Jim's Star
At the tender age of five, Jim created a star. A simple design really, yet, in his eyes it evoked power; Jim thought of it grandiose. It was bigger than life itself, greater than anything he could conceive. It was a star by all means. A star!
So Jim sat back and dared himself to make a second star. This time the star would be bigger and better than the first. So he took the red crayon, slid the construction paper near his body, and began to reproduce the lines. The first step was to draw a line from the bottom of the sheet up, and slanted to the right. A downward line came next. It also had to be angled to the right, before the third line, moving up and tilting left, was completed. The next line, Jim's favorite, dashed across the intersections then downward to the initial starting point. Jim was thrilled! Not only had he made one star, but he made two! The second one was as tall as a mountain and as wide as a train.
That timeless scene had never escaped Jim's memory. He recalled it clearly, even as an adult. It was at that moment in time that he discovered his love of stars. But, even with all the knowledge he had accumulated in regards to stars, Jim never again tasted that childlike sensation. Jim was always packing his brain with all varieties of insights; Jim was entranced to the point of frenzy.
His sole admirer was a beautiful green eye lady with girlish allure. Sadly Jim was blind to her charm. But the beauty was not quick in surrendering her feelings for Jim. After some time she became bolder in her determination at landing the rigid detective. In the end it was a simple kiss that sparked a passionate love affair. But her tender love did not deter him from his pursuit of his childhood lift. For Jim needed to feel the same excitement he experienced that day when crisscrossed lines granted him an indelible mark.
Months later, the woman, now married and pregnant with Jim's child, walked outside to accompany her husband. It was late and Jim was peering through a telescope pointed at a heavenly landscape of stars. Jim was still in search of the elusive sensation. One quiet morning, years later, his now four-year-old daughter walked up to him in enthusiastic play. But Jim, because of study, was oblivious to his daughter's constant tugs. After a moment he turned his weary head toward his bright-eyed, smiling, daughter. It was at that point that he realized his work was over. He had found the elusive star! The star resided right before him: his own daughter with her gleaming eyes overwhelmed him. Jim swiveled around to face her, picked her up, and held her close with eyes full of tears. He found his star, his love, his life.
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The invisible morning sky weakened by a damped vapor rested in a kind of heavenly stillness. The green slope dappled with dry patches of dead blades resting by a deep rooted bark nearby. The lone, thick tree, with its spiky branches – nerve endings pointing in chaotic directions – naked yet sturdy, kept firm before a snow-white haze. The winter freeze burning its fragile leaves long past; the monster erect in the cold damp country side: A neighboring serpentine road tracing away into an unknown destination. The merciless winter sting biting the tranquil vista harshly; the tree, deeply rooted, fights another seasonal hardship, another torment.
The brisk wind drives the golden ocean of wheat in waves extending upward to the foot of high reaching mounts. Dirty brown heaps, lofty under massive cotton-white clouds, cast shadows on an active terrain below; The Wind tone bellowing the contrasting setting to and fro and across the vastness of the scene: Serenity in boundless motion. Nature alive in windswept currents of energy of unseen marks, askew in a snapshot.
In the lucidity of the night, hell-fire ignited: The Devil in the midst of the towns divine church - devoured now by red and orange sheets of fire. Clapping wisps burning; ascending tar-black smoke high and covering the faint heavenly stars with a dense curtain, a shroud of malice - the folks about horrified. Some heads low, in fixed prayer, while others making a human chain and passing buckets of water to cool down the charring building. Sirens growing louder in the distance. Salvation alas! Thank you Lord.
The plank walk way descends over lush evergreens atop a steep knoll. The overcast backdrop, a sharp contrast to the freshly constructed country promenade, mottled railings with white, dry paint faint and lucent. The walk extends from color hues of vibrant life outward toward a dreary horizon – a gray and threatening cloudburst.
The authorities sealed off the horrid scene with bright yellow tape – dark red blood, somewhere deep in the clusters of the high trees, soaking into the needles and dirt below. The agents, on the fringe of the roadway, gathered clues – a tangled piece of rope, clothes ripped with dry spattered blood; a rolled up sock used to deaden the screams. A road map vigorously scrutinized. The urgent call! Seal off all roads – even all branches of dirt trails - leading out-of-state from their fix: A male, white, driving a Ford – tire print pattern – heading south; considered armed and dangerous.
The Aurora light – a sunburst of reds, oranges, to dull white bands – filled up the cloudless sky. The horse, a contour silhouette, stood tall by his wrangler, kneeling in black outline besides. The man glared at the beauty in veneration. Time, still, as the morning air refreshed his very being; his very place in the world, universe. God lay close; his eyes rolling wide in wonder: Angelic.
The shoreline, like smooth, soft glass, reflecting the deep blue sky: the ocean waters flowing over in slight, moving layers across the clay sand. The distant pallid clouds gently kiss the horizon where, just below, waves ripple – subtle and remote – inflowing gently, the tide inching near the coast. Blissful blue mirrors of clear salt water and pale white clouds, bursting within frame.
The high steep, scarred stone reached skyward from a murky river twisting around a flurry of low vegetation – cactus and brush. The water, motionless, silently swept wind - rolling against the face of the rock walls - quiet. Slight gray clouds roam slowly above the scene below - a contrast to the dull shaded crag and opaque water, alone and at rest. Its beauty a tranquil stillness, suspended in time; marked by the layers in the stone.
The ambient quarters, a zenith sun radiant, emitting by skylight panes; highlighting cloth edges, dull wood luster, and gracing cool hues of green, white and aqua – walls, walkways and ceilings – enveloping warmth: contempo furniture, mounted frames and a sole, humble chandelier - a few items. Sterile books piled in strict alignment on a dark brown coffee table. Two faint-blue cushion chairs; each with like red pillow: A small wood table - octagon-shaped-top, a tall clock of white by a shadow cast corner, and a circular mirror concealed slightly by shade on a side wall.
In the black abyss of the depth, drifts an electric blimp like a helium plastic balloon aimlessly traveling in a windless sky: Bulging blinders and pulsing tentacles of sharp white rays compose his shape - a thin membrane. A lone translucent creature living in sharp contrast - a cold blackness aura free of our suns nourishment: a mystery, a miracle, alive with a dead, useless purpose; trapped in a severe existence.
A sloth – a maternal bear with offspring (lumbering gaits) – trailed aimlessly along the outskirts of the cold forest; enduring winter’s harsh winds - exhaling vapors. Her eyes scrutinizing every bark, and needle on the dirt; her senses alert. Every snout, claw and feet dry with blood: the remains of an adult gray wolf - its meat, fresh and steaming – filled their bellies to satisfaction an hour prior. A few paces south of the pack stood a lone hiker, standing by the base of a tree. He zippered up; turned and walked back to camp. As he neared, his body flinched, danger. He scooted low and watched the chilling scene (a giant bark and dense low branches camouflaging him). A massive bear with her cubs inspecting the site: contents extracted from his tent – clothing, a lantern and some magazines, ripped and thrown about. The pale-faced man, frozen in dire fear, waited an eternity. The alarmed man realized late that his camera was strapped around his neck. In haste, with quivering hands and salty beads of perspiration, snapped a photo of his camp site. But the beasts were gone! With a gallant step, the poor man slowly moved into the clearing taking a big sigh of relief.
Iron rain, surrounding a pale, blue brick walkway extend forth from an isolated rocky edge, halting the calmness of the dull, aqua ocean; serene. The burning sun, small and anemic, gleamed weak in the distant horizon – waters consuming a diminished star: Murky sky – rain-filled Storm clouds brewing; foreboding. Distant, dense mountains – dark, and of smooth crested rock – resting heavily on the vista line, distant: dusk tinting the scenery, bleak and gloom.
Red hooded cloak: worn and torn, exposing a dark green under garment; glossy, light green eyes staring fix and wide. Her weary expression of curiosity fused in wonder and slight fear outlining a subtle dark complexion - drained red lips – level, and impassive. Dark, dirty long hair folded back into a hood. A pale green drape sharply contrasting hues; clinging behind, livening her features on film.
A singular drop, like a ripe, gentle leaf, bursts the soft calm; conceiving a watery blossom. The span of blue (royal) vibrates, like a speaker skin, and expands outward in a perfect circle: the core bounce, touch – high, broken and straight – causing a convex, thick and broad: white highlights brush soft ridges unfolding. Beautiful disruption of placidity captured in a dance.
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