For those who are interested in the writing process here's something to glance at: the link above the other story was written first several years ago. It isn't much of a "story" but contains the core of what was urging me to write at the time. So, as such, it is merely a sketch.
Yesterday, I took that idea and polished it just a little--rounding it off. A beginning, a middle and--at last, a kind of open-ended conclusion.
The difference between those two versions is a pretty good example of the process...at least for me.
TerryWalstrom
JoinedPosts by TerryWalstrom
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7
A Story: "When Things Get Really Bad"
by TerryWalstrom induring the great depression in the 1930's people lost their jobs.banks closed, and long lines formed in the streets called "bread lines".people got up early and had to stand in line all day to get a free loaf of bread to feed their family!caution: do not read this story if you have empathy or compassion________ "when things get really bad".
in a cabin in the appalachian mountains, there was a family of four: two children (a boy and a girl), a mom and a dad (who had lost his job at the local sawmill).. things looked really bleak.
the children were afraid they'd starve to death.. "mommy," said the little boy, "are we going to die?".
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TerryWalstrom
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3
In the Dying Light
by TerryWalstrom inin the dying light.
i smell the woodsmoke only in memory now and the laughter of my little molly in the dying light.
such days have long gone when the cabin we built nestled cozily under the overhang of many branches.. hewn timbers snugged their fellows with dark mud plugging the ragged gaps and today still hold molly's tiny fingerprints.
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TerryWalstrom
Thanks.
My father's side of the family came from the northernmost tip of Finland.
Dad told me he had lost a sister when she was still small. The traces told the story although nobody saw anything happen.
My dad's father told of lightning bugs blinking off in the dark forest. But they weren't insects--they were the eyes of a pack of wolves.
That must have been stewing about in my brainpan for some time. -
3
In the Dying Light
by TerryWalstrom inin the dying light.
i smell the woodsmoke only in memory now and the laughter of my little molly in the dying light.
such days have long gone when the cabin we built nestled cozily under the overhang of many branches.. hewn timbers snugged their fellows with dark mud plugging the ragged gaps and today still hold molly's tiny fingerprints.
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TerryWalstrom
In the Dying Light
_________
I smell the woodsmoke only in memory now and the laughter of my little Molly in the dying light. Such days have long gone when the cabin we built nestled cozily under the overhang of many branches.
Hewn timbers snugged their fellows with dark mud plugging the ragged gaps and today still hold Molly's tiny fingerprints. She tossed her head back and giggled and such a stab of joy struck my heart! Side by side we built our world, forsaking sad remembrances as each day arrived and departed and memories of her mother became the echo of shadows.
Many dawns and twilight curtain-falls have now passed from somewhere north of nowhere.
That particular winter came much too early, catching us unaware.I smiled and touched the angel of my deepest love whose upturned face was all the heaven any man could believe. At the first chill of the North wind, I sent her inside. The scent of winter is unmistakable. What must be done carries much urgency.
We’d need lots of wood when the approaching storm arrived.Trudging toward the timber I set off; as the first lazy snowflakes tossed and curled in mad cascades, scarcely whispering a hint of the deadly thunderhead beyond those hills.
The heft of my heavy ax bit deep and tore the fleshy bark. “Hack-hack-thump” in the bitter whoosh of vanishing daylight.
“There’s still time,” I told myself. “There’s plenty of time”.___
All afternoon I sang and hummed the silly serenade little Molly learned when she was three. Her mother’s tune--a trace of that other world--another time now passed. Bitter cold and hard work coaxed her remembrance and the lilt of her gracious voice came unbidden to my mind.
I timed the bite of my swinging ax to the downbeat that song.
Whoom! Toppled timber fell.
And branches--Whoom!
And snowfall--Whoom!
___
Roped and cinched, I secured the firewood to my sled, tight and tighter, and turned to catch a fragrant smell: freshly baked bread quickening my pace. The plodding boot prints outlined in the nightfall's whiteness.
Crunching echoes swarmed between snowflakes. I rounded whitened paths and turned toward my Molly’s welcomed window light.
But there and then I stopped-- too sudden to breathe or call the name stuck sideways in my throat.All stood still--as did my heart. I held my breath at the sight of it--that telltale clue.
The door wandered on its hinge, flapping slowly like the dying wing of a fallen sparrow.
Darkness crawled up my spine with its icy claws.
I squinted at the front porch where something damp had spilled along the floorboards. Reddish brown smeared and streaked a savage trace--stove to door--crimson and appalling to my eyes. Something bleeding had been dragged off and swallowed into a blinding white flurry.
Suddenly somebody was screaming in my voice as half a mile away another voice and another joined tunefully. Voices not human.
"A-wooooo," the voices called...
"A-woooo," the others answered...
I fell to my knees--all strength gone from my legs. My mind left me--somewhere north of nowhere as the storm plunged into that terrible night like a cold blade. Dear God, it came rioting in to spin and whistle through this empty cabin. Only then my arms let go the firewood--Whoom!
"A-wooooo"
"A-wooooo"
This chorus had sung once before. The late September when dear Abigail gathered mushrooms in the thicket beyond the treeline and never came home again. And never will.
___I smell the woodsmoke only in memory now with the laughter of my little Molly in the dying light of evening. Such days have long gone where our cabin crouched as hewn timbers snugged their fellows, and where dark mud packed the ragged gaps still holding Molly's tiny fingerprints. Somewhere north of nowhere. Nowhere at all. A bitter year has passed. The thick blanket of winter clouds is back to taunt me. There is no need for firewood this time. No need at all. The cast iron stove is lit and the pungent aroma of stew will work its lure. The redness of twilight is fading and a half dozen yellow eyes blink out beyond the timberline. The door is ajar and my back is turned toward the entrance. Only enough room for one visitor at a time.
There's just enough room to swing an ax.
In the dying light.___
By Terry Edwin Walstrom
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7
A Story: "When Things Get Really Bad"
by TerryWalstrom induring the great depression in the 1930's people lost their jobs.banks closed, and long lines formed in the streets called "bread lines".people got up early and had to stand in line all day to get a free loaf of bread to feed their family!caution: do not read this story if you have empathy or compassion________ "when things get really bad".
in a cabin in the appalachian mountains, there was a family of four: two children (a boy and a girl), a mom and a dad (who had lost his job at the local sawmill).. things looked really bleak.
the children were afraid they'd starve to death.. "mommy," said the little boy, "are we going to die?".
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TerryWalstrom
I have been told by several people how cruel and awful it is to write such a story. I can't completely disagree--except--isn't this what writers are supposed to do? Make it real?
Sometimes an idea comes to me and I can't get it out of my head until I write it.
That's why I placed the warning at the outset.
I think the other story I wrote with a similar dark theme was:
LITTLE MOLLY IN THE DYING LIGHT
I loved writing it :)
SEE BELOW:
https://www.jehovahs-witness.com/topic/5691164646703104/little-molly-dying-light -
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The Face of Jesus (in the wood grain of a grandfather clock)
by TerryWalstrom ina couple of years past retirement, i moved into a "retirement community" (i.e.
old folks home) which was convenient like a hotel.. once a week there would be a coffee and doughnuts meet and greet get-together so you would know who your neighbors were.. well .
.. i went to few and missed a few.
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TerryWalstrom
What is interesting is the (apparently) common fixation on possessing artifacts, icons, fetish items of numinous connotation (such as the Holy Grail, or grill cheese sandwich with the Virgin Mary, etc.)
These things seem (possibly) to instantiate belief itself by a weird form of (non) logic, to wit: the icon is actual therefore the religious object is magical. There are two closely related words: eisegesis and exegesis.
Eisegesis means you "read into" something a meaning.
Exegesis means you extract what actual meaning is intended out of it.
Modern Art exemplifies this phenomenon, does it not? -
9
The Face of Jesus (in the wood grain of a grandfather clock)
by TerryWalstrom ina couple of years past retirement, i moved into a "retirement community" (i.e.
old folks home) which was convenient like a hotel.. once a week there would be a coffee and doughnuts meet and greet get-together so you would know who your neighbors were.. well .
.. i went to few and missed a few.
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TerryWalstrom
The pressure--oh the pressure!
Who cares if others see what you see? Well, it matters apparently.
I should have sloughed it off. I can see that in retrospect. I could have said something like...
"Hey--it's KENNY LOGGINS!" -
9
The Face of Jesus (in the wood grain of a grandfather clock)
by TerryWalstrom ina couple of years past retirement, i moved into a "retirement community" (i.e.
old folks home) which was convenient like a hotel.. once a week there would be a coffee and doughnuts meet and greet get-together so you would know who your neighbors were.. well .
.. i went to few and missed a few.
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TerryWalstrom
A couple of years past retirement, I moved into a "retirement community"
(i.e. Old Folks Home) which was convenient like a hotel.Once a week there would be a coffee and doughnuts Meet and Greet get-together so you would know who your neighbors were.
Well . . .
I went to few and missed a few.
After an absence of two months, I entered the community room where all the blue-haired folks gathered. The conversation seemed to be about a fellow who had passed away.One white-haired dearie said to me, "I thought YOU were the one who died."
I assured her I was not.
____Only two (count em') TWO guys were still alive and I was (presumably) one of them.
Thankfully, another fellow moved in and news spread like wildfire he had retired with plenty of money!
The ladies just adored and befriended him. In fact, they liked him so much they shared their woes with him and he became the local Savings and Loan, only without the "Savings" part.
___Well, one Sunday at the coffee thingy, I say hello to the new guy and we start chatting. Suddenly, spoke up all excitedly...
"Did you see Henrietta's clock?"
Well, I thought that sounded like a straight line if ever I had heard one.
"You did say: CLOCK, right?"
"What'd you think I said?"
I told him I didn't think a woman with a clock was newsworthy enough to warrant his enthusiasm, so I . . . well, never mind!
(His name was Stan.)
Stan didn't miss a beat.
"Oh come one, come on--you gotta go with me--Henrietta loves to show people her clock. You've never seen anything like it."
Other folks, (always eavesdropping) jumped in all at once.
"Oh, that's right! YOU CAN SEE THE FACE OF JESUS in the woodgrain of her clock!"
I chuckled.
But, the serious expressions of the others told me not to scoff.
There were more of them than of me, so . . .Let's cut to the chase.
_______________________
I end up, along with all the others, marching down a few halls like vigilantes until I found myself standing in Henrietta's room.
We formed a semi-circle around a sort of smallish version of a Grandfather's clock. A cheap clock with awful fake woodgrain.
We probably looked a bit like those ape-like hominids at the beginning of Kubrick's 2001 A Space Odyssey as they beheld the MONOLITH.
***
One by one the lady hominids lurched forward with trembling fingers and touched the sacred "face" of phantom woodgrain Jesus. There was "oohing and ahhing" and the others
were purring like shaggy kittens with blue permed fur."You see?"
"You do SEE HIM...right?"
"Do YOU SEE our Saviour?"
Each one of them was cocking their head this way and that like a puppy in a pet shop window.
"Isn't it amazing?"
Henrietta's face glowed like a Renaissance oil painting.I stared.
I blinked. I squinted.
I got closer, then farther away.
It was sort of like trying to read an Optician's Eye Chart in Swahili.My internal dialogue went like this.
"I'm screwed. If I don't see it, I'll be skinned and tossed into the furnace as a witch."_______________
A few minutes passed. The ancient cheerleader's tempers were getting short with me. Some were making excuses for me, while others were suggesting I was atheist or Muslim. I'm not kidding!
"Aren't you a BELIEVER?"
Henrietta narrowed her suspicious eyes at me while traces of a snarl curled the side of her lip._____________________
There have been many times in my life where I have been tested as to faith, belief, and willingness to take a stand. I have always thought you have to swim against the tide and say what's really in your heart and your mind. Take the consequences as they come, that's what counts.
So, I took a deep breath and faced the menacing lynch mob squarely.
_____________"Yes, ma'am--I think I'm starting to see something...it's shaping up... I'm almost there....oh..Oh..OHHHHH Wow!"
("Waitress, I'll have what THEY'RE having, please!")
In other words: I FAKED IT.
Don't judge me too harshly. I had to see these people every day. It was time for me to learn to go along to get along. Screw integrity. I've been there and done that. I gave at the office.
_____________
Smiles like campfires in the night glowed among the crinkled faces. I was now accepted as ONE OF THEM.
(At last, he loved Big Brother.)One by one the congregants drifted out into the hallway all aglow and deeply, spiritually satisfied.
Now alone, it was just Stan and Terry remaining, glancing back and forth at each other in a weird sort of way.
Henrietta had sauntered off to go back to the coffee and doughnut soiree' in the recreation room.
_______Stan heaved a weary sigh and turned to me.
His face was turned down in disappointment."I was hoping you couldn't."
"Couldn't what?"
"Couldn't see the Jesus face in the wood grain."
"Huh? I stood there in front of all those old women and lied my ass off!"
"Really?" Stan replied with eager delight.
"Not unless Jesus Christ looked like a knothole."
Stan gave me one of those inscrutable looks for a second and shrugged his shoulders.
"I wish you had SAID something. They browbeat me for a solid hour yesterday until I gave in!"
"Ha! Better you than me, my fine-feathered friend." I exclaimed in my best Daffy Duck impersonation.
_____I just stood there. We both stood there with pursed lips contemplating the injustice in the Universe.
So. THIS is what it felt like to be a Sell-Out! Well, it didn't feel too bad at all. At least I was in good company with old Stan.
Besides, maybe, just maybe this is how Christianity spread in the first place!
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I found an old poem I wrote in 1983 (about Christianity)
by TerryWalstrom inrummaging through old boxes i happened upon a poem i wrote in 1983 about (of all things) the history of christianity!yipes!i don't know that it is worth the effort of transcribing...but--how could i deprive you all of such a strange poem, eh?_______christianity?________.
in the beginning, the pagans were winningthe romans were fomenting blame,christians were tested in being arrested entirely because of their "name.".
when rome was set burning, 'twas nero whose churningout rumors brought christians alarmsoon fed to the lions and even while dyingwould not recant braving such harm!.
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TerryWalstrom
Thank you, Joliette. Grace us with your verse anytime.
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7
A Story: "When Things Get Really Bad"
by TerryWalstrom induring the great depression in the 1930's people lost their jobs.banks closed, and long lines formed in the streets called "bread lines".people got up early and had to stand in line all day to get a free loaf of bread to feed their family!caution: do not read this story if you have empathy or compassion________ "when things get really bad".
in a cabin in the appalachian mountains, there was a family of four: two children (a boy and a girl), a mom and a dad (who had lost his job at the local sawmill).. things looked really bleak.
the children were afraid they'd starve to death.. "mommy," said the little boy, "are we going to die?".
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TerryWalstrom
During the Great Depression in the 1930's people lost their jobs.
Banks closed, and long lines formed in the streets called "bread lines".
People got up early and had to stand in line all day to get a free loaf of bread to feed their family!
Caution: Do NOT read this story if you have empathy or compassion
________
"When Things Get Really Bad"In a cabin in the Appalachian mountains, there was a family of four: two children (a boy and a girl), a mom and a dad (who had lost his job at the local sawmill).
Things looked really bleak. The children were afraid they'd starve to death.
"Mommy," said the little boy, "are we going to die?"
"No, no, no" the mother reassured him, "let me show you something."
Their mother forced a smile and took her son's hand and walked the boy and his small sister over to the pantry. . . and opened the door.
She found a step stool and stepped up . . . stretching to reach a colorful box on the top shelf of the pantry . . .
She took it down and turned around with wide-eyes and a large smile--as though she were holding a Christmas present.
The little children saw this and began to feel cheerful and excited.
They followed her back into the kitchen where she placed it on the table and slowly opened it.
Inside: all sorts of brightly colored fruit! Oranges, bananas, grapes, cherries and a huge pineapple!!
"You see that my little Darlings?"
The children nodded silently with wonder brimming over in their eyes.
"As long as we have this to fall back on we are never going to starve to death!"
The brother and his little sister relaxed and smiled ecstatically.
"Can we have a cherry right now?" Her son enthused.
"No, sweetheart, this is for later. Much later--only for emergency. You know, in case things get really really bad."
As the weeks crawled by and the Daddy hunted the woods for squirrel, rabbit or even less appetizing possibilities; the children began to lose weight.
They became listless . . . played very little . . . gradually turned hollow of eye and pale. Their parents listened with hearts breaking, whimpering in their beds at night with their little bellies growling like distant thunder.
Sometimes it was unbearable.
Mother would light a candle and fetch the box from the pantry shelf and place it on the bed in front of the starving children for them to see.
"It looks so delicious, Mommy! Please, please....can't we have just a taste of.....one....just one grape?"
But, the mother would sternly shake her head from side to side with great sadness and tell them it was for later.
"When things get really bad."
The little ones knew their Mommy and Dadd really loved them and once again, reassured-- they'd drift off to a peaceful sleep.
The winter was hard and snow drift prevented much hunting. All the game animals seemed to vanish. The nights were freezing and overcast with frequent high winds and flashing bolts of hostile lightning snarling like beasts outside.
Spring came. At last!
The thaw brought a new season and the forest came alive. Hunters arrived at the cabin. The men knocked on the door. Louder. Louder. Knowing the people who lived inside, they grew worried.
They opened the door and called out, "Anybody home?"
It was dark inside and there was a bad smell that chilled the hearts of those men.
Gradually, their eyes adjusted to the darkness.
They found them. All dead in their beds.
Holding each other-- the little brother and sister; the Mom and Dad.
Gaunt and wispy they were-- like the limbs of a leafless tree.
On the dinner table a few feet away... stood a box.
The hunters opened it not knowing what to expect.
Inside that box was a cheery and colorful display like you sometimes see in the large department stores back East.
The words: "It looks just like the real thing!"
At the bottom of the card in small letters, it read:
WAX FRUITCaution: DO NOT ingest
(poisonous.) -
2
I found an old poem I wrote in 1983 (about Christianity)
by TerryWalstrom inrummaging through old boxes i happened upon a poem i wrote in 1983 about (of all things) the history of christianity!yipes!i don't know that it is worth the effort of transcribing...but--how could i deprive you all of such a strange poem, eh?_______christianity?________.
in the beginning, the pagans were winningthe romans were fomenting blame,christians were tested in being arrested entirely because of their "name.".
when rome was set burning, 'twas nero whose churningout rumors brought christians alarmsoon fed to the lions and even while dyingwould not recant braving such harm!.
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TerryWalstrom
Rummaging through old boxes I happened upon a poem I wrote in 1983
about (of all things) the history of Christianity!
Yipes!
I don't know that it is worth the effort of transcribing...
But--how could I deprive you all of such a strange poem, eh?
_______
CHRISTIANITY?
________In the beginning, the Pagans were winning
the Romans were fomenting blame,
Christians were tested in being arrested
entirely because of their "name."When Rome was set burning, 'twas Nero whose churning
out rumors brought Christians alarm
Soon fed to the lions and even while dying
would not recant braving such harm!Little by little, from death to acquittal,
disciples, apostles deceased
Until at long last, three centuries passed
And Constantine brought Christians peace.Trajan ignored them, Domition abhorred them
Decius forced them to martyr,
But Constantine chose them--he would not oppose them,
And legally granted a charter.That Emperor nourished
the Catholics flourished
the Empire converted en masse
Provinces faced them, gave ear and embraced them
Success through the ages at last!Alas, came young Luther to challenge uncouther
than any had spoken before
Debate was abrupt, "This Church is corrupt"
His challenge there nailed Wittenberg's door.Bold reformations were sweeping the nations
the Protestant rebels broke faith with their Pope
Like nothing before the Thirty Years War
split Europe and gave little hope.These hideous quarrels about Faith and Morals
gave birth to the Conscience in man
reading a Bible was certainly liable
to uncover God's vast sacred Plan.So it came to pass, there was freedom, at last,
to read and interpret the text
Instead of a Pope, just any old dope
could preach about what's coming nextSectarian visions created divisions
fomenting the cults fertile sprawl
A buffet of nonsense in purest of conscience
competed for hearts one and allLies were the business of Mormons and Witnesses
Moonies, and David Koresh
Bullshitting teachers like those TV preachers
came strutting with smiles awfully whorishAnd so I was hooked and one day got booked
in jail, off to prison for years
Because I believed, was simply deceived
and my life was two decades of tears.But friends, I woke up!
I threw down the cup of Koolaid and joined in the fight
Sounding alarm outlining the harm
And that's why I bark and I bite.Don't listen nor fear anything you may hear
from the lips of false teachers who lie
Life is too short to tear people apart
while promising sweet bye and bye.Love is the prayer for those who despair
and all those who share will survive
to a heaven on Earth
and for what's it's worth
it means truly being alive.
_______God is our highest and best thought or feeling
no matter what Name you may use
Kindness to others is your "God" revealing
it's not what men say
--------what they do.
