Iverson's vision Quest - Chapter 16

Chapter 16  To read from the beginning, click on the cute picture of Iverson to the right of this post.  He's the one behind the maple leaf.

     Deeply touched by the story, Thomas pulled out a hankie and wiped his own eyes and nose.
     "Will I ever see my family again?" Iverson sighed.
     "Well, said Thomas after a deep swig of Heineken, "I think we should see C the Great."
      "C the Great," Iverson repeated in wonder.
    "Yes. C the Great. She is all knowing. If anyone can help you, she can."
     They found C the Great in the middle of a field of irises making greeting cards out of bits of leaf and petals and strips of rattan. She wore a green muumuu and gold lame' slippers.
     Iverson bowed low in respect and told her his problem.
     "Are you an American citizen?" asked C the Great.
     Iverson shook his head.
     "Do you have a green card? A visa? A passport?"
     Again Iverson shook his head.
     Are you a political refugee seeking asylum in the United States?"
     "Mais non!" (But no) said Iverson vehemently shaking his head yet one more time.
     C smiled, and, as she did so, two robins landed on her shoulder, and a chipmunk scampered to her and rubbed his cheek against her ankle. "We must notify the Border Patrol," said C.
     "Qu'est que c'est que ca?" (What is that?)
     "Immigration and Naturalization. You're an illegal alien."
     "I never rode a space ship in my life!" said Iverson.
     "An illegal alien to this country. The authorities will deport you back to Canada."
     "Home, my family!" said Iverson beginning to hope. "I'll be home. But, sadly, my vision quest has failed."
    "Have you not journeyed?" C inquired.
"Well, yes, from Canada to New York, to the pound, to the front fender, and the ventilation shaft and the exploding penthouse in the sky."
     "And you have learned?"
    "Never take chocolate, especially a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, that doesn't belong to you, and don't turn anyone into a possum."
     "C touched Iverson's cheek and lifted his face until he was gazing into her deep blue eyes. "Your purpose is peace; your path is with mortals; and your animal totem is the lofty possum. And don't discount your vision simply because it really happened. Now wait here while I call Immigration and have you deported." C the Great flounced away with Iverson calling out her, "thank you and good bye!"
     Days later in Quebec, Iverson recounted his experiences in America to his family - his incarceration at the pound, the battle of Trump Tower, his new friend Thomas, and the wonderful fishy experience of lox and cream cheese.
     "Incroyable," (incredible) said his father. "Quell vision fantastique!(What a fantastic vision!)   Vraiment tu es un homme, en plein maintenant!" (truly you are a man now!) And he hugged his son, now a man, and kissed him on both cheeks.


This is a work of fiction, but it's really a good story.
     

Great Expectations Chapter XXXVII

To read from the beginning, click the photos on the right.


Chapter XXXVII pgs. 246-248

It was almost dark when Maria returned in her car. She pushed the window open and began to crawl into the warehouse, trying in vain to see inside. She clambered back out, turned on the car’s engine, and pointed the headlights towards the shed, and again pushed her head through the window. Afraid of what she’d find inside, Maria hesitated on the sill, then jumped down and made her way, stumbling, towards the light switch.


She searched out the shelves where the cardboard coffins were kept, then dragged out the one on the floor, thankful that it was heavy. At least the body was still inside. Hopefully, it was still alive.

Maria was trembling now, afraid of being alone, afraid of someone discovering her, afraid that Johanna was already dead, afraid of ghosts, afraid that Johanna would pull out a gun and shoot her, and afraid of so many other things. But she opened the lid, and gingerly reached inside and touched Johanna’s cheek. Then she felt under her nose for the warm air that would indicate breathing. Johanna did not move. Her skin was cool, and there was no breath coming from her nostrils.

No, Maria thought. She began to rub Johanna’s cheek, gently at first, then harder. She wanted to shove the box back under the shelf and run. “Please,” she said out loud. “Johanna, you have to wake up. She pulled Johanna’s arm, and found it pliable, not rigid. Again she felt for breath under Johanna’s nostrils, and was rewarded with a faint puff of air. She felt at Johanna’s neck for a pulse, and found a slight thumping – weak and very slow, but also regular.

Maria cried.

She breathed into Johanna’s mouth – two breaths. “You just cannot die now, Miss Johanna, not after all of this. You made it this far and against so much. Please, stay alive just a little longer.”

Panicking all the while, she pulled at Johanna’s arms to get her upright, but the body was limp and uncooperative. With frenzied, jerks Maria tried to boost Johanna up towards the window, but the body always ended up back in the box on the floor, and Maria despaired of ever getting her out of the warehouse.

And finally her nurse’s training took over. If there’s one thing they taught us, thought Maria, it was how to move a limp body. And she breathed slowly and deeply to calm herself. Maria rolled Johanna from the box to the floor and onto her side, and slung Johanna’s upper torso across her back - the fireman’s carry. Using her legs and back, Maria staggered upright, then made her way towards the window, and leaned Johanna over the sill with Johanna’s head lolling outside. “I’m sorry, Miss Johanna. This will probably hurt you, but I don’t know how else to do it.” She climbed outside, squeezing her own body through the window past Johanna’s limp form, and bloodying her shins as she scrambled over the sill. I must open the car’s back door first, she thought. Then she knelt on the hood of her car and, pulling on Johanna’s arms, scraped her over the sill. Johanna’s body thudded headfirst onto the hood where Maria caught Johanna’s arms. Squatting next to the car, Maria was able to sling Johanna across her shoulders, and stagger around to the open door and drop her inside. Johanna ended up flopped on the floor, and Maria gunned the engine and drove away praying that she wouldn’t be stopped at the gate.

Great Expectations Chapter XXXVII

To read from the beginning, click the photos on the right.



Chapter XXXVII pgs. 245-246


At first Johanna’s dream came in flashes appearing and vanishing like movie teasers. Then the impressions slowed and gelled into a dreamscape below a blood-red sky: Cauldrons reeked and smoked, while horned creatures - almost human - chanted, and writhed and screamed and groaned till Johanna thought her soul would burst.


The smoke snaked outwards - calling, enticing. Street gangs were the first humans to respond and gather – Bloods, and Crypts, Skinheads, and Arian nations, their tattoos and bandanas defining allegiances. Knives flashed. Shots rang. Some shrieked and fell. Still, their numbers grew.

Others arrived. An army gathered - some in tatters, some in business suites, and some in death-white hoods. They marched through time as well as space, some swathed in robes and tunics, others in uniforms, their medals and sabers glowing bright. Some could barely stand; others strutted power. Some wore armor; others were clad in priests’ robes. Some wore street clothes, and some were merely naked.

From man to man to woman to child they passed a smoking torch, that carried no earthly fire, but rather that spirit of hatred residing in the hidden reaches of the soul where most humans dare not look. And they passed it along, one to another, and it seemed the passing would not stop.

The devil laughed – large and black with a drowning roar.

Johanna saw anger, a smoke- brown flame, flashing in gun muzzles and mirrored in the eyes of both victim and oppressor. Fear was there on icy tendrils. And pride - steel gray - it rode as a knight on stallion, and, with a mighty belch, transformed the noble into manure.

The devil’s laughter bellowed inside of her. He’d won the world. He’d won the souls of all - victims and conquerors alike. Some souls, he torched with hate; others he drowned in fear, or poisoned by pride, or froze in despair. It didn’t matter how they died. The devil had them. His rumbling laughter shook Johanna’s stomach and in her dream she cringed from fright.

From one to the next, they passed the torch. Those humans, they were merely carriers, serving the devil as his jeeps and horses.

Johanna watched the furies uniting, like winds twisting into a tornado while she stood naked before the devil’s armies.

And hate filled her heart too. She reached for the words, but shuddering anger appeared instead. And she wanted to destroy the fire and every being that had helped to create it.

But he stepped forward. Johanna thought it was her father at first, but no. He was Jesus, the Good Shepherd, healing and forgiving. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” he said, “for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

And he was Jesus the rebel, overturning tables in the temple where greedy men used God’s name to turn a profit.

And he was Jesus the man, kneeling in the garden of Gethsemane, “If it be possible, take this cup from me. Yet, not my will but your will be done.”

And he was Jesus the Divine King, a soul in agony condemned to death on a cross, then rising from that cross into glory… And then he was gone.

“I choose love,” Johanna said.

Rumbling laughter shook her like palm branches in a hurricane. “Join us and live,” the evil one roared. “Save yourself from torment. I am stronger than you.”

“I choose love.” Standing alone - so small, so weak - she waited to perish.

“And I choose love,” said a nameless voice behind her.

“And I,” said another.

“Christ’s blessings.”

“Shalom.”

“Allah be praised.”

The chorus swelled from six to thousands, to legions upon legions - the soldiers, the street gangs, the children and beggars and kings - a living hymn to God. And in their midst a voice rang out: “Come! All who are thirsty, let them come. Let them take the free gift of the water of life.” It was the image of Christ pouring water from an urn. Johanna stooped under it and drank and was washed clean. The water filled her spirit and quenched her thirst and dried every tear.