- The Writers Voice -

[shadowlight]

Hi all, sorry for the delay, but I hope this sparks your creativity. The image is not mine. It was posted on FB by someone who'd found it on the internet. I will gladly give credit to the photographer. In the meantime, have fun and keep writing. God bless...shadowlight
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Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[Harry]

Westward Ho!

Harry Buschman


There was me and Walter, Ernie, Harpo and Bunco and we made a pact twixt the five of us. We decided to run away from home. Don't laugh. It was a major decision for five nine year old kids. Each of us pricked the end of his thumb with a burnt needle and each of us grabbed the wrist of the other. So the pact was sealed in blood and nobody could go back on it. Each of us would pack a bag and instead of going to school tomorrow morning we were going to meet on the corner, ditch our books and head west where men are men and there's no women around.

Well, we counted it all up and we had about fourteen dollars between us and we wondered if that was enough to get us out of Brooklyn let alone out to purple sage country in Montana. Even Bunco, the brains of the group, began to wonder if we had given enough thought to the financial aspect of our plan.

We stood on the corner of Ryerson Street and McKibben watching the vegetable trucks from New Jersey roll by. "Ace in the hole," Bunco said. "There's the answer ... we hitch a ride with them going back to Jersey. They go back empty, see ... They'll be glad to give us a lift."

It sounded good to us. All we had to do was wait for them to dump their load at the vegetable market in Brooklyn and we could be in New Jersey by early afternoon ... half way to Montana!

The trouble was we had to wait ... and when you wait, you reconsider things ...

It began with Walter. Walter was the least adventurous of us and along about ten-thirty he began complaining of a toothache ... "What'll I do if it gets worse in Montana? " he asked.

"You can't welch on your pledge," we reminded him.

"I'll catch up to you ... I'll just go home, get it fixed ... and ..."

"Your family will notify the police. They'll catch up to us, and there goes our plan," Bunco said. "Suck it up Walter. A pledge is a pledge."

A little bit later Ernie wanted to go back and get his autographed baseball. "I didn't think I'd need it," he said. "But it's a real Joe Dimaggio from the '29 series ... you never know, you know."

Then Harpo wanted to get his sneakers. "They're in my locker at school," he said. "I'll just run back and get them, okay?"

Bunco put his foot down. "What's the matter with you guys ... you gettin' cold feet? What happened to that pledge ... the blood oath?" He looked at me and said, "You wanna run home to Mommy too?"

"Well, no ... but ... "

"But what?"

"Tomorrow's as good as today, Walter can go to the dentist, Ernie can bring his baseball next time and Harpo can get his sneakers. Maybe we can get a little more money together .... maybe we can be a little more prepared. Cut us a little slack, Bunco." So began a lifetime of procrastination for four of the five boys from Brooklyn. None of us ever went west ... out there where men are men. We stayed friends 'til the war broke us up ... after all a pledge is a pledge, right?
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We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway

[shadowlight]

Here I am...late again. Sigh. I'm still trying to figure out how much work I should be doing and my schedule. I hope to get it straightened out soon. In the meantime, here's my take on the prompt. Thanks for taking a look.

God bless,
shadowlight
with God all things are possible



The Promise
© Marlicia Fernandez 4-18-12 (WC 500)

They called us the four musketeers. Shows you what they knew. First of all, there wasn’t four of us. There was five. Me, Skeets, Sactch, Lolli, and…

You know.

We didn’t know each other all that well, though we use to, and what we knew, we hated. Yeah, hated. No other word for it.

Everyone kept going on and on about how well we got along and what an example we were to the grown-ups in the neighborhood. Hah! Stupid grown-ups! We sure had them fooled. But it was all a fallacy. No one can like what they don’t understand, what they don’t know or what they fear.

Fear was a big part of our little group. The hidden member. Fear hid in the shadows and watched our every move with a steely unwavering gaze. In the end it broke us all.

It wasn’t always that way. We’d all been together since we were born…practically. Skeetch and Scatch lived next door in the white brick house. They were twins, born thirteen hours apart. Thirteen. My mom always shook her head when we talked about them and said their mom was a saint. I’m not sure why she said that, but she did.

Lolli lived across the street right next to the spookiest house in the neighborhood. She didn’t have no brothers and sisters so we let her hang out with us. It wasn’t bad…she didn’t get scared like most girls, and she could beat the tar out of Skeetch, if he messed with her. No one messed with Lolli. Whatever Lolli couldn’t handle one of us would.

Things went along just fine until the Family moved into the scary house next to Lolli’s. They had one child. Weird kid. Kind of freaky lookin’. Always hanging around and wanted to play with us. We never let him. To be honest, he creeped us out.

And he was too young.

But that didn’t mean he gave up trying. He just didn’t seem to get the hint. He told us his name…which we promptly forgot, and thought that entitled him to be part of our group. He was wrong. Knowing his name changed nothing.

That didn’t stop him from hanging with us…or rather near us.

Years went by and we grew up. Graduated elementary and junior high school and progressed on to good old Capple High School. He followed us two years later, still whining about being part of us. And then he asked Lolli to the junior prom. She tossed her red curls and said “No.”

He shrugged, turned and stepped into the street. The bus bowled him under. We knelt beside him until the ambulance arrived. His eyes glazed over, but his expression chilled us to the bone. “You should have accepted me. Now, you’ll pay. You’ll never be without me or each other.” He gasped. “You’ll hate each other and want to escape. But you won’t be able to leave. And when you least expect it, I’ll come for you."

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Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[shadowlight]

Ah, yes, Harry, I do remember this and I still love it. You do such a wonderful job with these kids. I almost felt like I was there. Thanks for sharing, it was a pleasure.

God bless,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[Harry]

It reads like a plot for a movie, one of those Halloween movies where the left out kid finally gets his revenge. Your take on that genre could be a frightening thing. The young outrider, shunned and vilified who can only get his revenge from beyond the veil. When you get the time Marlicia, you should take this little gem out of moth balls and build a ghost story out of it. You say the house was haunted before the new kid moved in ... there's a story waiting in that, too ...
_________________
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway

[shadowlight]

Thanks for the kind words, Harry. I'm glad you enjoyed this. I'm not sure I can write a ghost story without scaring myself silly, LOL, but maybe I'll give it a try. (Maybe more Hitchcock or Poe as opposed to the true horror stuff?). God bless and thanks again. You made my day, my friend.

God bless...
Marlicia
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.