tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64465388212462991182024-03-13T21:34:47.254-05:00EHMEEEhmeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14124095718030366742noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446538821246299118.post-38755348808807651572012-07-03T09:06:00.001-05:002012-07-03T09:14:48.280-05:00HALLEY PRESTON - Part 1<div style="border-bottom: 1.00pt solid #000000; border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: none; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0.03in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in;">
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Massimo snorted into the glass of
Armagnac and set it gently onto the table. “No, no.” He looked
over at Simon. “I think you misunderstand.”
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Oh, no I understand.” Simon nodded at
the burly Italian man seated before him. His voice, now an octave
higher, sounded surreal as it began to waiver. “You need to get rid of your wife and you
want me to take her out.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes,” Massimo smiled, nodding
vigorously. “Exactly.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yeah, well,” Simon cleared his
throat and pushed his chair away from the table, “I can't help
you.” He stood up, strode quickly to the door of the restaurant,
glanced over his shoulder and disappeared.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Americans!” Massimo shook his head
at Antonio who had been standing silently beside the table. “They
see Italians and think murder.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Antonio laughed.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Why?” Massimo searched the heavens
with his manicured hands, a diamond ring sparkling on his left pinky
finger. “Why is this so difficult?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It would have been easier in the old
country?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The older man nodded.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“This is a delicate matter.”
Antonio adjusted his cuff links. “Maybe we are wrong to seek help
from the regular channels. Now that we are in America,” Antonio
poured himself a drink, “We need a new strategy.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Massimo sipped from his glass. “I
still don't understand why you don't do it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You know I cannot. Your wife,”
Antonio searched for the words with his hands. “We are too close,
she is like a sister to me and we cannot risk anything being traced
to you.” The younger man shook his head and sat down in the empty seat. “No,
it must come from a stranger.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But what stranger?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Anontio nodded. “Perhaps there is
another way.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Dimmi.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“This job, it is an assignment, like
any other, no?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Si,” Massimo nodded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Then we must treat it as we would a
respectable position.” Antonio waved his hands. “We advertise,
look at resumes, photographs, have interviews, check backgrounds and
then, only then, we select someone younger, stronger, more handsome,
more educated, more charming and more suitable for the position. She
is your wife. It must be someone of your choosing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Antonio?” Massimo stared into his
glass for a moment, then beamed at the younger man, “I think I like
this plan B.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Plan B,” Antonio held up his
glass. “Salute!”
</div>
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<br /></div>
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Glancing over his shoulder uneasily,
Simon shuffled away from the restaurant. He turned at the end of the
block into an alley where an empty vehicle sat unattended. Simon
shuddered and glanced over his shoulder again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
From a shaded doorway, with his arms
folded across his broad chest, a man studied Simon's puny profile.
“Good lunch?”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Damian.” Simon turned toward the
voice, his mouth slightly agape.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The man stared at Simon as he spoke,
enunciating every word. “You know Simon, I haven't eaten yet.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Damian, easily a foot taller than
Simon, looked down the alley at a stray cat as it jumped out of a
dumpster and scampered over a wall.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Simon began to stammer. “I-I didn't.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You could have invited me, you
know.” Turning to face Simon, Damian placed his hands into his
pockets and shrugged, a police badge shining at his hip. “Just to
show your appreciation.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I-I didn't eat.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Really?” Damian chuckled. “I
thought that's what people did in fancy restaurants.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Simon shook his head.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No? Huh,” Damian scratched his
head. “Must have it wrong then.” His eyes glistened as he
squinted at Simon. “Well what, did, you do?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“N-nothing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Simon?” Looking down at the
ground, Damian kicked an empty soda can. “I don't believe you. Don't
get me wrong.”
He took his hands out of his pockets and waved them absently. “I really want to, but I don't.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I didn't do n-nothing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sighing, Damian shook his head from side to
side. “You know I really hate it when you miss your appointments,
Simon.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“W-what appointments?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Damian smiled and folded his arms
across his chest. “The ones your PO will say you missed when I take
you in, unless,” the officer smiled, “unless you tell me what you did.”
He jerked his head to the left. “In there.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Simon looked back down the alley.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You can tell me.” Removing a pair
of handcuffs from his jacket, Damian dangled them before Simon's
nose, “Or you can wear these.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Rooted to the spot, Simon swayed as a
tremor began to take hold of his legs.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Why don't we discuss this,” Damian
pointed to the empty vehicle. “In my office?”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“And I told him,” Simon sat in the
passenger seat neurotically wiping his sweaty palms against his
jeans, “that I couldn't help him.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Damian sat motionless in the driver's
seat as Simon studied his profile.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Look, that's the truth. I-I swear.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Damian didn't flinch.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That's the truth, Damian, I-I swear
to God. You have to believe me. I-I.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Shh,” Damian waved an arm in
Simon's direction and resumed his contemplation. After several
minutes, Damian nodded at the windshield. “It's okay,” he placed
a key into the ignition and the engine began to purr.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Damian smiled, “I believe you Simon, and to prove
it, I'm gonna take you home.” He reached into his
jacket pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. “But first,” a
click reverberated throughout the vehicle as the doors locked shut.
“First, we have to take a quick side trip.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Damian reached into the passenger seat.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Simon struggled helplessly against the
white handkerchief held over his face.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Carefully, Damian removed his jacket,
shoes and socks and rolled his pant legs up to his knees. Putting on
a pair of gloves, he slid his arms under Simon's armpits, and dragged
the unconscious young man through the woods and toward a lake.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At the water's edge, Damian stopped
beside a long abandoned decaying rowboat with two oars. Positioning the body so that the legs would enter the water first, Damian
rolled Simon onto his stomach.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Grabbing an oar, Damian inserted it as
far as he could into the back of Simon's shirt, through his belt and
down into the seat of his jeans.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“See Simon?” Damian stood panting
over the body. “I told you I'd take you home.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mustering all of his energy, Damian
took hold of the oar and pushed Simon down into the lake.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
© <i>Ehmee Smith</i>, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this
material without express and written permission from the site’s author
and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used,
provided that full and clear credit is given to <i>Ehmee Smith</i>, with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. </div>Ehmeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14124095718030366742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446538821246299118.post-80146759560589060692012-04-04T00:32:00.000-05:002012-04-04T00:32:05.280-05:00FATHER PIERSON<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
Alone, Father Marc Pierson pulled a
dark green Oldsmobile to a stop into the only available spot in a
vast parking lot. </span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Reluctant to leave the safe cocoon of
the Oldsmobile, he sat behind the wheel examining the dials on the
dashboard as he figured the mileage. He was almost a hundred miles
away from the boundary of the diocese, in a vehicle that had been
donated for use in the manifestation of God's work. Somehow he wasn't
certain that he was about to do that.
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Somewhere, a car door slammed forcing him away
from this thoughts.
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Three scantily clad young women exited
a smoke filled minivan two parking spots away. Father Marc smiled
warmly at the trio, watching as they crossed in front of the
Oldsmobile, their six inch stiletto heels pounding against the
concrete like rapid gun fire. Ta-ta-tat. Ta-ta-tat. Ta-ta-tat.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Laughing heartily amongst themselves,
the women sauntered across the parking lot and disappeared inside the
building. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Standing beside a vacant stool at the entrance, were two
male figures clad in matching black outfits. They chatted as they
surveyed the parking lot.
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Besides them, the parking lot was
still.
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Relieved that he hadn't been noticed,
Father Marc sighed and removed the white collar fastened about his
neck. Slowly, he turned it over in his hands studying every inch of
it. Sighing, he placed the collar inside his jacket and looked over
at the building. He wondered how they had engineered the light to
make the building glow and yet remain almost completely shrouded in
darkness.
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Father Marc reached for the key and the Oldsmobile shuddered as the engine ground to a halt.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the darkness. His face
glowed rhythmically, alternating between red and yellow, the
reflection from a neon sign pulsating high above him on the side of
the building. Slamming the car door shut, he looked up and read the
neon sign as each word illuminated against the black sky, “Tit,
Strip, Stop”. Forcing himself to face the building, he turned,
swallowed hard, and strode toward the entrance.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Alone in the foyer, Father Marc stood
motionless with one hand poised to push open the final glass door
that separated him from all the depravity inside.
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Father?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A shadowy figure began to materialize
over Father Marc's left shoulder.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Are you alone?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Marcello?” Father Marc turned
toward the voice, “Is that you?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I've been waiting.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I am alone. I came as quickly as I
could.” Father Marc shrugged. “It's a long drive from the
rectory.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I know Father. That's why I am
here.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“We must talk.” Father Marc
pointed to the entrance. “The car?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Yes. I,” Marcello emerged from the
shadows just as three men entered the foyer.
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The one in the center wore a white lace
garter about his head. His white tee shirt boldly depicted a diamond
engagement ring with the words 'she said yes' printed in it's center.
Clearly inebriated, the young man was being supported on either side
by his friends as they guided him into the foyer.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Discretely, Marcello receded into the
shadows, forcing Father Marc to hold the glass door open for the
three men. The trio barely acknowledged the priest as they struggled
to get inside. Their eyes were focused on a lone spotlight
illuminating the center stage where a semi-nude blonde female with
her back to the crowd was slowly reaching down to touch her toes.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Father Marc shuddered. “You want to
go in?” Marcello's voice whispered behind him.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“No,” Father Marc released the door
handle as if it had suddenly become charged with electricity. “The
car,” he turned to face Marcello. “This way.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The two men walked out of the building
and into the parking lot in silence, Marcello trailing behind the
priest. As they approached the row of vehicles, Father Marc pointed
to the dark green Oldsmobile. “It is not locked.”
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Marcello nodded and cast a glance over
his shoulder as he opened the passenger side door. They sat in the
vehicle together, neither man offering to break the silence.
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Finally Father Marc reached into his
jacket pocket. Taking out the collar, he fastened it about his neck.
“It is time, Marcello.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I didn't do it, Father. I couldn't.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I know, Marcello, I believe you but
it is not up to me. There are accusations that must be faced and you
cannot continue to run.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I know I am not perfect Father, but
she was,” Marcello's voice grew hoarse and he struggled to
continue. “She was my everything. How could they.” The young man
gritted his teeth as he tried to swallow the bitterness that was
beginning to wash over him. “How could they think I would do that
to my own,” he swiped a tear from his cheek, “my only child.”
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Father Marc sat silently, his hands
clasped tightly in his lap and his eyes focused on the steering
wheel.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Father?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The priest exhaled slowly. “Running
only confirms their suspicions</span><span style="font-size: small;">,
Marcello</span><span style="font-size: small;">. If you stand still and face them, they will be forced to look elsewhere. Let me take you to
them,” he turned to study the young man's reaction. “Let us end
this madness.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The young man sighed, "You are right." He reached for the
seat belt and fastened it about him. “Let us go, Father.” He
nodded at the priest, leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes.
“I am ready.”
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Father Marc placed the key into the
ignition and glanced up at the rear view mirror.
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The little girl sitting in the back
seat giggled as she fiddled with her curly brown hair.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
© <i>Ehmee Smith</i>, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this
material without express and written permission from the site’s author
and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used,
provided that full and clear credit is given to <i>Ehmee Smith</i>, with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>Ehmeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14124095718030366742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446538821246299118.post-55939599249501818942012-04-03T15:26:00.000-05:002012-04-03T16:50:15.186-05:00JACK<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A low rumble emitted from the pit of Jack's stomach
making him wince as he slowly got up from the paisley blue tattered
couch. His knee was throbbing again and he nodded silently as if to
acknowledge the pain. </span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Moving toward the kitchen door, he stumbled, a grimace
flashing momentarily across his face. He braced himself, propping his
back up against the wall just beside the kitchen door. He closed his
eyes, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. </span>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Clamping his mouth shut and keeping his back flat
against the wall, he forced the still air to flow evenly through his
nostrils. He knew he would have no choice but to go see her now. How
he hated making the trip. It always reminded him of how frail and
vulnerable he had become. Time had weakened him, and ignoring the
pain was no longer an option. </span><br>
</div><a href="http://ehmee.blogspot.com/2012/04/jack.html#more">Read more »</a>Ehmeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14124095718030366742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446538821246299118.post-87294392410580269152012-02-01T17:23:00.001-06:002012-02-01T23:19:19.442-06:00BOBBY WISPEN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Trenfil groaned. The light would have been better and the going much easier had he stuck to the road. But he continued to pedal, skirting the edge of the woods on the bike trail that would take him home.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Aw, Man. I shouldn't have snuck out. And I definitely shouldn't have taken the stupid short cut home</span></span></i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Could have been home by now. Could have made it back before curfew</span></span></i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">He sighed.</span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;"> </span></span></i></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">But it was fun tonight. </span></span></i></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">He chuckled.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">That look on Bobby Wispen's face when he had to pay up ten whole dollars in front of everyone</span></span></i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Trenfil beamed and patted his jacket pocket.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Priceless! Bobby Wispen was full of it</span></span></i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">.</span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;"> Always making up stupid gory stories. Trying to scare me.</span></span></i></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Trenfil rolled his eyes toward the heavens. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Like the one about the cops in the black Winnebago in the woods. Yeah, right!</span></span></i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;"></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Trenfil snorted.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br>
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"><i><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Like seriously? Cops hanging out in the middle of the woods catching people and barbecuing them? Gimme a break!</span></i></span><br>
</div></div><a href="http://ehmee.blogspot.com/2012/02/bobby-wispen.html#more">Read more »</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446538821246299118.post-42883025170333032382011-12-28T01:50:00.002-06:002012-02-01T23:20:57.095-06:00CHASING AGATHA<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Crossing the lobby of 800 Wood Towers, Agatha Pecone sighed as she went through the long list of things she detested in life: cold icy rain, mildew, fantasy fiction, crochet, egg nog, bratty children, politics, spicy foods, new age music, zucchini, and pushy people, just to name a few. While those things had always featured on her list </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">of intolerable things</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">, on this particular morning, Agatha was determined to add used car dealers and self righteous bus drivers to the ever burgeoning list. </span><br>
<br>
</div><a href="http://ehmee.blogspot.com/2011/12/chasing-agatha.html#more">Read more »</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446538821246299118.post-57969053974859303352011-12-21T14:03:00.002-06:002011-12-28T18:14:51.904-06:00GREEN PEAS, NO CARROTS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
“Put that back!?”<br>
<br>
Inside Leroy’s 24 hour grocery mart in the middle of aisle 3, the canned goods aisle, the rear left wheel of an empty shopping cart shuddered to a screeching halt.<br>
<br>
</div><a href="http://ehmee.blogspot.com/2011/12/green-peas-no-carrots.html#more">Read more »</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446538821246299118.post-51415369115141968432011-12-20T21:15:00.001-06:002011-12-28T18:15:02.691-06:00CELL PHONE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For the umpteenth time that morning, Virginia checked the telephone. First, she picked up the receiver and listened for the dial tone. It was fine. Next, she checked the volume adjuster, making sure it was turned up all the way. That was okay. Then, she ran her hand over the length of the cord from the handset to the answering machine and from the machine to the wall; still nothing out of the ordinary there.<br>
<br>
</div><a href="http://ehmee.blogspot.com/2011/12/cell-phone.html#more">Read more »</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0