 70 years old. What was he doing out here? He was much too old to be out in this weather. He always needed a shave and a bath, and wasn’t there some kind of government program to help the man? Even with these thoughts though, he never gave a dime. He rushed past the old man every day in a hurry, to get to his office around the corner.

On the day after Christmas though he thought he would do the kind thing, and talk to the man. He slowed down his walking pace, and stopped. The old man seemed to be in a daze, and didn’t notice him. He had a walking cane, and instead of holding his sign up, it hung by his side. “Hellooo!” he said sarcastically. The old man looked up slowly, and squarely into eyes.

He found out the man’s name was Gordon. When he asked the old man about his Christmas (which was stupid, and he regretted saying it) the old man said, “Christmas? What Christmas?” Did he know what day it was? This was worse than he thought, and he realized this man needed help! For the first time in his life he was able to pry his wallet from his back pocket, and gave the old man a ten dollar bill. The old man thanked him, but was mumbling something as he walked away. Did he hear him say something about the Viet Cong?

Over the next few days the old man’s mumbling and acting confused got worse. At one point he was yelling the name Beverly. “Beverly!”, with streams of tears rolling down his face, “Beverly!” What should he do for the old man? Should he call someone? Who? The police? That didn’t seem right. The old man dropped to his knees, and sobbed.

He was already late for an appointment, so walked he further down, near the door to his office, but he could not do it. He just didn’t care about the office right now. He turned to watch the man from a distance, still weeping, and calling the name Beverly.

Suddenly the old man stood up with terror in his eyes, leaning over his walking cane, and started yelling, “Enemy fire!” “Enemy fire, get down everyone!” “Help us God!” “Get down!” He was yelling at the top of his lungs now, “Enemy fiiiiire!”

He could stand it no longer and reached for his phone. He dialed 911 with tears in his own eyes.

from thenextweb.com via google
from thenextweb.com via google

The conclusion to the Old Man on the Corner next time!

Writing © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

Blessings and Peace to Everyone!

Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada
Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada

Wishing everyone blessings and peace this holiday season! May you overflow with love and joy in the upcoming year!

I also want to thank everyone for being part of this blog. You inspire me, encourage me, and make my spirit soar! I look forward to writing more fiction and poetry. Thank you for reading my work and for all of your comments!

I look forward to reading and seeing your work. Your art, photography, and writing are just amazing! You give me wings to fly high, up into the clouds. You rock!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Dove of Peace

Writing © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

 

 

 

 

 

Rosa Gonzalez – Conclusion

from countrysoldier.org
from countrysoldier.org

Her mother spoke very softly to her now, “Rosa, sweetheart, don’t cry….Lucinda has turned out to be a beautiful woman. When you see her you will cry – but from joy.”

Her Momma continued, “I need you to do two things tonight”. “Yes?” Rosa listened intently. “I need you to go to church – it’s Christmas Eve, Rosa.” “You know how we used to do on Christmas Eve.” “Church?” “Are you crazy?” Rosa started talking to her mother like she did as a teenager. “They will call me a whore, and throw me out of there, Momma!” “Ssh, …Rosa calm down.” No they will not do that, calm down, ssh.” Her mother always did have a way of bringing peace to her.

Rosa looked at her mother’s face, and noticed a soft glow about her. “What else Momma?” “Rosa sweetheart this will take time, but you need to stop depending on men…and… how much they want you…. as the source of your value.” “You are valuable already, don’t think you are nothing if you don’t have a man…” Her Momma’s voice was trailing off now and she was turning grey again. “Momma?” The last thing she heard her mother say was “….remember Rosa you are already valuable….get someone to help you with this…” She faded, and was gone.

Fifteen minutes later, a half drunk Rosa was outside waiting for the bus that would take her 10 blocks to the Catholic Church. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, and she wasn’t sure where she was getting the courage from, but she was doing what her Momma had said.

When she got there she heard the bells playing Silent Night, and people were singing as she walked in. There was a warm glow about the place, like the warmth she remembered from the church in Mexico. Nobody called her any names, and no asked her to leave. In fact they appeared to be genuinely glad to see her, especially during the part where the congregation offers peace to each other, and shakes hands.

The buses were no longer running, after the service was over, so she walked home in the cold but she didn’t mind. She was thinking about what her mother had said the whole way. It was sinking in now, and she understood about not depending on someone else to give her value. It began snowing as she walked, and Rosa smiled. She loved the snow.

The first thing she did as she walked in the door of her apartment, was to take the bottle of pills and throw them in the trash. She breathed a sigh of relief, and said “Thanks Momma”. Then she looked up and said, “Thanks God…for… sending her my way.”

Epilogue:

Rosa did find the courage to get some counseling. She is working on seeing herself as a whole person. It is a gradual process, but she is putting the pieces of her heart and emotions back together.

She has also located her daughter Lucinda, by using the computers at the library. Right now they are corresponding by email, and getting to know one another. In the future they will both meet, hug each other, and cry some great big tears. They will become very good friends, and Rosa will feel released from her past.

She has also been improving her English skills, and next week she is starting a new job as an administrative assistant, at the local community college. They love the fact that she can speak Spanish.

She has plans to buy her first laptop, and hopefully not only to write to bloggers, but begin her own blog. Her target will be women that need help realizing their full potential. She would like to call her blog, “Roses from Rosa”, and she is hoping that no one else is using that name yet.

from festilight.ca
from festilight.ca

 Christmas blessings and peace to everyone! Feliz Navidad!

Writing © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rosa Gonzalez

from 500px
from 500px

Microfiction in the spirit of the Christmas Season

Rosa Gonzalez was finished with living, it was simply too painful to keep going. Carlos had left her in the middle of night, and she thought he was a good one. Now she knew, there were no good ones. Love just didn’t make any sense, it was garbage.

She managed to get herself ready for work, and she forced herself to keep going. She walked down the street all bundled up, to her job at the fast food restaurant. She was going to end everything for sure, but right now she just needed more time to think about it.

It was a miserable day at work, with the younger women on her case again about being too slow. What made it worse was, they put her down in Spanish, so the manager never knew what they said. They called her names like “grandma”, and much worse, even though she was only 47. Their words were like knives, and hurt deeply. They only made her more determined to end it all.

As she walked home that evening she stopped by the drugstore, and bought some sleeping pills, realizing they would put her to sleep forever, just like she wanted. $6.99 was a small price to pay. She went out into the cold again, pulling down her knit hat, over her ears, and slipping on the gloves with holes in them.

What a terrible place to live she thought, Mexico had been difficult, but nothing like this. At least she had family back home, and the people were not mean to her. As she walked down the street she heard music, coming from somewhere. Were those church bells? For some reason she thought of the church she grew up in, and being a little girl, running around the village. She pushed those thoughts aside though.

When she got back to her apartment, she did try watching TV, looking for some hope. But the TV preachers made her sick to her stomach, talking about being wealthy, and that a Christian should never have any problems. “Nonsense”, she said, and she turned them off. After she had a few drinks, she prepared her table in the bedroom. She put the pills there, and her mother’s picture. She wanted her mother to be the last person she saw before passing away. She picked it up and held the picture close to her, with both arms embracing the image.

There was that music again – where was it coming from? It was like a choir singing close by. Was that Spanish she was hearing? She sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about her mother. Momma had passed away 20 years ago, but she still missed her so. For some reason she decided to wait on the pills until morning, she was half drunk, and tired. It was too much to think about. As she reached over to turn out the light, the music got louder. She sat in the dark and listened, holding her mother’s photograph.

Then, someone sat down next to her, on the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she did not see anyone, but she felt their presence. As she slowly turned to look, she did see a faint outline – like maybe a shadow of a person. A grey shape turned to look at her, and became brighter, almost white, a soft shade of white. She could make out a woman’s hair, and then she recognized the face. The image said, “Rosa…”, Rosa was shaking now, and said “Momma?”

Rosa you cannot do this…” “I have no choice Momma, I cannot deal with this pain anymore. And don’t tell me I have a lot to live for, because I don’t.” Her mother said, “Listen to me – Lucinda is looking for you, she wants to know her real mother.”

Hearing the name of the daughter she had given up for adoption, was too much for her, and all of the pain of giving her to someone else to raise, came like a flood. She was broken. All the guilt, all the sadness, washed over her, and she wept bitterly. She covered her face with her hands, and felt the shame of it all.

Snow on Pine

 

Later today the conclusion of Rosa Gonzalez! Christmas blessings and peace to you!

 Writing © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

Living by Giving

Mother-Teresa-Judge-Quotes

Poetry in the spirit of the Christmas Season

Her light is still shining on me,

a light of self-sacrifice,

living by giving,

herself – away to others,

and living by loving –

everyone, regardless of creed.

Hands reaching, heart reaching,

I don’t have her calling,

but I’m inspired by her example,

help me God to love,

not to preach sermons,

but to give to others,

to do, and to help,

and lay myself,

down on the altar,

of self-sacrifice,

by giving.

from EWTN
from EWTN

Note: It’s true that just one life can make a difference. She left her homeland when she was only 18.

Blessings of peace to you this season!

Poetry © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree