Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts

Saturday, March 28, 2015

The Cult of the Shoe

The sun was high over head and blazing down on the dusty man that stood alone in the great desert land.  He wiped his sweaty brow with an old blue bandanna, passed on to him by his grandfather.  Tossing the shovel aside, he grabbed a bottle of triple filtered water.  He hadn't started this project alone, in the beginning there had been many out here with him digging in the heat and dirt.  But as the weeks passed with little to nothing to show for the hours of sweat and back breaking labor they had all abandoned him.  His research grant had been revoked, the ancient land of Texas was just a myth they said.  Still he labored on, his grandfather had told him the stories, passed down to him by his grandfather, who had heard them from his grandfather, and so on.  Texas had once been a vibrant land, full of legendary heroes of old, known as cowboys. his ancestors had been among these "cowboy" peoples.   Not much was known of these heroes of old, less was known of their beliefs and customs.   Once again he wiped his brow, wet the bandanna with some of the water from the bottle and ran it over the back of his neck.  Today was the day, he was sure of it.  Today he would find proof that an ancient thriving civilization once existed where now there was nothing but dust and sand, scorched by the searing sun.    He looked over the grid he'd laid out months ago, he randomly picked a section toward the upper left corner.  He hadn't really spent much time in that quadrant.   He picked up the shovel and began the exhausting task of digging.  

The sun had worked it's way across the sky and was setting when his shovel struck something hard....another rock no doubt.  Still he tossed aside the shovel and began the painstaking process of brushing away loose dirt.  One must always be cautious,he never knew when what looked to be a worthless rock would actually be the treasured artifact that would prove his theory.  As he brushed aside the sand and dirt he began to get excited, this was no ordinary rock!  The shape was oddly oblong and smooth.  It was definitely man made!  The sun was setting but he dared not stop.  He powered up the solar generator and lights illuminated the dig site.  Another two hours passed before he was able to work the object free.  It appeared to be an ancient shoe of sorts that had petrified and turned to rock.    The details were preserved almost perfectly, he could make out the crisscross design of ancient laces.  Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he tenderly cradled the treasure.  Here was the validation he had been looking for, no more would he be the laughing stock of the archaeological community.  His tears turned to laughter and he danced alone under the moon lit sky.

Ten years passed quickly by.  No longer was he a madman digging alone in the desert.  Now he was the world's leading expert on ancient Texas.  Now others did the hard work of digging in the heat and he supervised their work and studied each and every treasure unearthed.  The shoe had led to the discovery of an entire town that had been buried under the sands of time.  Foundations of houses and businesses had been excavated, pieces of pottery, plastics, metals and bone had all been cataloged and studied.  Bits and pieces of a long lost civilizations began to come together to form a glimpse of how the ancients lived and worked.  It appeared they were nomadic, living in one town and commuting to another in some kind of rudimentary machine for work. Over-sized concrete and asphalt roads had been discovered, miles upon miles of them.  It was inconceivable to think of how these primitive ancients had built such a large infrastructure, given their limited tools and education.   Large, rusted metal stars were found scattered throughout the dig,   It seemed nearly every house in the town had at least one of these stars.  There were even concrete stars embedded in the roadwork.  These cowboys had worshiped the night sky it had been concluded.  What an amazing insight into their culture.     
 Still one piece of the puzzle nagged at the man.  That one shoe that had led to the discovery of an entire town had also led to many more shoes, all in the same area, arranged sporadically around what had been a small lake.  There were shoes of all different sizes, that had been purposefully coated in mud and left.  The mud had preserved the shoes, petrifying them; a bit of good fortune for the man and his colleagues.   The man puzzled over this cult of shoe worshipers.  Why had there been only left shoes?  Why so many different sized shoes? Was this the way they memorialized their dead?  What was the significance of the lake?  So many questions whose answers had been swallowed up by the sands of time.

Present Day
Paul limped home, mud covering his left leg to the knee. He ripped his pants and lost his shoe in the pond, again.    Mom was going to be mad, again.  She said if he lost another shoe this month he was going to have to wear his slippers to school, he hadn't told her he'd already lost one of those in the mud too.  





This story came to me one day after Paul came home for the gazillionth time covered in mud and missing his left shoe. Yes it's always just his one shoe.  Don't ask me why, I have given up trying to figure out the answer.  I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into my crazy brain.  I can't help it, my mind turns everything into a story. 

Monday, November 21, 2011

A Glimpse of Fiction-Part 2

The sun peaked over the horizon, turning the sky into a masterpiece of reds, pinks and purples.  She looked at the beauty of the morning and smiled a sad smile.  Memories began to flood over her again, faces, places, smells and sounds that no longer belonged to her; pictures and memories of another life, another love, another time.  Sometimes she wished she could erase her own memories the way she erased her name.  It would be so much easier to walk away if you did not know what you were walking away from.  But now other memories began to encroach, memories of darkness and needles and screams.  Memories of endless corridors and insanity and blood.....so much blood.  Now it was easy to remember why she had run away, not walked away, but run like the devil himself chased her, because he did.  The panic began to rise, her heart began to race and her breathing came hard and fast.  She reached into her purse and grabbed a prescription bottle.   She desperately fought with the child safety lid and finally poured one pill into her shaking hand.  She looked at it, sitting in her palm.  She could swallow it and in fifteen minutes her world would right itself once again.  The terror would fade; the memories would once again become hazy and painless.  Yes, she could swallow this oblong slice of oblivion and everything she had fought so hard to accomplish would be for nothing.  Slowly, she opened the prescription bottle once again.  She forced herself to place the pill back inside the bottle, close the lid and place it back into her purse.  She willed herself to take slow, deep breaths and to silently count backwards from 100.  By the time she reached 35 she was calm once more, in control of her thoughts and her fear.  She glanced at the purse and thought about dumping the pills for good.  But no she needed the reminder. Yes, some memories one should never forget.
She cautiously looked around the parking lot.  It was empty.  First placing the knife in her purse she then unlocked her door, put her sneaker clad feet on the pavement and stretched.  She locked the driver's side door once more and made her way to the restrooms.  The smell assaulted her senses the moment she stepped through the door causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust.  She glimpsed herself in the grime streaked mirror.  She looked like a street urchin, her hair still piled in the baseball cap, her clothes loose and ill-fitting, months of stress had reduced her appetite to nothing, her eyes over large and haunted.  She looked more closely.  Yes, she could be a Kate.  It suited her almost as well as her old name, maybe even better.  Kate....Kate what?  Why Smith of course!!  She laughed aloud, the sound of her own voice startling in the empty bathroom.  Listening to the sound of her own laughter Kate realized it had been 48 hours since she had heard a human voice.  She cleared her throat and held her hand out to the mirror, as if to shake hands.  "Hello.  It's nice to meet you Kate Smith.  You and I are going to be great friends."

Thursday, November 3, 2011

A Glimpse of Fiction part 1

Windshield wipers beat a sharp staccato as she drove through the night.  The rain, which had begun as a soft drizzle, was now a torrential downpour.  The defroster had stopped working 30 miles back and she was now forced to lean out the rolled down window, every few minutes to see the road ahead.  Another 50 miles and she would find a rest stop and stop for the night.  This was a dangerous choice for a woman traveling alone but she really had no choice.  She had spent a good portion of her cash on the clunker she currently drove.  Besides, the truck stop could hold no monster more terrifying than the one she currently ran from.   She laughed at the irony her life had become.  She, who was once a power player,strong and independent, was now weak, scared and disillusioned.  A mere whisper of the woman she once was.   She shivered at the mixture of cold and memories threatening rise again to the surface of her consciousness.  She reached into the console and ran her fingers over the knife she had secreted there.  She was not defenseless, she reminded herself.  Not now at least......never again.  She pushed the memories down, swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and forced her hand to release the knife.
Her eyes were growing heavy from lack of sleep.  She had not slept the past 48 hours, determined to put as much distance as possible between herself and the monster of her nightmares.  She had driven across much of the country.  It was funny, here she was checking off one of her bucket list items and she could not even appreciate it.  Actually could a nameless woman even have a bucket list or dreams  or were all her hopes, dreams and ambitions gone along with her name.  Another irony of life.  She who had once been so proud of her name, her lineage and now it was gone, forever gone.
Elizabeth, Lisa, Sue, Anne, Catherine, Becky, Marianne, Emily, Hannah....she said each name aloud, trying to settle on one that felt right.  It had to be simple, something that she would remember to respond to if it were called out.  Erin, Melissa, Rachel, Kate.....Kate.....Kate.  Yes Kate was simple and easy.  Something she could remember.   She cleaned her rear view mirror with her sleeve and tried to glimpse herself in the smeared darkness.  Could she pass for a Kate?  Nope she couldn't tell right now.  She would have to wait until morning to decide. 
Finally, she caught sight of the rest stop ahead.  Bone weary she pulled into a brightly lit spot.  She shoved her drenched hair into a ball cap, she would have to cut it soon.  The one vanity of her former life she had yet to give up.   She put the sun reflector in the windshield and hung towels on her side windows to shield herself from the view of curious onlookers. She dared not change out of her sodden clothes completely but she had to put on a dry sweatshirt at least.  She was suddenly very glad she had worn a button down blouse.  She could put on the sweatshirt and take off the blouse without  being disrobed.   Somewhat dry she reached into the back seat for a blanket and a granola bar.  She hadn't eaten anything since lunch and she was suddenly famished and very thirsty.  She grabbed a bottle of water while she rummaged around.   Suddenly she began to hyperventilate, she felt trapped and claustrophobic. She tore down the towels and the sun reflector frantically and took a long look around, looking hard into the darkness to see if any shadow was out of place. Everything seemed alright but once you've met a monster you know better than to ever feel truly safe.  She double checked to make sure her doors were locked tight, her windows rolled up as far as they would go,  she took the knife from the console and placed it in her lap, under the blanket she had pulled from the back seat.  She would feel safer if it were a gun but you can not buy a gun when you are nameless.  Well, she was sure you could but she didn't know how to go about it but she would learn she promised herself, oh she would definitely learn.   She took a long drink of water and closed her eyes and tried to grab a few minutes of restless sleep.  


So you know how I say I never know what I am going to write....well once again  this proves true.  I have had this story in the back of my head for several years, I even started to write it once but it never quite gelled.  Tonight it would not be denied any longer.  Over the next several months I will write more of it as it comes.  Hope you enjoy a glimpse into my somewhat twisted imagination (I think I read too many Nancy Drew's as a girl;)  As always lots of love-Kristine

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Kristine Meier-Skiff. Powered by Blogger.