Thursday, June 12, 2014

Some time ago I wrote of a time of attraction and a time of partings, of certain feelings and mentioned the time was long ago.

I explained, as the description came to me, of seemingly mental contact in a dispassionate manner and gave one or two small stories vouchsafing the story.

I’m not entirely certain I related that the persons in the story were explained, they having passed each the other in various endeavors over the months the stories were being written and published here.in

The curious mental conversations were carried out in those passing meetings of why this or the other haven’t you over the years. All in the presence of the husband. The last conversation of silence came and it was pointed out that this and the other, plus the husband who waited near the grapefruit display was the choice made and the choice made had lasted, and would last.

The other party of the exchange was crying at the end, but how else could the shepherd, who was chosen those many years back be rewarded for his faithfulness, once the choice was decided twice? He being non-partisan to the conversation, but patient with his wife, was party to the severing of the bond.

Now through the many months of the sporadic stories the phone would ring, always at three in the afternoon, and when present the story teller would always answer. The caller would allow many seconds of silence and, never having spoken, hang up. Those calls went on for years.

This past Monday the phone did ring at three p.m. and finally, after thirty seconds or so a voice finally broke the silence. The old, old voice, or years catching up with the body, the voice hesitant and rather rusty, the voice said:

“Good-by.”

And one other word.

Then the phone was firmly hung up.

The story teller felt suddenly be rift and lonely.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

 

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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2 Responses to Thursday, June 12, 2014

  1. Linda Geenen says:

    It’s your story, but it makes me sad.

  2. tenwhiskey says:

    It shouldn’t, Linda. One of the most sad phrases I know comes in wedding ceremonies: “To Death Do Us Part.” I’ve concluded long ago that most people don’t believe life and death are learning experiences. True unions are rare, yes, too much so, but the learning experience is a pre-planned thing. Sad though it strikes us not all things should be, just learned from.

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