Young men, Tall Shadows

Young men, Tall Shadows

A Story by Derrek Wesley Steven Gaspard

 

 

Two black birds were talking as they stood in a puddle

in a green field of low cut grass. White flower blossoms had peaked through

the cropping, making a periodic break from the greenery that seemed to

extend forever. In the far distance were pine lined up in everygreen glory, walling

the tranquil pasture in.

The bird on the left tilted its head sideways so it's eye was looking down in the murky

water. "Kewa, seen worm long ago, forever. Not coming back."

The bird on the right flicked it's tail in frustration as the bird on the left continued, unmoving, to stare. It's feathers were like midnight crickets chirping, the strongest hue of black among their "many".

The left bird watched as a small bubble rose from the earths surface and lazily found escape,

breaking on the puddles surface. The bird on the right cackled, "Kewa! That's cause you steppin on it! "

The bird on the left looked down and raised it's foot. Ready, the bird on the right picked the soggy worm in an instant. Their aquatic purpose fulfilled they took flight beyond the border

where sky met pine.

================

Falacy is often a trapping for young men. It is easy and convenient to make something

up when it gets you out of a pinch. For someone set on not taking life seriously, having such Inconsequential matters of who said what blown out of proportion to the point of wrecking a perfectly fine day is truly the greatest of travesties.

It takes a certain kind of man to have a full blown fight one minute and be laughing and carrying on with a smile the next. It takes all kinds of men to make this world what it is.

A world of light and shadows.

===================

Lucas took up observation like a hobby or a habit- that once you get accustomed to doing you just can't shake. His capacity for noticing things made his available subject matter limitless. From hats to cars, from types of walks to political opinions, it all could catch his attention and he would for a span of days or years gather information on the matter until he felt there was an appropriate view he could take.

He kept his observations secret, though at times, in a pinch, they would come in handy.

He was a working man, accustomed to hard work outdoors in the heat of day. Mostly he liked it. It suited him and he suited it. It was simple, he welcomed simple with open arms. His personal life had previously taken twists and turns that would be best described as shaping much like a pretzel would. Wincing-thinking about it, he mumbled "Complex societal contortions" while digging a ditch for drainage next to the highway.

"His kind of work", as he refered to it was mainly activity for a soloist. There was always other folk around but mostly a man had time to work his thoughts out or if he chooses... be very focused on the task at hand.

This sun had reached its high point earlier and was now slowly slumping back to hidden pastures in lands far away. Wiping his brow with a well toned arm he looked around for the bucket he always had with him. Finding it, he dusted it's bottom and sat. He sighed, looking over the ditch and the dirt piled above it.

================

The ride home was pleasant and relaxing, there were no cars on the road. The air was soothingly warm- cooling down from the scorch of the day. The sound of his tires rolling at 65 mph and the air rushing through his open window cradled him as he lost himself in thought.

It's strange, what surfaces from the calm of the mind. Like remembering lullabies you haven't heard cinch childhood, or a particular smell that seems to encapsulate a portion of life... a vibrantly fleeting moment. The crisp feel of summer was relenting to falls seasonal change as crickets serenaded the night. The look in someone’s eyes, when you, only you, exist.

Lucus noticed he had been clenching the wheel and relaxed his grip. The sunset had come and gone quickly. It was dark out. He was just a few miles from home. His stomach growled.

In the distance he could see Mollies, a roadside diner practically in the middle of nowhere, lit up with several cars in its dirt entrance parking.

Chuckling to himself, he observed, "why is it these diners always seem to be named after women?" Pulling in he parked under the lighted pole farthest to the left. He sat there for a moment, looking at the poles bulb and the halo it exuded. It stood 20 or so feet high, attracting moths, gnats, and other bugs of familiarity whose names were unknown to him.

They were congregating in the heat of the night, "as am I", thought Lucus as he entered the well lit diner.

========================

"I'm dreaming", thought Lucus as he entered the diner. Many folks must think that at one time or another, he consoled himself while slowly getting use to the feeling of difference brought on by the change in atmosphere.

 

The warm florescent lighting in contrast to the cool night.

The people sitting motionless taking the place of moving scenery.

The sound of sweeping...

the muted clatter of a cup helped him, for whatever reason, to grasp where he was. The alienness fell away. He moved to a stool by the counter. Odd, how a single moment can seem to take up hours. He looked back to the door... then down to the dust he had dragged in.

He blinked. It wasn't there anymore. Instead a girl in a green patterned dress stood in front of the door, sweeping. "Hey Luc!", she smiled.

The way she talked sounded like she was maybe humming something to herself. He shifted his weight, turning around, leaving his left arm on the counter.

"Hey, yea," running his free hand through his hair, then, pointing open-handed to the floor. "Yea... sorry about that."

She stopped, looked up from her sweeping.. almost startled looking, "Oh no! I wait till it gets all over the place, isn't any fun to clean up otherwise. Just sweeping air.." She swept the air with her broom and laughed lightheartedly. Dim eyed fellows looked up from their booths momentarily.

She was quirky. Her hair full of curls. Her face full of freckles. She had started working there recently. On a previous visit she and Lucus had a small conversation.

He had asked her name.

"Molly", she laughed, "I couldn't resist it. Kinda feel like the place is named after me." She sighed as if full.

Lucus had smiled, he remembered that moment now. He had forgotten for days, now that memory and this one fell into each other. "Want your usual?" Molly asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Yea."

"Hey Frank!" Molly called out.

"Yea?!", some voice from the kitchen responded.

"Liver and onions!"

 

 

© 2008 Derrek Wesley Steven Gaspard


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Added on February 16, 2008
Last Updated on April 2, 2008

Author

Derrek Wesley Steven Gaspard
Derrek Wesley Steven Gaspard

Manchester, NH



About
Derrek Gaspard, born 1981, relocated from New Orleans (where he was born and raised), Louisiana to Manchester, NH in September of 2007. Derrek hasn't written anything worth reading yet but he is wor.. more..

Writing