Q – Quiet

Q – Quiet

Quincy sat on the hard chair. There was a single light over his head, a table in front of him, with his interrogator glaring at him from the other side.

“Where were you, exactly, this morning when Queenie disappeared!” Detective Quade shouted. 

Quincy remained silent. It was not that he didn’t know the answer; he was pretty sure where the culprit was, but pleading the fifth was the equivalent of admitting guilt, and besides, this was much more fun. He liked the deal he had. Queenie was his best bud. 

“OH, the silent type, are you?” exclaimed Quade. “Being quiet won’t help your cause, you know.” 

Again, Quincy remained silent.

“We could book you right now for trespassing. You know you were seen entering Queenie’s flat.”

Why shouldn’t he have been seen? Everyone knew that he often delivered food to the Quillers. They even gave him the key to the apartment in case they weren’t home. Still, he remained quiet. 

You could see the redness beginning to flush Detective Quade’s face. Quade got up and began nervously pacing the room in front of Quincy. 

Trying to calm his voice, Quade said, “Listen, pal. If you give me some answers, I can keep anything you say to me here out of your file.” 

“May I have a drink of water?” Quincy asked rather glibly. 

Quade was quick to jump on that. “Oh, so you can talk. Sure, you can have some water when you give me the answers to the questions I ask.”

Quincy just sat back, closed his eyes, and made no sound or indication that he planned to say anything, which frustrated the detective even more. 

Violence was out of the question. Even the threat of violence would bring lawsuits down on the department, which could cost the detective his job. Quade was on shaky ground but he needed to know what happened. The Quillers were very rich and influential people. If Queenie wasn’t found or something happened to her, there would be hell to pay. Queenie was just a child. 

Police were stationed at the Quiller’s house, hoping the criminals would call and ask for money for Queenie’s release. But as of yet, no call had come in. 

“This is your last chance,” Quade said, “If I don’t get some answers about your whereabouts and anything you know about this Queenie kidnapping, I’m going to book you for obstruction of justice.”

Quincy was getting tired of all of this foolishness. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a solitary metal device, and handed it to the detective. 

“What is this?” the detective shouted, “Some sort of vaping pipe?”

Deciding not to remain quiet anymore but unwilling to give away too much of what he suspected, Quincy said, “Why don’t you just take it to the Quiller’s house and use it? Just don’t tell them I gave it to you.”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?”

Quincy returned to quiet mode, shut his eyes again, leaned back on his chair, placed his hands behind his head, and smiled. 

Quade just threw his hands up, went to the door, told the assistant guarding it to keep an eye on the prisoner and then left. 

About an hour later, Quade returned looking none too pleased. He told the guard to release the prison…Quincy.

The detective threw the device back to Quincy, who caught it deftly. “Here’s your stupid dog whistle back. Why on God’s earth didn’t you tell me that the bloody dog was hiding in the laundry room?”

Quincy finally felt safe spilling the beans. “One, I didn’t know exactly where she would be; she’s only a puppy; I only suspected she was sleeping somewhere in the house. Secondly, if I ended up being the one that embarrassed the Quillers, they would probably stop letting me feed and play with the dog. I really get along well with Queenie, not to mention what good tippers the Quillers are. A guy’s got to live, you know.”

“You’re just lucky I didn’t fink you out,” Quade said, “When I showed this whistle to one of the cops stationed by their phone, he knew exactly what it was and blew into it. The dog came out running in seconds. I took the whistle back quickly before the Quillers could see it. When they asked how we found Queenie, it was my turn to be quiet. You’re not the only one that can play these games. I mean, detectives don’t like to be embarrassed either.”

And that was it. I got released, the Quillers got their dog back, and I even got Queenie a special treat from our store. Other than me, the detective, and the policeman who blew the whistle on this caper, no one was the wiser. 

 

 

 

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P – Predestined or not?

P – Predestined or not?

Karma—What you sow is what you reap. It dictates that you are in control of your actions. Do good, and you get good in return. Be bad or evil, and bad things will happen to you. Just look around you. Do those good people you look up to receive any goodness in return? How about those you know are deceivers and do bad things for their selfish needs? Do they all get their comeuppance?  Some do, and some don’t. So, what does that tell you about karma?

Or do you believe in fate? Everything is predestined. Your life has been planned out from the day you are born until the day you die. You may think you control your life, but your good or bad decisions have already been programmed into your DNA.

The third philosophical concept is that we are born with free will. Every decision we make throughout our lives is of our choosing. Whether it turns out good or bad, whether there are repercussions or rewards, all reflect our choices and other people’s free will. 

If we could see into the future, might this be what transpires:

————-

Harold was well-versed in all of those karma, predestiny free will theories. He laughed at the amount of writing and discussions that existed, espousing one theory over another. He loved tinkering with each one. 

Harold worked for the Federal Android company, O.H.G.O.D. Inc. Very few people ever heard of it, and if they knew what the letters stood for, they would be even more skeptical. (FYI—it stands for Official Harbinger Giving Out Destiny.) 

The year was 2124. Harold’s job was very simple. He was in charge of the species’ history and maintaining the prescribed knowledge base. O.H.G.O.D.’s origins date back to the 21st century. 

Modern medical technology created artificial organs and transplants that helped prolong life as far back as the 20th century. The first artificial device was an artificial heart valve implant, which occurred in 1960. Artificial hip joints, knee replacements, skin regeneration, hearts, ears, bones, etc., followed. 

In the late 21st century, well after the artificial brain and nervous systems had been developed, a group of entrepreneurs got together to discuss the fate of our world. With more than half of the population on Earth consisting mainly of artificial parts, they decided that it was time to create an organization that maintained the history of our species dedicated to ensuring the survival of human and non-artificial life. O.H.G.O.D. was formed. 

O.H.G.O.D was originally run by only humonormals (people with no artificial parts) and tasked with making sure history was remembered and learned from. As time went on and fewer and fewer “humonormals” existed, O.H.G.O.D began infusing more “artispecials” (those with artificial parts, especially artificial brains) into their company. 

By 2110, if any humonormals existed, they could not be found. By then, O.H.G.O.D. was completely run by what people in the 20th century might have called androids.

Harold’s job allowed him to input information into any Android brain in the WORSHIP (Worldwide Origins Registery Securing Information Platform) database. None of the “people” he was inputting that information into were aware of it. 

And that is where tinkering with karma vs. free will vs. pre-destiny all came into play. 

The truth was whatever Harold felt like putting into the head of that particular individual. He basically determined what everyone’s life would be like and what philosophy they bought into. All of the people of the world believed that their version of reality was the truth. And Harold wasn’t the only one with that control. Even he had to sleep sometimes, though he could control how much sleep was necessary with his artificial Circadian rhythm. Everyone in his position loved to tinker, especially when it came to making decisions about life. 

To those like Harold, this was a simulation game. 

And consequences…that was not Harold’s problem, as his supervisor never knew what Harold and the others were doing. It helped that their supervisors were in the WORSHIP database, which they had access to. 

————-

Back to reality, here in 2024, What are your thoughts? Is the scenario I laid out about our values and the decisions we make a feasible future? 

Personally, I don’t really care what you think, for in my humble opinion, it has all been predestined from the start. 

 

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O – Origins

O – Origins

This continues the story Back to Selat, followed by D – Darkness, F – Fox, J – Jack, and L – Lies. If you haven’t already, you may want to read them first

———–

Certain parts of Selat stand out in my memory. Granny’s house was one of them. Once I left Fox’s den, I was not to be deterred. I headed straight for Red Riding Hood’s grandmother’s cabin. It was slow going getting there. In a dark forest with nothing but my flashlight to guide me, I had to be careful where I stepped. 

As I approached the house, I could hear someone sobbing from within. I recognized the person sobbing as Granny. I pulled on the rope attached to the door, which sounded a bell inside, notifying Granny that someone was there. 

“Red! Is that you?” she called out. I could hear her rushing to the door.

Before I could answer, the door was flung open, Granny saw me and collapsed to her knees, continuing to weep. 

I helped her up and asked her, “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Red?”

“She’s gone,” Granny wept, trying to control her tears. “I don’t know where she’s gone. It had to be the book.”

I couldn’t make any sense of what Granny was talking about. I sat her down at the kitchen table and made chamomile tea for us both. Once Granny had calmed down and regained control, I asked her to tell me what had happened. 

 

This was her story:

 

“It started when you defeated Necroma and rescued all of the characters. Red was the first of those you rescued to recover. She found a book on her way back from the Island of Lorn. It was old and tattered, with strange symbols on it. Red was convinced it belonged to Necroma. Whether it had spells or other bad things in it, Red never wanted to find out. She knew that in the wrong hands, it would be dangerous. Not knowing who to trust, she decided to keep it herself.

I told her the book should be destroyed, but she insisted she would have none of that. She commented, “What if destroying the book unleashes untold evil upon Selat?” 

She kept the book buried somewhere in the woods and told no one, not even me, where it was hidden. The only thing she did was periodically check on her hiding place to make sure the book was still there. 

I’m sure the problem was that the dang wolf. He was always nosing around. He must have known Red had something special around and followed her. One day, she went out to check on the book and never returned. A few days after that, everything went dark. 

I didn’t know what to do. At first, I tried to search for her, to no avail, and then, when the darkness came, I lost hope. Since then, I have been here as you see me today, a tired old woman who has lost the one person who meant anything to her.”

 

After hearing the story, I added more information to Granny’s tale. I told her that Wolf had indeed gained control of the book and that he had Fox had learned how to use it enough to create all of the darkness. I didn’t tell Granny about Wolf’s comment that he and Fox had made someone disappear once before. Personally, I hoped that Red got away once the book was stolen and was in hiding to protect Granny.

I told Granny I would find out what happened to Red and save her, if possible. Granny suggested I find one of her friends and see if they’d help. Granny was determined to stay home in case Red did return. She didn’t want Red to get frightened should she come home and Granny wasn’t there.

So I left Granny there. The only friend of Red that I knew of was Goldilocks.

 

To be concluded in R – Rescue and Return

 

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N – Narcissistic

N – Narcissistic

My name is Norman. You should have heard of me because I am a wealthy, wonderfully talented, great-to-know person. There is nothing that I can’t do and won’t do when asked.

Ask me about any of my experiences. 

Did I climb Mt. Everest? Yep. 

How about breaking the speed record for running a mile? Yep.

I can hold my breath for over five minutes. 

My invention of spy satellite technology has amassed a fortune. If you look me up in the book Who’s Who in the World, I’m listed. You might find that book hard to find, but I assure you, I’m listed in it. 

I’m not afraid of heights. I’ve scaled the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, which is the tallest structure in the world, by myself with nothing but my strength, agility, and endurance. 

I’m an unlisted name on the patent for the first Apple computer. I trained Steve Jobs, but you won’t find that listed in any biography of Steve.

Most of my wealth comes from my astute knowledge of the banking world and well-placed investments. I didn’t even need an advisor to guide me. 

Women fawn over me. Too many famous women to count wanted to marry me. Men are just jealous of my success. I could easily have been elected President of the United States during the last election. That’s how popular I am, but at age 24, I wasn’t eligible to run. And don’t think I won’t in 2032.

So, remember my name, Norman Hackenforger.

 

If you haven’t heard of me before, you certainly will soon enough. You’ll have to wait until this bogus trial for forgery and hacking into the U.S. Treasury system is resolved. It’s amazing how witnesses lie just to make their names known and sell their books. 

By the way, my new book, You’re the Best: The Official Biography of Norman Hackenforger will be released about the same time I am. 

 

   

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M – Message for Truth

M – Message for Truth

 

The older we get, 

the more things we forget, 

is an adage that someone once said.

Words misunderstood, 

simple things that we should 

know are wrong, we continue to spread.

 

When the noise just abounds

with cacophonous sounds,

it is hard to distinguish what’s right.

So you think what you heard,

even though it’s absurd, 

is the truth, and from there it takes flight.

 

Then the others so near, 

words you share they all hear, 

and the falsehoods and lies they all spout.

There is no way to stop, 

ear to mouth the words hop, 

till the message that’s sent casts no doubt.

 

This must be the truth, 

all opposed are uncouth, 

we must change everything that we’ve learned.

Let our thoughts fill the air; 

People’s rights? We don’t care. 

Everything that is wrong should be burned.

 

Age isn’t the cause, 

young as well should take pause; 

forgetting’s not true in this case. 

If you share without thought, 

ignore all that was taught, 

your actions are what’s out of place

 

But real truth, when it’s known, 

has a way of its own 

to come out when one listens and hears.

What we claimed was just wrong; 

Why did we go along? 

We should not have reacted to fears.

 

Being old’s not a crime, 

it may take us more time, 

but our wisdom once sought is still there.

Put us not on a shelf, 

check those facts for yourself; 

if they really are true, show you care.

 

When the facts remain true, 

then it’s all up to you, 

to rely on your own state of mind.

If it’s not and we lie, 

look us straight in the eye; 

say to us you’re no longer aligned.

 

Be it elder or youth, 

your goal must be the truth, 

if you wish to go on with less strife.

Listen well, be aware, 

show the world that you care. 

And be honored the rest of your life. 

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L – Lies

L – Lies

 

This continues the story Back to Selat, followed by D – Darkness, F – Fox, and J – Jack. If you haven’t already, you may want to read them first

 

————

 

Having left Jack, who helped me avoid a life-threatening ordeal at the top of a cliff, I worked my way back through the wooded forest to a path that was familiar to me. I aimed to find Fox, hopefully at his den, and confront him with what he did. 

While I was traveling, lots of thoughts passed through my mind. Fox had definitely lied to me. He claimed he wasn’t running from me, which he was. He also made up some ridiculous idea that an eclipse caused the darkness. Then, when I asked about Necroma, he denied remembering who she was, yet he seemed knowledgeable enough about her when he directed me on the path that led to the cliff, which was clearly meant to get rid of me. Something was up, and Fox was involved with whatever it was. 

I approached stealthily rather than marching right up to Fox’s den. I stayed hidden behind some trees. I watched and waited. It was not long before I observed an unexpected occurrence. 

Wolf came out from the opposite side of the woods and stopped in front of Fox’s den. It was the same Wolf from the Little Red Riding Hood tale. 

Wolf called out to Fox, and it wasn’t long before Fox appeared out the front opening of his den. 

“Why have you called me here?” Wolf grumbled.

Fox replied, “Because we have a problem. Characters are getting suspicious. The storyteller even showed up, asking a lot of questions about the darkness and the girl.”

“So what!” Wolf answered. “You’re clever enough to figure out a way to explain it all. As to the storyteller, he should be easy to make disappear. We’ve done it before.”

“That’s true,” said Fox, “I did come up with an excuse for the darkness, though I’m not sure if the storyteller bought it. Either way, I took care of him. He won’t be around to question us or anyone else again. Do you still have the book?” 

“Of course I do,” Wolf said. “It’s hidden where no one can find it but me. I’m not as dumb as you all make me out to be. After all, I did get the book.”

“Yes, yes. Yet, without my help,” Fox reminded Wolf, “you would not have known how to use it and benefited from all the things we’ve been able to get due to all of this darkness you created.”

“So why worry? We’ve got it made,” Wolf remarked. “We can keep this up forever. No one is going to be the wiser. Let them all get lost in the dark.”

Fox was not about to try to explain to Wolf the implications of perpetual darkness. He had his own plans, which would eventually involve getting his own paws on the book, and that didn’t include Wolf. 

Fox said, “You’re right, Wolf. Let the rest of Selat suffer. It’s only to our benefit. Why don’t we go down to old Midas’s palace? I hear he has a lot of gold, just waiting to be taken.”

And so, they both departed back the way the wolf had come. 

Once they were out of sight, I stepped out of my hiding place. Knowing Fox, I was pretty sure he had his own selfish plans for Wolf and whatever book they were talking about. 

Rather than following the two of them, I decided to return to my original plan. I needed to find Red’s grandmother and learn the true story of what had happened.

To be continued in O – Origins

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K – A King’s Trust

For this piece, I was asked to use the last line of a book I own as the last line of my writing. I will give credit for the last lines at the end. 

K – A King’s Trust

 

Screenshot

King Kaden sat on his throne, wondering what the inhabitants of his kingdom thought of him. Was he doing a good job? He had plenty of riches and trusted all of his advisors when it came to running the kingdom. But deep down, he felt a disconnect with the populace. He decided to try to find out firsthand what their thoughts were. 

He changed his appearance as best he could. He would dress as a peasant and wander the kingdom.

For three days running, he announced that he had some important work to do alone and was not to be disturbed. He changed clothes in his chambers and exited the castle through a secret doorway. 

Walking through the streets and alleyways of his kingdom was fascinating. There was so much that he had been unaware of. The places were all run down. He saw little cheer. Some people gave greetings when passing him, and others just ignored him. Periodically, he would stop and make conversation. 

“I am a stranger to this land and am considering moving here. How fares the kingdom?” he would say.

The answers seemed rather consistent.

“Go back where you came from. You’ll find no joy here.”

“There is no communication with the one that rules here and his money-grubbing advisors. All they do is take from us.”

“Look around you; this place is a shadow of what it was and could be. Look at the palace, for that is where the money is spent. There is no thought to spend it on us.”

“We are insignificant; we may look well, but we struggle to survive.”

King Kaden had enough after three days of hearing these descriptions and complaints. 

How could he have let this happen? It was time for things to change. But first, he needed to know why it happened. The king had trusted his advisors. They informed him of what was happening and told him all was well. Yes, they did ask for more money to be taken from the population, but, as it was explained to him, the people could afford it, for this was a rich and prosperous land. 

It was time for another disguise. This one had to be more stealthy, for there would be contact with his advisors this time. He enlisted the aid of his closest friend, Sir Hector. Hector would infiltrate an advisor’s meeting and report back his findings. 

What Hector found out supported the people’s claim. There was much talk during and after the advisors’ meetings about their wealth and how they could dupe the king into getting more for themselves. They even made fun of the King’s naivety and how easy it was to get what they wanted without reproach. 

Of course, if King Kaden called his advisors out, they would deny it. How could he make change happen?

He decided he would again disguise himself and roam among the populace. Maybe something would inspire him. And as it happens, in these kinds of tales, something did happen. 

As the king was walking past a tumbled-down cottage, an old woman stepped out and hailed him. “Stranger,” she called out with a knowing look. “You seem to be troubled. Why don’t you come inside for a bite to eat and some cool water and share what’s on your mind?”

The king looked the woman over, ignored misgivings, and took her up on her offer. He was quite surprised when she presented him with food and drink and said, “So, King Kaden, this is the fourth time I’ve seen you in this village in the last two weeks. What is it that you are so desperate to find?”

“How is it that you know who I am?” he asked.

“I’ve been following you since you were born. As I did your father and his father before,” she replied. 

The king had heard stories of such guardian spirits, but up until now, they were just stories. Without any hesitation, the King unburdened himself to the old woman. 

“The answer is simple, but not without risk.” She said, “You must do what your heart tells you and become the person you were meant to be.”

And so it was. King Kaden removed all of his advisors. He left them with some money and small plots of land, giving them each the choice to leave the kingdom if they desired. With insufficient funds to live in the luxury they were used to, most departed to find places elsewhere to work their lies. Once the truth is out, liars and cheats must pay the consequences. 

King Kaden named Sir Hector his chief advisor, with the instructions that the populace choose his fellow advisors. The one criterion for the position of advisor was honesty and truth. 

It took time for the people of the kingdom to change their opinions. When the king walked amongst them, he was not in disguise. He knew that trust had to be earned.

As King Kaden stood and looked up at the sky that shone over his kingdom, he could have seen the miserable place he had ruled. But the sky was bright, and he somehow felt he was headed in the right direction.*

As for the kingdom’s people, they eventually came to accept and enjoy their fate. They could only say it just “happened to happen” and was not very likely to happen again. **

 

The last lines are taken from:

 

*Stuart Little by E. B. White

** The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins by Dr. Seuss

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J – Jack

J – Jack

 

This continues the story Back to Selat, followed by D – Darkness, and F – Fox. If you haven’t already, you may want to read them first

————

I hoped that taking Fox’s recommendation was the right choice. It was certainly the road less traveled, and it did make a difference, but not the one I expected. 

The going was hard. It was a slow passage through the overgrowth. I got tangled up in numerous vines across the path, which made it even harder since I didn’t know what I was looking for. I got to a point where I wanted to give up and go back, but I kept on. I couldn’t believe Fox would lie, but it was beginning to look that way. 

I was glad that my flashlight had lithium batteries, but even still, I knew it would lose power at some point. I didn’t want to be stuck in this dark jungle of a forest if that were to occur. 

There were no sounds as I traversed this path, but I did note that I was moving upward to higher ground. I thought I saw a clearing ahead and made my way toward it. As I broke through the last obstacle, I stopped, which was good, for I found myself on the precipice of a very high cliff. Looking down, I saw nothing but a line of ragged rocks below, ready to impale anything or anyone, especially those who stepped off the precipice, intentionally or not. This was a death trap. 

As I carefully turned to face the way I had come, the vines and brush I had just walked through closed up; there was nowhere to go. I was trapped. Fox had deliberately sent me here and wanted to get rid of me. But why? Someone I had trusted had something to hide and needed me out of the way. 

It was then that I heard a kind of stretching sound. You know, the kind of creaking your body makes when you get up in the morning and reach the ceiling to stretch out all your muscles and limbs. Only this time, it wasn’t a body stretching; it was the sound of a rapidly growing plant, specifically a beanstalk. 

The beanstalk grew until it was just over my head, and climbing it was another familiar face, Jack. Jack stepped onto the precipice and greeted me. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked. 

He replied, “The caretaker mentioned that it might be a good time to plant one of my magic beans and suggested the bottom of this cliff as an ideal place. I didn’t want to disagree with the caretaker, so that’s what I did.”

“Interesting,” I said. 

Jack continued, “The question is, what are you doing here?”

I explained to Jack how I got there and everything I was tasked with doing. 

“Then it’s lucky I came along; I wasn’t even sure that the bean seed would grow.” was Jack’s reaction. “I was hesitant at first, with all the darkness and all. I didn’t know what I would find since I couldn’t see anything. But then again, I never knew what I would find the last time I climbed a beanstalk, and that turned out all right. The bean did grow, only this time, not overnight, but instantly. As I started climbing, I noticed a light shining on top of the cliff. That would have been your flashlight.”

With Jack’s help and guidance, we climbed down the beanstalk back to firm level ground.

“What’s your plan now?” Jack asked as we reached the bottom.

“I need to find Fox and find out why he lied to me, and I also need to get to Granny’s house and get some answers from her.” 

I thanked Jack and made off toward Fox’s den. If he was there, he would have a lot of questions to answer.

To be continued in L – Lies

 

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I – Idiosyncrasy

I – Idiosyncrasy

Irving had one noticeable idiosyncrasy. He was a compulsive truth-teller. 

Now, one might think, what is wrong with telling the truth? For the most part, nothing should be wrong. Being honest and upfront is a good quality; in most cases, one should strive to be honest and truthful. However, think carefully about how you might feel towards someone who is always truthful: 

Scenario 1: If you had a child. What is their perception of the world? One in which there is no Santa Claus (Daddy said so); the same goes for the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny. Would they ever go in a car or any other vehicle when they hear the answer to their question, “Is it safe with everyone else on the road?” Similar to questions regarding anything that they might watch on the news. 

Scenario 2: Relatives and Friends. It’s great to hear good things about yourself, and selective criticism can sometimes be very helpful in improving your behaviors. Now, think about what it’s like to hear the truth about everything you do and everything you are. In my case, there may be several things that relatives and friends might want to point out to me that I already know about myself that I don’t need to be reminded about. 

Scenario 3: Work. Don’t you just love going into evaluations (as either the giver or receiver), and whatever negative traits or changes are needed in you or your behavior are blatantly the focus of those evaluations, regardless of whether the initial part mentions any good things you do? 

These are the problems of associating with a compulsive truth-teller. 

Growing up as a truth-teller makes it hard to comprehend that not everyone tells the truth, which leads to being tricked often. 

 

Because of this, Irving grew up having very few friends. As a young child, he didn’t understand others’ reactions to him when he told the truth, even more so when he was taken advantage of. 

As he got older and with many therapy sessions, he began to understand more about his compulsion and developed some strategies to protect himself. 

He learned how to be tactful in his responses. For example, say, “Your uncle Hugo has sadly passed away,” instead of “Uncle Hugo kicked the bucket” when being the bearer of sad news to someone close to Uncle Hugo. or “This project has some potential for these people, but we need it to work for those people, too.” instead, “You’re developing this for the wrong people. You have to change it to work with our people.”

He learned to keep his answers to himself, both good news and bad. “If you don’t have something good to say, don’t say anything at all.” may sound like a good adage; however, if you only do that for bad things, then not saying anything signals bad news. So, staying silent for good and bad news only conveys that you’re antisocial, not critical. I’m not sure if that is a better position to be in. 

Some people understood Irving: his parents and siblings, some of his teachers, and some colleagues. He did develop some friendships throughout his life who may not have all understood him, but accepted him for who he was. 

He almost got married once, but when he discovered the woman he wanted to marry was a compulsive liar, he broke up with her. 

And that’s Irving. His telling the truth certainly had numerous consequences, some good and some bad. But you are who you are. Nothing is going to change that.

I’m a storyteller. Would I lie to you? 

 

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H – Heck in a Handbasket

H – Heck in a Handbasket

Wallace and his wife, Eileen, were walking in the park one day. What had started out as a nice sunny day suddenly became cloudy, and it began to sprinkle. 

They had been married for over twenty years, but those years weren’t the happiest in their lives. Wallace and Eileen may have loved each other at one time, but recently, their conversations always ended in arguments. Today was no different. 

“Did you bring the umbrella?” Eileen asked. 

“Why should I have brought an umbrella? It was sunny outside.” was Wallace’s reply. 

Eileen was quick to respond, “I told you it might rain! You never listen to me.”

Wallace replied, “I would listen to you if you had something to say.”

This conversation was getting slightly more animated than usual and went on for a few more minutes when Eileen decided she had enough.

“You can go to HECK!” she screamed at Wallace, which was not exactly the word she was thinking of saying, but considering they were in a public park, she showed some control. 

Wallace was quick with his answer and controlled himself as well: “If anyone in our family is going to HECK, it’s you, not me!”

The rest of the day was a blur to them. They hadn’t noticed a strange-looking old man sitting on a bench near where they were arguing. After overhearing their comments to each other, a playful smile appeared on his face. He got up, walked between them, excusing himself, and uttered a few unintelligible words. 

They paid little attention to the man as he walked past, so they had no inkling of what he had said, not that they would have understood anyway. But, had they paid attention, they might have recognized the word “Heck.”

 

Ten years passed. Wallace and Eileen continued to live together as their children grew up. Wallace was 78 when he passed away. 

The funeral was short, and the speeches of remembrance from family and friends were also. Wallace was peacefully laid to rest in the family plot. And life went on. 

Eileen lived for another fourteen years. Her funeral was also brief. Friends and family attended, and her children and grandchildren delivered speeches of remembrance. She, too, was peacefully laid to rest in the family plot next to Wallace’s grave. And for the rest of the world, life went on. 

 

Eileen found herself in a marketplace. She looked around, and all she could see was emptiness, no people. It was like she was part of something, but not sure what it was. Looking out, she could clearly see the marketplace. There were different stalls, each containing some items to sell. Some were fruit stands. Some were gaming stalls. Some stalls had flowers arranged in beautiful bouquets. Some had lots of colored and varied yarn, with beautifully knitted and crocheted apparel samples. There was a gated area with lots of animals and other living creatures.

“It’s about time you got here,” said a familiar voice slightly below her position. 

“Wallace,” she said, “Is that you?”

“Who else would it be,” was his reply. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about you while I was gone. I missed you.”

Considering how tainted her memories were, this was a shocking revelation to Eileen. “Where are we? And how are we here? You died 14 years ago?”

“As did you two days ago,” was his response. “As I understand it, we are exactly where we said we would be.

“What?”

“When you can manage it, try to twist around and look up over this enclosure we’re in,”  said Wallace.

It took a moment for Eileen to realize she did not have human form. She could hear things going on in the marketplace and see everything around her: behind her, in front of her, above and below, inside and outside. Looking opposite the market she noticed that she was in an enclosure made up of woven fiber, possibly of reeds or plant material. She also became aware that she was part of that fiber. Following Wallace’s suggestion, she looked above her at a sign that read. “Heck’s Baskets. They’ll hold all your precious possessions. They last forever.” Eillen was stunned. 

“As I said,” Wallace spoke out a few woven fibers below her, “I’ve had time to think about you and what you meant to me.  This basket is ours. Granted, there are some flaws in its design, but on the whole, it is a strong, well put together, and meant for the two of us.” 

“But why? And how?”

“I believe it had to do with a discussion we were having in a park some twenty-four years ago. All I can say is that I’m glad we used the language we did that day. As I recall, we debated who would go to heck when they died and who wouldn’t. It turns out we both told the truth.”

Eileen thought a while about what Wallace had said. As she did, vivid memories of their life together flooded her mind. Her feelings and resentment toward Wallace began to change. She began to relish the years when they first met. As those affections flourished, she could see and feel the basket she was part of growing. 

Wallace also felt the change. Instead of being a separate strand in the basket, his position moved closer to Eileen’s until they were directly connected. 

 

Somewhere in a park sat a strange-looking old man. And he smiled. 

Posted in A to Z Blog Challenge 2024, Original Stories, Writing | Tagged , | 2 Comments