Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts

Monday, August 5, 2013

Pursuit of Liberty: Chapter 3

              
** To get caught up with early chapters click this link Pursuit of Liberty **

              The man had been traveling through the mountain side for weeks.  The truth is that he had been traveling for years through the cities, fields, mountain ranges. He would stop for extended amounts of time when he would come to a place he felt had his answers, but they always seemed to fail him. Then he would pack up his belongings and leave. Through his journey he had made a lot of friends and a few enemies.
                Currently, he was watching a woman and what appeared to be her father, but could had been her husband, struggling with their wagon. He had felt the shift in air pressure and saw the tree leaves become lighter. The nature had a way of telling people what it was about to do, signs of warning. People normally did not notice because they were not in tune with nature the way a traveler is. He found a cave, if it could be called a cave, it was more like a large rock. The indention that made the ‘cave’ did not go back very far, maybe a few yards. Then it became dark and he could not see, but having slept in many caves he knew it only got smaller and would lead nowhere.
                The village that he had seen from the top of the mountain range had appeared to be a quaint little town. As he descended the mountain side earlier that morning, he felt that he would stay here in this village for while. The view was fantastic. From the ridge he could see the mountain range go on for miles and miles. The man had not known exactly where he was at until he had reached this mountain ridge. From this height a map could have been drawn of the mountains, cities, roads, villages, rivers, everything seemed so clear.
                Now he was in the cave wanting to start the fire, but captured by the events of the man and the woman. A lightning bolt from the heavens had come down and struck the tree right in front of their wagon. The horse had spooked and ran away. He was surprised at how easily the horse had been able to snap the trace. It had either been made by weak wood or been poorly crafted. It seemed that it had only been a couple minutes and the woman had been flung, the man found her, and left. He could only assume that the woman had been hurt and unable to move.
                As the man left the woman, Brac started gathering together his small pack. It appeared that the woman had been injured. He ran down the side up to the road. The woman was just off from the road under a pine tree. He cautiously approached the woman.
“Ma’am are you okay?”
                She tried to move back past the tree, but she could barely move. The realization came to her that she was completely hopeless. He pulled off the hood over his head. He smiled at her and said, “Ma’am, calm down. Take a deep breath. I am only here to help.”
The rain was beating so hard and the wind was picking up. There was no time; if he waited any longer he might not be able to make it back up to cave. She started to cry. He looked over her whole body. She had a little blood running from her forehead, but after a quick examination she was not bleeding from there it just had been smeared. He saw that her right leg had been broken at the knee. The blood had come from her shin that must have been where she had landed on a rock or a branch that caused her knee to break.
                Brac decided it would be better to care for the leg when they were up in the dryness of the cave, then out her under a tree that was doing nothing for the wind and rain. He reached down and picked the woman up. He realized that this was a young woman, maybe not yet, past her schooling.
                It had only taken him a couple minutes to get to her, but it was taking him a lot longer now with her screaming and the mud that was becoming harder and harder to walk up hill. Eventually, he got back to cave. She was screaming that if he did not let her go her father was going to kill him.
                “I would gladly return you to your father. If I was going to kidnap or kill a woman I would do one that was much quieter than you. Now let me look at this leg.”
                “Don’t touch me!”
                “Look at me! Look into my eyes!” He barked.
                She looked up around her first as an act of defiance. She saw that the cave looked like a make shift home. It did not appear that he had been here long. He had gathered fire wood and had a small pile. He had some big leaves that were rolled up and she thought she smelled fish. He had a laid her on a blanket up against the wall of the back side of the cave.
                “Look at me!” Her eyes darted into his dark green eyes. “My name is Brac. I am from Chesterland. I am here to help you. I want you to chew on these. This is called Valerian. This will reduce your pain from your leg and help you fall asleep.”
                “I don’t need to go to sleep and I don’t need your help.”
    Just then her leg began to twitch. He grabbed her hand and put the leaves into her hand.  He went over to pile of wood and grabbed two pieces of wood that looked similar in size and set them next to her. Then he went back over to the pile and started to make a small pile off dead twigs and dry leaves. Then he laid larger branches around them until it looked like a small tepee of branches. Then he took two pieces of flint and started a fire with two swipes. It looked like he had done this before. She could remember when her father had tried to teach her how to start a fire and neither she nor her brother had been able to start it and they had tried for hours.  
He came back over to her. “Sorry I yelled at you. I saw your wagon flip and your father run. I do not know where he is going and how long it will take him or if he will even be able to get back in time to help you. You need to stay dry and be safe. This thunderstorm will last for a few more hours and I doubt if your father makes it safe to the place that he is going that he will be able to make it back. I know how to help you. Those Valerian leaves will help you. My brothers serve in the royal army and they have used that many time on soldiers who have been wounded a lot worse than you. If you don’t take those soon your body is going to go into shock.”
Her leg that had started to twitch was starting to shake and she could not control it. It felt like knives were going all over her thigh and knee. She could no longer feel below her knee. She decided that she did not care anymore. If these leaves killed it would make no difference because she was going to die from the pain anyway. She threw them in her mouth and nothing happened.
“You have to chew them.”
As she started to chew she could instantly feel the relief coming. The pain was not completely going away, but it was being reduced. Being in the dry cave also was helping. The rain and the wind had been taking a toll on her more than she had realized. Just then she heard a loud crack and felt an excruciating pain come from her knee. The cave went dark.  
Brac wished he had been able to tell her what he was going to do, but since she had been so defiant about coming up here and trusting him, he decided it would just be better for everyone if he just reset her knee. He took the two sticks that he had placed next to her and placed on the inside of her leg and the other on the outside. He pulled the thin rope from his bag and tied the sticks to her leg making it so that she could not accidently bend her knee.
                Then he went over to the large leaves unraveled the fish that was inside. He took out his knife and gutted the fish. It only took him a couple minutes and he had the meat on the frying pan over the fire. As the fish cooked he looked over at the young woman. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully. He went and removed the wet hood from head and placed one of his warm ones that had been sitting next to the fire on her and then laid her down so that she was no longer sitting up but lying down.
                She was beautiful young woman. She had thick dark brown hair that curled slightly down to the middle of her back. Even though her eyes were shut he could not forget them from the second that she had locked eyes with him. They were a swirl of green and brown. He had never, in all of his travel, seen eyes that swirled of two colors like hers. She had been wearing a light brown dress with twirling design near the edges. She looked to be taller than the average woman that he was used to seeing, but just ever so slightly. It could have been that her legs were long and slender consequently making her appear taller, since he had never seen her stand.
                Her chest rose up and down as she slowly breathed. She looked at peace, even though he knew that was the leaves, he wished he could find that type of peace of mind. There had always been something missing in his life. He had had everything that he had every wanted or needed and he had thrown that away because it did not bring him satisfaction. He knew in his heart that there was something that he was longing for, but could not figure it out. It was that feeling that a person has when they cannot remember the word that they need and it keeps appearing in their mind for a millisecond and then disappearing. If it would only remain long enough then it could be remembered. He just needed to find that moment so that everything would fit into place.

                The fish was almost done cooking so he flipped it over in the pan. As it finished, he went over to his bag and grabbed the canteen. He would have to fill it back up tomorrow morning. The fish was finished and he pulled the pan from the fire and started to eat. The fish were fresh from yesterday. The river at on the other side of the mountain had an abundant amount of salmon. This was a treat for him since he had not had salmon in over a year. He finished the fish and then made a pillow out of one of his smaller bags. Then drifted into sleep as the storm raged on. 

Monday, July 22, 2013

The Pursuit of Liberty: Chapter 1

Preface

This is a story that I wrote for my wife. This first chapter has a lot of inside jokes. The following chapters that will be released every Monday evolve into an epic story of a young woman searching for truth, justice and liberty. If you enjoy feel free to comment and share with your friends. 


Chapter 1
A long time ago in a land far, far away was a village just under the ridge of a mountain side. In the middle of the village, across the street from the school house lived a baker, his wife and two children. The baker was a generous man. On every Saturday he would go with his daughter to the other side Hetvenöt Street. This is where the poorest of the poor lived in their village. Most of the people living on this side of the Hetvenöt Street were orphans, single mothers, and widows. When they would get there the baker would go and talk with the leaders of the orphanage and with some of the men that came to help. While his daughter, Liberty, would go and give bread to the people.

“Bread for the poor!” Liberty would say, “Come and get your bread.”

Now she did not say ‘bread for the poor’ in spite, but because when she was younger, people who were not from this side of Hetvenöt Street would come and try to take the bread. Liberty charged the people two farthings for a loaf of bread. This was to give the people pride. The baker always said, “Nothing is free, even salvation had its cost!” He believed that by charging the poor for their food it would encourage them to find work. By working they could earn money and with money they could throw off the chains of poverty and live as free people. Liberty of course thought that this was silly. She did not see the need to charge the orphans for the bread. She said that people were born free. Slavery is a mindset and has nothing to do with the money. She believed that God is the one who granted freedom, not money, people, or government.
She loved her father and had great respect for him. The baker of course was proud of his daughter. She was becoming a strong, educated, and virtuous young woman. Recently more than lately, she had started to challenge him on his philosophy of life. Not that it would ever appear that way, because the discussion always ended with ‘Father is always right’ and a hug.

After they were finished selling all the bread, Liberty would take the money that she had earned from selling the bread and give it to her father. He would then give it to the missionaries that ran the orphanage. While he was doing that Liberty would gather the children from the orphanage around and tell them stories. Today, she was telling the story about a princess named Aurora called Sleeping Beauty. She was never able to finish the stories with the children in one day, so it always took weeks to finish the stories. She had just gotten to the part of the story where Princess Aurora is all grown up and is singing the woods. “What was Aurora singing?” One of the little girls asked Liberty.

“It was a beautiful song that caused the birds in the sky and the leaves in the trees to join with her.” Liberty answered. 

“Sing it for us Libby! Please!” The children were getting really excited, because they loved Liberty and loved her stories.

“Okay, okay but you all have to join together with me. I need the boys to make the sound of the leaves in the trees 'whoosh, whoosh' and the girls have to make the sound like the birds 'chirp chirp tweet'." Liberty turned to a small boy with dark skin and said, “Joi, you have a big part to play. I need you to be the owl. Can you say hoot hoot…hoot hoot?”

Joi’s face burst into a huge smile, “Of course Miss Libby, HOOT! HOOT! HOOT! HOOT!”
As the children began to make the noises, Liberty began:

I wonder, I wonder
I wonder why each 
Little bird has someone
To sing to sweet things to
A gay little love melody?

I wonder, I wonder
If my heart keeps singing
Will my song go winging
To someone who'll find me
And bring back a love song to me?

As Liberty finished the song, the children clapped and cheered. They had been told to by the baker that anytime a woman sings or tells a story you should reward her with applause. Joi said, “Miss Libby I bet you sound just like Princess Aurora.”

 Liberty leaned down and kissed Joi on his cheek. His face became red and he wrapped his arms around her legs. Liberty knew it was not right to have favorites with the children, but if she was allowed she would take Joi home. Joi was a four years old orphan. He had been left at the missionaries door step when he was about one. His left leg had been broken when the missionaries had received him. The missionaries had called in one of their special doctors to come in and examine his leg when they received him. The doctor had told the missionaries that the leg seemed to have been broken for months and had not healed correctly. Every year the missionary doctor would come and give Joi a new brace. That brace had to last him a year so part of the year it was too big and the last part of the year it was too small. The other children made fun of Joi until Liberty had started to be especially kind to him.

As Joi was hugging Liberty, the baker came back and told Liberty that they had to go. The children all whined and asked if she could stay longer. She told them not to worry, because next week the Prince finds Princess Aurora in the woods and there is a battle with the Witch and the dragon. The children became excited and started talking about what they thought would happen. Only a few noticed that Liberty and her father where leaving.

The baker had already prepared the wagon and they were all set to go. Liberty waved to the children and then it seemed they were gone. Her father whistled the song that she had been singing. Liberty wished she could do more for the children.

“Daddo, isn’t there anything we could do for those children?”

“What else can we do Libby? They all need their fathers and mothers to take care of them, to provide for them. People need to start taking responsibility of the choices they make and their consequences. You know back in my time, men provided for their wives and children. Now all these men are running off and to go find gold, other women, and wars. Those children need their families and we cannot provide that.”

“But Daddo, that is the problem not the solution.”

He smiled at her, “You a bright young girl and I am proud of you, you know that?”

Liberty did not smile, because she felt that he was changing the subject and still not addressing the issue. She knew that if you did not smile back with that he would be forced to be kept in the conversation. This was one trick that her mother taught her.

“Your right Libby, I am focused on the problem, but I don’t know if there is a clear solution. We provide them with a means to obtain food. Whenever, we have extra money we have tried to hire them. I work with the council and we are trying to clean up the other side of Hetvenöt Street. I am not sure there is anything else we can do.”

“I think that the solution can be found in their education. Those children are never able to be educated and then they will grow up just like their fathers and chase the dreams of gold, women, and war.”

“Now just hold on Libby, the missionaries take care of their education. You don’t need to go start fixing something that isn’t broken.”

“But Daddo, it is broken! Here on our side of the village we have a good schooling and we are all able to travel to the capital to go to the university. None of those children are getting that type of education. They are being taught how to work, not how to think.”

“Why would teaching them to think be better for them than teaching them to work?”


Liberty could not come up with an answer right away. She decided that she would have to think about that further. Maybe, she would ask her teacher at school on Monday. Just then the sky began to get dark and they could hear off in the distance the rain coming. 

Monday, July 15, 2013

Papa, Why Do You Care?

It’s November 15, 1969, I woke up this morning and made some coffee. I let the dog out and she brought me the paper. While reading the paper I am becoming more and more disgusted with the war. I have already been to some small town meetings in our local area, but they seem to me to be just of talk. I need to see more action in our cause to end the war. I thought by electing Nixon that this would end, but it has been 10 months and nothing has changed. My faith in elections has died. I no longer believe that electing an individual will change anything. If it did it would be illegal.

I heard some rustling in the hall and I looked over and there was my son with his hair all messy and rubbing his eyes. I had him sit down at the kitchen table. I got him some orange juice and cereal, and then went back to reading the paper.  I started reading an article about some of the protest in the last week. They have seemed to be escalating. Today we are going to Washington to protest. It is suppose to be the largest anti-war protest in the United States. The paper seems to only be talking about the violence and radicalism of the protest. They don’t even focus on was we are crying out for. It seems that they are only worried about the cries and the fist, but not the words. They are focused on the problem, not the solution. There was a time where the media spoke out for the people, but now they are all bought by politicians to say what they are suppose to say then end of story.

I slammed the paper down on the table and startled my son.

He looked up at me and asked, “Papa, why do you care? Why do you care what they make other people do? They are not making you or me or mama do it.”

I looked at my son across the table. I saw some curious eyes and decided that there was no better time to tell him this story.

“Son let me tell you a story. It was 25 years ago in Germany. There was a man who had made his living working as a construction man. He owed his own company. He was honest and hard working. One day a solider came to his door and asked him to dig some trenches with his equipment. The solider wanted unusual size trench, it sounded like a large pool instead of a trench.  The solider to the construction worker that he was further the cause of Germany by helping them build these trenches.

Two weeks after he had dug these trenches, the construction worker was woken up in the middle of the night. There were three soldiers banging on his door. They told him to get dressed and bring his bull dozer. He will need to fill in those trenches now. He got dressed and started his bull dozer. He drove out to the site and when he got out there he got out to see why they needed them filled in so urgently.

In the trench there were men, woman, and children. Some were dead, but it appeared most were dying and those that were not dying were clinging to those that were. It appeared that the soldiers had gathered these defenseless people placed them in the trench and fired their machine guns that the people. The construction worker was sick to his stomach; he could not believe what his trenches were being used for.

A solider came out with a gun drawn and pointed it at the construction worker. He told the man to get in the bull dozer and fill in the hole. The construction worker cried out that there living people in there and he could not kill a person let a long women and children. The solider told him he had two choices. First he could get the bull dozer and serve his country or the soldier would shoot him and get someone else to do it. Either way those people were going to be buried alive tonight.”

I paused to look at my sons face. It was shocked. He had heard some awful things about the War, but not something so personal. He asked me to finish. He wanted to know what the man did, but instead of finishing I asked him what he would do. His answer blew me away.

“Papa, I like living. I like playing baseball and going for walks with you and mama. You know? I mean those people were going to die anyways, does it really matter who does it?”

There was a long pause then he looked up at me and said, “But I don’t think I could do it.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I could not live with myself knowing that I had killed innocent people. I would rather die than live with that.”

Then I told him that that is why I care.


And that is why his grandpa cared.