Intertwine Read online

Intertwine

  ©Angie Merriam February 2012

  All contributing authors own all rights to their poems/stories

  Please do not copy or reproduce this book or the stories or poems within without the express consent of the authors involved.

  Forward

  A few months ago, while doing some social networking for my Neveah series, I came across a wonderful poem. The writer of the poem was a one poem writer who had written it about his friend Chuck, who had passed away. He was asking advice about how to get the poem into readers’ hands in hopes of locating his friend’s family. I immediately wanted to help. Intertwine is what I came up with, an anthology of short stories and poetry. I presented the idea to Dennis, the man who wrote the poem, and he quickly came on board. Before long a multitude of writers from an array of genres had contributed their work. Some are one hit wonders while others are accomplished writers. There are stories of inspiration and stories of fantasy. All are beautifully written by wonderful people. I feel very lucky to include the works of the various authors and grateful to have met some amazing people. I hope you enjoy Intertwine as much as I enjoyed putting it together. Thanks Dennis for inspiring me to embark on this journey and I offer a grateful thank you to all the writers who have contributed and given me some truly great advice and direction. Hope I did your work proud.

  Sincerely,

  Angie Merriam

  Table on Contents

  Poetry

  That’s Chuck, He’s My Friend by Dennis DeRose

  Fallen World by Hena Tayeb

  Thantro by Peter Tranter

  Be Warned by the Path that Walked in the Night by Peter Tranter

  A Schoolgirl’s Smile by Jim Quimby

  The Lonely Walk by Angela Linck

  Reflection by Angela Linck

  Possession by Angie Merriam

  Child by Pam Bitterman

  Short Stories

  Modern Technologies-Human Decisions by Cheryl Campbell

  Meeting Royalty by Cheryl Campbell

  The Emotional House by Cheryl Campbell

  True Character by Sean Patrick O’Mordha

  Sunrise Painting by Simon Marshland

  Three Cowries by Nandita Chakraborty Banerji

  Section 498 Indian Penal Code by Nandita Chakraborty Banerji

  The Foreign Bride by Nandita Chakraborty Banerji

  My love, My Life by Nandita Chakraborty Banerji

  The Great Monster by Angie Merriam

  Reliving Memories by Matt Faist

  The Perfect Day by Matt Faist

  Nannie’s Cat by Vivian Rinaldo

  Out West A-Ways by Leslie Silton

  Dave Ugly has a way with Women by Brian T Shirley

  Dave Ugly and the Underwear Incident by Brian T Shirley

  The Date Service Debacle by Brian T Shirley

  My perfect Hell Gig by Brian T Shirley

  Omar Blue and the K-9 Underground by O. Warfield

  Not the Firefly by Peter Tranter

  Patient Zero by Stacy Kingsley

  The Angel of Death’s First Kiss by Beth Gaulda

  The Age of Atlantis by Lisa Moulden

  The Betrayal by Wade Cox

  The Battle of Big Lick by Wade Cox

  Serephina by Angie Merriam

  That`s Chuck, He`s My Friend...

  This is about my old pal Chuck.

  What's that in your hand? Let me see. He said.

  It's a picture; that`s Chuck; he is my friend... I said.

  You pick your friends kinda young, don't you?... He asked.

  No, that was a long time ago. We were in college... I said.

  I'd like to hear more about your pal Chuck... He said.

  Okay... I met Chuck in New Paltz in `74... I said.

  Oh, that's the pot smoking college, isn't it?... He asked.

  Don't generalize; everyone's not the same... I said.

  You're right. So tell me some more about Chuck... He said.

  Okay, so you want the short version or the long one ... I said.

  Whatever you like, I have plenty of time ... He said.

  Well, this guy Chuck approaches me; he looks perplexed... I said.

  So what was his issue? Why that look on his face?... He asked.

  Chuck tells me, "No one will stay with me in the room."... I said.

  How odd is that? That doesn't make sense... He said.

  You and I swing one way, Chuck swings the other. ... I said.

  Now I see what the problem was. What did you do?... He said.

  What do you think? That doesn't bother me.... I said.

  Hey, you want to hear a funny story? It's a side-splitter... I said.

  I've got time. I could use a good laugh right about now... He said.

  Chuck had a ‘53 Schwinn bike, all chrome, red and white... I said.

  You've got to be kidding me. I haven't seen one in years.... He said.

  I'd hop on back. We`d go to town and chug down a few together... I said.

  That's not funny. Where's the punchline? So what happened?... He asked.

  Well, one day Chuck failed a test and got super pissed off.... I said.

  That's not funny either. You've got to do better than that.... He said.

  He yanked on the handlebar so hard; he busted it clean in half... I said.

  Wow! Did they have "Funniest Home Videos" back then?... He asked.

  That's not all. We had so much fun together. There's more... I said.

  Don't keep me in suspense. Lay it on me..... He said

  There was this girl; unique, with a special attribute.... I said.

  What was so special? Three breasts instead of two?... He asked.

  No joke, her name was Madam Clittora! Enough said... I said.

  I can't believe that. You gonna leave me hanging?... He asked.

  Anyway, shortly after that, I graduated. Chuck was younger.... I said.

  So what happened to Chuck? Good friends keep in touch... He said.

  We saw him two years later. We visited with his family, it was nice... I said.

  Ever see them again? You shouldn't desert a friend.... He said.

  You're right. But things don't always pan out... I said.

  So what does that mean? You both seemed quite close.... He said.

  I was married at the time with a lot of responsibilities... I said.

  So that's no excuse. You should've kept in touch... He said.

  After that, I didn't. Time changes things. Wasn't intentional.... I said.

  So is there more to this story? There's got to be more... He said.

  Oh, there is. Time moves on. 35 years later... I said.

  It's 2010 and out of the blue, I think of my old pal Chuck... I said.

  So you didn't forget him after all, but almost... He said.

  It's a gamble, Chuck Drzal is in the phonebook; I called... I said.

  Good for you. You took a chance, renewed a friendship... He said.

  You're right. Just like old times. `74 again. What a feeling... I said.

  So what happened next? Tell me quick, can't wait... He said.

  We talked off and on, old times and new things; it was good... I said.

  So it sounds like things are really working out for you guys... He said.

  We saw Chuck in the summertime; looked good for 52... I said.

  Hey, that's great news; Is there more to the story?... He asked.

  A little more... His friend died the day after we saw him... I said.

  Oh, bummer. Sorry to hear that. How`s Chuck now?... He asked.

  Called him in November. His diamond ring was stolen... I said.

  Wow! That's a real downer. Did they catch the bastard?... He asked.

  No !... I said.

  There's g
ot to be more than that. Call him since then?... He asked..

  Yeah... but... I called twice... he never answered the phone... I said.

  Well, I hope you find out how he is doing?... He asked.

  I did. Saw his obit a few days ago. He died November 17th... I said.

  He looked at me. A tear rolled down his cheek... He said nothing..

  I looked at him. Couldn't speak, all choked up.... I said nothing.

  He looked at me. Gave me a hug, turned and walked away.

  I yelled to the universe... "That's Chuck, he's my friend!

  Thank God for Pearl

  I went to church when I was five,

  Sunday School, never missed.

  I looked over; who did I see?

  Well, of course, I saw Pearl teaching.

  Time went by and I got older,

  I graduated to the “big church”.

  I looked over, I sat on the left.

  Who was on the right, Pearl.

  Once a month, every month,

  Usually the first Sunday… Food`s aplenty.

  Go downstairs to eat, who`s there?

  Right again. Pearl, with bowl in hand, always happy.

  Time goes by, I'm married now.

  It's Sunday. Church again; this time with family.

  I look to the right, across the aisle,

  and who`s there? Right again. Pearl…

  1999, it's a very sad Sunday in church.

  My Gramzer, upfront in casket; she passed away.

  I stood up, turned around, I said a few words.

  Who do I see? Pearl, with handkerchief, wiping away a tear.

  Time goes by; my whole family is with me.

  We're on the left as usual.

  It's been 53 years since that first Sunday.

  I look over. Who do I see? I see Pearl once again.

  Pearl, I thank God for you…

  Love forever, Dennis

  Fallen World

  An air conditioned room,

  the blistering heat

  locked out. The room is full

  of people, a sober man immaculately

  dressed, a woman scantily clad,

  a procurer, a few among the many

  filling the space. Countless people

  makes for a bare existence

  as we speed through

  life, a series of

  flickering images with very little

  similarities. Where people perish

  with intolerance and blatant doubt.

  Always I know always

  the Reaper is arriving, his vigor

  infused face turned on

  by death. The sizable son of

  a gravedigger. Firm

  hands, skin wrinkled as when

  too much time is spent in

  the water. He never was a spotted butterfly

  fluttering, green grass, animal

  cracker clouds in the sky. When the brothers

  Grimm were yet to be. The arrival

  is a realization that comes

  to me in the form of security checks and bomb threats.

  But were the lilies abloom, bees

  basking in nectar, were the clams

  as happy as the lark, whose

  exuberance brought out the shinning

  sun, spreading warmth across

  the lands, what would be their theme?

  Arteries dry, gluttonous buildings

  soar high, flickering through his disparaging

  reality. Tarnished thoughts, as the next

  door boy’s about your daughter, in the way

  he cannot meet your glare,

  foul and adulterated,

  yes, it is less than adoration.

  I must slide the cold

  barrel of a gun into my mouth

  to understand his truth, mimic

  the whore or butcher. Should I

  pound on his weathered

  door in one of those cities where

  he will shun me like a bastard

  child, clawing away from his iron clasp

  grasp, tugging at his dingy hair, the ropes

  snapping as I plummet.

  THATRO

  “It’s very clear,” the raw onion said, tears streaming o’er his skin,

  “That you and I are miles apart; let’s end our life of sin.”

  The Hypnotist, with rueful smile, felt this was very logical

  Their relationship had, from first to last, been purely biological.

  The onion said, with motive cruel, “Take this, my parting gift

  A million tears for you to shed in memory of our rift.”

  The hypnotist, with watering eyes and now without her skill

  Realized at once that she’d been had, oh what a bitter pill.

  Revenge is sweet I’ve heard it said and this case proves it true,

  Our hypnotist became a cook and invented onion stew.

  Be Warned By the Path that Walked in the Night!

  When the nights are long and day’s clouds hang low,

  Creep to the fire, take warmth, ward off fright,

  For as the temperature drops and winter winds low,

  Folks tell of the path that walked in the night!

  If you switch off the box when horror films start,

  If vampires and ghosts turn your eyes fever bright,

  Beware gentle listener, and those of weak heart,

  Don’t learn of the path that walked in the night!

  Built of fine, white blocks, deliberately laid,

  Where once was but mud, the traveler’s blight,

  It eased the footsteps of old man and young maid,

  ‘Till it became the path that walked in the night.

  Daily those slabs caught the first rays of the sun,

  When came the dread morn, and there it was, Gone!

  Did it leave of free will? Was it forced from its site?

  To become the path that walked in the night?

  Did an ogre, stealthily, just before dawn

  Creep from the shades, a dark deed to perform?

  A foul thing, or foul person, of considerable might

  Must have caused that path to walk in the night.

  Spare a thought for the homeless, poor deprived souls

  May you never be in a similar plight;

  Your home and your hearth wrecked by inhuman ghouls

  And crushed by the path that walked in the night.

  God’s creatures they were, ants, earwigs and woodlice,

  The survivors struck numb when in dawn’s wat’ry light

  They witnessed the carnage; death is not nice

  If you’re crushed by a path that walks in the night.

  When you cut it, or spike it, or roll it out flat

  Grass is in pain, did you know that?

  Imagine the anguish when from any height

  Come the blocks of the path that walked in the night!

  So, be warned gentle citizen, stand guard o’er your door,

  For in this evil world what chance have the right

  To accumulate chattels, be they rich man or poor,

  When even a path can walk in the night!

  A Schoolgirl’s Smile

  I think that I shall never see

  Anything as lovely as her smile for me.

  I’m a prisoner of doubt who wants to please

  the most beautiful girl who’s hand I squeeze;

  As I walk her slowly home to her gate,

  I carry her books, and wonder and wait;

  Have I teased her or pleased her?

  Have I won her and wooed her?

  On her answer depends

  How my whole life ends.

  Poems are made by fools like me,

  But only her smile can set me free!

  With apologies to Joyce Kilme.r An added comment: - Yes, she smiled. And she has been my one and only love, soul mate, and now wife for over 48 years.

  The Lonely Walk

 
It's two in the morning and I step out the door

  Only way I can clear my head anymore.

  It's twenty degrees but I don't feel the cold

  It's nothing compared to the ice in my soul.

  I'm alone in the streets of a very big town

  It seems so much darker when there's no one around.

  I light up a smoke and breathe it in deep

  I let myself daydream since I never sleep.

  She's walking beside me for the next long mile

  I'm lost in her eyes and her words and her smile.

  But just like my last cigarette's smoke and ash

  The sight and the sound of her disappears from my grasp.

  And I'm left to continue my journey alone

  Fighting to find a life of my own.

  My eyes blink off snowflakes as the world becomes white

  Daybreak transcends the sadness of night.

  My shoes leave their mark on the untouched snow

  I've walked many miles with no place to go.

  But I'm finding the answers and refuse to be shaken

  And I'm back on my doorstep as the world awakens...

  Reflection

  I looked out my window

  1and into the world

  to see what I needed to change.

  I saw the mistakes,

  the cracks and the breaks

  and the mess that was left to arrange.

  I saw all the cheaters, the liars

  and beaters and wondered why

  the world was so dark.

  I saw the lost dreams

  and unfinished schemes

  and the bodies that lived with no heart.

  I saw people crying,

  acting like they were dying,

  thinking love should be saved at all cost.

  I saw unforgiving and

  those who thought living

  meant forsaking those who are lost.

  I set out on my journey to right

  all these wrongs, to change what was worthy

  and replace what belonged.

  I tried opening the window so I could climb out.

  But I found myself trapped

  and I started to shout.