Merkin
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Posts posted by Merkin
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Cole's new story, On the High Plains of Wyoming is a magnificent character study of a boy well on the way to becoming a self-made man, at no small cost to his youth. I admire this boy immensely, knowing full well I could never have measured up to the standard he sets.
Amazing story, Cole.
James
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Thank you. When I wrote this I wanted to depict a setting all too often found within our institutions where many of our young people are exposed to exploitation by those in authority in ways that are sanctioned or ignored. Within this dynamic I wanted to show a young man, still at the beginning of his journey toward maturity, who is instinctively sensitive to the wellbeing of those who are younger, weaker, more innocent. What can a relatively powerless boy do to combat evil, without becoming a victim himself?
James
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Alleluia
by Merkin
?What?d I miss in Sunday School, Artie??
?You were out back playing your GameBoy, weren?t you? You rat.?
?They expect us older kids to do stuff like that.?
?Right. Listen Jesse, Pastor Bob wants us to be angels in the pageant.?
?Artie, we?re teenagers. We don?t do angels.?
?But it?s an Easter Pageant, Jesse.?
?No way. With wings? Forget it.?
?Pastor Bob said just long white robes for us.?
?Bathrobes I?ll bet. Man, they?ll be looking up our skirts!? Jesse shook his head.
?At what??
?Good point. But still, whose idea was this? We never had kids in an Easter Pageant before.?
?Well, we never had a ?youth minister? before. Pastor Bob wants to try it out, and Reverend Chiswell said go ahead. We?re going to do Jesus Risen in the Tomb. Pastor Bob is going to be the dead Jesus carried in by soldiers, then they?ll roll a big rock in front of it, and then when they roll it back after the choir sings a lot it?ll be Easter morning and the congregation will see a bunch of cherubs and no Jesus. That?s the little kids.? Artie finally took a breath.
?Little kids??
?Yeah, Pastor Bob wants Tommy and Carl and Billy to wear cloth togas and little wings.?
?That?s creepy.?
?It?s Biblical. Then we appear and tell the girls who come to the tomb what happened.?
?We have to say stuff??
?Don?t worry. I got stuck with that. That?s what this sheet of instructions is for. C?mon, Jesse, you have to help me with this!?
?Let?s give this some thought. It seems pretty creepy to me.?
* * *
?0.K. kids, listen up. I?ve asked your parents to let you stay today after Sunday School. This will be our only dress rehearsal, so I want each group to go to your classroom and change into your costumes. Girls downstairs with Mrs. Eliot, boys up here with me.? Bob, the new youth minister, was a part-time security guard at the mall during the week and he liked to give orders. The boys milled around nervously.
?You two,? he motioned to Arthur and Jesse, ?go in the next room and get your robes on. Remember to take your outer clothes off so the robes will drape properly. I?ll be in to check on you in a few minutes. You boys that are playing townspeople, this rack is full of the shepherd costumes from the Christmas Pageant. Pick out one that fits and put it on. Mr. Sams will stay here with you and help with that.?
?Yeah, right,? muttered Jesse, ?Artie, did you bring it with you??
?It?s right here, Jesse. Be careful, my dad will kill me if you break it. But I still think you?re making a fuss over nothing.?
?You two stop horsing around and go get those robes on!? Bob was pointing at them. ?Billy, Carl, Tommy, come with me. I?m going to pin you up.?
?Bingo,? said Jesse. He and Artie went into the room next door and Jesse stood by the door, listening.
?What are you doing?? asked Artie.
?Just follow me, and be very quiet,? said Jesse.
They crept down the hall toward the primary grade room. The door was shut but they could hear Bob talking loudly. ?O.K., you boys. I said everybody strip down! Everything off right down to your underpants, so do it! Come over here one at a time and I?ll pin these togas on you and fix your wings. Billy, you first. Move it!?
?Give it to me, Artie,? hissed Jesse. He hefted the tiny digital camera and made sure the controls were set, then he carefully eased the door slightly open. He and Artie peered through the crack. They saw Billy first, wearing only briefs, his hands covering his genitals. The six year-old was shaking. Carl and Tommy, also in their undies, stood behind him. They appeared just as frightened. Pastor Bob was on his knees beside Billy. He pushed Billy?s hands away as he groped at the boy?s penis. Tears began streaming down Billy?s face.
Jesse swung the door open and stepped inside, the camera flashing as he framed the scene before him. ?Artie, go get Mr. Sams and the guys! Quick!? The next harsh flash from the camera starkly illuminated the desperate faces of the boys, the startled stare from Bob.
?What the fuck! Get out of here, you little shit!? roared the youth minister. He lurched to his feet as Artie turned and ran. Bob lunged toward Jesse but the boy jinked to the side and Bob slammed into the edge of the open door. Dazed, the man swayed uncertainly as footsteps came pounding down the hallway.
Later that afternoon Jesse and Artie were shooting baskets in Artie?s driveway. ?Did you see all the police cars!? Artie was recounting the experience for maybe the fiftieth time. Jesse just grinned, swerved, and dunked the ball past Artie?s guard. ?It?s going to be in the newspaper! Dad said he was going to give you the camera!?
?I told you we don?t do angels,? said Jesse.
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Thanks for the link, Camy. Geoffrey claims a 'secret life' as a poet, but it's flashy enough for me to have seen his signals in the sky from afar.
James
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When you're driven to write, flash fiction is a great vehicle.
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Great links, Graeme. The Amsterdam garage setup is quite artistic.
Why does Spencer get to keep his clothes on?
James
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James Savik has offered up the final chapter of Twilight. This brilliant novel has entertained and informed me throughout, and every chapter has managed to provide at least one jaw-dropping episode or encounter. As a non-military techno-challenged tree-hugger type I had a steep learning curve to deal with, but James proved to be a master at inserting enough technical information to keep me abreast of the plot and aware of the issues and threats. I think this compelling novel is extraordinary, highly publishable, and a cinch for mainstream success.
Congratulations, James. An impressive, memorable accomplishment.
James Merkin
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Does the absence of date and time information signify that is a fake quote, Bruin? Or could you have added that in?
I'm a bit fearful that having this ability to fake a quote could be setting us up for baaaad threads...
James
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'fraid not, Cole. I had to look it up. Looks like the stories are set in roughly the same era, up to and including WWI. Apparently Rufus was based on the author's real-life little brother. That's the other thing I missed, as an only child -- sibling rivalry. Although the next door neighbor kid more than made up for it.
James
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I am touched by all of your positive comments. I must confess I am feeling my way; my experience of contemporary youth culture is practically nonexistent. My own ideal for boyish behavior was more-or-less based, when I was a kid, upon multiple rereadings of Booth Tarkington's brilliant series of titles about Penrod Schofield and his pals. Most of the settings and situations and confrontations (and bigotries) celebrated there no longer exist, even though they were a large part of my own agrarian small-town America.
James
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I am eagerly awaiting the next stage of human evolution to assert itself.
James
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That's if you include teenage armadillos in the sample.
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Which reminds me of this article that you and other writers/editors would probably enjoy.
I love this. I especially like the comment by 'Val.'
James
Oh, yes: wonderful to see you, Wibby. Should produce a flood of cute animal photos.
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Is there a special technique to downloading these pics? I am blocked and told I 'don't have permission' even tho I am logged in.
James
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Skill, cunning, and bravado: survival at the highest level. Very convincing, and a wonderful ear for Street.
Thanks, Cole.
James
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Special Delivery
by Merkin
Jesse was getting more than bored waiting for his mother to finish her shopping. If only he didn't have to depend on his parents for transportation! Being thirteen really sucked big time.
He sighed and turned to look over the rack of Valentine cards. He couldn't believe the prices for these fancy cards. Luckily he could still get away with making the only card he'd need, the one for his mom, out of construction paper at home. Plus these store cards were all disgustingly mushy. In fact, he'd better not even be seen looking at them. He turned his attention to nearby shelves filled with vitamins and tonics. Where was his mother?
Finally Jesse saw her moving into the checkout. He walked quickly toward the front of the store so he could meet her at the exit without having to stand with her in line. He was so engrossed in avoiding his mother that he walked right into the customer who was leaving the other checkout.
"Oof! Sorry!" Jesse looked down with dismay at the Valentine card fluttering out of the customer's bag and landing onto the floor. He couldn't stop his right foot from treading firmly on part of the big red envelope. "Ohmigod! Really sorry!" His sneaker had left a slight mark. "I'll buy you another one!"
He looked up to see a vaguely familiar high school boy grinning at him. "You're an even bigger klutz than I was at your age. Forget it. I can clean that up."
"Th-thanks," Jesse stammered. "Ya know, those big ones take more than one stamp or they won't deliver it." Jeez! Had he really said that?
"I'll worry about the stamps. You'd better practice steering those feet of yours." With another grin, the older boy scooped up the card and envelope and turned away. Jesse's relief was short-lived as he heard his mother behind him.
"Jesse, don't dawdle. We're late as it is."
"Right, Mom," he said with a sigh. Thirteen was the pits.
* * *
"Did you get any Valentines?" Jesse's best friend Artie had met him as usual as school let out and they were pushing through the crowd of students toward their bus. Since the upper school students had already boarded, the remaining seats were all in the front unless they hurried to claim a space further back.
"Are you kidding, Artie? We're in eighth grade. Nobody gives out Valentines."
"I got one. From Judy."
"Well, you've practically been married since first grade."
They pushed up onto the steps of the bus and Jesse stumbled into the student who was boarding ahead of him. He looked down as he caught himself and saw a familiar red envelope fall to the floor. In fact, it still had a faint footprint on one corner. He grabbed it and stood up. "You dropped this," he said to the retreating form wearing the varsity jacket.
Keith Eliot, star forward for the high school basketball team, looked back, scowled, and grabbed the envelope from Jesse. "That's mine, kid."
Ohmigod! Jesse's thoughts churned as he stumbled down the aisle. "Ooh Keith," one of the girls said, "who'ja get a Valentine from?" The rest of the crowd was in full throat as they oohd and aahd. Keith grimaced and quickly shoved the envelope inside his jacket.
As Jesse turned to look for Artie his eyes caught those of a student in another seat. It was the boy from the drugstore. He was staring intently at Jesse. Jesse hesitated, gave a jerky shrug, then continued his turn as the boy looked at him and smiled slightly.
"What was that all about?" Artie had saved him a seat.
"Nothing," Jesse sat down heavily and dropped his backpack onto the floor. "Just a little special delivery."
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Jason shows us what could happen when 'wanting' turns into 'keeping' and 'loving' transforms into 'owning.' A terrible lesson.
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The amount of contact needed with children before an adult needs to be vetted, in a workplace or voluntary setting, has been changed to at least once a week.
This is preposterous. Who, then, is not included? Every adult in your realm who works or volunteers must contact some child at least once a week. Will the royals be required to register? What about those children who bear all those bouquets to hand off to the Queen?
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James has the key concern laid out: in my small community, I cannot envision any of the "proper" people in town allowing their child to be identified as gay, much less separated out and sent to a different school. I can envision this scenario on any given morning: "Hey, there's Jimmy waiting for the Queer Bus! Let's get him!"
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I agree with your analysis, Cole. It reminds me very strongly that I live in a region not that many years beyond the "separate but equal" spin put on segregated schooling. Integration, along with strong supervision and enforcement, finally broke down that particular smoke and mirror ploy, although de facto segregation still exists and it is no child's friend.
James Merkin
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I am grateful for your comments. I'm glad you have enjoyed this glimpse into the lives of Jesse and Artie. You may be seeing more of them, since I'm planning to record a few more of their adventures.
James
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Best Buds
by Merkin
Artie actually noticed the car before Jesse did. "Who's that?" he asked as he braked his bike at the end of Jesse's driveway.
Jesse spotted familiar New Hampshire plates on the brand new Audi. "That's my Uncle Fred! My favorite uncle has new wheels! Sweet." He brought his bike to a halt beside Artie's and swung his leg over.
"Unh, isn't he your only uncle? How can he be your favorite?" Artie was maddeningly logical sometimes.
"Cork it, Artie. I think I need to go in now."
"Can I come in and say hello? Maybe he'll give us a ride."
"I'd better check things out first," said Jesse.
"I thought we were best buds. I like your uncle Fred, too, you know."
"We are best buds, Artie. And I know he likes you. But Uncle Fred never just shows up like this. I should go find out what's up."
"O.K.... I'll see you." Obviously disappointed, Artie rode back toward his own house. Jesse watched to make sure he was well on his way before turning to go in.
The next morning Jesse met Artie at the corner where they waited for the school bus.
"Well?"
"Well is a deep subject, Artie."
"C'mon, dufus. What was the crisis?"
Jesse had made up his mind to tell Artie. "No problem. Uncle Fred brought someone home for us to meet. He's getting married."
"That's great, Jesse! You're gonna have a new aunt!"
"It's a guy." Jesse glanced quickly at Artie's face.
"Jeez." Artie thought hard as Jesse waited. Then he looked up. "Like I said, that's great! Now you can really choose a favorite uncle!"
Jesse smiled. "Thanks, Artie."
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Semi-colons are simply a part of the apparatus of written language. They have nothing to do with vanity or a desire to show off. They are essential to poets, who use them, along with commas, to control rhythm.
James
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One board member told the Press-Enterprise that there are probably more objectionable terms in the dictionary.
Yeah. Like 'truth' and 'education.'
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A Wait May Be Too Late
in Flash Fiction
Posted
I agree completely, and would just add that achieving the disconnect and making it plain to the reader within the brief window of flash fiction is genius indeed.
Great job, Trab.
James