more sexist literature
for my critic
rated "R" for mature audiences
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit 2
three ladies with no tulley
Steamy and clammy down at the beach it was. Today the first day of fishing season begins at midnight. My girl Martinique called me wanting my special attention. Martinique being slightly peculiar because of the tides, phases of the Moon, and her feeling rather lonely tonight.
Heavens no, Martinique my girl, I replied, its the first night of fishing season; tonight the Tulley's run. I'll take my dingy to Swenson's marina and buy bait and Old Baily and drink and fish all night with me mates. In the morning I will bring you fresh Tulley enough for three days, no woman could ask her mate for more.
No, no shouted Martinique into the phone. I'll call Randy O'Sullivan or Barney Crayford. I need you tonight. Come timely to me. Stand firm and do your duty my man.
Laugh did I. See you in the morning I exclaimed. All the men of the village will be at sea tonight. The Tulley's will run. The wait will be good for you, old horse. I'll see you in the morning. I'll take no such order from my woman.
About two AM on a dark and stormy sea, instigator Barney Crayford rowed along side my boat where I fished alone. Barney says for all to hear, Barney says he sees Martinique over at Shatterstown tavern at ten PM sizing up the college boys down from New Jersey. Barney next says, then at 11:30 my Martinique is over at Busby's drinking double banana shooters with two sorority girls, philosophy majors both, from Connecticut. Later Barney tells, he saw Martinique with those two lasses walking arm in arm up toward the hotel district. Martinique in a hotel with two sorority girls?
I beat it up and down the coast, looking for my Martinique. From North Beach I searched to Atlantic City and then South to Ocean side looking for my girl. But there is no Martinique to be found.
Imagine, what could three ladies in a hotel room do at the shore with no Tulley for the night?
Friday, December 6, 2013
I could be another Shakespeare if I could explain the Satanic subtlety of the imagery of my dreams
I could be another Shakespeare if I could explain the Satanic subtlety of the imagery of my dreams
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
dreams
Why does the hidden detective of our subconscious wait forty years to say his piece in our dreams. Couldn't our subconscious have spoken to us originally when the information was relevant.
We dream about someone we have not seen or thought of in forty years. Then we glimpse a significant part of that person's character that we were never consciously aware of delivered in the middle of the nightly melodrama our dreams have become. We glimpse a part of a person we knew forty years ago that is subtle like a Shakespearean observation revealed about Hamlet or King Lear.
Afterward we spend the rest of the day trying to interpret our dream references and to figure out what is the significance of that revealed information to us here and now.
If I could understand, recall and connect with the detective, psychologist and scribe of my unconscious mind as revealed in my nightly dreams, I could be another Shakespeare. If I could only explain the Satanic subtly of the imagery of my dreams, what significant things would I write.
end
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
dreams
Why does the hidden detective of our subconscious wait forty years to say his piece in our dreams. Couldn't our subconscious have spoken to us originally when the information was relevant.
We dream about someone we have not seen or thought of in forty years. Then we glimpse a significant part of that person's character that we were never consciously aware of delivered in the middle of the nightly melodrama our dreams have become. We glimpse a part of a person we knew forty years ago that is subtle like a Shakespearean observation revealed about Hamlet or King Lear.
Afterward we spend the rest of the day trying to interpret our dream references and to figure out what is the significance of that revealed information to us here and now.
If I could understand, recall and connect with the detective, psychologist and scribe of my unconscious mind as revealed in my nightly dreams, I could be another Shakespeare. If I could only explain the Satanic subtly of the imagery of my dreams, what significant things would I write.
end
when the unthinkable, unspeakable happens
when the unthinkable, unspeakable happens
On the Loss of Courage in the Elderly/ repost, edit 1
Fiction
Edward W Pritchard-Draft 2
Germany in October 1935; this story takes place in Nazi Germany which had once been a prosperous and civilized Country.
start
The old postman blushed to himself as he hid in a crouch in the weeds and bushes as the railway cars thudded to a stop about 400 feet away, and with the noise of the railway train for cover the old man risked a few slaps at the clouds of mosquitoes feasting on himself. The old man was hiding from the soldiers.
This old postman had been shot at point blank range in the face by the pistol of a French officer in the Franco-Prussian war and later had been wounded three times again by the French in the trenches in WWI. Never before had the Postman been afraid and the blush was partially in shame for he had been raised a good Prussian Hegelian as a youth and knew he was defying his government and forsaking his Country's philosophy by hiding from his duty. But the blush was also partly from confusion for in truth the old soldier now the village postman had never felt this type of fear and he didn't know how to proceed.
The old soldier couldn't remove the bodies from the train again. Glancing toward the west, toward the elevated train track, along the river he noticed there were nearly twice as many shining new metal cars. Most of which he surmised were full of German citizens, the ill, the infirm, but mostly the mentally ill; who were being secretly shipped to be executed in special camps. The Postman and the other town's people in this obscure mountain village were for the third week in a row being rounded up by young soldiers to remove the dead from the cars, dead who had died prematurely on route to their planned deaths. They were to be executed by the State.
Soon the Postman and the townspeople would again carry the bodies from the rail cars to the dried up canal next to the river and place the corpses in the canal bed and throw a couple of feet of dirt and shrubs and debris over the bodies with the expensive new metal shovels supplied by the soldiers. It was an unthinkable and unspeakable thing to do and the old Postman was about to do it for the third time in three weeks.
The job must be done thoroughly; it was understood that no one else in Germany should hear of the culling of the German genetic stock. At least there was to be no evidence, for this occurrence would be unbelievable if retold second hand without direct proof. No one would believe that even the Nazi government would execute it's own handicapped citizens.
The old postman's brother, a party member, when the postman told him what had happened the last two weeks, had assured him the program would stop soon, because it was unpopular, even among party members, and besides some things shouldn't be done, not even in Nazi Germany.
The young soldier nudged the shaking old man, as a professional courtesy, gently with his rifle. The young Nazi soldier remembered the old man from last week, and remembered the telltale soldier's scar of a bullet wound across the left side of the old man's face. The young soldier nodded to the old ex soldier.
The tall erect young soldier marched the old Postman almost politely toward the smell, toward the new high metal railway cars. The old man who knew everyone in the village from his postal work, done since WW1, kept his eyes toward the ground meekly and began to sob as he fell in line walking with the town's fellow citizens toward the railway cars.
As he walked the shaking sobbing old man gripped the new shovel tightly as if trying to squeeze the unthinkable unspeakable deed he was about to do from his consciousness.
On the Loss of Courage in the Elderly/ repost, edit 1
Fiction
Edward W Pritchard-Draft 2
Germany in October 1935; this story takes place in Nazi Germany which had once been a prosperous and civilized Country.
start
The old postman blushed to himself as he hid in a crouch in the weeds and bushes as the railway cars thudded to a stop about 400 feet away, and with the noise of the railway train for cover the old man risked a few slaps at the clouds of mosquitoes feasting on himself. The old man was hiding from the soldiers.
This old postman had been shot at point blank range in the face by the pistol of a French officer in the Franco-Prussian war and later had been wounded three times again by the French in the trenches in WWI. Never before had the Postman been afraid and the blush was partially in shame for he had been raised a good Prussian Hegelian as a youth and knew he was defying his government and forsaking his Country's philosophy by hiding from his duty. But the blush was also partly from confusion for in truth the old soldier now the village postman had never felt this type of fear and he didn't know how to proceed.
The old soldier couldn't remove the bodies from the train again. Glancing toward the west, toward the elevated train track, along the river he noticed there were nearly twice as many shining new metal cars. Most of which he surmised were full of German citizens, the ill, the infirm, but mostly the mentally ill; who were being secretly shipped to be executed in special camps. The Postman and the other town's people in this obscure mountain village were for the third week in a row being rounded up by young soldiers to remove the dead from the cars, dead who had died prematurely on route to their planned deaths. They were to be executed by the State.
Soon the Postman and the townspeople would again carry the bodies from the rail cars to the dried up canal next to the river and place the corpses in the canal bed and throw a couple of feet of dirt and shrubs and debris over the bodies with the expensive new metal shovels supplied by the soldiers. It was an unthinkable and unspeakable thing to do and the old Postman was about to do it for the third time in three weeks.
The job must be done thoroughly; it was understood that no one else in Germany should hear of the culling of the German genetic stock. At least there was to be no evidence, for this occurrence would be unbelievable if retold second hand without direct proof. No one would believe that even the Nazi government would execute it's own handicapped citizens.
The old postman's brother, a party member, when the postman told him what had happened the last two weeks, had assured him the program would stop soon, because it was unpopular, even among party members, and besides some things shouldn't be done, not even in Nazi Germany.
The young soldier nudged the shaking old man, as a professional courtesy, gently with his rifle. The young Nazi soldier remembered the old man from last week, and remembered the telltale soldier's scar of a bullet wound across the left side of the old man's face. The young soldier nodded to the old ex soldier.
The tall erect young soldier marched the old Postman almost politely toward the smell, toward the new high metal railway cars. The old man who knew everyone in the village from his postal work, done since WW1, kept his eyes toward the ground meekly and began to sob as he fell in line walking with the town's fellow citizens toward the railway cars.
As he walked the shaking sobbing old man gripped the new shovel tightly as if trying to squeeze the unthinkable unspeakable deed he was about to do from his consciousness.
no one notices handicapped students
no one notices handicapped students
fiction
edward w pritchard
The woman Judge has her first satori
The Judge was a tough cookie. That was the polite way to describe the woman and often worse was said about the local Divorce Court Judge. She was however, formidable and for twelve years the Judge had ran the local divorce court with vigor. Our area was failing in the race of world wide economic development and nearby cities were absorbing our jobs and far away peoples were benefiting at our expense. Divorce in our area was a contrary indicator of our success and business was booming. The Judge ruled over the busy divorce court and managed the staff and routed the customers and directed the Attorneys day in and out and that area of local government functioned admirably well.
The Judge was rushing to a budget meeting at a local school where she served as a paid outside director of the local school system. She had ran over at her last hearing because the two male Attorneys had been posturing in front of their new wealthy clients and the Judge had mismanaged her morning schedule because of them. The Judge was put off with herself for not being more firm and efficient with the two Attorneys. Her mismanagement of that one 15 minute status hearing had thrown off her schedule for the entire day and she was now going to be a few minutes late for a meeting, something she did not often allow her self the luxury to do.
Entering the second hallway of the school near the office the Judge saw six students in wheelchairs entering an elevator. There were two older woman with the handicapped junior high students and they were pushing a couple of the students who had multiple handicaps onto the elevators. A few of the students had expensive heavy electric motored self moving wheel chairs that they were slumped in but operating the controls to power. One of the woman assisting the students was holding with one hand as she pushed a wheelchair with her other hand, a medical IV of some sort for one of the students.
The shock of seeing a student at a public school going to class with a medical IV was jolting and overwhelming to the Judge. She knew this school from coming and going to other meetings here over the last few months and knew in about fifteen minutes the halls would be crammed with dashing excited children racing to class.
There was a small auditorium toward the back of the school and the Judge was sitting slumped near the stage quietly crying when the School's janitor heard and noticed her. After a few minutes the School's janitor took the Divorce Court Judge who he recognized a small very cold plastic bottle of orange juice which the woman Judge drank and composed herself before she went to her budget meeting in the front portion of the Junior High School building.
fiction
edward w pritchard
The woman Judge has her first satori
The Judge was a tough cookie. That was the polite way to describe the woman and often worse was said about the local Divorce Court Judge. She was however, formidable and for twelve years the Judge had ran the local divorce court with vigor. Our area was failing in the race of world wide economic development and nearby cities were absorbing our jobs and far away peoples were benefiting at our expense. Divorce in our area was a contrary indicator of our success and business was booming. The Judge ruled over the busy divorce court and managed the staff and routed the customers and directed the Attorneys day in and out and that area of local government functioned admirably well.
The Judge was rushing to a budget meeting at a local school where she served as a paid outside director of the local school system. She had ran over at her last hearing because the two male Attorneys had been posturing in front of their new wealthy clients and the Judge had mismanaged her morning schedule because of them. The Judge was put off with herself for not being more firm and efficient with the two Attorneys. Her mismanagement of that one 15 minute status hearing had thrown off her schedule for the entire day and she was now going to be a few minutes late for a meeting, something she did not often allow her self the luxury to do.
Entering the second hallway of the school near the office the Judge saw six students in wheelchairs entering an elevator. There were two older woman with the handicapped junior high students and they were pushing a couple of the students who had multiple handicaps onto the elevators. A few of the students had expensive heavy electric motored self moving wheel chairs that they were slumped in but operating the controls to power. One of the woman assisting the students was holding with one hand as she pushed a wheelchair with her other hand, a medical IV of some sort for one of the students.
The shock of seeing a student at a public school going to class with a medical IV was jolting and overwhelming to the Judge. She knew this school from coming and going to other meetings here over the last few months and knew in about fifteen minutes the halls would be crammed with dashing excited children racing to class.
There was a small auditorium toward the back of the school and the Judge was sitting slumped near the stage quietly crying when the School's janitor heard and noticed her. After a few minutes the School's janitor took the Divorce Court Judge who he recognized a small very cold plastic bottle of orange juice which the woman Judge drank and composed herself before she went to her budget meeting in the front portion of the Junior High School building.
vigilantee justice/ parts 1, 2 and 3/ draft 1
The Vigilantes
fiction
edward w pritchard
It wasn't until Billie Rae was stabbed through the chest with a curved hooked sword that Cyrus began to be scared. Billie Rae had been on his own since he was 4 years old and more than anyone Cyrus knew, Billie Rae knew how to take care of himself. At least Billie Rae had known how to take care of himself, for this morning at 9:15AM Billie Rae had been stabbed over on the South side of Dayton street.
Although Billie Rae had been found quickly, bleeding on the sidewalk, and rushed to the Hospital; modern medicine couldn't save him. Not even the new ER at the Summa med center on the North side could save Billie Rae, for the curved sword left an usual wound that bled and bled, and even at the emergency room in spite of a full staff of skilled ER Doctors, Billie Rae died.
Cyrus had lost a good friend and Cyrus suspected the old Chinese Lady who had been with the girl had a hand in Billie Rae's death by stabbing.
Billie Rae had jokingly told Cyrus about a week ago that the old Chinese woman was stalking him. She seemed to be everywhere he was, said Billie Rae. Cyrus doubted that for he had often tried to find Billie Rae, when worried about him, or if he needed him and Billie Rae could disappear and no one find him. Billie Rae had learned to be invisible at a young age, at least since he was four years old, that's how long Cyrus had known him. Billie Rae's Mother didn't take care of him and Billie Rae had to learn to adapt. For Billie Rae to survive on the near North side, he had to learn how to lay low, to be secretly and silently tough, and to vanish if the police, neighborhood gangs, wino's, or other bad people who would prey on a seven year old kid alone were near. Billie Rae hadn't been going anywhere in life, missing a lot of school, getting poor grades when showing up at all, and no-one would miss him. But Cyrus had lost a good friend, his only white friend, and it seemed wrong for anyone to die like that.
Cyrus worried after Billie Rae's death about himself for he had noticed another old Oriental lady following him. The old Chinese woman seemed to be everywhere Cyrus was for the last week or so.
End part 1
Part 2
Felix, His Eminence, Cyrus, and Billie Rae were walking to the new Dollar Store up off Tallmadge Ave a few weeks before Billie Rae's death. Felix who was 17, had just dropped out of high school and to celebrate he had come down to the Junior High to find a few of his old friends to go out with. Felix, whose Father worked nights and slept in the day, had lifted a twenty from his old man; and Felix wanted to treat his friends to some things down at the new Dollar Store, the first new store to open down here in a long time. No big deal just something to do. His Eminence was Cyrus' goofy cousin who he had to walk home with. Until this year Cyrus, who was a year older was supposed to protect Em [ Cyrus called his cousin His Emminence, Em] but in the last six months Em had grown about 6 inches and he was now a lot taller and bigger than Cyrus. Cyrus' Mom's younger sister was Em's Mother and she had given him that name and Cyrus' Mom still made him walk home with his cousin, Em. So EM was going to go along to the Dollar Store. Somehow on the way up to the store, Billie Rae had shown up, he hadn't been at school all week, but here he was, as if he somehow knew Felix was buying, which was unusual.
There was a pretty girl carrying a large, full, plastic, yellow Dollar Store bag coming towards them and they noticed her from a long way off as they walked down a side street heading West toward the Dollar Store. The girl was mixed race, maybe Spanish and Oriental and had nice legs, shorts and pink shoes and a pink short tee shirt. As she came face to face with the four young teenagers, Cyrus was a little intimidated by her because she wasn't afraid at all of them, even after Felix said a few things to her. Billie Rae and Cyrus were kind of quiet, just intently looking but Em said a few things and Felix, well he was always brutally direct with women.
There was a very small Chinese woman with the girl. She was very old, maybe over 80, but in pretty good shape. She was hard to understand, but she became agitated and was protective of the girl and there was no mistaking her message. She was waving her arms and screaming at the boys and seemed about ready to raise her arms and beat her chest like an early ape in a school science video, trying to scare the four of them off.
The girl stood her ground. She was squared off in front of Felix, ignoring the others and was glaring intently at him. Likewise, the old Lady suddenly stopped yelling and was studying each of the boys intently.
They were near the old Syrian Catholic Church in a quiet neighborhood, recently the temporary home of a lot of new Asian immigrants on a back street and no one was around. After an impasse of about a minute between Felix and the girl, Felix grabbed the girls shirt near her right shoulder and ripped at it. The girl made no attempt to cover up nor strike back but just stood there and glared in a very aggressive fashion. Now however the old Woman was flying around waving her arms like an old chicken.
Billie Rae and I took over and got us out of there. I didn't want my Mom to find out about this and I knew with Em around eventually she would. Billie Rae knew about the police around here from personal experience, He often said that anytime a police report was called in, if the kid was white he was the usual suspect.
On the Thursday, following Billie Rae's death Cyrus noticed a small Vietnamese woman following him after school. She was only about 4' 8" tall and had weird clothes on. Another woman maybe Chinese, or something like that was following also, with the Vietnamese woman, and Cyrus surmised the other woman was watching Em, who was walking home with Cyrus.
Friday, following Billie Rae's death there was an article in the paper about the stabbing of Billie Rae and the mysterious knife that he was stabbed with. Apparently, according to the detective on the case, the knife used was Chinese and was usually used for ritualistic revenge. It caused a deep wound that refused to stop bleeding.
Tonight about two weeks later as Cyrus went out for Pizza he noticed that Vietnamese lady following him again. As he returned home with the pizza box he glanced back at the Vietnamese lady and was glad to see she wasn't carrying anything. Over the next week every time I looked back an oriental woman was following me and I began to get scared about what me and my friends had done.
End part 2
Straighten Out What's crooked
fiction
edward w pritchard
see The vigilantes
Part 3
I finally broke down and told my Mom what happened with the girl and the Chinese Woman and Billie Rae. It wasn't out of fear for myself, even though it was disturbing to have the Vietnamese lady following me around, or because I was worrying about Felix. I had been talking to Em about Billie Rae and our culpability in Billie Rae's death and what had happen to the girl and Em was remorseless. Even now looking back on that I am not sure why but his lack of remorse struck me deeply and it goaded me to take action.
My Mom called Felix 'Father, Mr. Davis. Later, Felix told me that his Mother and Father wanted us to talk to the Priest at the Syrian Catholic Church near where the incident with the girl happened. Mr. and Mrs. Davis wanted the three of us to apologize to the Priest for us defiling Church property. Felix was Puerto Rican, and the Davises were Catholic. Only the Mother went to Mass, and Mrs. Davis didn't attend church in our neighborhood and the Syrian Catholic Church was only distantly related to Felix' Mother's church. Still however, Felix' Mother and Father were both genuinely offended that what we had done had happened on Church property. Felix also told me that he was surprised that his Dad had not, at least, not yet threatened to beat him. I knew, and Felix, apparently didn't, that the only way anyone could now beat Felix would be with his consent. Felix was a very proud person. Once in fifth grade, Mrs. Martin had broke four wood rulers in a row across Felix' outstretched left upturned wrist and still Felix would not apologize for knocking Lon Newson down four steps in the gym, after Lon had said something insulting.
I would have preferred a beating, than my conversation with my Mother and my Aunt, Em's Mother about the incident with the girl. My Mother squared off in front of me and glared at me for a long time, maybe 2 minutes, although it seemed much longer. She didn't say anything, she just stood there looking incredulously at me. She works at the juvenile court as a bailiff now, but for 13 years, from when I was born My Mom worked at the detention center as guard. She is small like me, but she grew up near here, and she often had to take care of her younger Sister. I always heard she can be very mean physically at times. With me however, as I talked to her she seemed more shocked by what I done and refused to pardon me or rescue me, even after I told her my suspicions on Billie Rae's death. She arranged a meeting between me, Felix and Em with the Detective on the case of Billie Rae's death, who she knew, but other than that she told me I had to handle things.
My Aunt was not so hands off. She was very upset with me. She said very sarcastically that I was just like my Father, that I wasn't a leader and initially at least told me it was my fault Em was in trouble because I hadn't looked out for him.
End of part 2
Part 3
The Priest at the Syrian Church was short, shorter than me, and the Priest was very soft spoken and highly intelligent. He talked to each of us separately and then for a few minutes together. He had spoken to my Mother before he and I met. He talked to me but didn't say much. He made me tell how I felt about Billie Rae and basically explored with me why I hadn't protected the girl. He looked straight at me and said he thought it was in my nature to help her but somehow I hadn't. He said also that he agreed with my Aunt, at least in part, that I had let her down and Em, [ and that made me upset], by not protecting Em. He gave me a book to read called " The Rape of Nanking" and said that as far as he was concerned the matter between him, me and the Church was settled.
Felix, Em and I walked in front of that Church for about 10 days. I carried a picture of Billie Rae on a small pole, Em carried a small very heavy statue of Jesus, made of stone that the Priest had told him he needed to carry. Em struggled every step with carrying that statue and neither Felix or I was allowed to help him. The priest had told Felix he had to wear a torn pink girls shirt as we walked back and fourth in front of that Church and Felix dutifully did so.
Billie Rae's murder was never solved but the Vietnamese lady stopped following me shortly after we started parading in front of the Church and likewise the Chinese lady stopped following Em, and Felix told me the Philippine woman stopped following him.
Felix
I saw Felix about two Easters ago when I was on a long run before Easter dinner at my Mom's house. He was getting into his car at that same Syrian Church. He introduced me to his wife and the two little girls who were in identical yellow communion dresses. He told me I saved his life that day that I told my Mom about what happened with the girl. I knew he had went into the army shortly after that but I didn't realize that the Priest had been influential in getting him into the service because he didn't meet the normal criteria. He works over at the Tire center now on Talllmadge road near the dollar store and when I drive by he is always scurrying about and working very hard changing tires and competently running things, although he is obviously not the manager.
Em
Em is general manager at the dealership over in North Canton. I refer someone to him now and then to buy a car but I always call Em first and tell him that he better take good care of them or he and I will have to talk. That's funny because he's about two of me now and is always over at the gym lifting weights when he isn't working .
Billie Rae
When I was at Billie Rae's funeral which was very abbreviated because of lack of funds something happened to change my life. The policeman who use to pick up Billie Rae all the time on suspicion, had been at the funeral and drove me and Billie Rae's Mom home. After he dropped off Billie Rae's Mom he told me as we drove, he always hassled Billie Rae and he was the one who made Billie Rae the usual suspect because he wanted to check up on Billie Rae. The Policeman's son had died of an overdose and he had a few kids like Billie Rae that he watched out for when he could. He said he wasn't surprised that Billie Rae had died but that it made him real sad. We sat in front of my house before I went in and he asked me if I minded if he had a cigarette. That made a profound effect on me for it was the first time I saw an officer as a man. I later decided to be a policeman, which I am now. I found out years later that that Policeman often drove poor families who couldn't afford much to the graveyard, in situations similar to Billie Rae's funeral. He did that on his days off and he never took a fee and always wore his best uniform.
Me
I wouldn't smoke a cigarette, I am a runner; but I am a policeman. I care about the teenagers up on the North side of Akron and I have a reputation of being rough on them at times. Not physically but I expect a lot out of them and won't just let them drift along if I think they aren't living up to their potential. I am especially hard on young men who are disrespectful of women or don't stand up for those weaker than them. I am not afraid of much of anything anymore but maybe a little of my Mother who still works up at the juvenile court
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
It wasn't until Billie Rae was stabbed through the chest with a curved hooked sword that Cyrus began to be scared. Billie Rae had been on his own since he was 4 years old and more than anyone Cyrus knew, Billie Rae knew how to take care of himself. At least Billie Rae had known how to take care of himself, for this morning at 9:15AM Billie Rae had been stabbed over on the South side of Dayton street.
Although Billie Rae had been found quickly, bleeding on the sidewalk, and rushed to the Hospital; modern medicine couldn't save him. Not even the new ER at the Summa med center on the North side could save Billie Rae, for the curved sword left an usual wound that bled and bled, and even at the emergency room in spite of a full staff of skilled ER Doctors, Billie Rae died.
Cyrus had lost a good friend and Cyrus suspected the old Chinese Lady who had been with the girl had a hand in Billie Rae's death by stabbing.
Billie Rae had jokingly told Cyrus about a week ago that the old Chinese woman was stalking him. She seemed to be everywhere he was, said Billie Rae. Cyrus doubted that for he had often tried to find Billie Rae, when worried about him, or if he needed him and Billie Rae could disappear and no one find him. Billie Rae had learned to be invisible at a young age, at least since he was four years old, that's how long Cyrus had known him. Billie Rae's Mother didn't take care of him and Billie Rae had to learn to adapt. For Billie Rae to survive on the near North side, he had to learn how to lay low, to be secretly and silently tough, and to vanish if the police, neighborhood gangs, wino's, or other bad people who would prey on a seven year old kid alone were near. Billie Rae hadn't been going anywhere in life, missing a lot of school, getting poor grades when showing up at all, and no-one would miss him. But Cyrus had lost a good friend, his only white friend, and it seemed wrong for anyone to die like that.
Cyrus worried after Billie Rae's death about himself for he had noticed another old Oriental lady following him. The old Chinese woman seemed to be everywhere Cyrus was for the last week or so.
End part 1
Part 2
Felix, His Eminence, Cyrus, and Billie Rae were walking to the new Dollar Store up off Tallmadge Ave a few weeks before Billie Rae's death. Felix who was 17, had just dropped out of high school and to celebrate he had come down to the Junior High to find a few of his old friends to go out with. Felix, whose Father worked nights and slept in the day, had lifted a twenty from his old man; and Felix wanted to treat his friends to some things down at the new Dollar Store, the first new store to open down here in a long time. No big deal just something to do. His Eminence was Cyrus' goofy cousin who he had to walk home with. Until this year Cyrus, who was a year older was supposed to protect Em [ Cyrus called his cousin His Emminence, Em] but in the last six months Em had grown about 6 inches and he was now a lot taller and bigger than Cyrus. Cyrus' Mom's younger sister was Em's Mother and she had given him that name and Cyrus' Mom still made him walk home with his cousin, Em. So EM was going to go along to the Dollar Store. Somehow on the way up to the store, Billie Rae had shown up, he hadn't been at school all week, but here he was, as if he somehow knew Felix was buying, which was unusual.
There was a pretty girl carrying a large, full, plastic, yellow Dollar Store bag coming towards them and they noticed her from a long way off as they walked down a side street heading West toward the Dollar Store. The girl was mixed race, maybe Spanish and Oriental and had nice legs, shorts and pink shoes and a pink short tee shirt. As she came face to face with the four young teenagers, Cyrus was a little intimidated by her because she wasn't afraid at all of them, even after Felix said a few things to her. Billie Rae and Cyrus were kind of quiet, just intently looking but Em said a few things and Felix, well he was always brutally direct with women.
There was a very small Chinese woman with the girl. She was very old, maybe over 80, but in pretty good shape. She was hard to understand, but she became agitated and was protective of the girl and there was no mistaking her message. She was waving her arms and screaming at the boys and seemed about ready to raise her arms and beat her chest like an early ape in a school science video, trying to scare the four of them off.
The girl stood her ground. She was squared off in front of Felix, ignoring the others and was glaring intently at him. Likewise, the old Lady suddenly stopped yelling and was studying each of the boys intently.
They were near the old Syrian Catholic Church in a quiet neighborhood, recently the temporary home of a lot of new Asian immigrants on a back street and no one was around. After an impasse of about a minute between Felix and the girl, Felix grabbed the girls shirt near her right shoulder and ripped at it. The girl made no attempt to cover up nor strike back but just stood there and glared in a very aggressive fashion. Now however the old Woman was flying around waving her arms like an old chicken.
Billie Rae and I took over and got us out of there. I didn't want my Mom to find out about this and I knew with Em around eventually she would. Billie Rae knew about the police around here from personal experience, He often said that anytime a police report was called in, if the kid was white he was the usual suspect.
On the Thursday, following Billie Rae's death Cyrus noticed a small Vietnamese woman following him after school. She was only about 4' 8" tall and had weird clothes on. Another woman maybe Chinese, or something like that was following also, with the Vietnamese woman, and Cyrus surmised the other woman was watching Em, who was walking home with Cyrus.
Friday, following Billie Rae's death there was an article in the paper about the stabbing of Billie Rae and the mysterious knife that he was stabbed with. Apparently, according to the detective on the case, the knife used was Chinese and was usually used for ritualistic revenge. It caused a deep wound that refused to stop bleeding.
Tonight about two weeks later as Cyrus went out for Pizza he noticed that Vietnamese lady following him again. As he returned home with the pizza box he glanced back at the Vietnamese lady and was glad to see she wasn't carrying anything. Over the next week every time I looked back an oriental woman was following me and I began to get scared about what me and my friends had done.
End part 2
Straighten Out What's crooked
fiction
edward w pritchard
see The vigilantes
Part 3
I finally broke down and told my Mom what happened with the girl and the Chinese Woman and Billie Rae. It wasn't out of fear for myself, even though it was disturbing to have the Vietnamese lady following me around, or because I was worrying about Felix. I had been talking to Em about Billie Rae and our culpability in Billie Rae's death and what had happen to the girl and Em was remorseless. Even now looking back on that I am not sure why but his lack of remorse struck me deeply and it goaded me to take action.
My Mom called Felix 'Father, Mr. Davis. Later, Felix told me that his Mother and Father wanted us to talk to the Priest at the Syrian Catholic Church near where the incident with the girl happened. Mr. and Mrs. Davis wanted the three of us to apologize to the Priest for us defiling Church property. Felix was Puerto Rican, and the Davises were Catholic. Only the Mother went to Mass, and Mrs. Davis didn't attend church in our neighborhood and the Syrian Catholic Church was only distantly related to Felix' Mother's church. Still however, Felix' Mother and Father were both genuinely offended that what we had done had happened on Church property. Felix also told me that he was surprised that his Dad had not, at least, not yet threatened to beat him. I knew, and Felix, apparently didn't, that the only way anyone could now beat Felix would be with his consent. Felix was a very proud person. Once in fifth grade, Mrs. Martin had broke four wood rulers in a row across Felix' outstretched left upturned wrist and still Felix would not apologize for knocking Lon Newson down four steps in the gym, after Lon had said something insulting.
I would have preferred a beating, than my conversation with my Mother and my Aunt, Em's Mother about the incident with the girl. My Mother squared off in front of me and glared at me for a long time, maybe 2 minutes, although it seemed much longer. She didn't say anything, she just stood there looking incredulously at me. She works at the juvenile court as a bailiff now, but for 13 years, from when I was born My Mom worked at the detention center as guard. She is small like me, but she grew up near here, and she often had to take care of her younger Sister. I always heard she can be very mean physically at times. With me however, as I talked to her she seemed more shocked by what I done and refused to pardon me or rescue me, even after I told her my suspicions on Billie Rae's death. She arranged a meeting between me, Felix and Em with the Detective on the case of Billie Rae's death, who she knew, but other than that she told me I had to handle things.
My Aunt was not so hands off. She was very upset with me. She said very sarcastically that I was just like my Father, that I wasn't a leader and initially at least told me it was my fault Em was in trouble because I hadn't looked out for him.
End of part 2
Part 3
The Priest at the Syrian Church was short, shorter than me, and the Priest was very soft spoken and highly intelligent. He talked to each of us separately and then for a few minutes together. He had spoken to my Mother before he and I met. He talked to me but didn't say much. He made me tell how I felt about Billie Rae and basically explored with me why I hadn't protected the girl. He looked straight at me and said he thought it was in my nature to help her but somehow I hadn't. He said also that he agreed with my Aunt, at least in part, that I had let her down and Em, [ and that made me upset], by not protecting Em. He gave me a book to read called " The Rape of Nanking" and said that as far as he was concerned the matter between him, me and the Church was settled.
Felix, Em and I walked in front of that Church for about 10 days. I carried a picture of Billie Rae on a small pole, Em carried a small very heavy statue of Jesus, made of stone that the Priest had told him he needed to carry. Em struggled every step with carrying that statue and neither Felix or I was allowed to help him. The priest had told Felix he had to wear a torn pink girls shirt as we walked back and fourth in front of that Church and Felix dutifully did so.
Billie Rae's murder was never solved but the Vietnamese lady stopped following me shortly after we started parading in front of the Church and likewise the Chinese lady stopped following Em, and Felix told me the Philippine woman stopped following him.
Felix
I saw Felix about two Easters ago when I was on a long run before Easter dinner at my Mom's house. He was getting into his car at that same Syrian Church. He introduced me to his wife and the two little girls who were in identical yellow communion dresses. He told me I saved his life that day that I told my Mom about what happened with the girl. I knew he had went into the army shortly after that but I didn't realize that the Priest had been influential in getting him into the service because he didn't meet the normal criteria. He works over at the Tire center now on Talllmadge road near the dollar store and when I drive by he is always scurrying about and working very hard changing tires and competently running things, although he is obviously not the manager.
Em
Em is general manager at the dealership over in North Canton. I refer someone to him now and then to buy a car but I always call Em first and tell him that he better take good care of them or he and I will have to talk. That's funny because he's about two of me now and is always over at the gym lifting weights when he isn't working .
Billie Rae
When I was at Billie Rae's funeral which was very abbreviated because of lack of funds something happened to change my life. The policeman who use to pick up Billie Rae all the time on suspicion, had been at the funeral and drove me and Billie Rae's Mom home. After he dropped off Billie Rae's Mom he told me as we drove, he always hassled Billie Rae and he was the one who made Billie Rae the usual suspect because he wanted to check up on Billie Rae. The Policeman's son had died of an overdose and he had a few kids like Billie Rae that he watched out for when he could. He said he wasn't surprised that Billie Rae had died but that it made him real sad. We sat in front of my house before I went in and he asked me if I minded if he had a cigarette. That made a profound effect on me for it was the first time I saw an officer as a man. I later decided to be a policeman, which I am now. I found out years later that that Policeman often drove poor families who couldn't afford much to the graveyard, in situations similar to Billie Rae's funeral. He did that on his days off and he never took a fee and always wore his best uniform.
Me
I wouldn't smoke a cigarette, I am a runner; but I am a policeman. I care about the teenagers up on the North side of Akron and I have a reputation of being rough on them at times. Not physically but I expect a lot out of them and won't just let them drift along if I think they aren't living up to their potential. I am especially hard on young men who are disrespectful of women or don't stand up for those weaker than them. I am not afraid of much of anything anymore but maybe a little of my Mother who still works up at the juvenile court
end
the role of superstition in modern life/ part 2
the role of superstition in modern life/ part 2
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
All eyes looked skyward
Most professions involve their unique superstitions. Experts in any profession will approach their profession differently if there is an element of luck or randomness that dictates success or failure that is beyond human control. The most successful baseball hitter only hits in one of three at bats, the greatest heart surgeon loses a thriving patient in a routine operation, a famous opera singer gets a throat irritation ten minutes before show time. Any human endeavor that involves randomness develops superstitions to coax luck to intercede in the outcome.
start:
There are often more than one way to approach the day to day tasks of any profession and Russell and Ludwig's methods were as different as night and day.
Night was for Russell the essence of what he did, for without proper darkness and cooperating weather, human longing laid in the bottom of the boat like a caught fish dreaming of swimming in his home ocean again.
Ludwig disagreed with his competitor Russell for he believed that a proper attitude, appropriate respect and reverence and expectation was critical to a successful session of night time meteor viewing. Both Russell and Ludwig traveled about Europe in the 1500's and allowed local citizens for a fee to observe meteors in the night sky.
Ludwig and Russell traveled about our Country and their profession was to bring awe and amazement to the citizenry at night. They called forth the meteors at public events, celebrations and festivals. Success in their work was partially a matter of luck and neither planning or praying could change that. Still each had their superstitions to coax along the proper environment for proper meteor viewing.
Russell watched the pre-dawn sky the morning before the event. Red colored sky was bad, clouds and disappointed patrons cause prospective viewers to want refunds of admission fees. Russell crossed his fingers for red skies the night before the event, that augured successful meteor watching the next evening
Ludwig had each paying viewer watch the night sky through a rolled up news paper blessed for a small fee by a local church official. Each viewer had to believe if they were to spy spectacular meteors on any given night. Watching the heavens through a blessed rolled up paper and an unfailing belief in a successful night of meteor viewing could help the viewer find meteors.
All professions promote superstitions to ensure successful outcomes.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
All eyes looked skyward
Most professions involve their unique superstitions. Experts in any profession will approach their profession differently if there is an element of luck or randomness that dictates success or failure that is beyond human control. The most successful baseball hitter only hits in one of three at bats, the greatest heart surgeon loses a thriving patient in a routine operation, a famous opera singer gets a throat irritation ten minutes before show time. Any human endeavor that involves randomness develops superstitions to coax luck to intercede in the outcome.
start:
There are often more than one way to approach the day to day tasks of any profession and Russell and Ludwig's methods were as different as night and day.
Night was for Russell the essence of what he did, for without proper darkness and cooperating weather, human longing laid in the bottom of the boat like a caught fish dreaming of swimming in his home ocean again.
Ludwig disagreed with his competitor Russell for he believed that a proper attitude, appropriate respect and reverence and expectation was critical to a successful session of night time meteor viewing. Both Russell and Ludwig traveled about Europe in the 1500's and allowed local citizens for a fee to observe meteors in the night sky.
Ludwig and Russell traveled about our Country and their profession was to bring awe and amazement to the citizenry at night. They called forth the meteors at public events, celebrations and festivals. Success in their work was partially a matter of luck and neither planning or praying could change that. Still each had their superstitions to coax along the proper environment for proper meteor viewing.
Russell watched the pre-dawn sky the morning before the event. Red colored sky was bad, clouds and disappointed patrons cause prospective viewers to want refunds of admission fees. Russell crossed his fingers for red skies the night before the event, that augured successful meteor watching the next evening
Ludwig had each paying viewer watch the night sky through a rolled up news paper blessed for a small fee by a local church official. Each viewer had to believe if they were to spy spectacular meteors on any given night. Watching the heavens through a blessed rolled up paper and an unfailing belief in a successful night of meteor viewing could help the viewer find meteors.
All professions promote superstitions to ensure successful outcomes.
a bear spotted in a suburban neighborhood
a bear spotted on a suburban neighborhood
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
We certainly have marginalized ferocious animals, animals that once were once among the most powerful forces in our environment. A bear attacks a woman recently in a Florida suburb and officials sweep the countryside to destroy the bear and manage the environment we live in.
The strategy has a long human history;
Barbecue Streetsboro style
start
The early settlers of Streetsboro, Ohio thought of course they were logically responding to the situation at hand but were really carrying on a running four million year old battle.
By 1810 the Seneca Indians were gone from Streetsboro Ohio and Titus Street and his friends and family wanted to develop the area into the next Philadelphia. There was good land to be developed, acquired as part of the Western Reserve; and money, big money to be made. The Yankees, transported here from Connecticut, were savvy, hard working and ambitious. From two hours before sun-up to the time they dropped into bed for the day from exhaustion they worked and planned and prepared to survive and prosper.
A little girl had been killed by animals. Maybe wolves or a bear, or maybe something smaller, the record is unclear. The incident happened at dark and the next morning at 5:30 AM most of the men of the area and their sons over age 9 were out there, waiting.
During the previous night, after the men heard the news from their wives and women folk about the little girls death; many had had the same ancient dream. They dreamed of a clan member dead in a tree and a large type tiger confidently guarding the body. It was an archetypal memory and since most of us are descended from the same few strong, lucky descendants; most of the settlers of Streetsboro possessed the same racial memory of that body slumped across a tree branch and us helplessly below watching that tiger.
The men stood about twenty five feet apart with their rifles ready and began to walk inward toward the middle of a mile by mile by mile by mile square. The square now is the cross roads of busy downtown Streetsboro, but then it was still part wild, woody and there were lots and lots of animals in that square, in near the small town. Animals who made their living as scavengers or sometimes carnivores. Each man in the line, if he had sons brought them along and the older ones, more than 9 or 10 or 11 also had a rifle and did a man's work. The younger boys down to five years old were between their Father's in line and their older brothers and carried machete style swords or farm tools and their job was to hack at any small animal, to small to shoot or that tried to escape the entrapment.
As each boy with a machete got busy as the trap squeezed in on itself they naturally didn't have time to kill all the terrified screaming animals ferociously attempting to escape and the young boys, without instruction, began to merely hack at the legs of the fleeing animals. They would come back later to finish their assigned tasks.
The men and older boys marched carefully and shot economically. Despite the emotion of the early morning activities order and discipline maintained itself. Everyone knew what to do without thinking or instruction or reminder. No-one thought about what they were doing but each sensed exactly how to act and proceed. As a group they were the modern representatives of our planet's, the earth's, most successful group of hunters ever evolved to date and they proceeded accordingly. There was no judgment, second thoughts or morality to what they did, only expediency.
Later after the carnage the men and women worked together to prepare the barbecue, and those wounded or hurt in the hunt were groomed by those who hadn't taken place in the activities but were still an integral part of the group. Because of the huge number of animals killed there was no need to follow the ancient pecking orders of who ate first. Everyone could leisurely choose to eat as they preferred and all ate heartily.
END
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost/ edit
We certainly have marginalized ferocious animals, animals that once were once among the most powerful forces in our environment. A bear attacks a woman recently in a Florida suburb and officials sweep the countryside to destroy the bear and manage the environment we live in.
The strategy has a long human history;
Barbecue Streetsboro style
start
The early settlers of Streetsboro, Ohio thought of course they were logically responding to the situation at hand but were really carrying on a running four million year old battle.
By 1810 the Seneca Indians were gone from Streetsboro Ohio and Titus Street and his friends and family wanted to develop the area into the next Philadelphia. There was good land to be developed, acquired as part of the Western Reserve; and money, big money to be made. The Yankees, transported here from Connecticut, were savvy, hard working and ambitious. From two hours before sun-up to the time they dropped into bed for the day from exhaustion they worked and planned and prepared to survive and prosper.
A little girl had been killed by animals. Maybe wolves or a bear, or maybe something smaller, the record is unclear. The incident happened at dark and the next morning at 5:30 AM most of the men of the area and their sons over age 9 were out there, waiting.
During the previous night, after the men heard the news from their wives and women folk about the little girls death; many had had the same ancient dream. They dreamed of a clan member dead in a tree and a large type tiger confidently guarding the body. It was an archetypal memory and since most of us are descended from the same few strong, lucky descendants; most of the settlers of Streetsboro possessed the same racial memory of that body slumped across a tree branch and us helplessly below watching that tiger.
The men stood about twenty five feet apart with their rifles ready and began to walk inward toward the middle of a mile by mile by mile by mile square. The square now is the cross roads of busy downtown Streetsboro, but then it was still part wild, woody and there were lots and lots of animals in that square, in near the small town. Animals who made their living as scavengers or sometimes carnivores. Each man in the line, if he had sons brought them along and the older ones, more than 9 or 10 or 11 also had a rifle and did a man's work. The younger boys down to five years old were between their Father's in line and their older brothers and carried machete style swords or farm tools and their job was to hack at any small animal, to small to shoot or that tried to escape the entrapment.
As each boy with a machete got busy as the trap squeezed in on itself they naturally didn't have time to kill all the terrified screaming animals ferociously attempting to escape and the young boys, without instruction, began to merely hack at the legs of the fleeing animals. They would come back later to finish their assigned tasks.
The men and older boys marched carefully and shot economically. Despite the emotion of the early morning activities order and discipline maintained itself. Everyone knew what to do without thinking or instruction or reminder. No-one thought about what they were doing but each sensed exactly how to act and proceed. As a group they were the modern representatives of our planet's, the earth's, most successful group of hunters ever evolved to date and they proceeded accordingly. There was no judgment, second thoughts or morality to what they did, only expediency.
Later after the carnage the men and women worked together to prepare the barbecue, and those wounded or hurt in the hunt were groomed by those who hadn't taken place in the activities but were still an integral part of the group. Because of the huge number of animals killed there was no need to follow the ancient pecking orders of who ate first. Everyone could leisurely choose to eat as they preferred and all ate heartily.
END
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