John Silver's Last 15 Minutes

John Silver's Last 15 Minutes

fiction
edward w Pritchard


The man entered through the heavy wooden door and pulled it shut against his back with a thump. He moved sideways pressing his back against the wall and scanned the low ceiling ed dark store. The store's owner, his former boss, who had kindly fired him several years before, nodded at him and continued to wait on his only customer. John Silver's continued to press his back firmly against the log wall, stood up on his toes, and tried to slow his racing thoughts.

He worried about the three Indians he had passed crossing the porch on his way into the store. It didn't matter which tribe they were from, Indians never liked him. It didn't matter who he was with Indians never specifically liked him. Didn't like his looks, it was said, because he never smiled. Indians didn't smile much anymore, but they didn't like Silver's for not smiling. His mind raced through it's worries.Why had he never been able to find his place in the world, be like others? He had been a bad farmer, fights with his Father about not being able to get up in the early morning, or late morning either, then the army, no self discipline said his sergeant, no will, said the sergeant's superior. Then the travesty of working in this very store. His uncle had got him the job. Standing around for almost a year, feeling like a mouse in a cage, afraid of the customers, not sure what to do, his mind raced.

Think of something positive, like you were taught, he suggested to himself. He took a deep breathe, remembering how he had got along better with the Indians as a young man, walking throughout xx [Ohio] with John Chapman. John Chapman, the Appleseed man knew how to put on the act with the Indians and everyone else. Put a pan on your head before you enter a village or town. Walk and walk, 60 miles a day. It was the happiest two years of his life. the walking was very good for him, it calmed him, it relieved his burden. Walking and marching in the Army both worked for that and regulated his sleep which made the days better. After the walks with Chapman, and the good karma it had generated there had been a few women friends and then a wife, for while, then at last, she wasn't here either.

He continued the breathing, relax the face, still the mind, if he could.

He hadn't followed the normal progress of things, bad luck, or no follow-through, find something to do when young, make it the thing to do, the right thing , and then stick with it, nurture it, and someday reap a harvest, like neighbors, people in books, and others. So he was alone, with no prospects, obsolete, and now he was standing in the store with his back firmly pressed against the heavy log door.

Relax, breathe, your not out of place, this is just where you are now, he thought.

He did begin to relax, clear his mind, and wondered rationally why had you come into the store. He thought calmly. There was always clarity and acceptance in buying something, things, buying things made you welcome, and accepted and part of it. But he wasn't going to ask for credit and he had no money today.

He walked back out through the heavy wood door, across, the porch, awkwardly smiled at the three brooding young Indians, and then ducked too late as one smashed an old fashioned tomahawk war hammer into the side of his head.

John Silver's was known as the the last white man in the county killed by Indians.

end part 1

Ulysses S Grant and John Silvers

part 2

Future United States President Ulysses S. Grant was working in his brother's store in Illinois and making a mess of things. He just couldn't fit in and everyone was concerned. Simply put he was a poor excuse for a store clerk. He had previously been a poor excuse for a farmer which why he tried working at the store. He was saved because a terrible configuration started, The American Civil War of 1861. Because Grant could kill and motivate and lead others to kill also, he found his place and became a success. Later, after he finished with the Presidency, he had to rush, and race death, to complete his memoirs, because he was again facing bankruptcy, and so his wife and family would be properly cared for after he died, because Grant was not a thrifty man. Grant's memoirs are notable and Grant is considered a good writer.
See an Ill timed Life- President Grant's Lament

end part 2

part 3
Story continues without proper research or feasible logical connection

President Ulysses S. Grant's grandmother was Rachel Kelly and married Noah Capt Grant in 1792. Noah Grant, Grant's grandfather, who was not a thrifty man [ as was President Grant not a thrifty man]. Rachel Kelly died April 10, 1805 and is buried in Deerfield cemetery. Rachel Kelly is buried near where John Silver's was killed by Indians but it is unknown if there is any connection between Rachel Kelly's life and John Silver's. Then as now Deerfield was and is a very small town however. Silver's is a historical figure of little renown beyond Deerfield but Silver's is a fake name to protect this author from libel and improper historical research.

President Ulysses S. Grant suffered from Migraines most of his life. He was shy person and while serving at Fort Vancover in Washington State drank out of loneliness, for he missed his family terribly. Grant was unsuccessful at everything in his life until the civil war except he was a good family man, devoted to his children, and had the knack and ability to train, and calm horses.

On January 3, 1889, Philosopher Frederick Nietzsche finally suffered a mental collapse a common tale states that Nietzsche witnessed the whipping of a horse at the other end of the Piazza Carlo Alberto, ran to the horse, threw his arms up around its neck to protect the horse, and then collapsed to the ground. It is unknown if there is a connection between President Ulysses S Grant's love of horses and Frederick Nietzche's protection of horses. See "The Man who protected Horses" by edward w pritchard[ January blog] for more information on Nietzsche.

No credible research exists if President Grant ever pressed his back firmly against the wood doors at the white House but it may be interesting to pursue.

The Grant/Nietzsche connection is intriguing. Both had facial hair, Grant beard/Neitzsche mustache, both had a connection to horses, both were good writers, although in fairness Nietzsche is an exceptional one in a million writer, and both are now dead.
end part 3

Part 4
Silver's writes to his old acquaintance

True Blue Odio Colodie
you taught the peasants how to pop corn
although you weren't really a noble.
You took my heart
which started harder than stone.
I shuffled the cards
while we went hand in hand
and sat by your side as babies were born.
Forsaking others, friends, foes, prurient interests
and joined with you at the hip
shut out the dawn.
Acquired things, more than two houses full
and you took me with you as you flew,
soaring together into azure skies.
But your humours eradicated
and you were gone, something else emerged.
Life continues, true blue friends dislocate
and I use my stone cold heart to crack corn for souffles
and teach unbelievers about life's cycles.
While I Try to grow wings myself,
from the hollow space behind my eyes
I write odes to your gentle voice
echoing eons and eternities from where I listen;
a memory that never was.
end