The Happyness Motel: Living Water

The Happyness Motel

    I know what I gotmyself into as soon as the door closed. I just checked into Motel Weird.Hopefully the wind closed that door. I'm not usually this paranoid. I'm alsonot prone to staying at creepy motels, but there is a first time foreverything. My job requires me to travel much and the pay is great. When no onewants to fire their workers, an axe man is the way to go. We're not talkingpsycho serial killer here, I fire people for a living. I'm used to dealing withpissed off people but sometimes it can be exhausting. I just came from a job ata big lumber corporation in Illinois. Let's just say that lumber distributionis going down the drain thanks to recycling. Besides dealing with future axemen (the serial killer kind), while I was on my home to Ohio I decided to stopalong a quiet country road and take a nap. That's where all of this started.

    I awoke to ascream that could wake the dead. I don't remember where I pulled over exactly,all I know is that I was exhausted and it definitely wasn't this close to nighttime. I should have flown in the first place, but something inside me told methat the scenery should be nice. Clouds start to look the same after awhile.

    The scream camefrom my radio; apparently I left it on while sleeping. I must have been reallytired because I never do that. This program sounds oddly familiar. Ah yes, TheLodger: A Story of the London Fog. There's nothing like listening to a storyabout Jack The Ripper while staring at a deserted road. Not creepy at all. As thevoice of "The Man in Black" loomed all about me, I could almost seethe infamous Avenger strolling towards me as the sun sets. A tall man envelopedin a midnight colored cloak and coated within is the blood of his victims. ThenI recover from my terror, realizing he is a figment of my imagination and I amsafe.

    My car will notstart. I looked under the hood and nothing seems to be wrong. It could be thebattery, but the radio is working fine. My phone does not have service either;which is expected when I'm surrounded by trees. I decide to wait on a passingcar. As waiting, I lay my head on the steering wheel. Why is this car giving meso much trouble? It's a brand new Ford Taurus for heaven's sake. I'm startingto get a headache from all of this stress. I take off my glasses and startrubbing my temples. I'm becoming tired again.

    Just then I seelight surrounding me. It must be car headlights. I lift my head up, open thedoor, and stand outside about to wave my hands but then I turn to look at what'sbeside me and see a a giant glowing sign. How did I miss this before? What Icouldn't see during the day, I can see now at night. The Happyness Motel. Thatsounds legitimate enough; besides spelling happiness wrong. There is no vacancyand there seems to be only two cars in the parking lot of a two storied motel.Odd, I decide I wouldn't stay there if my life depended on it. I walk towardswhat seems to be a drab and inauspicious building. All I want to do is use their phone for a tow truck and get theheck outta there.

    It seems like thewidth of this road never ends. The gravel lot is before me. I take a step, nowtwo. I hear a loud click behind me. It was the red sign of NO VACANCY thatdisappeared and a green VACANCY has replaced it. I shrug it off because I'm notstaying as I said before. Every step I take seems to make an echoing sound onthe gravel and as I look down I can see what seems to be shadow-like figuresdispersing from underneath me. I walk faster.

    Finally I am underlight. Dim yellow light, but still light. I decide to look at the two cars inthe lot. You can tell a lot about a person by what they drive. For examplethere is a shiny, black '68 Chevelle which I presume the owner is male anddefinitely thinks himself a "tough guy". On the other hand there is alight blue, wood paneling Buick Roadmaster Limited Estate Wagon that screams family car. I proceed to push open thedoor to the motel lobby.

    The thing thatfirst hit me is the smell of what I can only describe as baked river mud mixedwith hot sauce. The second thing is that an eerie song is playing quietly.Something about green fields and love being lost. I walk up to the tallmahogany desk. "Hello? Is anyone back there?" I ask since I seem tobe the only person around. A grunt startled me. An elderly man reading thenewspaper on a bench behind me continues, "Try the bell." I tell himthanks. I ring the bell.  The onlydecoration on the brown speckled walls caught my eye. It's a stitched picturecontained in a frame reading, "Come, all you who are thirsty, come to thewaters..." And I swear a black, beady eye looked right at me beside thatpicture.

    "I made thatyou know?" A cheerful voice brought me back. Her short, bright pink hairand candy cane shirt threw me off a bit, but her smile made me smile. Her nametag read Sweet, and that made total sense to me. Beside Sweet was Frank. Abald, sad faced man who looked as strong as an ox. Maybe he's the owner of theChevelle.

    "The name isFrank Ness and this is my sister, Sweet Ness. Are you interested in a room Mr.Uh..?" A stern Frank asked of me. Frank and Sweet Ness, this is just tooweird. And they're siblings? They seem to be the same height, but that's theonly resemblance I can see. Maybe the dark eyes. They stand so close to eachother, they must be really close. "It's Wesley Ow, and no, Mr. Ness. Mycar won't start and it's right out there on the other side of the road. Myphone doesn't have any reception out here so I was wondering if I could use yourphone to call for a tow truck?"

    "I reckon youcan use my phone, but it's past nine already and a Sunday. I don't think Joewould be running out this late with his truck. You can try though." Frankgave me the number for Joe's Towing. No answer, so I left a message."Where am I exactly?" I asked. "You're only at the cutest littlemotel this side of Blue River in Crawford County." Sweet continued,"Our momma had this place built for wary travels, such as yourself, longago. Since the beginning of time I would say. Are you sure you don't need aplace to rest your head if only for tonight?" Her soothing voice convincedme that I am a little tired.

    "It's companypolicy that you pay in advance, and we only take cash." Frank sure knowshow to live up to his name. He is a to the point kind of guy. I pay for theroom, they hand me the key, and tell them I'll be back after I get my suitcase."No need sir, I'll  be getting yourluggage." Frank insisted. "You look exhausted and should head on upto your room." Sweet mouthed through her persistent smile.

    Just then, thelights flickered. I felt chills roll up my spine. "Hello younggentleman." A little, old lady's voice prompts me to turn around. She haswhite hair pinned up into a bun, a pert smile, her wrinkly cheeks are pushed upso high that her eyelids are unable to open, her dress is floor length andtrails slightly behind her, and the Willow bark cane she grasps was carvedcrooked on purpose it would seem. "My name is Happy Ness, and if youfollow me I shall show you to your room." I gave Frank my car keys.

    I followed Happyoutside. Now I feel utterly stupid for thinking that this place was toohillbilly for me. The Happyness Motel is a perfect play on words, and thesepeople seem nice to me. I'm just being paranoid about all of the weird thingsgoing on. In the center of the motel area is a pool. It's a typical pool. complete with diving board and clear,chlorinated water, and it's definitely an upgrade to the rest of the motel. Westart heading up the stairs. I've already noticed that the numbers arescratched off on the doors. How does Happy know which one is which? How can sheanyway with her eyelids closed? She has run the place for many years like Sweetsaid, but I can hardly believe anyone can really know something that well. Andis it just me or are the lights dimming every time we walk under them?

    Room twenty-six,is not what I expected. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want stained sheets andblood covered walls, but this room surprises me more than that would.Everything is brown. A muddy sort of river-bed dark brown. When Happy took herleave, closing the door behind her, I decide to investigate more. Thebathroom's tiles are speckled brown and light brown. The shower curtain, tub,nozzle, sink, toilet, and even the toilet paper are some kind of brown. Idecided to lay down on the brown bed and rest a bit before Frank comes to giveme my luggage.

    It's only been twominutes, but I hear a loud knock. I step onto the furry brown carpet and headfor the door. I start to say, "Thank you Frank." But as I open thedoor there is no one in sight. My luggage sits up right in front of my dooralone. I lug it inside and as soon as I lay it on the bed the door shutsquickly. Chills again. I am almost afraid to look behind me and instead lookthrough my suitcase to make sure nothing is missing. I have ended up in MotelWeird, and I am missing something.

    My keys. Frankmust have forgotten to leave them with my suitcase. O well, it isn't a bigdeal. He's probably keeping them in the office for safe keeping. My headache iscoming back again. I should go swimming. It is the middle of summer andswimming has always eased my mind.

    The water looksdeep and inviting. I set my towel on a chair and my glasses on a side table. Iam now standing on the diving board, feeling it with my toes. As a child Iwould always lay on the diving board of my family's personal pool just to feelit's slippery, yet gritty texture. I take a breath and dive in. The water isperfect. Like there is nothing around me and I am floating in one space. I'venever held my breath for so long and I feel so at peace. I feel I am slipping,slipping away...

    A sudden splashand I open my eyes. I swim to the surface thankful for the burst of air. Thecause of the splash is a giggling girl kicking her legs in the water. She looksabout seven, red curly hair and freckles, with a green flowered sun dress on,and she is holding something.

    I swim toward her."Hello there, my name is Wesley. What's your's?" She didn't answer,just stared at me and smiled. "What do you have there?" She lifts itup and I swim back startled. It's the ugliest looking salamander I have everseen. It had to be about six inches long with slimy, loose looking yellowishbrown skin, a wide tail, and wiggling everywhere. I don't know how she kept agrip on it.

    "Don't bescared of him. He just doesn't like to be held that way. His name is Sally. Ifound him here. He was on the wall of my room. Happy says Sally's a Hellbendersalamander and that I shouldn't be playing with him, but he keeps fallowing meand is my friend. He likes to be pet under the chin, you see?" The girllaid him down in her lap, and proceeded to scratch under his chin. And wouldn'tyou know it, Sally loved it. We both began to laugh.

    "Jackie! It'slate child. Get away from that pool and head back to your room." Happy'svoice was demanding but her face was still half smiling. This is the first timeI've seen her eyes. They're big and dark just like Frank and Sweet's are. Thelittle girl, Jackie as it turned out, shuffled off and into a room clutchingSally close to her.

    "I see youare still with us Mr. Ow." Happy said. "Where else would I be Mrs.Ness?" I replied suspiciously. She shrugged my question away, so I askedanother.  "Mrs. Ness, is Jackie yourchild?" I ask while drying off my body. "Oh, no. She is a guest here.I only have Frank and Sweet." I proceed with more questions, "Whycouldn't she be out then? Where are her parents?"

    "You do ask alot of questions, sir." Happy decided to answer me, "JacquelinePruitt and her family are staying here for the night. Her parents and olderbrother are sleeping from their journey, and they left me in charge of her.They were particular about the pool. Jacqueline cannot swim." Ah, theestate wagon family.

    "Frank andSweet are really close I've noticed." I decided to change the subjectslightly. "Are they twins? Or just hang around each other a lot?"Mrs. Ness replied laughing, "Yes, you could say my twins are connected atthe hip." She must have caught my quizzical expression because she went onto explain. "Frank and Sweet are Siamese Twins. They are connected at thestomach. So yes, they are very close indeed." I went on to ask, "Wassurgery out of the question?" She did not reply.

    Happy Ness and Iexchange goodnights as she walks away. As I'm drying my hair, I hear paperrustling. I turn sharply. It's the old man again. "The name's Laird."I only thought about asking what his name was but I must have said it aloudinstead. "My name is Wesley Ow. Are you a guest here too?" He replieswith a sly remark, "Well I'm not here for the scenery, or thecompany." Taken aback by that remark I decide I should leave, "Idon't have the time for this. Goodnight."

    "Yes, no oneever seems to have the time." I stopped halfway up the steps. "Whatdid you say?" Laird proceeded, "Have you not noticed the lack ofclocks and calendars at this motel?" Actually I thought it odd that Ididn't have an alarm clock on my nightstand, or a phone for that matter."That's what I thought. You should sit down for what I have to tell younext."

    "It was manyyears ago when Mr. Sure and Mrs. Happy Ness built this motel." Doesn'tanyone ever have a reasonable name? "They were a great couple. Sure Nessnamed this motel after his lovely wife, and soon after it was all built Happyfound herself pregnant. Excitement beamed from both their faces everyday, tillthat fateful night.

    "Frank andSweet came out connected. Back then surgery like that was dangerous. Happywouldn't have anything to do with doctors in the first place. She knew she'dfind a way. Seemed like she was just waiting for a miracle to happen, her hairturned grey and she had to keep a happy-go-lucky smile on her face soeverything seemed okay. Some say she finally cracked one day and made a pactwith the devil. She begged that Frank and Sweet be separated and she'd giveanything, everything even.

    "It'sbelieved that Sure Ness left Happy after finding out about this pact, but it'sbelieved more that Sure was the thing Happy gave up for her children'sseparation, and her soul of course. That's the funny thing about making pactswith the Devil though. You never know what exactly you'll get from it. Frankand Sweet were separated alright. Their personalities were split right in half.Two extremes. That's why she didn't answer your question, son. Because thisstory is all true." He paused. "The reason why there is nothing thattells time is because there is no time here. Because this place is owned bySatan too."

    That was the end.I'm sitting here, watching him read the paper and the headache is coming backagain. I need to get out of here. No way am I staying around this craziness onemore second. I stood up and ran to the main office. All the lights are offinside. "What now?" I thought. Then I heard a sloshing and then clanksound near by. I think I saw a hint of Sally's tail slip inside that window. Ipropped it up and climbed in myself.

    It's dark, but Ifind a desk nearby with a lamp. I switched it on. I search the drawers for mykeys, but when I check the center drawer I find a single piece of notebookpaper. To one side I see a list of names, at the top is mine and Jackie'snames. Below Jackie's name are Samuel Pruitt, Herbert Pruitt, and Diane Pruitt.This is her family and they've all been scratched out.

    Something isdifferent for Samuel though. On the other side is another list, by his name itsays Lost, Herbert and Diane say Found. What does this mean? Whatever it is Idon't want to find out for myself. Keys or not, I'm leaving this place. I findthe door to the lobby. I'm running so fast I don't notice that the lights areon now or Laird saying, "You might not want to go out there."

    He was right. Tomy horror shadowy objects started covering my body. My legs start to vanish,then my hands disappeared before my eyes. Soon I was in darkness. My headachebecame worse and I started to scream but there was no sound. Suddenly a visioncame to me.

    I can see myselfdriving. I'm nodding off to sleep. This was today, I should be pulling oversoon. But I'm not pulling over. I'm falling asleep at the wheel. There'sanother car coming. It looks familiar... Jackie's family's car. I'm headingstraight for it. No, no!

    I found myselflying on the lobby floor. I sit up thinking I must have blacked out. "Itwasn't a dream Wesley." It's Laird voice. "That's what happened.Jackie and her family all died in that accident, and so did you. You bangedyour head up pretty good on that steering wheel."

    "I don'tbelieve you." I mumble under my breath. "You don't have to believe inanything I say. That doesn't mean it isn't true. By the way, where are yourglasses now?" I must have left them by the pool, but I can see perfectly.I don't understand. Laird is right, I don't need my glasses, I am dead. He wenton, "I'm going to tell you something, and you are going to take itseriously. I know you found the list. You are wondering what Lost and Foundmean.

    "SamuelPruitt  wanted to go back to the waythings were, back to life. He is one of The Lost now because he went outsideand never came back. He is gone, and now that you've seen what's out there, youknow that he is lost in his memories. His shadow of despair, you would say. Hebelongs to Satan now. The Found are completely different. Jackie's parentsknew  the true way out. It's not througha door; not out there. It's located in this motel. They chose to come to aplace where they move on, not to go back."

    "Why am I nota part of The Lost? I stepped outside, I saw what I did." I said confusedat what he's telling me. "You almost became a part of The Found tonight,you can be found again," was his only reply.

    "But whatdoes all of this mean?" I turned to ask Laird, but he vanished. I stood upand started to pace. I am dead, I guess I can believe that. This place and thepeople that run it are controlled by the Devil, explains a lot of thecoincidences. How do I get out of here then? I stopped at the framed picturefrom before. I read it again, "Come, all you who are thirsty, come to thewaters..."

    Come to thewaters... Laird is right, they came to a place where they move on. They came towater. I felt myself slipping away while I was in the pool! I rush outside andfind the pool. I see Jackie sitting by it again. I walk toward her slowly.

    "I can't findmy parents, Wesley." Jackie is crying. "They left me here, and so didSam. I have to go find them. I have to get out of here." I sit down besideher. "Your parents didn't leave you Jackie. They've moved on, and theywant you to move on too. We all must leave the past behind us. Life requires usto take dives into unknown waters so we can grow. Will you take a dive with meJackie?"

    We're bothstanding on the diving board now. "Just think of something happy from yourpast. I'll be holding your hand." I'm trying to prepare her for escape,but also trying to convince myself this is the only way out. "Sally saidswimming is easy. No one ever tried to teach me how to swim, but he said no onetaught him either and he turned out okay." Talking salamander, who wouldhave known?

    It's time to jumpin. We take deep breaths, but something is grabbing my arm. It's Happy Ness,and her smile has disappeared. "You cannot leave, it's your fault thatJackie and her family died." I fell asleep at the wheel. I hit their car,but it was an accident. Then Laird's hand touched Happy's arm. "You arenot allowed to touch them Happy. Everyone chooses whether to be lost or found.Get back." Happy Ness glared at Laird and retreated into the shadows.

    I look down atJackie. Her deep blue eyes were already looking up at me, "I forgive youWesley. I'm ready to move on if you're ready too." We breathe and jumptogether. I can still feel Jackie's hand. We're going to a place through water,not a door. We know exactly what we got ourselves into; it is deep, it isinviting, it is the future.

The Party We Call Life: A Story of Importance

The Party We Call Life

   I can see my brother, Steven, sorting through pebbles and shells to find something eye catching. Steven is from my father’s first marriage and is a good eight years older than. My mother still loved him as her own child and Steven loved her. I remember these long days on the coast of Ireland. One time I found the most perfect marble, green pebble I had ever seen. The whole of the Atlantic Ocean compressed into a single stone. It later became a polished trinket on my most prized and only jewelry piece, an earring. Steven always did things like that; he’d find lost treasures and make them into beautiful creations. The earring dangles, and along with the ocean’s pebble, my brother attached a piece of thin flattened gold. As Steven presented it to me, he said, “Pippa, if yer golden eyes get brighter than they ‘er now, that big ole light bulb in the sky will be outta his job.” I was nine-years-old then, only two months away from that destined night when our parents were murdered.

   It’s a sunny school day, the last school day of my high school career actually. Last days should be happy ones, but I cannot muster tears of joy. I think of those last memorable words my brother said to me. I take the earring from what was once our mother’s jewelry box, pierce it through my right earlobe, silently cry and pray for strength, if only for one more day. The tears stop. I stroke my mother’s pearl necklace lying in the box. Then I close its screeching lid, stare at the rose carved into it, and leave for school. This morning is no different from the past decade since I was adopted into America.

   Most everything about me constantly reminds me of my ma. I have her curly, brown hair, golden eyes; my uncle says I even acquired her laugh. They were all friends you know? My ma, pa, and uncle all grew up in the same Irish village that both my brother and I grew up in as well. I often listen to my uncle tell stories about all the fun they had and trouble they got into; whether there was a difference between their fun and trouble I couldn't tell.

   My Uncle Sean is the one who adopted me after my parents died. He was really close to my family until he moved to America around the time I was born. Since my brother was too young to take of me, they decided America would be better for me. He is a good replacement father though. Uncle Sean’s a hard working carpenter, kind, understanding, and very fair in judgment are some of his good features. I don’t know where he got those from because my stern father, who played bag pipes for parades and funerals, was practically the polar opposite to his brother. I wonder if Steven and I are so different… We haven’t talked much since I left Ireland, but some day he’ll come for me and we’ll be happy in Ireland once again.

   Caitlyn is leaning over my shoulder, asking, “Why are you still painting when it is the last day of art class?” I can only reply with another question, “Is one permitted from using a calculator on the last day of math class?” To which we both laugh because we despise math.

   As much as I love my tall, blonde, athletic friend, she never can shut her gob. I was thinking about my memories in Ireland, when my thought process is redirected toward my friend who just asked the vague question, “So, Piper, will you go with me?” My answer is a blank stare, then an instinctively drawn out but friendly, “Sure.” Excited rambling resumed, and I soon found out that I just agreed to go to a party, but not just a party, the legendary Graduation Party.

    It’s safe to assume that I have never been invited, nor thought of going, to a high school party. I went to a friend’s birthday celebration when I was about twelve and decided to never partake in any more after everyone laughed when I asked, in my then profound Irish accent, where the bagpipes were. Children can be so cruel and some never grow out of it.

    I decided that I should give up my fear of parties for a few reasons. First, my only friend invited me because she needs me there for support so she can get with a fella she likes that will be attending. Second, it is a graduation party and I am graduating, it’s never too late to finally become acquainted with my peers. The last and most important reason would be that I made a promise to Caitlyn, and it isn't like my family or me to turn my back on a promise. My father always said, “Life is not worth living without doing what’s right and honorable.” What’s more honorable than keeping a promise to a great friend? Let’s hope Uncle Sean feels the same.

   Sitting on the front porch swing, I saw a few familiar faces shuffling off their school bus across the street. The first one to descend appears to be Grace Benitez. She’s a lovely girl with raven black hair, tan skin, just turned eight, and now that it’s summertime she’ll be wandering around the neighborhood in her princess costumes with her wand granting the wishes of her friends and casting spells on her enemies turning them into frogs. The frog spells would be directed toward the two boys that followed her. They’re the youngest of the Carrington clan. A twelve-year-old named Paul and a ten-year-old named Sam, two mischievous pranksters that take every bit of Grace’s wrath as an accomplishment.

   “Piper!” A sweet, excited Grace exclaimed toward me as I waved. Grace sits beside me and clings to my arm. She talks about her last day at school and about the Carrington brothers chasing her at recess and pulling her hair on the bus. “Boys are dumb. They better watch out this summer because I got a load of nasty spells for them two.” I wish I were young again and only worried about such things. At eight I still had everything.

   When night came, and supper was prepared, I figured out what I needed to say. “Today was my last day of school Uncle Sean,” I began. “I have passed all of my classes and will be graduating with honors. Isn't that good uncle?” Uncle Sean smiles at me to signal his happiness. “Ye’re more and more like yer ma e’ryday. She was a whiz kid herself, not like yer pa and I. Always proving us wrong with her books and her philosophy.” He chuckles as he reminisced.

   “Uncle Sean? I was wondering, since I have done so well in my schooling, and haven’t disgraced you in any way. Could I go to a party tomorrow night? It’s for the graduating class. My friend Caitlyn invited me, and she has been my only true friend in America, I wouldn't want to let her down. I assure you I will be responsible and won’t do anything foolish.” He looked at me suspiciously and asked, “Why er ye so interested in partying all a sudden?” I was shocked. Expecting a straightforward yes or no, as usual, I forgot to answer him. “Aye? What is it? A fella? I was a teenager once; I understand what happens at those things. My answer is nay.”

   As I try to explain further, he silences me and says, “Pippa, I know you are a responsible young lass, but the American teenagers are no different from Irish blokes. And we both know what they are capable of doing.” With that I excused myself, retreating quietly to my room.

   My parents were murdered by a group of teenagers ten years since. They were out late for a walk, which was rare. The gang of fluthered, bold teens surprised them and demanded money. My parents’ coins were not enough for all of them, and so they decided in their drunken stupor to shoot my mother and father. I really wish he hadn't reminded me of what people are capable of doing.

   My uncle knocks at the door and I tell him to enter. “I was just on the phone with Sarah and John Benitez. They asked if it would be alright that you babysit Grace for them tomorrow night. I decided for you, and you are doing it.” We start arguing about how he can’t decide things for me and he can’t protect me from everything. “I don’t want to hear your guff. I am your uncle, and your parents wouldn't have wanted you to go to that party either…” I interrupted him, “You don’t care.. You left my parents, you left all of us. My brother is coming back for me and when he does we’ll go to Ireland and you’ll never see us again. It’ll be just like before and you won’t have to worry about me ever.” I caught him staring at something on my dresser. He could be staring at nothing, but it looks like my mother’s box. He looked back at me again. Defeated, he said goodnight, and left.

   I decided to call Caitlyn and tell her I can’t go because my uncle is being an arse. She was very disappointed. “Why don’t you sneak out? I do it all the time and if you get caught what is he going to do? Send you back to Ireland?” We both chuckled at that. I replied, “If only, Caitie-Did. He’s making me babysit the neighbor girl.” We both thought, if only there were a way to babysit and go to the party at the same time. Where there is a will, there is a way!

   Night has come again, and I pace around the Benitez’s kitchen. I wonder about the exciting, new things awaiting me. Maybe I’ll start liking parties again. There’s a knock at the back door. It’s Paul and Sam Carrington, just the two boys I was hoping for. I remind them of our deal. Don’t wake up Grace, don’t destroy the house, don’t answer the door, and they’ll be paid forty dollars, twenty each. I wouldn't be gone too long anyway, just long enough for Caitlyn to get comfortable. Then my promise will be full-filled.

   I drove us both to the party. Loudness and chaos is my description of this house party, but Caitlyn is still excited. Isn't that life though; it’s loud and chaotic, but yet people live and some thrive in it. We found the lad that she fancies, they went off to talk, and I was left alone. Maybe I wasn't so important in Caitlyn’s plan. I sent her a text message saying I need to relieve my temporary babysitters and to call me when she wants to go home.

   Perhaps I could have lived without going, but I played my part and feel much better. I turned the corner heading back into town and I see a couple cars alongside the road. The first one I didn't recognize right away, but the other is an oddly familiar blue car. The blue car I saw leaving the party a half hour before I did was smashed in the front and the boy in the driver’s seat was moaning. I called the police. After I talked to them for a while I went down in the ditch to check on the other vehicle. My heart sank to my feet. It was Uncle Sean’s truck… I hurried to the driver’s side but no one was inside. Then I heard a deep, agonizing moan and found his motionless form lying in the grass.

   My cell phone dropped to the ground. "Uncle Sean, what happened? What are you doing out so late? Are you hurt?” I didn't have to ask the last question. In the moonlight I could see the thick wet blotch on the top of his head that could only be blood, and his body, mangled. “ Piper? Were you in that car? Are you alright?” I began to cry, I cried for a long time. Before I could say anything, he went on talking, “The car swerved out of nowhere Mary. “ Mary? That’s my mother’s name, he must be hallucinating. “I was heading to find ‘er Mary. She wanted to go to that party so bad and she’s so smart that I knew she’d find a way to get there. After I found her car gone, I almost had to beat information outta them Carrington brothers. They remind me so much of me and Pete when we were young. I miss those days Mary. Don’t you?” Still sobbing, I nodded.

   “Uncle Sean, stay awake!” I patted him on the cheek, and he opened his eyes to continue rambling. “I remember you always liked roses so I carved one into the wooden jewelry box I made for you. I saw it recently somewhere, in my dreams… We loved each other so much didn't we? I’m sorry I left you and our Pippa.” Our Pippa?...“ I wanted to be there for you and our daughter... I needed to go to America though. Ireland wasn't for me... you knew that, but you wouldn't come. You loved that island. Piper loves it too.” He’s starting to cough and shake really bad now, where is the ambulance?

   “Besides, I always said Peter made the better husband and father. Remember when he’d say, ‘Life is not worth living without doing what’s right and honorable’? I didn't take it as seriously as I should have. Now I know what he meant, life is not worth living if you don’t do what’s right and honorable to your heart. That’s why I’m sorry Mary. I was too scared of my heart, scared of a life with you and Piper. She came back to me though. She is my second chance to live.”

   Soon, all he could do was cough. Then his eyes started to close. “No, please stay awake, keep talking to me… Da.” That caught his attention. “Pippa? What did you say?” I couldn't say it again. “You must not close your eyes Uncle Sean.” His eyes were fluttering, and in a hopeful voice, he said, “ You know I love you Pippa.” I replied silently, “I love you, da…” And just like that he was gone. My father was lying in my arms, cold and lifeless, as flashing lights engulfed us.

   Two months later, I stood at my bedroom window, peering out of it for the last time. My brother finally contacted me and I will shortly be on my way to Ireland to meet him and his family. I’ll miss America I suppose. The children will be the most missed. Grace and the Carrington brothers are playing outside now, singing Ring Around the Rosie loudly. They do as children do; hold hands, spin around in circles, and fall down laughing. I am sure that my father, mother, and uncle are doing the same right now in Heaven.

Man's Best Friend: Love of a Master

Man's Best Friend

    I never cared much for the taste of ketchup. Perhaps it’s the texture or that tomatoes remind me of fruit. I can’t stand fruit. Unfortunately, I had to bare this horrid condiment just once so I could recover what I lost, or what I thought was lost. Something so simple that in the past I did not notice it was there until it was gone, and I pined for it. This thing, the greatest thing, was my best friend, and master’s, affectionate love for me. For it was Col. Gregory P. Collins II’s love that made my every day whole, every hour new, and every second something to live for. It was his, and I had it all. I couldn't believe that I wasn't all he wanted. How could he want more than his faithful, well-bred, and obedient canine companion, Holly Collins, the finest Irish Setter in the entire county?

    You may think it silly, being a human, that a canine should love her master as dearly as I. Take into consideration that if you spent the best part of two years with a charmingly handsome, and kind, retired British officer of the royal air force then you would fall in love as well as I did. I suppose she felt the same way. Miss Faith Hanna Eason, a native of America, and owner of the smallest book shop in our little town. I was there when it started; sitting in our little convertible, feeling the breeze on my wet nose and flowing through my freshly trimmed mahogany hair. She seemed plain in my opinion, with a short brown bob of hair, thick glasses, and in her early 30’s. Then again, who am I to judge on how humans should or shouldn't look? I’m just an Irish Setter.

    It seemed like they were talking for hours. I thought at the time, how can one talk about books for so long? My thoughts were interrupted by our mail boy, Dustin. He’s a cute whelp of a boy with unkempt, ash blond hair and a charismatic flair about him. He asked where the Colonel was and I yelped disapprovingly towards Miss Eason’s shop. “Aye, Miss Eason chatting about her books again I see. She does the same to me mum, don’t be so downhearted ole  girl.” If only Dustin’s words were as true as they were soothing at the time. 

   The Colonel and Miss Faith were not only talking about books, but the prospect of reading books together; at the same park, sitting on the same bench, beside each other. This is where we ended up the next day. What was a regular outing of my daily walk became a reading date for them. I sat beside the bench scratching at a rather irritating itch under my collar. The collar my master bestowed upon me is of the finest leather, studded with diamonds, and attached is a silver trinket with my identification. I am very proud of this and was reminded that I am still number one in the Colonel’s heart. That was until I heard the disheartening sound of the cheerful laughter produced from their mouths, and saw the slow reach towards each other’s hands. It was then that I knew I must be rid of her. They were falling in love, and I was falling faster into jealousy. 

   Over the course of the next two weeks they courted, sometimes with me and sometimes without. When I happened to be included I went out of my way to ensure it was an unhappy outing. I have shoved ice cream in her face, only to see it being wiped away with a handkerchief and a sweet kiss. Then I resorted to tying her up in my leash, but she fell into my masters strong arms and they proceeded to become ever closer to each other. My last scheme was to shove her into a rather tempting pond. I did not consider the Colonel’s arm wrapped about her own, for with one great push we all ended up in the cold, muddy water. While soaked, and laughing, the two of them remained in the pond. I on the other hand was on land, hunched over with only my thoughts for comfort. Nothing was making this woman leave. 

    Soon she was moving in, and with her the most disturbing set of rodents I have ever seen. Their names were Percy and Gertrude, and they are twin ferrets. Percy has an oddly crooked tail, while Gertrude is missing her left ear. Those are the only things you can identify to tell them apart. To say the least we did not get along. They hop about on everything and I deemed them inferior and potentially harmful to my plans of being rid of their mistress and them. 

    As I was about to release Gertrude into the toilet, Faith walked in to see me committing the crime. So, I was sent outside to a rather shabby dog house that has been without use for a year. I feel that I have failed as I peer into the window I see two familiar silhouettes in an embrace over their recent engagement. There will be no more runs along the beach, sharing a bench seat, nor licking his hand followed by a pat on the head, and now he will have someone else to talk to softly in the late hours of the night. I walk hopelessly to my water bowl and as I slurp up the last of my water it hits me - the perfect plan. 

    The next day, after the happy couple left, I went to the only window that was ajar and caught the attention of Percy and Gertrude. I get them to agree that they do not like me and I do not care much for them either. Also, they agreed that in order for us to never see each other again we must separate our owners. Then I proposed my plan. I was let into the house, where the ketchup is stored. 

   When they returned home I was more than pleased by their horrified expressions. The house was destroyed. The only evidence that it wasn't due to robbers was that there were no doors or windows broken into, my paw prints were scattered everywhere, and I was sitting in the front room looking cheery. And where were my cohorts? Percy and Gertrude lay on the floor of the guest bathroom covered in the red substance presumed to be blood. But since I do not care much for killing creatures let alone biting them, it is ketchup that I substituted for blood which is on me and in my mouth. Yuck! Faith wept over her twin rodents, collected her things, and left. 

    I won. She was gone, but something was wrong. Although a week had passed, the Colonel seemed overly depressed. Winning isn't all it’s cracked up to be, as they say. I still don’t have his love. Maybe if I just enjoyed the time I spent with Faith and the Colonel, instead of being miserable and acting nasty, then he would still be happy and love her. Now he does not want to give love to anyone. 

    Then I smelled something familiar. I went to the door, and there came a knock. It was her, Faith. While she and the Colonel talked I overheard them. It seems that Faith took her pesky pets to a veterinary hospital that night and the doctor said they were fine, and as for the blood it was decidedly ketchup. She was angry that I had destroyed the house and potentially hurt her ferrets, as if. I decided it took a lot of courage to finally come back and try to patch things up with the Colonel. So I decided to muster up some courage of my own and walked into the room, placed my head on her knee while she proceeded to pet me for the first time. This is forgiveness and I liked it. 

    After many apologies, and make up kisses, the Colonel and the newly Mrs. Collins were happily married. As for me, I gave up jealousy, decided it was too human for a highly advanced species like me, and gave into the idea of having new family members which I learn to love more and more each day. For when love is lost, it is gained elsewhere. Even dogs know that. Besides, Faith has a human pup on the way. We are going to be best friends. I wonder if he or she will like ketchup.

Willow: A Memoir

Willow

When I was a child, my mother looked out the car window at a field of corn. She saw a lonely oak tree in the center of this field. Turning to me, she asked, "Jenny bug, look at that tree out there. Don't you think it looks lonely without its tree friends?" What my mother did not know was I had already seen this tree and came up with this scenario. "Silly momma. There is a hole just the right size in that tree for an owl to be nestled inside it, and when the owl sleeps during the day the tree talks to the bugs, the birds, the corn, and the not too distant forest of trees on the other side of the field. So, you see the tree is never alone, but surrounded by friends while its family watches it from a distance." All my mother could say was, "Kids say the darndest things." So began the wake of my creative thought process.

Speaking of trees, I often compare myself to the weeping willow tree. Not for its sad look that is in the name itself, but because of its beauty. I’m not trying to be narcissistic by saying I’m beautiful. I only mean that the willow, as a tree, is beautiful like I want to be beautiful. Trees make their own energy, give animals oxygen to breathe, provide shelter and shade. They blow in the wind, make an enchanting noise when it rains, and their leaves feel silky when summer green and crunchy when fall brown. I suppose my obsession with trees began with my favorite childhood book, The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. I loved how the tree would give itself to the boy; whether for the food of its branches, its trunk cut and carved into a boat, to finally a place to rest when he is old and gray – without complaint or want of anything in return. In some way 

I wanted to be like this tree. I think if you can give something then you should not expect anything in return because it’s not true giving then. What you get in return is something you don’t deserve or something you did not think you would appreciate. In the end the Giving Tree gets to be with the man, once the little boy, when he came to the realization that the tree has been there for him all this time. A tree gives its body a place for animals and bugs and all sorts of things to live in. I give my time and effort for free so the people I love can feel like they have a place in my life. They can’t be physically a part of me I know, but emotionally. I obviously did not think of all this when I was six years old – as in every philosophical thought – this took a few years to realize.

Willow Trees also do better when they’re the only tree around, they are deeply rooted and stubborn at times. Sadly, this is true for me also. I like to be alone, on a hill or by a pond, just like the Willow. A few places that I lived at in my life usually had one willow tree. I feel like myself when I’m around them. In those days, I felt the calmness of my thoughts, and peace in the solitude that is retained in my mind as of this moment. Bare feet, excitement and butterflies, the summer grass, green and wet, but will soon dry as the morning sun rises over the hill across the rippling pond. The peacefulness emerges when I look up at the branches of my willow tree. I see the sun hit the top, and the dark green leaves begin to sparkle. The tree awakes from its slumber and shakes its branches to remind me – no need for spoken word – that it’s a new day and to be happy. Excitement rushes back as, slowly but surely, the sun will hit my body and I’ll feel just like my willow tree… golden.