Excerpt 1 "Under the Granite Lies"

Dear Readers,

Below is an excerpt from a book I am writing called “Under the Granite Lies”. 

Enjoy. 

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God, I missed him so bad already! He should have listened and never followed me! He couldn’t have known what would happen and that he would have no way to defend himself against an enemy who was already dead. I blinked away tears as I pulled off the road near the gate of the cemetery. 

After shutting the engine off, I rolled the window down and sat in the deafening silence until my eyes adjusted to the moonlight. I glanced down at the bouquet of roses lying across the passenger seat and ran my fingers along the smooth, silken red petals. Their delicate nature reminded me of my all too precarious position as a living, breathing human.
  
Cradling the paper wrapped bouquet in my arms like an infant; I got out of my car and slipped inside the iron gate, closing it behind me with a soft clink. The secluded cemetery was surrounded by dense forest, edging it on three sides in a protective gesture as if it were shielding it from the outside world. The street side was edged in a red brick wall, capped by cement finials interspersed with black iron fencing that matched the gate. It was nearly eleven o’clock, and the evening was cool and still with the soft perfume of a summer storm lingering in the air. Lightning flashed in the distance, the thunder rolling toward me in a low growl. 

The rows of standing stones stared defiantly back at me like the pale faces of a crowded hospital ward, each eager for attention, but I was focused on only one patient in particular. I would find his stone in the last row, fifth from the side, according to the annoyingly chipper, cheerily dressed clerk I had spoken to earlier that afternoon. 

I took a breath and stepped boldly into the eerie yet comforting stillness, taking the walking path that led down the left side. I glanced at the stones along the way, reading their names aloud to myself in quiet acknowledgment of the frailty of life. There were approximately thirty rows, each with about fifty stones across. Empty spots were scattered here and there, patiently awaiting their future occupants.

“Josephine Sue Barley. Beloved Mother and Sister.” 

But, not a beloved wife? There was a story there.

“Michael John Davis. Forever Innocent.” A figure of a teddy bear was carved below the words. A yellow plastic dump truck sat beside the stone, and had obviously been there for awhile. The grass had grown through the joints of the tires, a sure sign that the caretakers had thought better of touching it and instead manicured the lawn carefully around it.

I cleared my throat lightly and wiped my moist eyes with my sleeve. Soon, the last row was upon me. I paused.
 
Not ten feet beyond the last row of stones was the forest’s edge, the trees standing tall like a row of stiff soldiers awaiting inspection. The moon lit the cemetery in a silver glow, but the forest remained a dense, black, foreboding curtain. I felt a trickle of fear run down my spine but bravely ignored it, turning right and trekking the remaining few steps to the fifth stone in from the side. 

“Madeline E. Sturgis. Beloved Wife and Mother.”

No, that wasn’t correct, there had to be a mistake! No offense to Madeline, of course.  I stared blankly at the stone, confused for a moment before recalling that I hadn’t asked which ‘side’ the clerk was referring to when she gave me directions. Perhaps she was referring to the other side? I squinted at the long row of stones stretched out in front of me and began to walk toward the opposite end, glancing at the names as I passed so I wouldn’t miss it. 

The Christmas Unicorn

I’m always stumped when someone asks me what I want for Christmas (or my birthday, or whatever gift-giving occasion is at hand).  For some reason it has always thrown me for a loop and I’ve never been able to put my finger on why, and I still can’t.  The question will inevitably be asked and I will be perplexed and then feel as if I must be an alien because of the way they are squinting at me.  I imagine they are thinking “Geeze, she must want something really expensive.  I shouldn’t have asked!”

Well, the truth of it is that I absolutely don’t know what I want as a gift from someone.  And honestly, I would rather know what they would pick out for me without direction.  So, what is the proper answer to their question?  Should I say “Just pick something out,” and leave them with the burden of wondering rather or not I will like it (I will), or should I say “A gift card to the mall,” which is my standard response?  It’s hard to say.  

One of my favorite Christmas presents I ever got was when I was 16, my beloved grandma gave me a wooden snowglobe with a white unicorn inside.  I don’t remember what tune the globe played, I would have to bring it down from its high shelf to check.  But, what I loved about that gift was that it was simple yet magical and completely unexpected.  She happened to see it and she knew that I was still young enough to like it, yet old enough to appreciate the meaning behind it. She saw “me” in it, and that is why it is so special to me.  It was certainly not the most expensive present I’ve ever gotten, and to be truthful I don’t even recall what was the most expensive present I’ve gotten. 

For a few years I got to where I would actually carry around a little list in my purse and when I thought of something that I might want, I would jot it down so that I wouldn’t meet the “question” with a deer-in-the-headlights stare.  But, it felt wrong to keep a list.  It felt selfish.  I stopped. 

So, in case you ever wonder what I might want for Christmas, here is the answer:  I want something from your heart with meaning.  Give me a unicorn snowglobe with the sentiment that I am loved and that you truly “see” me and who I am. 

Horn of Plenty

Part of the Cornucopia’s interesting history...

(From Wikipedia)

The cornucopia became the attribute of several Greek and Roman deities, particularly those associated with the harvest, prosperity, or spiritual abundance, such as personifications of Earth (Gaia or Terra); the nymph Maia; and Fortuna, the goddess of luck, who had the power to grant prosperity. In Roman Imperial cult, abstract Roman deities who fostered peace (pax Romana) and prosperity were also depicted with a cornucopia, including Abundantia, "Abundance" personified, and Annona, goddess of the grain supply to the city of Rome. Pluto, the classical ruler of the underworld in the mystery religions, was a giver of agricultural, mineral and spiritual wealth and in art often holds a cornucopia to distinguish him from the gloomier Hades, who holds a drinking horn instead.

(Painting by Jacob Jordaens, "Cornucopia")

Fate - Better Than Sliced Bread

I watched a program on PBS/Nova last week that got me to thinking about fate.  Basically, it explained that “TIME” is not necessarily progressing at a constant state, that instead, “TIME” is collection of micro-moments. 

First of all, time is only relevant to the creatures that measure it – us.  Dogs don’t give a crap about time, neither do hermit crabs.  Why would they?  Furthermore, it’s only fairly recent that we humans (or aliens, whatever we happen to be) have started measuring time with a device (sundial, clock, etc.).

In this Nova program, they talked about the concept that every single micro-moment of every single being that has ever or will ever exist has been recorded.  Imagine a giant loaf of bread.  Now imagine slicing a micro-slice of that bread and looking at that micro-second in “time” and seeing a representation of every moment recorded.  Ok, now this is where it gets weird.  Imagine that the moments recorded on one end of the bread slice are so far away from the moments on the other end that if they were to travel to the other side of the slice to meet another, it would not be the same time when they got there as to when they left.  Thus, the slice would be diagonal instead of straight. 

Ok, so that means that if a diagonal piece of bread can be sliced, then the moments that are hundreds if not thousands of years ahead of the moment on the other edge of the slice are already made!

What?  Excuse me while I take a puff from my crack pipe.

So, does this mean that our future moments are pre-determined?  That everything is fated?  That’s a heavy concept.

Let’s pretend that this sliced-bread concept has been proven true.  Does this mean that one should choose to just sit back and wait for things to happen to them, figuring “what will be, will be”?  Or should they take a proactive approach to their lives, and participate wholeheartedly in making every micro-moment the best that it can be?  Either way, it’s still the fated future.  It won’t change anything, right?

I disagree.  Although I don’t think it will change anything, I think that sitting back, accepting what you THINK is your fate is wrong.  Who are you to know the future?  You can’t.  All you can know for certain is the present.  And I know for a fact that every time that I have ever grabbed life by the horns, things have turned out ok.  Did I change my fate?  I may or may not have.  It’s impossible to know because although time may be laid out like a piece of bread, all of us “beings” are only allowed to live in a micro-moment at a time. 

We will never know if our actions changed our fate or not because by the time we get to that moment, it will already be there!