Death Is Waiting
Image via Wikipedia
Death is waiting for me,
But it’s not time yet,
He is peering through the
veil,
But I’m not set,
He’s visited me over the
years,
Called my name,
Tried to convince me,
To play his game,
But I had too much to do,
Death had to wait,
Until I finished my
earthly tasks,
Then I’d enter death’s
gate,
See where the curtain has
ripped?
He stares at me,
But I do not fear death’s
gaze,
For I cannot be,
Part of his entourage,
No, not today,
He’ll have to wait behind the veil,
I’m going to stay,
Try to complete my list of
things to do,
Until my final breath,
When my list is done, I’ll
welcome,
The spectre called death.
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An Angel Is Watching Over Her
Image via Wikipedia
She is
vibrant and alive,
Her youth
shows,
An angel is watching over her,
For he
knows,
That her
life is yet to live,
The angel
calls her name,
Tries to
convince her,
That life is
no game,
She has
plans, so much to do,
Life can’t
wait,
She has love
to give,
And years to
follow her fate,
The curtain
of life is woven strong,
And it has
to be,
For life
courses through her veins,
And her
angel sees,
Her world
laid out before her,
Each and
every day,
He’ll guide
and protect her,
For she has
reasons to stay,
Her life
will ring true,
Until she
completes her list to do,
She’ll look
back and smile,
At all the
things she did worthwhile.
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I Followed a Path
Image by Common Pixels via Flickr
Wanting to
meditate and discover the good,
I followed a
path deep into the wood,
Until before
me a great oak tree stood,
Its branches
mighty, its crown regal and thick,
The kind of
tree I’d be if I had my pick,
I wondered,
how long has this oak been around?
What made
this oak special? Why hasn’t it blown down?
Of course, I
mused, when a storm came through,
The massive trunk
deserves the credit for what would ensue,
Yet I realized
there was more than what met the eye,
The trunk
needed support to stand and touch the sky,
Roots keeping
the oak anchored were beneath the tree,
Spreading
out in all directions for stability,
I could see the
mighty oak was more than a tree,
It was a
symbol reminding me not to judge what I see,
Because like
the oak there’s more within me,
T here’s
part of me that’s in public view,
Exposed so
people can see what I do,
But beneath my
surface my values are set,
The part of
me that might be stronger yet,
To survive
the storms of life these roots will grow,
When
troubles are encountered my character will show,
Storms in
life are impossible to outrace,
So the
challenges they bring I will embrace,
I’ll be like
the mighty oak if I learn to endure,
The storms
of life with a heart that’s pure,
I left with
knowledge from where the oak tree stood,
Followed the
path out of the wood,
My search
was over, I finally understood.
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The Ocean Is Calling Me (Part 2)
Image via Wikipedia
It is the
waiting that stirs the soul,
Anticipation
of the unknown while seeking a goal,
There might
not be peace with tomorrow’s sun,
But just
moving in any direction is a battle won,
Sleep can be
elusive while you wait,
For your
thoughts continue as you ponder your fate.
There were
road signs ahead warning traffic to slow and be prepared to stop. Cones in the road caught his attention as the
road narrowed. He continued slowly until a construction worker holding a stop
sign stood in his way. Caleb hated
waiting behind other cars even though he knew they couldn’t proceed until
directed. The forest was spectacular but he didn’t want to look at trees. He
was close enough to the ocean that he should be able to smell the salt in the
air. He had fought the impulse to see
the ocean while he lived on the flatlands but now he was getting anxious to be
back.
A pickup
came down the road escorting a dozen cars.
The pickup pulled over, waited for the cars to pass and then turned
around. The waiting cars, including
Caleb’s, fell in line behind the pickup and headed towards the ocean.
Caleb
followed them two miles before they were through the construction zone and back
on the two lane highway. He carefully stayed within the speed limit because
policemen were often waiting to grab impatient drivers and he didn’t want
anything to impede his relentless drive to the ocean
Even though
he was anxious to see the ocean again, Caleb was already feeling the need for companionship. Caleb wanted a woman to talk to, to listen
to, and to hold close. Oh, how he missed
his wife!
Everything
in the flatlands reminded him of her.
All the little things that at the time seemed humorous, now took on new
significance. She had always seemed
surprised at seeing dew on roses, the first snowflakes, summer storms as they
rumbled in, and wheat fields waving. And always she stopped and admired newborn
animals with their protective mothers.
Caleb knew she wanted children, lots of them,
to love and to chase after. She dreamed
of teaching them her love of life, her respect for the earth. There was so much she wanted to show them. Right away she had wanted children but Caleb
had balked. “Not yet,” he insisted. “Not until we get this farm up and running.”
How he
regretted saying that. His heart ached
when he thought of her. “There is
nothing left but memories. She’s gone
and my life is over.”
But even as
he thought of her, Caleb was ready to leave the memories behind. He wanted
something to drink, something to drive her out of his mind, at least for
tonight.
After a few
miles the forest opened and a wide panorama of the ocean lay before him. The ocean stretched from side to side and was
breathtaking. Out in the ocean several
huge stone formations rose a few hundred feet into the air. The waves pounded and splashed against these
rocks before the waves regrouped and rushed to shore.
“Beautiful,”
Caleb said softly. “I’m like that. Life
is always trying to destroy me. I must
be strong and stand like these rocks against the waves. I must remember to return during a storm to
see the waves crashing against these formations. It must be spectacular.”
He drove
along the coast until he found a motel that was close to the shore. He selected the last remaining room and was delighted
his room faced the sea. In the morning
at sunrise he had already decided he would walk along the beach and
mediate. Perhaps that would put him in a
more positive frame of mind.
The sun was
still up and it was too early to go to bed. He had been on the road since early
morning and he realized he was famished.
Since he was hungry as well as thirsty, he asked for directions to
several local taverns.
“The Gull’s Nest on the Cliff” was one of the
recommendations and he liked the sound of the name. The parking lot was crowded and inside it was
packed. A couple sitting at a table near the bar looked like they were getting
ready to leave so he quietly claimed their table. He told the waitress he was expecting someone. One person alone at a table was not
acceptable when groups were waiting.
He ordered a
spinach salad, clam chowder in a bread bowl, pan-seared halibut, and a beer on
tap. He ate slowly, relishing the fresh
fare. After his meal he ordered a drink,
whiskey this time. He was ready to start
blotting out memories.
Before the
drink arrived two women came in, and looked for two seats at the bar. Nothing was available so they stood by the
wall. Caleb motioned them over. “Ladies, please join me. I hate to drink alone.”
They
exchanged quick glances. And then one of
the women said, “We’d love to. We don’t
recognize you. Are you just passing
through?”
Caleb didn’t
hesitate. “I’ve gone far to roam, but
the sea is my home.”
The women
looked at him oddly as if he was crazy. “Sorry
about that. I like poetry and rhythms.” Before they could respond Caleb had already
pulled out two chairs, ordered two drinks, and had them seated. With a big grin he stated, “I’m Caleb, and I already like it here.”
(To Be Continued)
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An Answer to Lonely Nights
Image by Falashad via Flickr
She’s a wild
one when she’s mad,
A tiger with
slashing claws,
But very
reasonable and calm,
Once she has
time to pause,
A storm in
the mountains,
But a gentle breeze from the sea,
Her friends
fill her days,
Yet she
yearns to be free,
She believes
in fairy tales,
And all her
wishes coming true,
But she’ll
give her heart to a pauper,
As long as
he loves her too,
In her dreams she flits about,
Much like a
butterfly,
Sampling each
flower in a random way,
It’s always
worth a try,
When her
prince arrives,
She’ll
welcome him right in,
Her heart is
full and ready to share,
She’ll
disarm him with her grin,
He’ll be the
center of her universe,
As he strums
across her heart,
She’s ready
to join his life’s song,
And she’s eager
to do her part,
He’ll enter
her web carefully,
Knowing she
is a connoisseur,
He knows
exactly what he wants,
So he
accepts her honeyed lure,
Her words
are pure and clear,
Information
that yearns to be heard,
And he will
be there, face to face,
Listening to
every word,
When they’re
behind closed doors,
She’ll be
shy, bold, a little bit of a tease,
And he’ll
try the best he can,
A thousand
ways to please,
Her prince
has visited countless times,
And held her
in his dreams,
He’s watched
over her as she slept,
And planned
out his schemes,
Caressed her
cheek, each strand of hair,
Whispered sweet
nothings in her ear,
Words that
meant much to him,
Words she
could barely hear,
Words that were meaningful
Right from the start,
“You mean
the world to me,
I will give
you my heart,
And treat
you tenderly.”
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The Ocean Is Calling Me
Image via Wikipedia
By the ocean
is where I want to be,
With sand
dunes and ocean breeze,
Calling out
to me,
The cry of
gull and bark of seal,
Are calling
me home,
Where I can
feel,
I must
return where the ocean pounds,
For I can’t
find peace,
Without
ocean sounds.
It had been
so long since Caleb left. He remembered
driving through the woods, watching the mountains slip away in his rear mirror until
he was on flat land in a farming paradise.
The scenery was almost the same in every direction. There were no nearby mountains. There were a few trees and houses, just the
way he liked it. At least that’s what he thought at the time.
Caleb’s life
changed drastically. He endured several years of freezing cold and ice storms. He also endured springs and summers of
torrential downpours, floods, tornados, and sticky humidity. The weather was not a factor in his decision
to stay or go. Not yet.
The flatland was good for farming and it did
not wrap its tentacles around him like the sea did. The sounds and smells of the sea grabbed him
when he was young and made an impression. The rhythmic waves gently rocked him
to sleep. The beach and ocean became his playground. Later it was his mistress. And in the back of
his mind he knew that someday it would be his grave. The sea would wait patiently through his complete
life cycle, from birth to death, expecting him to eventually return to the only
home he really understood.
As the years
dragged by, he grew increasingly lonely but he understood his need. The thing
missing in his life was a good woman, one who would pull him to her bosom and
give him a sense of security. The women who
lived by the sea and those on flatland were so different. Those by the coast
loved quicker, more fervently, because they understood their men would be
called by the sea and could get lost at sea.
Flatlanders usually chose farmers, men who would stay put, men who would
be content raising wheat, corn, and kids.
He adjusted
to the slower and richer style of loving and eventually he found a woman whose
heart was tender and made him feel loved.
They watched sunsets and dawns, made love passionately, and communicated
endlessly. Life was perfect and the world
rotated every day.
But one day his world stopped cold. A blizzard
hit while he was in town getting supplies. He struggled homeward but did not arrive until
early afternoon the next day. She didn’t
come out to greet him, and the house was cold.
He searched
frantically but to no avail. Friends joined in the search. She was found lying near the barn, her arms
wrapped around a frozen calf. Guilt
overwhelmed him. “That was my job,” he
thought, “getting all the animals inside.”
That thought tormented him more and more. As he withdrew into his shell his friends
stopped visiting. They wondered why he
was becoming inaccessible. He thought
they blamed him for his wife’s death.
The things he
liked about the sea were coming back to haunt him. Every night he could hear the relentless pounding
of the waves, see the pelicans dipping low as they flew between the swells. And that salty smell was there in his
room. The sea was calling him, urging
him to climb aboard a fishing boat and sail out of the harbor, away from the
safety of the shore.
“Why should
I go?” he asked himself. The question remained, unanswered, frozen in the cold
air. But Immediately another question
rose.”Why should I stay?”
Finally Caleb’s
mind was made and he prepared to rid himself of the farm and its memories. He
sold what he could and gave away the rest.
There was nothing left for him there in the flatlands. Whenever he saw fields of wheat dancing with
the wind, he was reminded of ocean swells.
Whenever he saw a sunset or dawn, he wished he could see the sun hanging
just over the horizon with a ship sailing somewhere.
The sea was his mistress again and each day she
was calling, calling him back to where he belonged, back to her open arms. There were new adventures waiting, new
adventures that would help him forget the flatlands and teach him that love once
lost can sometimes be found again. His
will to live had suffered a blow. Now he
was willing to dare, to face danger, to love recklessly. Tomorrow he would set sail and he didn’t care
where.
(To be
Continued)
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You Are
Image via Wikipedia
You are a
social butterfly,
With lots of
friends to fill your days,
As you flit
from flower to flower,
You could be
good for me,
Making my
heart glad,
Putting a
smile on my face,
You are a hopeful
romantic,
Waiting for
love to come your way,
Ready to be
kissed,
Afraid you’ll
be missed,
Your heart
is ripe for love,
You are a
modern Cinderella,
Looking for
magic to touch your life,
Searching for
a charming prince,
Looking for
a happy beginning,
Waiting for
that midnight clock,
To reveal
the truth,
You are a
private dancer,
Wanting to
please one man,
Playing the
role of seductress,
Drawing him
into your web,
Closing in quickly,
To secure
him with your sweetness,
You are a
connoisseur,
Sampling and
tasting,
Those that
come within reach,
But not
committing to one,
While you
wait for the special man,
Who will
stir your emotions,
You are a
modern woman,
Independent
and willing,
Ready to call
your own shots,
You could be
good for me,
What could I
do for you?
I could hold
you tight,
Each and
every night,
Help count
the stars above,
I could hold
your hand,
Be an answer
to your lonely nights,
Fill your
waiting arms,
Discover
your many charms,
And be there
for you,
You are so
many things to me,
And I like
you just the way,
You are.
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Two Dimensions
Image by drspam via Flickr
Two
dimensions of time overlapped one day,
Changing my
point of view,
I had been
all alone,
Pondering
what to do,
My life had
burned almost to the end,
I’d say it
had been full,
Now I waited
for what came next,
And for life’s
storms to lull,
But in a
flash my world turned,
As the two
dimensions met,
When I saw
what could have been,
It filled me
with regret,
She was in
the kitchen,
Standing by
the sink,
Staring out
the window,
Taking time
to think,
I thought
she was very alluring,
So I came up
behind,
Kissed her
neck and said,
“You are
mine, all mine,”
Tears welling
up in her eyes,
She turned
and faced me,
“Why couldn’t
we be this way forever,
Why does
this have to be?”
I knew what
she meant,
I knew why
she was crying,
How can her
world go on,
When my
world is dying?
I had
wrestled with time before,
Always I
would lose,
Time dances
to its own rhythm,
And doesn’t
let you choose,
One of the
cruel ironies of time,
Is that lifetimes
don’t match,
While one
world is slipping away,
Another world
starts to hatch,
I am being
pulled out of orbit,
Into the
dark of night,
My world
will soon be gone,
While her
world will be shining bright,
Why is life
so complicated?
It seems
like a cruel hoax,
Our lives
are so mismatched,
While time
laughs at his joke,
I brush a
wisp of hair,
Away from
her worried face,
“Let’s just
enjoy every minute,
Savoring every
trace,”
“We will
share our lives all we can,
Until time
reshifts into place,
That’s all
the control we have,
We’ll let
our hearts set the pace,”
Across two
dimensions our hearts will search,
Endlessly it
seems,
But we will
forever bond,
If only in
our dreams.
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One Life (from Gandy Dancer to farmer)
Cover of The Civil War (American Heritage Books)
Hugh
Hugh wasn’t
sure if he was mostly Irish or mostly Choctaw,
But at the
age of eleven there was a determined set to his jaw,
From a
hard-working family, he was but one of ten,
Steady,
reliable, and able to outwork any two men,
Respectful of
his father but tired of being knocked about,
He knew if
he remained at home, his future was in doubt,
One night
when all were exhausted and fast asleep,
He gathered
a few things along with his rifle to keep,
Slung over
his shoulder were his food and rifle reloads,
He hurried
along until he found the tracks of the railroad,
Following
the rails for hours and then hiding outside town,
He hopped
the first train that was westward bound,
Hugh met up
with the foreman of a rough work crew,
The foreman
smiled, “Just exactly what can you do?”
Hugh wasn’t
ready to prove he could outwork two men,
So he said
boldly, “I can supply your crew with meat now and then,”
The foreman
laughed, “You’re young but I admire your spunk,”
“Tomorrow
I’ll see what you can do, now let’s find you a bunk,”
Before long
the crew was enjoying the fruits of his skill,
The foreman
noticed Hugh didn’t waste shots or kill for the thrill,
One day on a
hunting expedition Hugh heard a gruff voice,
“Give me
that rifle, boy, you ain’t got no choice,”
Now Hugh had
learned to treat others with respect,
They should
return the favor, something he would expect,
“I don’t
bother anything of others is my bottom line,
What’s yours
is yours and what’s mine is mine,”
“Hand over
that rifle, boy, and you’d better make it quick,”
Otherwise I’ll just take it, after I give your
rear a kick,”
The rifle
was Hugh’s, and to make a point he fired one round,
The man
cursed loudly and made a hissing sound,
“I think you
might be old enough to be digging ditches,
But to
challenge me you’re getting too big for your britches,”
“If you’re
going to test a man, then you’ll die like a man,
Because I
can shoot faster than any man can,”
The bully
grabbed his gun and swung it around,
One bullet
was fired and then he hit the ground,
The shocked
look on his face, one of complete surprise,
His life was
over, shot squarely between the eyes,
The sheriff
came by but after a look at the evidence,
Declared
Hugh was innocent, “Clearly self-defense!”
With one man
missing from the railroad crew,
The foreman
asked Hugh to fill in there too,
“We’re one man short I won’t take no for an
answer,
You’ll still
bring in meat, and you’ll be a gandy dancer,”
Not only was
he able to pull his own weight,
He stopped a
train robbery and sealed one bandit’s fate,
The robber
was bold to walk down the aisles,
But that was
the bandit’s last day to smile,
Though
roving bands of disgruntled men roamed the west,
Many were
not eager to confront and decided it best,
To just watch
and wait to see which train Hugh rode,
They worked
it out with a secret code,
Hugh settled
down and married the daughter of a judge,
The judge
wanted a southern man, but he didn’t carry a grudge,
The War had long been over and Hugh never
claimed a side,
The judge, a
Confederate officer, still talked of the war with pride,
But the
agreement between Hugh, and Emma, his wife,
Was to love
each other totally, and not talk about strife,
Hugh’s compassion and truth were known round
about,
After
several years had gone by, his name carried clout,
He and Emma
had nine children who were active and loud,
They were
all industrious, which made Hugh proud,
The children
had multiple chores to do around the farm,
Laughing as
they worked, they did nobody harm,
But their
chickens didn’t stay on the right side of the fence,
And
according to Hugh, they didn’t have “a lick of sense”,
His neighbor
shouted, “Keep those chickens off my land!”
“I don’t
like Union chickens, I’m sure you understand,”
Hugh
swallowed his pride and let the insult slide,
If it wasn’t
for the children he’d had the man’s hide,
A few days
later one of his kids went under the fence,
She grabbed
her pet chicken in the chicken’s defense,
One bullet
whizzed by and stirred up some dirt,
Another wild
shot but nobody was hurt,
One of the
others screamed for their dad,
All the
commotion told Hugh it was bad,
Hugh grabbed
his rifle and headed out the door,
He heard his
neighbor yelling, “I can’t take it anymore!”
“Your union
children were trespassing on my land,
If you had
gotten an education, then you’d understand,”
Hugh tried
to keep calm, he’d promised his wife,
But no one
should ever threaten his child’s life,
“If you ever
shoot this way again you’ll catch lead,
This time
you’re lucky, I’ll just warn you instead,”
The neighbor
laughed. “You’re just a farmer man,
I was raised
in the South as a cultured gentleman,”
“I don’t
take threats lightly, especially from a union man,”
He turned
quickly and fired the pistol in his hand,
Hugh was a
fraction behind but his rifle was steady,
He fired
once before his neighbor’s second was ready,
Hugh’s
bullet tore the pistol from the man’s grasp,
There was
silence and smoke before he began to gasp,
Hugh’s
bullet had hit the gun and ricocheted into the man’s chest,
Hugh had killed the man, and the sheriff
showed up for his arrest,
Hugh went
quietly, sure it was self-defense,
But the
charges filed against him led to some suspense.
The Trial
The civil
war had been over for forty years,
Yet there
were those who were still shedding tears,
And fighting
their hated enemy in mental battles,
Strutting
about town as if their sabres still rattled,
The
prosecutor was a man who liked to build his case,
A
reenactment of the Civil War was his base,
Hugh was
portrayed as a Union man with a grudge,
Which didn’t
sit well with the Confederate judge,
Railroad
men, townsfolk, neighbors called on Hugh’s behalf,
Claimed he
was a honest hardworking man who liked to laugh,
But most
admitted they were afraid to misbehave,
They
believed that anyone who challenged him would lie in a grave,
Things did
not go well for Hugh at the trial,
Rumors said
he’d dance on the gallows or be jailed for awhile,
Before the
trial ended, his luck suddenly changed,
His wife
approached the judge with a plan arranged,
The judge
called for a recess and they met in another room,
“Judge,” she
said quietly, “before you announce Hugh’s doom,
I want you
to consider the cards I might deal,
Hugh might
go to jail but your fate will be sealed,”
“My dad was
a general and respected as well,
He was a
proud gentleman but he knew war was hell,
He would
have preferred that I marry someone from the south,
But he
admired Hugh’s character and the words from his mouth,
He also said
that the nation could only be healed,
If justice
was fair and the truth revealed,”
“You know
that Hugh is telling nothing but the truth,
But if you
need more testimony, I’ll enter the booth,
If you dare
dismiss my testimony or even imply,
That the
daughter of a respected officer would lie,”
“You might
upset a few of Dad’s former friends,
Who would
take it as his reputation you’ll offend,
If you
should sentence Hugh based on other issues,
Then I’d
sure hate to be in your shoes,”
The judge
didn’t move as she swished through the door,
His eyes
were staring blankly at the floor,
He had
promised his friends that Hugh had to pay,
Now he had
to be creative and find another way,
His friends
wanted retaliation for losing the war,
They wanted
Hugh to hang and nothing more,
The judge
was caught between a rock and a hard place,
But he could
still redeem himself without losing face,
“All rise,”
the sheriff intoned as the judge entered, “Now take your seats,”
The crowd
was quiet, it didn’t want to miss a beat,
The
prosecutor was smiling and expecting a win,
There were
those in the audience expressing chagrin,
Without
raising his eyes the judge said,
“The
nation’s wounds have too long bled,
All the brokenness we have to repair,
That can
only happen if justice is fair,”
“The preponderance
of evidence is plain to me,
That the
accused is innocent in every degree,
If there is
nothing more then I’ll insist,
This trial
is over, Case Dismissed!
There were
those who were in shock,
The ones
expecting a conviction, the southern flock,
From the
union supporters there was a flurry of tears,
And then realizing
victory, a chorus of cheers,
The judge
rose and went out the back door,
He wasn’t
sure he could please anybody anymore,
He liked his
job but maybe it was time,
To move
along to another clime,
For the rest
of his life Hugh lived down on the farm,
Raising
children and animals and doing no harm,
Of course
Emma and Hugh grew old together,
Loving each
other and talking about the weather.
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A Scandal is a Storm With a Voracious Appetite
Image by FatBusinessman via Flickr
Stir a
Scandal and it only gets bigger. One
misdeed grows larger, getting energy from opposing forces, until it becomes a
storm of increasing destructive strength sweeping over a wider area, changing
the landscape forever. And yet, in spite
of all the debris and obvious evidence, there is denial that the storm ever
existed, or if it did exist, the claims are made that it did no damage.
A political storm is not about a politician
being open and honest with constituents.
It is about truth management. First,
is it necessary to tell the truth? How much truth should be told? Who needs to know and why? If the truth comes out will it destroy the
power base or the sources of income? To what extent should the sources of truth
be stopped?
A politician
is not one person, but the figurehead of an organization. That organization has spent time and money building
an image, lifting the politician to a position of power. Unscrupulous members might be assigned the
chores of keeping bad news or truths hidden.
Small scandals can be countered with lies or money. Large scandals might
require more drastic measures. And the
politicians themselves might never know how the scandal is handled. A scandal is a storm with a voracious
appetite, springing up suddenly, and out of control. Such is the story of Any Mann.
Any Mann
began as a small town candidate running for a small office. He kissed babies, became a member of the
school board, the county water district, the city council, and quietly began
building his resume. He had help, of
course, from an organization that saw his potential. He wasn’t particularly bright, but he was
handsome and well groomed, did and said what he was told, smiled a lot, and had
a clean record. He was a near perfect
candidate and the organization could build a power base around him.
He was elected to the state assembly on the
first try, not because he was so great but because the organization easily outspent
his opponent. After three terms Any was
elected to Congress and gradually worked his way onto powerful committees. Those who had supported him throughout his
career now began asking him for favors as a way of repaying their investments. The
requests were harmless at first, but the demands became increasingly bold, and
were hard to put into bills without public exposure.
The
pressures on Any were growing and he began taking prescription drugs to ease
his stress. His political strength was building
and he was becoming a name across the country.
He returned
to his home town for a Mother’s Day celebration. His sister, brother and selected friends
joined him. They partied hardy. Any relaxed
and was glad to be away from the pressures of Washington although he still had
his bodyguards. Sometime in the evening drinking and drugs mixed. Any at first appeared normal but soon he was
out of control. He found his sister,
Patti, asleep in another room. After a
brief struggle he overpowered and raped her.
As morning
neared he came to his senses and became afraid.
“Get out! This is your fault! You’re
trying to ruin me!” He shoved her out of
the room. “I don’t ever want to see you
again!”
Their older
brother was awakened by the commotion and found Patti sobbing inconsolably, curled
in a fetal position. After a few minutes
he asked gently, “What happened?” Patti ‘s eyes widened. “I can’t tell you,” she sobbed. “You have to,” he insisted.
“Any raped me,” she blurted. He held her hand,
gradually comprehending the gravity of the situation. He hugged her and said, “Everything will be
all right. After I find Any I’m taking
you to the hospital.”
He found Any
outside the house, talking with a bodyguard.
He walked up to Any and asked bluntly, “Patti’s our sister. Why did you
rape her?”
“Don’t be
taking her side when you don’t even know what happened! I knew she’d say
something like that. She’s a tramp!”
Before Any
could say anything more, he was knocked down. His brother stated, “I should
kill you but after I take Patti to the hospital, I’m holding a news conference
and telling the nation just what kind of jerk you are.”
He spun about and marched out. Any turned to the bodyguard. “I guess it’s all over.”
The
bodyguard was on his cell phone immediately.
After a few seconds he said, “Go get in my car and wait there. Don’t talk to anybody. The big boss says hang
tight. We’ll handle this crisis before
it gets out of control.”
“What do you
mean?”
“This is not
the time to ask questions, sir. Just
follow directions. Everything is already
put into motion.”
Any saw his
brother and sister drive away in his government issued sedan. He put his head
into his hands. “What is going on? I can’t
believe that I’ve screwed up my life.”
In his
anguish he missed the following scene. A gray car pulled out and followed the
sedan at a respectable distance. A few
blocks away at a stoplight the gray car suddenly pulled up alongside the sedan. Several guns fired simultaneously. The sedan lurched forward and crashed into a
pole.
The gray car
sped away.
Within the
hour a news bulletin was issued. “This
afternoon at 1 p.m. an attempted assassination on Congressman Any Mann was
made. His driver, brother and sister were
killed by unknown gunmen. By a lucky
circumstance Any had been called away to an emergency meeting and was not in
the car. Our government has just issued
a High Alert until the gunmen can be found.”
The
resulting publicity and the way Any handled himself over the next few months
raised his ratings in the polls. He
became a presidential candidate and insiders said he had the best chance of
winning.
But there
were rumors that kept bubbling up and damaging Any’s image. Did someone have a
video showing Any and his brother fighting?
Could that bruise on his cheek be explained? Did
someone actually have a tape of Patti’s dying words? Attempts were made to squelch each and every
rumor but that only made the rumors spread.
Did Any order his brother and sister killed? Should such a man be elected to the White
House?
It wasn’t
long before the other congressmen considered Any a liability and began
distancing themselves. They didn’t want
to go down with his ship. Finally the
organization behind him cut all ties. “You
can’t do this,” he stated. “I didn’t order my brother and sister killed.”
Within the
hour a new bulletin was issued. “This
afternoon Congressman Any Mann was found
dead in his office. A note was found
beside his body. Any had been described
as despondent by several of his close friends. A memorial will be held.”
The storm
was over and all was quiet. The
organization was busy, however, looking for a new candidate, someone they could
package and sell. It was not about
finding the best person for the job. It
was simply a matter of merchandizing magic.
Tell the people what they want and then convince them that their desires
were granted. Anything can happen in the
land where dreams come true.
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