The Reluctant Angel

When I started this blog years ago, I fancied myself as a storyteller.

My imagination would run wild and I would create and post the results.

I got away from that….but am getting the itch again.

To help myself I am reposting some old stories.

I enjoy reading my own stuff….I hope you might as well.

Without further rambling here is “The Reluctant Angel part 1.

If you care to links are added to go to the continuation.

I hope you enjoy!


Angel Davis had no known enemies and almost as many friends, but he couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that he was being watched and distantly followed by the man in the oversized grey suit and the immaculately shined shoes.

The first time he saw him, the man was getting his shoes shined by the wide eyed young boy who hung on his every phrase and looked up at him as if he were some sort of messiah.

Angel remembers watching them as he passed with a strange fascination.

The old man looked up at Angel, mid shine, pulled out a pocket watch, clicked it open to view the face, closed it, placed it back in his jacket pocket, and tipped his fedora to him with a knowing yet wry smile.

Then, set his attention back on the boy who was preparing his vehicles of chosen transportation for the days journey.

Angel had forgotten about the occurrence, until he saw him again on his transit ride to work.

He always felt like it would be a good day when he actually got to sit in a seat, instead of holding on for dear life by standing in the aisle gripping the loop with both hands. Angel was able to hold on to that joy for 2 stops when the inevitable happened.

An older woman with a cane got on. There were no seats for her to sit in. Angel shifted his eyes, side to side, waiting to see if someone was willing to give up their seat.

As the barrage of newspapers began to lift, Angel shook his head and thought,

“selfish bastards”

and promptly asked the woman to take his seat.

He then grabbed the loop as the bus pressed forward. He glanced around just as the newspapers were dropping, revealing triumphant grins of satisfaction.

That’s when he saw him again.

He was sitting in an aisle seat, 8 rows back. Angel probably wouldn’t have even noticed him, except for the glare of the sun that caught his shined shoes, just as Angel began his look around.

The old man, looked up at Angel, mid glare, pulled out a pocket watch, clicked it open to view the face, closed it, placed it back in his jacket pocket, and tipped his fedora to him with a knowing yet wry smile.

The bus stopped at the next stop. Angel had to move and assist the woman with cane to get up and off the bus. As he helped her to the door, he looked back, hoping to get his seat back, just in time to see the business man who stood behind him sit in that very seat, adjust his suit and glare at him. He looked beyond the “it’s my seat now stare” and noticed the man in the grey suit was gone.

The next time he saw him, he was just keeping to himself, like he always did, eating an ice cream cone on a park bench. The old man was walking through the park as well. He sat on the bench directly opposite of Angel.

Angel had had enough of the following, but as he got up to approach the man with the immaculately shined shoes, he was suddenly surrounded by a group of people carrying their Bibles like shields that needed to ask him a few questions.

“Do you know The Lord, young man?”

“Let us teach you the word of God and improve your life!”

“We can save you and prepare you for his coming!”

As they bludgeoned him with their questions, Angel got a glimpse of the man on the opposite bench.

He had crossed his arms and seemed to take great delight in watching what was transpiring.

Angel took in a deep breathe and did what he had always wanted to do….he calmly but confidently answered their questions…..his way.

“I don’t believe in God.” He said as they looked at him with mouths gaped open.

“My child, you are destined for a life in purgatory without believing!” One if them said.

Angel replied,

“If I don’t believe in God…it wouldn’t make much sense to believe in hell…now would it!”

“Through prayer and his words in the good book we can make you a believer.” Another said.

Angel looked through a gap in the semicircle of believers that surrounded him. The man still sat there….intently listening.

Angel calmly looked at the questioner in the eye and answered.

“I have read the book. If you want to prove to me that there is a God. I have the only way.”

Angel reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He looked at both the heads side and the tails side, then spoke.

“It says in the book, something like ask and you shall receive. Correct?”

They nodded yes.

“Ok. Then I will give you this quarter…..what I want you to do is pray long and hard…and ask that this quarter will turn up heads 50 times in a row after flipping it in the air. If it does…I will be a full and lifelong believer.”

The semicircle looked at the quarter and then each other and clamored for something to say.

“I come through this park around the same time, every Saturday. When you are as confident with your results as much as I am. Come find me.”

Angel then got up to leave. He looked over at the opposite bench.

It was empty, with no sign of the man in the grey suit anywhere.

He flipped the quarter up into air and watched it fall on to the ground in the center of the group. He glanced down at it and then back at them and said,

“There’s one…..only 49 more to go…”

He thought he heard the click of a pocket watch closing as he left the group to stare at the quarter, but chalked it up to wishful thinking.

As Angel walked the blocks that returned him to the solitude of his studio apartment, he got cornered by a group of teens, who apparently owned the stretch of sidewalk he was walking on.

“Hey homie…you can’t just walk on our turf” one yelled threateningly.

Angel replied,

“Look, I am just walking home, kid. I live 2 blocks down. It’s the shortest distance and I am taking it.”

The kid curled his brow, pulled out a revolver, pointed it at Angel’s chest and said,

“It’s the shortest distance to your death…you still wanna take it?”

Angel returned his stare, put his hands up and retreated,

“Nah…I’m good…I’ll just walk around.”

Not giving in that quickly the kid stated,

“Not until you pay me for trespassing, give me you…”

He was cut off by the sound of squealing tires. A dark 4 door car came down the street…fast.

As if in slow motion, the windows began to roll down. The barrels of a automatic rifle emerged, sighted on the group of teens.

Angel yelled,

“GET DOWN!” And pushed 2 of the teens off their balance and to the ground just as the sound of bullets began to fly.

Just as quickly as the 4 door came…it left with the same squeal of tires.

The teens began to get up and check themselves for injuries.

They each seemed to be unharmed.

Angel, remained motionless on the ground, paralysed and near death from 3 bullets in the center of his back.

The last thought that went through his mind before his last breathe exited his body was of the man in the immaculately shined shoes and the sound of his pocket watch closing.


“Time’s up.”

Part 2 begins here-


The Fish That Saved Christmas

A Father and son walked out of the corner store and head towards the busy downtown shopping district. As the pedestrian sign flashed


in bright red letters. The pair stopped to wait for the sign to change. The Father takes his sons hand in his and looked down at him and smiled.

The son looked up at his Father, smiled back and anxiously said,

“Daddy, are we going to do Black Friday?”

“Is that what today is? Hmmm…I hadn’t thought about it….”

“Awww. Come on. It’s always the Friday before Christmas. How could you not think about it? I have been thinking about it since…like…..last year!”


“Let’s get to steppin’ champ. We got a lot of ground to cover.”

“K, Dad…we got to move it move it.”

The Father shakes his head and grins as they travel across the street. After getting back onto the sidewalk, he lifts his son up from behind and places him on his shoulders.

“I don’t want to lose you in the crowds, so up top you go.” The Father states.

“Birds eye view Caw Caw” the child replies with a giggle.

It is late in the afternoon and still throngs of people are pushing and shoving to get in and out of the downtown department stores.

The Father looks up at his son and asks,

“You want to go into the sports or toy store to look around? Christmas is coming you know….”

“Nah…too crowded. Maybe some other time…….People are using more bad words than they did last year…aren’t they supposed to be happy? I mean jeez Santa’s listening….he’s got spies you know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I can’t cover your ears and make my way through at the same time. We will be home soon.”

The son starts bouncing up and down on his Father’s shoulders and chanting,

“Black Friday Black Friday Today is the day it’s Black Friday!”

(Random shoppers and pedestrians look at he child like he is a loon while thinking- Black Friday was weeks ago, it was a disaster. What the hell is he so happy about?)

“Settle down, Cochise. We’re going, we’re going.”

It takes them :45 minutes to get to the other side of the shopping district. The Father lets out a sigh of relief. They made it through the crowd without too much of a struggle. For the final 5 blocks to their small apartment he takes his son off his shoulders to walk the rest of the way.

They walk inside the door to the apartment building and make their way up the steps to their second floor, 1 bedroom home.

The Father places the key in the lock and turns it to open the door. The son anxiously blurts out,

“Is it time….can I get it set up?”

The Father opens the door and says,

“Yeah, it’s time. Go do your thing, call me when you are ready.”


The son scurries past his Father and darts into the kitchen area and begins moving things around. After about 10 minutes he shouts,


And turns out the lights.

From the darkness of the hallway, the Father emerges with one lit candle lighting the way. He places it in the center of the garage sale bought kitchen table and sits down on one of the metal fold out chairs. His son sits across from him, propped up on his elbows on one of the other metal chairs…..grinning ear to ear.

“Can I deal to make sure you don’t cheat?”

“You calling me a cheater?….yes you can deal.” The Father replies as he passes the deck of brand new cards, which he bought at the corner store, over to his son.

The son does his best shuffle (which strangely resembles 52 card pickup), and then deals 7 cards to each to his Father and himself.

He picks up his cards, makes his best poker face in the candlelight, and looks at his Father and says,

“You got any 3’s?”

The Father squints and makes his best mean look and replies,

“Go fish, partner.”

Before he fetches cards from the deck, the son looks at his Father and plainly says,

“Thanks Dad. Black Friday is the best day of the year.”


To me, it’s about the gift OF family and the joy of being together.

It’s not about the gifts FOR family.

Toys break.
Clothes fade and wear out.
Electronics get dusty.
Batteries are almost never included.

But something as simple as a game of “go fish” by candlelight, is a gift that creates memories that last well beyond the sales from Black Friday to the day of Santa.

Make your own “go fish” holiday tradition this year.

All that is needed is an imagination, and a sincere willingness to spend TIME with the ones who mean the most to you.

Spend often.

Batteries not necessary.

I read a lot of throwback Thursday stuff today…..

So I guess this is my contribution. I wrote it 9 years ago.

The season is upon us!

my parents adopted him just so they could harvest his heart for me.

Whenever I remember Dede, I would sit alone in my room, stifling my sobs with my pillow. I would think of him until my heart ached, knowing that he is gone. Dede came to live with us seven years ago. He was a little boy around my age—eight years old—who had eyes so wide they […]

my parents adopted him just so they could harvest his heart for me.

Loved this bit of fiction so much that I had to share it. Hope it is enjoyed by someone else as much as I.

50 Word Story

The last 18 hours were shrouded in a blinding darkness that left him feeling renewed.

James awoke from yesterday’s migraine with a calmness he had never experienced.

He sat up from the sofa knowing that it was over.

He opened his eyes and noticed the body on the floor.

Toopid Moose (the reboot)

The child holding the string cheese triggered a mental flash from her past that she did not remember.

Kind of odd when she thought about it. Not knowing her past was not a new thing. She was adopted from the agency when she was 9. She loved her adoptive parents and felt no need to find out who gave her up or why it was done.

Until she saw the child in the park.

She was going on a stroll through the park to clear her head and enjoy being outside. People were riding bikes, sitting under trees and basking in the warm summer glow. Kids were running around, like kids do, and it made her smile.

She saw a family having a picnic. She glanced over and saw the pretty young girl hold up a strand of string cheese, cock her head sideways and giggle.

That was when the image overtook her vision. It was her, as a 5 year old child, head cocked sideways. The face held a blank expression. She was holding up something and the words she saw herself mouth were, “Toopid Moose”.

She stopped in her tracks. She couldn’t understand what it was. She tried to shake it and just couldn’t do it.

She went home and thought about it. The one thing she could remember was when she lived at the adoption home, she was always watching “Rocky and Bullwinkle”. A cartoon with a flying squirrel and a moose. But it just didn’t fit with the image.

The image wouldn’t go away. In her sleep, she heard her own childhood voice repeat that phrase, “Toopid Moose”. When she looked in the mirror, she would be sitting behind her in child form holding up…..whatever it was with a tilted head and blank face. She had to know what it meant.

To find they answer she went to her adoptive mother and father.

She normally had dinner with them once a week. Upon arrival they knew something was up. She wasn’t herself.

“What’s wrong, honey. You look a little pale. Have you been sleeping well?”

“No Mom I haven’t. Can I ask you a strange question?”

“You know, you can ask me anything.” she replied as she began placing the the dinner plates on the table.

“I’ve been wondering about my childhood…..before you and Dad adopted me….do the words toopid moose ring a bell with…

The plates hit the floor with a crash. Mom lost color and held the chair for support.

“Mom? What is it?” she asked.

“Well, I had a feeling this day would come …..but I prayed to the good Lord that it wouldn’t. Your Father and I can’t be the ones to tell you the truth. The only one who can is your old caretaker from the adoption agency. We made a promise to her to let her tell you. You know how we are about our promises. We keep them. Just like the promise we made to love you as if you came from my womb on the day we adopted you.”

Mom reached into small box and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her. ” Here is her address. Go visit her and ask for the truth. She promised she would.”

She left her parents house and went directly to the address. She pulled her car up to the curb and got out. An elderly lady sat on a bench on the patio. As she approached the steps the old woman spoke,

” My, My….I knew it was you the second you got out.”

“it’s been over 15 years since I was adopted. How could you possibly remember me?”

“The look on your face now matches the one you had when you came to us. Bright green eyes, blank expression. You came for the truth, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I keep having this image of me holding up ….string cheese….and saying toopid moose. What does it mean?”

“Sit, child. I have to get something.”

She went inside and returned with an old cigar box. She back back on the bench and placed it beside her.

“Child….When you were brought to us, you were in a state of shock. Your biological mother loved you dearly but could not handle the state of her affairs. Financially, emotionally and spiritually broken she was. You were not a burden to her….she wanted you to have better but did not know how to accomplish it. The more she tried the more depressed she got…….

for right or wrong I took it upon myself to attempt to train you to hide your memories of that night. That cartoon with the moose was the best I could come up with. I had you watch it continually to cloud your memory of the words you always repeated. Toopid Moose. I thought because of your young age you would forget the truth. Eventually the truth always wins out.”

She opened the cigar box and handed her a newspaper clipping…..

The headline read- Single Mother Commits Suicide While Child Watches

Police were dispatched to a home in response to apparent suicide. The woman was found hanging from a noose tied to a basement ceiling rafter. Her young daughter was found in the room. Name withheld due to her being a juvenile…..

A white flash erupted in her vision. A scene from her childhood began to play.

“I need to end this sweetie. Someone will find you. If I could just figure out how to do this knot right….”

She tied her 4th attempt at a noose to the rafter and got up on the chair. She placed her neck into it and kicked the chair out.

And for the fourth time the rope came unloose and she came crashing down.

“Stupid noose. I can’t even kill myself right.”

The child lifted up the first discarded attempt at a noose, tilted her head and said,

“yeah mommy toopid moose.”

The mother became frantic. One more try…..

She picked up the thick rope from the hardware store and REALLY concentrated on the instructions she got online. She tied the square knot around the rafter and pulled it tight. It seemed secure. She calmly figured out the height of the noose she needed and formed it at the other end. She looked at her daughter.

The child looked up, cocked her head, held up another piece of rope and said, “Toopid Moose”

“Hopefully not this time sweetie. I love you” before getting on the chair she picked up the phone and dialed 911, and left the phone receiver lying on the shelf. She got up on the chair and placed her neck in the noose….

“Emergency services, how can we assist you?…..hello….is anyone there….hello….”was heard in a muffled voice

She kicked out the chair. The rope tightened. She struggled for a moment….then swung in the air until she stopped.

The child looked up, holding a piece of rope, and said, “Toopid moose!….. Mommy?….mom meeeee!!…”

Her normal vision returned…and she began to cry. The old woman held her and rocked her like she did when she first met her 19 years before and said,
“There, there child…. It’s over now.”


This was the first story I wrote on this blog years ago.

Entertainment wise….the world seems to love reboots.

As I attempt to break in my new story writing boots…..

I’m trying on the oldest to see if they still fit.

I hope it caused some sort of stir of emotion, as stories should.

Cult Forty5

Through the black acrid smoke and bright  flames that were ablaze in my dream, the child walked out from within the fire and pointed at me.

Then, turned his palm up and beckoned me to come with his index finger.

As the hot embers encircled and danced around him, he stared directly into my soul, smiled a devious smile and said-

“You should be here with me….”

He then put the hand up to his mouth, blew on the muzzle of his index finger, turned, dropped his weapon to his side and returned to the blaze.

The bang on the metal door is what awoke me and prevented me from following the child into his abyss.


“Med time, Forty5.”

I got up from the bed and made a slow walk to the door.

The slot on the center of the door opened and a cup with a single pill and another cup  filled with water were pushed through. 

From behind the tempered glass window above the slot, the pill pusher said,

“I expect you to be shuffling around in a daze the next time I do my rounds like the rest of the psychos in this place.  Swallow your pill this time. Don’t make us come in and force you again.”

Without a word, I looked him in the eyes and pointed my index finger at him. Then I turned my palm up and beckoned him to
him to come in, while wearing a devious smile across my sunken pale face.

He returned the smile with a missing  front tooth and held up his arm which was in a cast and replied-

“I said us…..not me. I learn a lot quicker than you psyche patients do, which is why I am on this side of the cell and you are on the other. Take your pill.”

I took the pill and swallowed it.

I then put my index finger up to my mouth and blew on the muzzle, turned and returned to my bed on the other side of the sparcely furnished cell.

“Good boy, Forty5. Once you are nice and loopy, the doc is gonna come by for a session. Don’t worry….he will have back up, also.”

My name is not Forty5, by the way.

It’s the cell number.

I’m not the only Forty5 that has called this dump home. Evidence of their past occupancy are carved into the concrete walls like cemetery headstones.  Names, dates, conversations, pleads for help, admissions of abuse and criminal acts by patients and staff.

The walls are a virtual soap opera of psychotic bliss.

The pills I am forced to take are Thorazine…..which are used to keep psychotic and schizophrenic people in check.

By, in check, I mean turning them into zombies that shuffle around in circles until then last coherent thought slowly escapes their mind and the drooling sets in.  

Then hours of sleep.

I’m not crazy.

It’s just that no one believes that they are real.



That they will stop at nothing to get me to join them.

(Shuffle shuffle)


I thought the fire……..

(Shuffle shuffle)

But even death won’t…….


Sometimes the writing on the walls talk.

(Shuffle shuffle stop stare)

Beware of the listening bugs in the vents – November 1973 fourdefive

I pull my stubbed pencil out of my pocket and scrawl a sentence on the wall amongst the other cemetery residents.

(Turn shuffle shuffle)

The bed………far.

I reach the bed, groggy….lay down and face the wall that I just wrote on.

As I surrender to the effects of the pill, my  epitaph on the wall rings through my head-

And a child shall lead them – yesterday today n fourever Forty5


To be continued……

Feeding The Labrinth

The labrynth calls to me…..beckons me into its maze of bound backs and spines filled with stories from centuries long past and ones yet to be told.

Fantastic imaginative yarns weaved with words that speak louder with each page that is turned.

The labrynth allows journeys to the farthest corners of the earth and beyond. The only barrier being the limits of the imagination of the one who breaches it’s hallowed corridors.

One does not seek the labrynth. The labrynth seeks for the one.

Calling out in dreams that begs to seek the reality.

The labrynth has no address, no sign to announce it’s existence.

It is only found when the one seeks to follow it’s call.

The whispers begin at the back of my  memory. A distant calling back to a time when when audible letters became words. Pieced together, they became sentences. Transcribed on paper and repeated through the eyes they became magic. Unleashing worlds and creatures that beg for existence beyond paper and ink.

Those whispers beckon the search for the location where imagination lies in print.

The Labrynth.

The whispers called to me.

The only rule of the labrynth is this-

To satisfy my hunger for the labrynth, the labrynth must be fed in return.

To keep the delicate balance of the mysterious labrynth in check, I  must give my words in order to take someone elses.

I left my home as day was turning to night. Dark clouds began to roll in and shielded the blood moon from illuminating my way.


The whispers as my only guide. Leather satchel flung over my shoulder containing a bound portfolio of my minds work.

My imagination.

My sweat.

My cramped hands.

My soul.

Stories created on this blog, casually listed under the menu section, transcribed from screen to paper using ink that flowed like blood once the process began.

My words.

My sentences.

My stories.

My soul.

About to be turned over to a place that I have never been to and will probably never find again.

In order to be fed…..I must feed.

The whispers grew louder as my journey wore on.




My head was ringing with interconnecting voices, accents, and language I could not decipher.

My eyes began to water and blur from the decibels the arose within my mind. I closed them tight to regain my focus.

As I turned a bend in the road and nearly collapsed from the weight of the drawing force within me……

Everything stopped.


I gripped my leather satchel with both hands until they became numb and then opened my eyes.


A single building with a single light stood before me in the darkness.

I walked up the few steps and cautiously rapped on the metal door.




The door opened.

A man who stood easily over 7 feet, looked me up and down and said,

“Welcome to the Labrynth…..we have been waiting for you.”

I walked past him and into the entryway of the labrynth. My first thought was he smelled of dust…..and time.

“I trust you have brought something of yourself to leave behind….” he asked.

I opened up my satchel and reached in to grab my portfolio.

The tall man stopped me and shook his head.

“You dont give to me, young man. You give to the labrynth. Leave it in place of the one you take.”

I quizzingly asked,

“How will I know which one to take?”

He smiled and replied,

“The labrynth knows…..the labrynth knows. Come. It is time.”

He walked over to 2 large oak doors that stood taller than he. He pulled them open revealing as many stories of books above as there were stories below.



A virtual skyscraper of books that reached into the heavens and to the depths of the underworld.

I tried to take in the massive inventory of bound words.

All I could manage was a gulp.

The man led me in and said,

“Take all the time you need. Find what has been waiting for you. Leave what will be sought. Exit through the door from which you came.”

I began walking through the catacombs. Brushing my hand against books that could very well be older than time itself.

Every language.

Every genre.

Every type of script ever imagined.

Shelves upon shelves lined with books, manuscripts, stories, lives waiting to be awoken and explored.

I searched up.

I searched down.

I lost track of time and place.

Mesmerized by the centuries of print.

As I glided down a certain corridor lit only by candlelight, I was strangely drawn to a spine that seem to illuminate the closer I got.

My heart rate quickened, my fingers seemed to tingle as I brought the book out from the chorus line of the adventures that surrounded it.

Upon releasing the novel from its libraric prison, a soft but quite audible


was heard from somewhere deep in the labrynth.

I turned the cover toward me and shuddered when I saw the title-


With shaking hands I placed the book into my satchel and pulled out my portfolio to put in its place.

As I pushed it onto the shelf and released my fingers from my written soul another soft yet audible sound was heard-


Then all went silent.

The only sound was my footsteps as they were strangely led directly to the door from which I entered at the other end of the very corridor from which the feeding took place.

I walked out of the labrynth into the sunlight, which was overtaking the west and illuminating toward the other horizons.

I felt exhausted…..yet light on my feet. With my prize under my arm, I began to walk back to where my reality resided.

Stopping once to smell the bluebonnets, whose sight and smell were much brighter than I had ever imagined.


I stood up and opened my satchel. In the darkness of the case, the book that lay within, which bore the chosen name of my blog, seemed to tell me-

“We have such sights to show you……”

But that…..

Is another story all together.

All photos taken by good2begone or Mr. B Gone, if you will.

Story created as a tribute to the ‘Cemetery of Forgotten Books‘ found within the pages of “The Shadow of the Wind” series written by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

The “We have such sights to show you” Quote taken from “Hellraiser” by Clive Barker.


Jake and the Giant

7 year old, Jake was playing on the floor with his hot wheels when his father came home from work.


He looked up as his dad closed the door, got up and wrapped his arms around his legs.

“How was work, Daddy?”

The father looked down at him with a genuine smile and a pat on the head and replied,

“Long, son….real long. I’m glad to be home….where’s Momma?”

“Getting ready to go to the store. She says she went to the cupboard and it was bare.”

The Dad smiled.

“Just like the story, huh?”

“Yeah, I like stories….you used to tell me a lot of them before you started working nights. Now I never see you before I go to bed….and when you get home…you’re too tired.” Jake said with a sigh.

The Mother walked out from the back room and said,

“Hey honey, sorry…but I gotta go shopping before my meeting with the school. Can you watch Jake while I go? And by watch, I don’t mean put on a movie and go to sleep. He is too young to be left alone.”

Jake smiled big, Daddy smirked.

She kissed her husband and her son and left to run her errands.

“Ok, buddy. Here’s the plan. I’m gonna sit in the recliner and…”

Jake interrupted him,

“HEY! Momma said no sleeping!”

Dad inhaled and exhaled deeply as he looked down at his son and replied,

“How about we make a deal….I sit on the sofa and relax…and you sit next to me and tell me a story…”

“Really? You want ME to tell YOU a story? I never do that afore.”

“I know…”

Jake thought about it by rubbing his hand over his head, just like his Dad did when he was thinking, and looked back up at him with a confident and excited answer,


Dad headed over to the sofa and sat down to get comfortable. He immediately let out a sigh and his eyes began to slip downward.

Jake noticed and jumped up onto the couch with a plop, which caused Dad’s eyes to quickly re open.

“You can’t go to sleep! You gotta hear my story, first!”

“I know, I know…I’m sorry. Let’s hear your story.”

“Ok…here it goes…”

One up on a time in a place far far far far……far……far away….there was a giant. An the giant lived with a little giant. The little giants name was Ja…ck. it wasn’t Jake… was Jack.
An Jack would always be waiting for the giant to come home from doing his giant stuff that he did all day and sometimes at night for the while if the giants boss made him.

Dad cut in.

“Is this a “real” story?” He asked concernedly.

Jake fidgeted a bit, rubbed his head and replied with a wince,

“Real?….giants aren’t real Dad….just listen to the story.”

Dad sat up straighter in his seat and intently listened to the story of Jack and the Giant that his son was spinning.

While the giant was doing his giant stuff, Jack would be at the giant house waiting for the giant to get home….wait…I already said that…the big giant would get home and be too tired to show the little giant, who whose name was Jack…and not Jake…what he had to do to someday be a BIG GIANT TOO! All Jack could do was try to do big giant stuff by himself…because the big giant always wanted to rest to be ready for more big giant stuff instead of showing little giant, who was Jack and not Jake, how to be a giant too. So…so…so the big giant kept getting gianter and the little giant kept getting smaller an smaller an smaller……an smaller…..until the big giant got home one day and couldn’t see the small giant named Jack….not Jake, and SPLAT…he stepped on him…..dee end.

“Wow!” The Dad said, “how could I possibly sleep after that story?”

Jake shrugged his shoulders and replied,

“I du no. You like my story? It wasn’t real….giants can’t get smaller…only bigger.”

“Well son, the best part of any story that isn’t “real”….is that over time maybe you want to change the story if you think it would sound better. Maybe…the giant gets busy and forgets how important it is to spend real time with the little giant and before he SPLATS him….the big giant changes.”

“How would he do that?”

“By starting to show the little giant how to be a big giant…..And by realizing that the little giant can show the big giant a few things about what’s important…..You wanna go to the park and play catch….or…..whatever you want?”

Jake asked quizzingly,

“You wanna DO something? Won’t you be tired for work later?”

Dad replied,

“Work isn’t going anywhere son and I need to enjoy time with you instead of sleeping it away….one day you may not want to spend with me and I will be the giant that feels like he’s getting smaller. I love being your giant. Get your shoes on.”

Jake ran back up his room to get his shoes.

In the time he had by himself before he returned, the Dad wiped a tear from his eye and thought,

“Giant lessons from a small boy….talk about an eye opener.”


Images from

The Fix

The young boy wandered the streets in a frantic daze. His eyes would jet back, forth and he would look behind him to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

He needed a fix.

It seemed, to him, that all the kids at school were experimenting with new things.

He wanted something new, too.

He didn’t fit in and had a hard time making friends because he was transferred from the “bad side of town”.

His clothes weren’t right. His hair wasn’t right.

He just needed something to make him “feel”…..right.

The other day, he overheard talk about a guy nicknamed “the fixer”.

They said he knew a place that had some stuff that would take your mind to places you couldn’t even imagine!

They said he promised that one fix from him and you would be hooked.

No joke!

They talked about going to look for the man with the raven tattoo on his arm, but they were all talk.

He wasn’t.

He was on a mission to get the elusive fix that all the kids were talking about.

He combed the downtown city blocks, glancing at every male arm he could to hopefully catch a glimpse of the raven.

As the heat of the day wore on and perspiration began to drop off his cheek to the concrete below, he knew he needed to take a break from his search.

He glanced across the street and saw a single water fountain at the edge of the downtown walking park.

He crossed the street and jogged up to the fountain, where he pressed and held the button and drank until he thought he would burst.

As he drank, a voice from behind him scared him into stopping.

“Are you planning on draining the cities water supply or are you gonna leave some for others to have?”

The young boy stopped, turned around and began to reply,

“I’m sorry…I was thirst….”

That’s when he noticed the tattoo.

He stepped out of way and let the man in torn jeans and long hair by.

The man with the tattoo pulled his hair out of the way and drank slowly from the fountain.

The young boy just stared at the tattoo and gulped, waiting for him to turn around.

The man finished drinking, turned around and gave the boy a quizzical look.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost? You ok?” He asked the boy.

The boy quickly replied before he changed his mind.

“Are you the fixer?”


“The…the fixer…I heard a man with a raven tattoo has some stuff that promises to take you away for a while….I heard one fix from you…and…and…I would be hooked…are you him.”

The man with the raven tattoo studied the boy.

He then asked him to sit with him on the bench, so they could talk.

“Look, kid..I don’t have “the stuff” as you called it….but I can take you to the place that does. But I have to warn you…..the one fix and hooked deal is real. It’s not one of those new fancy drugs that I hear about. This one has been around…a long time..and isn’t used much anymore…it lost its ‘cool factor’ a long time ago…..but it still works better than anything else. How much money you got?”

The kid shifted his eyes, stood up, turned out his pockets and replied.

“I don’t have any money….”

The man rubbed his tattoo and answered.

“First fix on me…..but here’s the deal. I will take you, but, when you come back for more, which you will, you have to bring a friend. When we get there you will have to talk to the woman who also has a raven tattoo….she monitors the joint to make sure anyone who goes there gets their “fix” in silence…..she will set you up for future fixes. Deal?”

The young man stared up at him and pondered if he could really handle what he was getting himself into. In defiance to his normal unconfident self, he stuck out his hand and said,


The man stuck out his arm with the raven tattoo and shook his hand gently with his hand.

“Let’s go.”

They walked two blocks down from the park, and up a stairwell that was in between two buildings.

At the top was a clearing of trees that had a walkway and two flights of stairs that led up to an old building.

A few people hung around outside.

They each nodded to the man with the raven tattoo as he and the boy passed.

No words. Just nods.

As he opened the large oak front door, the young man was stuck by a silence he was not used to. At first it was uncomfortable but soon it began to soothe him.

They walked up to a large desk, where a woman with long red hair sat.

The man with the raven tattoo cleared his throat.

The woman looked up and brushed her hair behind her ear, revealing a small raven tattoo on her neck trailed by stars.

“This kid is looking hit his first fix. I told him we could fix him up.”

She looked at the boy and then at the man and replied,

“Kinda young…isn’t he?”

The man shrugged his shoulders and answered,

“Hey…he came to me…if we want to keep this place going, they need to get hooked as young as possible. I told him first fix was on me…you set him up for a return visit?”

“I suppose…take him in…and don’t bother the others…I’m unusually busy today.”

The man with the raven tattoo led him to an opening that was covered by a curtain.

As he opened the curtain, the young mans eyes grew wide. He slowly looked in each direction and asked,

“What is this place?”

The man with the raven tattoo knelt down to be able to quietly speak into his ear.

“This place is the only fix you will ever need, it will open your mind, expand your imagination and take you wherever you want to go…..welcome to the library.”


The Reluctant Angel-Part 4

They walked down the hallway in silence.

The recently deceased Angel following a few paces behind the Angel who wears the grey suit and the immaculately shined shoes.

As he followed, Angel took in his surroundings and attempt to surmise his whereabouts.

All 4 sides that surrounded him were bathed in a color he couldn’t quite place a palette tone to.

It wasn’t quite white…but wasn’t grey, either.

The lighting came from spaces without fixtures.

He couldn’t call it brilliantly bright….but it wasn’t dimly lit, either.

He looked passed the man he was following and couldn’t tell if the hallway had an end.

He glanced behind him, as he followed, and was surprised to see that he no longer knew where the hallway began.

Angel stopped.

The man in the grey suit continued walking.

Becoming frustrated with the following to seemingly nowhere and into nothing, Angel broke the silence to ask a few questions.

“Are we headed into a bright light that is beckoning to take me beyond the pearly gates of Heaven”

The man in the grey suit slowly came to a stop and turned around…..

But didn’t answer.

“Or…are we headed down this off color white mile to the gates of hell where I will burn for eternity?”

The man in the grey suit cracked the slightest of smiles and plainly replied,

“For someone who adamantly does not believe in either of those scenarios, I am quite surprised at how quickly you believe that you are destined for one….or….the other.”

He paused to let that statement sink in then continued.

“Where we are headed is to what I like to refer to as….my office. I hope you will be content with the temperature, it will neither be hot….nor cold….but adequate for us to converse and…like I said when I introduced myself to you….to get better acquainted, which will help us to decide the placement of your transition.”

Angel cautiously replied,

“My transition into….what?”

The slight smile on the face of the man in the grey suit widened just a touch before he answered,

“The who, what, where, when…and most importantly the why of our relationship will be answered…..”

He paused and took out his pocket watch, clicked it open and turned the face toward Angel and then finished his statement,

“in due time.”

He then clicked it closed and made a motion with his arm to follow him to the right.

Angel followed his eyes with the motion of the arm of the man he followed.

An opening in the wall appeared, revealing a room with 2 chairs.

“Please, after you.” The man in the grey suit requested.

Angel walked through the opening.

The man in the grey suit and the immaculately shined shoes followed.

“Please, have seat, young man. Although, The vehicles I choose to cover the mode of my transportation are quite comfortable….resting them allows me to recharge not only my appendages but to enjoy the peace that surrounds us.”

He sat in the other.

Angel took the seat that was offered and sat, looking very rigid and uncomfortable in the comfortable chair.

The man in the grey suit noticed and made a blunt suggestion.

“You are not in a coffin, Mr. Davis. Close your eyes for a moment and let the peace relax your rigidity. This meeting is of great importance to both of us and a great many more….denying the peace access to your senses will ultimately decide your transition and we will be finished before we even have had a chance to begin.”

Angel recognized the honest yet stern urgency in the man’s tone.

He did not speak a word. He only took in a deep breathe, relaxed his shoulders and let the peace return.

The man in the grey suit watched as Angel’s fearful and guarded stance broke.

It was slowly replaced by a calm.

Angel opened his eyes and got a bit more comfortable by using the armrests and slouching down a bit.

“That’s better. Now…before I answer any of the number of questions and inquiries you must have….I must take the time to inform you about not only my past and how I came to be but how this realm works and it’s relevance to your situation….. I guess it would behoove me to start at what I know to be the beginning for that is where most stories begin….”


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