Showing posts with label Short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short story. Show all posts

Vision ...

And what I saw was not really who he was …
But I knew then I would always love what I saw.

And then I saw what I did not know was undercover…
I knew then it would never be the same

And so it was that my vision was poor 
and no set of spectacles would help 
until
I looked through the glass into reality

And then I saw …
He was not the person.
I thought I saw.
But it was too late ...

I had already fallen in love with the vision.



© Beachwalkermari 2014

Lost in the Zoo: A Children's Short Story

My inner urge to write will always have me creating and re-creating, whether or not I am ever published anywhere else but on this personal blog.


The following is based upon a prompt to write a story that a 5th-grade reader could comprehend. Let me know what you think by leaving a comment.

Children's Book:

Lost in the Zoo


Have you ever been lost? I was!

Being lost can be scary but it can also be lots of fun. I was excited to go to the Zoo with my Dad and older sister. We had gotten up pretty early, dressed as fast as we could, and hurried downstairs to where my Dad had breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast waiting for us. My Dad made the best breakfasts. We ate, and then we were off to the Zoo. All I could think about was seeing the elephants. My mom had just read me a book about elephants, and I thought they were the best.

My Dad parked the car, and we headed inside. It was amazing! We walked along looking for all the animals in their homes; we saw Tigers and a Lion sleeping on a rock. We saw all different kinds of birds and giraffes that looked like they were hugging each other. My sister spotted a sign pointing to where the monkeys were, and we headed there along with many other families who wanted to see the monkeys. That's when I lost my sister and my Dad.


I felt like I was going to be sick because I was so afraid that I wouldn't find them again. I kept walking and walking and still never saw them. Suddenly, the Zoo wasn't much fun, and I started to cry. A policeman saw me crying and asked me where my family was. And I told him I couldn't find my Dad and my sister, and all the while, I just kept crying. The policeman wiped my eyes with a tissue and told me he would help me find them. He held my hand, and we walked together. He was such a nice policeman and he asked me about all the animals I had seen and wanted to know my favorite. I told him about the book my mom read to me and that elephants were my favorite. He laughed and said they were his, too. He stopped and asked me what my favorite flavor of ice cream was, and I said, "Chocolate, of course." Then he sat me on a bench next to a man with a cart and bought me a chocolate ice cream cone. As I ate my ice cream, we kept walking, and then I saw the elephants. So did the policeman because that's where we headed. He pointed out the mommy elephant and her baby. They were so cute, just like in my book. The baby was following the mommy around and was making baby elephant noises.

Just then, I heard my name, and the policeman turned me around. I saw my Dad and my sister hurrying through all the people. When my Dad reached us, I called him, and he cried out that he was so happy to find me and bent down to hug me. The policeman looked at my Dad and said, "We knew you'd show up near the elephants because they're your daughter's favorite animal." My Dad shook the policeman's hand and thanked him a million times, and then we walked off waving to the policeman, who was waving back.


It was the best day of all!

My Summer Silhouette (500 word challenge for ReadWave)

I entered This new post on ReadWave for their 500-word challenge with the prompt "A Summer You'll Never Forget."



There wasn't anything better than watching the sun set behind the trees. I loved those moments when I had already showered and dressed for the night out with friends, and I'd sit on the porch to watch the sun slowly go down and the colors shift until the blue of the night started to creep in on me. Then, I'd listen for the night sounds and the cars coming down the road. Jen would pick me up, and we'd head out for an evening of friends, cold beer, and dancing to music that poured out of cars and trucks all parked along the grassy area down the road. The dark was sometimes moonlit and other times lit by a small bonfire. I'd watch to see if his truck was there or if I recognized his silhouette or deep laugh. When we met, he always smiled happily and had a kind word and a wink for me. What I wouldn't do for a date with him. But he was older by two years, and although we said "Hi" each time we saw each other, I couldn't shake the feeling he thought I was just a kid. Two years is a huge difference when you're a teenager. Still, my excitement grew each time, and just a wink or a smile was good enough for me. Jen would mercilessly tease me, asking if I had gotten my smile. She had her own silhouette she followed on those dark nights, hoping for her own dream boy.

During the day, we swam, tanned, and drank lemonade while dreaming of someday having a date with our dream boys. We only saw the boys a little during the day. They were off fixing their trucks, working part-time, or just playing sports and hanging out with each other. Almost midway through the summer, on a hot, steamy day, I hung on to the side of the pool with my eyes closed, enjoying the cool water and the sun on my face when a shadow blocked the sun. I opened my eyes and squinted to see that familiar silhouette above me. As my eyes adjusted, I saw his big smile and heard him say, "Mind if I join you?" Stunned, I stumbled over my words, saying, "of course," but that didn't make sense, and I apologized, feeling like I made a fool of myself. My face burned, but not because of the sun. He sat at the edge of the pool, slipped in smoothly, and swam to the other side. I just watched him as he swam, and then he came up right beside me, his green eyes glistening from the water, and he smiled. He said, "I'm glad I came by here today. I get to see you." Not knowing what to say, I just smiled, and he said, "it's okay that you're shy, I still want to take you out tonight. Will you come to see a movie with me?" My dream had come true, and I was a nervous nut. I blurted louder than needed, "Yes, I'll go with you." He laughed because he knew he was making me nervous. Then I laughed, too, and we swam off across the pool.


www.mrwallpaper.com

500-word challenge … a summer you'll never forget.

across borders

rolling down dark, gravelly roads

across borders

backing each other
smoking cigarettes, singing out loud
it’ll be a good go
spinning, spinning, spinning
thunder rolls
sad remembrances
of starry nights …
leaning in
no word spoken
saw the hurt
tapped the buttons
friends do that
cause they know
smoking cigarettes, singing out loud
truck stop breakfasts
steaming jo
boots and hats and rising dust
a good go …

rolling down dark, gravelly roads

across borders

© Maria Norcia Santillanes 2014

From http://www.flickr.com/photos/seamilo/3404399703/

Florida, A Lonely Place

It's a lonely place with non-descript people searching for meaning, searching for something that gives them the esteem they begged for in their lives. Even the TV commercials talked of buying bigger, better, and being the envy of 'friends.'

Gated communities try to keep out the rif-raf but the gates need to be stronger, and the walls need to be higher. Anyone, you know, 'those people,' they could get through, and when they did, well, they fit in as easily as anyone else who knew the key code.

Miles of strip mall shopping stretching from town to town, screaming out with gaudy signs along the way, restaurants, and coffee shops proclaiming their connection to the places the owners came from to have a 'better life.' Still, all they did was re-create their life with the same people they knew from where they came because all the same people came too. When together, they talked about how much better their lives were because they had so much shopping and so many restaurants and how their house was bigger and better, and in their private thoughts, they were the envy of 'friends.'

I see homeless seniors, and I'm sad for them, not knowing why or how they became homeless. I see middle-aged men and women burnt brown, aged beyond their years looking like they fell from a box of raisins. I look around for the little ones; I see the parks but not the children. Maybe they are hidden in gated communities where they have a bigger, better life.

I look around, and I feel cold. I feel lonely,


Excerpts from Untitled

She delighted in watching the light as it cast its shadows through the glass building.  Off in the distance were snow-capped mountains.  She loved the light here, the way it played across the skies, and each moment held a different feeling.  The wind picked up her hair, and she started to dance, spinning around and around, arms high, reaching for the sky. Her dance made her feel and her heart sing; the day became night, the wind ceased, and she was calm.
      Lyn opened her eyes and stared at the white ceiling as she ran her hands over her stomach and breast and lifted her head slightly to tame her hair to one side.  She was dreaming again, the same dream that came often.  When she was awake, she could close her eyes and conjure different scenes; always, the light played its part along with the land's natural beauty and the place's uniqueness.  The only problem for Lyn was she had to open her eyes, and often, what she saw when she opened her eyes didn’t please her much. 

© 2014

*Excerpts from Untitled are snippets of a larger piece I am working on. Please feel free to comment and let me know what you think.

From http://www.excitingcpa.com/

~~~ Sharing is always appreciated and your comments make my day.

excerpts from untitled

    "As Lyn sipped her coffee, she remembered days spent as a child with Aunt Claire singing and dancing in her garden while they picked flowers for the table and veggies for a salad.  They would make rag dolls of old cloth and put on mini plays at the table in the sun room and they made sure to have plenty of afternoon tea parties.  Lyn would put on mounds of her Aunt’s jewelry and a big hat and she would serve real tea and sugar cookies, made earlier in the day, while showing off her best manners.  Then they would head to the stable for a ride on their favorite horses before the afternoon would close.  Her Aunt Claire had made Lyn’s childhood magical"

   "Lyn knew of her French heritage, her Aunt and her mother were French, her father was an American but she could hardly believe her Aunt left an apartment in Paris. A vision of Paris somehow reminded Lynn of Aunt Claire saying, “But you know mon trĂ©sor, your life was always meant to be beautiful.”         © 2014

*excerpts from untitled are snippets of a larger piece that I am working on, please feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
Photo from thealternativebride.blogspot.com
#Paris
~~~

Sharing is always appreciated and your comments make my day.

The stars must be aligned!

I looked for this post in my archives because something incredible happened tonight that is really a chance in a million.. I was looking at YouTube videos and I came across a video in which an old friend, who I met in Northern New Mexico many year ago, showed up. My friend who brought a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers from her garden for me to carry down the aisle. Amazing!! Just amazing that I could stumble upon a video in which I recognize an old friend. The stars must be aligned!
<<<<<<>>>>>>

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Bone China

I was married once, well twice actually but that’s beside the point.

On this occasion of marriage, I was in that place I know so well. Like a troupe of actors, we took our parts, unlike most parts played by the more traditional of folk. The priest was summoned to a forlorn church, old beyond time, unused except by the small group of people whose purpose was to insure the churches antiquity, a population of twenty or so all within a small village one road long and miles wide. All soon to be my relation. To write it sounds as if I lived in another time, another place and that would almost be true but for the fact that it was not long ago and it was in this reality.

It was an incredibly beautiful blue sky day punctuated by a cast of friendly characters some I continue to hold dear after all these years. Dressed in our country finest, we prepared for the festivities. The few in my cast of characters were wide eyed and questioning but accepting as they knew the oddities of the ways in this enchanted land.
XmasMummersMd


       A handsome group,   they were ….













As we all prepared, there was one character for whom we waited, the bearer of the bouquet. My dear artist friend for whom all of life was captured on canvas. She would bring life to the brides bouquet from her garden and bring it along. As we were in this land of enchantment where time is suspended and does not follow any reality most know, being comfortable waiting is acceptable, well almost expected and allows for adventure in the waiting moments. Even though one may have a part to play in a days event, there are higher callings … callings so strong one can not reject them. It’s the call of the yard sale. Yes, the call of the yard sale. Unexpected, sure. Necessary, no. Like hearing the pied piper’s call, my bouquet bearer could not pass up the offering.
YARD

A set of bone china was shining in the bright high sun … calling from the yard sale. So our wait was not in vain, we were to learn of her adventure soon enough and revel in her prize. We would ooh and ahh as we inspected the bone china giving it the power it needed. We all knew in our hearts, the bone china would be the winner of the day but we didn’t speak about those things, all was already in motion. And the bone china became the best remembered guest of the day and it continues to grace the bouquet bearers shelf … it’s longevity a testament to choices.


Like a minstrel, the trickster laughed and the bride and groom are no more, and the wheel  of life continues to spin.


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Flow ...

{{FROM THE ARCHIVES 10.07.11}}

I’ll take the rocks …
River SeridĂ³Image by grungepunk2010 via FlickrThere are days when I look back and wonder why a person’s path snakes so wildly. Could I go back in time and re-write the script, would I want to do that?
No, I don’t think so!
Our paths come together like a confluence of rivers, with meaning, with precise timing, creating a dynamic energy. There are many rocks in the rivers, sometimes there are boulders. Often there are downed trees and lost items being pushed by the waters. Sometimes the rains come and cause the rivers to overflow with abundance and most times, it is good, other times the rain floods areas that had the best of possibilities, changing the landscape and the view. Yet, we keep flowing, whether we know it or not and it is in the flow that peace comes to us and we see the changing of times and accept the landscape for what it has become. In the end, we hope the landscape was beautiful, wild and even crazy. Perhaps, others will remember it as having great purpose.
Would we have wanted no rocks or boulders, or downed trees or are those the very things that set the landscape and direct the energy for future paths to flow?
I’ll take the rocks, the boulders and the downed trees. Along the way, much will probably get lost and that is all right because I will have created energy and a landscape for those who will follow. 
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In the dark


You have to get up early. 
When the sky is still dark.
Let the world unfold before your eyes, 
watch the break of day come over the mountain, 
follow the rays of sunshine that spray over the foothills. 
Listen to the wind, to the sounds of the day ahead. 
You have to get up early. 
  © Maria Norcia Santillanes 
ngm.nationalgeographic.com



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Unfinished stories

She woke to the sound of a harsh wind through the cottonwoods. Grayness enveloped her and a tingle of ice crept up her spine. The dream, still present in her minds eye, punching her in her gut. The scream, the deafening sound of hooves beating against dirt, the acrid smell of smoke and the lingering taste of ashes caught in her throat. The familiar name formed on her lips, "Cole." It was always that way. The dreams were always there, time after time since she was small girl. She'd never told anyone about them. As much as the dreams made her weep, they were hers and hers alone. 
Georgia O’Keeffe Cottonwood III (1944) Oil on canvas (49.53 x 74.30 cm.)
Unsigned, The Butler Institute of American Art. 
As she lay in bed, somewhere in that nether region that is dreaming and being awake, her lips formed the name again, "Cole," this time a warmth rose in her stomach and she closed her eyes again to bring the dream back.
...
...

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Why this morning hurts so much

As a mom you wish for only the best for your children. Each morning when you wake, your first thought is of your babies, no matter how old they may be. Well, at least for me it is!
I can certainly remember what life was like when I was childless but I can't imagine my life now without my child. Even with his kid foibles, I wouldn't trade my boy for anything imaginable and everything I do takes consideration of his well being. I just couldn't imagine it any other way.
That's why this morning hurts so much. I received a call from my dear friend telling me about another friend whose 21 year old passed away this weekend ... one day before Mother's Day.
I didn't know the young man, nor do I know the mom but I do know the dad. He was a childhood friend with whom I just reconnected with on Facebook after so many years. I'm starting to be leery of Facebook these days. In the time since I joined with the idea of reconnecting with old friends and staying in touch with current and new friends, I have learned of friends whose spouses have passed away  too young, and friends who have passed away suddenly, other friends who are failing in health and now of my friend's son. There can be pain when you reconnect with your past.
More than that, there is a certain kind of pain you feel when you learn a child has died. As a mom, the pain burns deeply making you feel the loss even more so and you count your blessings, you make thanks for every moment you have with your own. 'Cause life is short and you never know what can happen next.
It's hard not to think about the loss to the world ... the what could have been. Perhaps God felt this young man had already given his talent and gift to the world and now it was time to go home. I'm sure my friend and his wife wouldn't agree, most parents wouldn't. What I do know though is that his spirit will continue to live on in those who knew of him,  and in all who experienced his love, his talent, and his gift.
My heart weights heavy this morning for my friend and his family and I pray they will find the peace needed.
Word Photo by: SheridanFrenchBlog



~Maria



Buggin' out

Photo: Unknown Source
Skeeter season is coming ... I was just reading an article about those nasty little mosquitoes.
I. am. sure. God had a reason for them. I just don't know it. 
But it started me to thinking about a time when I was living at the ranch and my ex was with his cousin stacking hay in the old barn down in the field. Well, they must have been down there almost all the day and at a certain time of year there are plenty skeeters. I had practically forgotten about them as I sat in my favorite surveying position on the front porch. (My surveying position was pretty sweet, could see most all the valley). Around sundown, they pulled up in the truck and got down to start into the house.
It was a sight I will never forget. 
Both my ex and his cousin were covered with skeeter bites. Big ones, puffy and red ones. They looked like ompalompa's from a distance and 'creatures' close up. It was hard not to stare. 
My ex had bites on his scalp, his legs, his ears. Somehow the buggers got up their pant legs and into the nether regions or they somehow went straight through their denim. His arms were covered and his face ... jeez, I'd never seen anything like it. I'm sure they ate their share too. 
...but the hay got stacked and the work was done. Now when I think back, it gives me a good chuckle and I wish I had taken a picture of my ex ... ... ... hmmm ... well, maybe not.

Death at the Morada; A Short Story

2006-05-20_242Image by vphill via Flickr

The sun was barely coming up over the mesa. The night had been cold and Jake was running out of time. He had to get the cattle back down to the valley before the crew left for Fort Worth. There was no way he was going to miss out on a chance to make some money with the rest of them. When Rivera said the rancher from Dallas was looking for some good hands, he was ready to go. Only he had to finish the work he promised to do for Mateo, so he had to get these five head down so they could be hauled over to Tucumcari day after tomorrow. He dusted himself off and drank the last of the rotten coffee he made earlier, then he wet down the fire pit he had made. He could see them off in the distance. Looks like none strayed, that was good. He didn’t want to waste any time looking for a stray and his back wasn’t feeling all that good after sleeping on a roll all night. The thought of a nice warm bed was mighty enticing just then. Mateo would let it pass if Jake said he couldn’t bring them down but he wanted to keep it good with Mateo for those times when he needed some extra work. Mateo was shrewd and if Jake didn’t do what he promised he’d pass him over the next few times for work, Mateo’s way of saying, "don’t mess with me."
It pissed Jake off that he had to kowtow to the Mexican but until he could get enough money to buy the land back, he’d have to play that game. Jake was a raw teen when his father lost the land to the bank trying to make it work as a farmer. The Mexican had swooped in to buy it up from the bank for pennies just as he had done to his own “borracho” brother’s land whom in a night of drunken gambling, signed it over to Mateo for $50,000.00 when the land was worth $500,000.00. The “borracho” wasn’t able to think beyond the bottle and ended up begging his brother to let him live in the old adobe house that was on the land. When he could stay sober, he worked as a hand for his brother Mateo. The 50 grand was gone in no time.
Jake saddled up and started the work of the day moving cattle. The sun was over the mesa now and it would be late afternoon by the time he got down to the valley assuming there was no problems. At least it was a pretty morning; he could enjoy the blue sky and crisp air. Wasn’t long before he saw the smoke. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from.
“Damn!”
He cut away from the heard and headed toward the smoke. As he got closer, he saw the fire. The old “Morada” was on fire. No one should have been in the old church this time of year, the old Spanish families held their ceremonies during Easter. The “Majordomos” checked on the church now and then to keep it clean and ready for use. It’s was possible they were in trouble. After all, they were always lighting those damn candles all over the place.
Jake grew up with the old Spanish traditions all around him; partly they were his traditions too. He had joined the local men on several occasions when they paraded the saint statues through the villages. Had joined the big feast at the “Morada” on Good Friday and walked the Stations of the Cross. A few times, he even took part in the “Penitentes” rites with “Los Hermanos.” He could speak 'Spanglish' with the best of them and could switch to pure Castilian, on a dime, to talk with the “Viejos.”
When he reached the "Morada", it was awash in flames. He pulled out his cell phone hoping he could get a connection. Cell phones didn’t always work in the high desert mountains. He dialed Mateo but the call dropped. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything himself; there wasn’t even a water supply nearby. The rangers would have to either let it burn out or order up a slurry drop. He moved a few yards hoping he would find a hot spot and dialed again. Mateo picked up on the second ring.
“Mateo, its Jake. The “Morada” is in flames. I can’t put it out myself. Call the ranger station, see what they can do.”
“OK, stay there, I’ll call them. Is the herd safe?”
“Yeah, they’re fine, far enough away. Hurry up, The “Viejos” are gonna’ be upset if they lose all their old statues.”
“OK, let me call” and Mateo hung up.
Jake waited, helpless, hoping they wouldn’t end up losing all their treasured artifacts. He wondered if he should start to dig a line just in case the grass caught. It could help, it would keep him busy until the rangers and volunteers got there. This was gonna’ put a damper on his plans. He got down from his horse and gave her a smack. He knew the horse would trot down to where the cattle were, instinctively looking for safety.
He heard the helicopter first followed by the grinding of gears of the volunteer water trucks. Three trucks pulled in close. Men jumped out and started getting the manual hoses ready to spray. They had to hit the target consistently since they had a limited amount of water in the trucks. He knew all of these men, spent plenty of time in town with any one of them having a beer or hitting the dance hall. He knew them all to be good men, hard working men. He kept digging knowing they would tell him to do something else if it were necessary. One of the men, Billy, nodded at Jake letting him know he was doing the right thing by digging the fire line. You couldn’t take a chance. Wildfires were a problem in the west and everyone knew to be careful just like they knew to turn the water off when they brushed their teeth. Water was precious in the desert.
It was almost an hour later when the fire was out and all that was left were adobe walls and burnt wood beams. The sheriff had arrived, as did several of the local and state police. A few of the local ranchers and “Viejos” had driven up in their old ranch trucks to see what was going on.
They found the body face down near the wood stove. It was easy enough to see the woman had been shot in the head. Identifying the body would be a pain in its condition. When the coroner left with the body, the sheriff walked back over to Jake. Ray Moro had been the sheriff longer than he cared to remember and this murder was not something he wanted to have to deal with. He had promised his wife they’d ride up to Alamosa for the weekend. Looks like that will have to wait. He knew Jake and his family for years and knew Jake was a good man even though he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder about his father losing the land.
“Jake, do you remember hearing any vehicles or voices up here last night?”
“No, I didn’t. Like I told your man, I made camp a good ways back near where the shale road reaches the top.”
“I’m pretty sure you would have heard if there was a vehicle. Dead quite up here in the night and sound carries pretty good. Doesn’t mean they couldn’t have hiked up. If you remember anything more than you already told my deputy, come see me.”
“Alright Ray.”
The sheriff started walking toward his truck and without turning back called out, “Stay close Jake, just in case we need ya’ for anything.”
Jake was tired. All the craziness of the day and digging the line that wasn’t needed took his energy. Most of the day was gone and he still had to move those cows. Looks like he wasn’t going to Fort Worth. He was hours behind his schedule to get down to the Valley and now Ray wants him to “stay close.” What the hell does that mean?
Mateo had called him twice to find out what was going on and told Jake not to worry about the cows. If he got them down by tomorrow afternoon, that would be fine, there was still time. Jake didn’t tell him about the woman found in the Morada.
~
Mateo sat in the cab of his dually and dialed ‘Becka’s number again. He was starting to get worried. She told him she was going to be staying at La Fonda. It was a pretty long drive from Dallas and he was hoping she didn’t run into any problems on the road. The Jeep Cherokee he bought her a few months ago was in good shape, it was brand new and he had made sure it had regular maintenance. Why wasn’t she answering her phone?
Mateo looked out over the valley. He loved this place and planned to make all of it his own. He was proud of his accomplishments even if some thought he went about them in a shady way or was overly aggressive in negotiations. He was a landowner, a successful rancher and was respected in Santa Fe and Taos as a man of influence. He built himself a spectacular home with a view of the entire valley and mountains beyond. From the back, he could see the mesa. His family was well taken care of and his wife Dolores had everything she could want. Now that the kids were gone, Dolores had taken to volunteering in town leaving Mateo with more time on his hands than he wanted. He probably could have brought those five head down from the mesa himself but no matter what Jake may think; Mateo liked him and wanted to give him the extra work. He knew Jake thought he was a bastard for buying his family’s land at a bargain but it was just business.
Mateo started up the truck and headed down the gravel road. He’d head into town, get a beer at Shorty’s before he tried to call ‘Becka again. Maybe play a game of pool.
Mateo walked into a full room at Shorty’s. A Los Lonely Boys song was playing. He sat in a booth by the pool table and ordered a Tecate. Ray Moro spotted him, walked over and sat opposite Mateo in the booth.
“Winding down Mat?”
“Yeah, got too much time on my hands. I think I need a hobby.”
“I don’t know about that, you seem to be a pretty busy guy from all that I read in the Journal.”
Mateo laughed, “Can’t believe everything you read.”
“I expect you handled the call up to the mesa today. What happened?”
Ray sat back and nodded to the waitress to bring his usual, Coke with ice and two wedges of lemon. He knew it was Mateo who called the fire in and that he was told about it by Jake who was working Mateo’s cattle up there.
“Yep, I was up there. Looks like we have a murder on our hands. Used the fire to cover the deed. Don’t know why people think a fire will cover up a murder but they do. Jake spotted the fire.”
Damn, you’re kidding me. Jake didn’t say anything. Just that the Morada burnt to a crisp. Who was killed and why didn’t he tell me?”
“He’s under orders from my office not to share any details though I’m surprised he did as we asked and we aren’t sharing yet.”
“You can see the mesa from your place, Mat. Did you see anything, lights, vehicles, anything out of the ordinary last night or today?”
“I can see the mesa from the back of the house but I don’t usually go out back and I didn’t last night or today. Do you think the murder took place last night?
“Hmm, like I said before, we aren’t sharing yet.”
Mateo sat talking with Ray a while longer before he remembered he had to try to call ‘Becka again. He told Ray that if he remembers anything or hears anything, he’d let him know and he excused himself. Back in the truck, he tried ‘Becka’s phone again. Still no answer. Now Mateo was concerned and he headed to La Fonda.
~
Jake was exhausted by the time he got down to the valley. It was just before dusk and he was happy he made it before the sky darkened. Now the cattle were wandering in a big corral and he was heading home to shower and sleep in his own bed. His truck was just where he left it. He’d call Mateo in the morning even though Mat would have a bird’s eye view of them from his front porch.
Happy he didn’t run into any major snags keeping them together and herded in the direction he wanted, he still would have preferred to have never even seen the smoke. He wished he didn’t have to be involved. He didn’t see or hear anything except the smoke and didn’t know anyone was in there until he heard Ray call for the coroner and still, he doesn’t even know who the body was. Ray was careful not to share details but expected details when he answered questions. Jake couldn’t remember a murder around here in his lifetime. This would be a big deal once the details were out.
Jake flashed his lights at the driver coming up the road that didn’t have their headlights on and was driving much faster than the two-lane country road could allow. Ignoring his flashing lights, the driver passed him way too fast and way too close. Jake recognized Dolores’s car and was surprised by her driving. He’d never seen her drive like that before but he was pretty darn sure it was her driving and not something else. No one could miss that big hair of hers.
Jake parked in his driveway, happy to be home; still annoyed he wasn’t going to Ft. Worth.
~
Mateo pulled up and parked beside the barn. It was late and he was tired. 'Becka never checked into La Fonda and still there was no answer when he called. The lights were on and that meant Dolores was still up. He thought about Dolores, she was a good woman, a good mother. They had met in high school and married shortly after. Within a year, they had a daughter and the following year, a boy. They had a good life. Dolores never had to work but now that the kids were gone, she was antsy to do something. When she told Mateo she was thinking of volunteering at the museum, he supported her; even spoke to a friend on the board to see if he could smooth the way. And he did.
Lately though she wasn’t herself. She was moody and drinking more than normal. Maybe the volunteering was too much. He’d talk to her about it.
He walked up the steps to the porch and looked out over the valley. Looked like Jake had brought the cattle down safely. He would have to throw in a few bucks more for a job well done. Dolores was passed out on the couch, Chris LeDoux was blaring on the radio and an empty bottle of wine on the table. Mateo turned off the radio and picked Dolores up to put her to bed. Mateo couldn’t figure out what was going on with his wife. He got her undressed and into the bed and headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. He opened the refrigerator and took out the makings for a sandwich, adding item after item into the crook of his arms. With his elbow, he swung the refrigerator door closed and started to put everything down on the table when he saw the note. In Dolores’s handwriting was the name ‘Becka and a phone number. It was “Becka’s cell phone number. Mateo lost his appetite. Dolores knew.
Mateo didn’t mean for anything to happen. He loved his wife and he loved his life with her but when he met Rebecka on business in Dallas, he didn’t realize he was heading into danger. This wasn’t good. Maybe that’s why ‘Becka didn’t meet him and why she wasn’t answering his calls.
Mateo put the sandwich makings back in the refrigerator and took out a beer. He went out to the porch and sat, he needed to think of what he was going to say to Dolores.
~~~~~+++++~~~~~
Mateo woke to a knock at the door.
“Ray, what are you doing here so early in the morning?’
“Came to talk with you about the fire. We identified the body that we found in the Morada, Mat. Her name was Rebecka Moran.”
Mateo leaned against the wall, “Come in Ray.”
When Ray finally left, Mateo just sat and stared. Mateo couldn’t believe how his world was spinning out of control. They found ‘Becka dead in the Morada with a gun shot in the head. Her Jeep was found in the parking lot on Marcy Street in downtown Santa Fe just a few blocks from La Fonda. Whoever killed her was sloppy and thought the fire would cover their tracks. Ray had been sure to tell Mateo to stay close because there was much more they would need to speak to him about regarding his whereabouts and his affair with Rebecka Moran.
Dolores had heard everything from the bedroom. When Ray left, she came out dressed looking like the pain of the world was on her shoulders. Couldn’t tell if it was the pain of what she had learned about her husband’s affair and the murder or if it was the bottle of wine taking its wager.
“How could you Mateo? You make me sick.” She turned back to the bedroom and retrieved an overnight bag she had packed. “I’m leaving. I’m going to Taos, I need to think.”
Mateo was speechless. He knew he should say something but he was overwhelmed. All he could do was watch her go. He couldn’t believe this was happening.
He picked up his phone. “Jake, it’s Mateo. I need your help. Can you handle the haul to Tucumcari? I’ll pay you good. The woman’s body they found, turns out its someone I know. I can’t leave and I don’t have a mind too. “Can ya’ help me out?”
Jake figured he knew what Mateo meant when he said he knew the woman. There were rumors around about his business trips to Dallas. When Mateo asked him for help, Jake saw dollar signs and agreed to haul the cattle to Tucumcari.
“Sure, no problem, I’ll take care of it.”
“Everything you need is in the barn and I’ll leave the papers you’ll need in your box, I’ll call the boys and let them know you’re taking my place. They’ll be at the barn by sun up. Make sure they know there’s no drink until the works done. I’ll call Bill Deere in Tucumcari; he’s the person you’ll see when you get there. I’m counting on ya’ Jake.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve handled hauls before.”
Jake hung up and smiled, Mateo just might get his after all.
~
“Hey Ray, got a minute.” Ray’s deputy was standing at the office door.
“Whatcha’ got for me Frank?”
“We found tire marks on the back side leading up to the mesa and it looks like the vehicle had a bit of an oil leak too. We also found two sets of footprints; both woman and one set matched the shoes that were on the deceased. The fire was set with gasoline probably from the cans kept in the workroom at the back of the Morada.
“Good work. Did you match the tires to the vehicle type?
“Yeah, belongs to a Cadillac Escalade, not too many of those around here.”
“We also found a pair of sunglasses on what would be the driver’s side, ladies Oakley’s
“Hmm, I know of one Escalade around here and the driver usually wears Oakley’s. I don’t think I like where this is going. You know what to do next Frank.
~
Mateo sat on his porch looking out over the valley. He had no energy to do anything. He kept going over in his mind how ‘Becka ended up at the Morada and why she never called. Who would want to kill her? Mateo sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was sure Dolores would be filing for a divorce. This would ruin him. He heard a vehicle and looked up to see Ray Moro driving up the road. Mateo watched Ray slow down to make the turn over the cattle guard into his property. He’d be up at the house in a minute. Mateo got up and headed to the front door to let Ray in.
“Ray, come in. How about some coffee, it’s old, from this morning. I could make a fresh pot?”
“No thanks Mat. If ya’ have a coke I’d take that. Is Dolores here?”
Mateo handed Ray a cold can of Coke from the refrigerator “No, she left to Taos. She heard us talking this morning and took off. Said I made her sick. She’ll probably file for divorce.”
“What time did she leave?”
“Around 8:30, shortly after you left. Why?”
“We think she may know something about what happened up at the Morada. Let me make a call, I’ll be right back.”
Before Mateo could say anything else, Ray walked out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. Mateo didn’t understand what was going on.
“Mateo, did you see Dolores yesterday morning?”
“No, I left the house early to meet the boys for breakfast in town. I had to tell them what the plan was for hauling the cattle Jake was bringing down to Tucumcari. She was still sleeping when I left.”
They heard the Deputy’s truck coming up the driveway. Ray went to the door to let him in. Several other vehicles were with him. Ray spoke quietly with Frank for a few minutes.
“Ray, we have a warrant to search your home”, Ray said and Frank handed it to Mateo.
“Sure, go ahead. Am I a suspect?”
“No Mat, but Dolores is. We found tire marks up at the Morada that match her Escalade and a pair of Oakley’s, the one she always wears. Did she have them on when she left for Taos?”
“No. God, I can’t believe this. Dolores couldn’t.” Mateo fell into the chair at the table.
“She’s been picked up in Embudo on the road to Taos. They found a gun in her SUV. I’m sure it will match. She’s already implicated herself. Looks like she found out about the affair and lured Rebecka to the Morada, shot her and tried to cover up with the fire.” Ray put his hand on Mateo’s shoulder.
“Yesterday, when I came in I found a note with ‘Becka’s name and cell phone number and I realized she knew about the affair but kill he, I can’t, I don’t think Dolores could do such a thing.”
~
Mateo got the call from Ray in the late afternoon. Dolores didn’t want to see him or have anything to do with him. She didn’t want him to come to the trial or attempt to reach her. In her mind, this was his entire fault. Ray said she was ranting and didn’t make sense but she wasn’t sorry. She confessed to the murder.
Dolores heard Mateo’s cell phone ring and was surprised he had left his phone on the nightstand. Dolores picked up the phone and saw the call was coming from “B”. Dolores had felt the change in Mateo and knew something was wrong with their relationship. Mateo had been distant, often taken trips that he wouldn’t normally have bothered to take and he had been guarded about where he was going, what he was doing. So when she saw the call come in from “B”, she went into a tailspin. She starred at the phone until, the message signal came on, and then she dialed the voicemail and listened. The woman was talking about their upcoming tryst and how excited she was to be with him. She left the time and place that she would be in Santa Fe. Dolores was sick and then the plan started to evolve.
Dolores called the number back under the guise of being Mateo’s secretary. Dolores figured if it didn’t work and the woman knew better, then she would just have to have it out but if not she could meet this home wrecker and Dolores would have her say. She called and identified herself as Mateo’s secretary and told Rebecka that Mateo would be in a meeting and asked her to call Rebecka and arrange to pick up and bring her to the ranch where they would attend a party together. Dolores had laughed when she realized how young and naĂ¯ve the woman was and that made her even angrier. Dolores picked her up in the parking lot a few blocks from where the woman was planning to stay. They drove the hour chatting amiably about Rebecka and how she met Mateo. Rebecka was more than happy to keep the conversation on herself. It was apparent from what Rebecka was saying that she knew Mateo was married and had two grown children but that was all, didn’t even know the wife’s name or anything about his children but was convinced the wife had to be awful if such a nice man like Mateo would so easily stray. Rebecka was happy to tell about the Jeep Cherokee that Mateo had bought her among other things including the diamond bracelet, which Rebecka kept dangling in Dolores’ face. Dolores had all to do to keep her temper. When they arrived at the Morada, Rebecka wanted to know why they were there because it didn’t look like anyone else was. Dolores said that was where they were all meeting, she was to get there early to open up and turn on the lights, blah, blah, blah, and Rebecka believed her. It was so simple and when Rebecka walked in and looked around, she turned to Dolores who had a gun pointing at her. It had made Dolores feel so good to just say, ‘I’m Mateo’s awful wife’ and shot Rebecka in the head. She left the body there, went to the back room where she knew there was a few can of gasoline, and poured it around. As she left, she lit the gas and for a few minutes watched the flames take hold.
“Mateo, she may need an insanity defense,” Ray said.
Mateo hung up the phone, walked out to the porch and dialed Jake. Listening to the phone ring, he watched the sun go down on the valley.
+++++

© Beachwalkermari  October 5, 2011

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Last night I started a new story. It has no title, no form, just a narrative flowing from my brain.
I struggle to know if what I am doing even makes sense since I am not an author (well maybe in my own mind) and neither have I been formally trained. I have been reading this one particular website for aspiring writers and I am amazed at the intricacies of which so many ‘aspiring writers’ are all ready aware. I gather the hard part is following all the exacting rules one is required to follow in order to get something actually published. Yikes! The word on the street is that so many people submit their writings, publishers have to eliminate by creating hoops for which the writer to jump. How high?
So sadly, a work could be very good but it may never be read because a rule was not followed exactly and so it was eliminated.
Well, I’m just going to keep writing because I enjoy it and if something comes of it wonderful, if not … well I won’t worry about it.

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I've done the scary deed and for the very first time outside of this blog, I have submitted my work for public review to Clever Fiction and the story I sent them is Night Lights which is a  thousand-word short story using the prompts rain, sailboat and shame. If they accept it, it will be on their website within the next day or so.




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Night Lights


A thousand-word short story using the prompts rain, sailboat, and shame.



Kara woke to thunder and the tree branches outside her window slapping against the clapboard. She walked to the window to close it and saw a light in the distance. Glancing at the clock on her side table, she knew it couldn't be a light in the dock office. After tying up and securing all the boats, Ben had already locked up for the night. He certainly wouldn't be doing paperwork at 2:30 in the morning. The storm, although loud, was not severe enough to be a concern. She strained to see better through the rain that poured in sheets, something most people in the South were quite used to enduring. She thought she could make out a mast but wasn't sure. She just knew something was out of the ordinary for the middle of the night.


Kara's curiosity got the better of her. She went downstairs, pulled on her wellies, threw her rain slicker over her nightgown, and headed out in the rain and down to the dock. As she got closer, she could make out the shape of a sailboat, which looked to be about a 20-footer. She stood at the edge of the dock in the rain, watching the boat. It looked like it was listing a bit. She thought about calling Ben but remembered she didn't grab her cell phone from the foyer table where it was charging. She waved her hands, hoping someone on the boat would see her. She was startled by a voice from behind her.


"No one's on the boat," the voice softly said.


She turned around quickly, fearing suddenly that maybe this was a bad idea. She saw him walking toward her and was stopped by the image of a man about her age, sopping wet with no shoes. His eyes were a striking blue, piercing her.


"I sprung a leak. Stayed with it as long as I could, tried to guide her as close in as possible. Took the dingy in all the way but when I got to the dock, I slipped and fell into the water. I'm about as wet as I can be", he said.


Stunned by his piercing eyes and athletic body, she could see the outline of his abs as his shirt clung close to his body. She still couldn't speak.


"My names Jake, Jake Johnson. Do you know the dock master by any chance?"


Kara paused a second to find her voice. "Uh, yes! Yes, Ben is the dock master. I was going to call him when I saw the sailboat listing but I forgot my cell phone at the house. Sorry."


"That's OK," Blue Eyes said. "I'm surprised to be seeing anyone this time of night. I thought I'd have to wait it out, catch my death from the wet. What made you come out here in the middle of the night and get drenched?"


Then Kara looked down to see her slicker wide open and her nightgown utterly wet from the rain. She knew he was looking at her wet, clinging nightgown. What was she thinking? She pulled the slicker close, but it was too late. Her face was burning with embarrassment and regret. If her mamma was still around, she would have told Kara she should know better, 'cause she was raised right, and you don't bring any shame on the family, no matter how little bitty it really was. She thought, was a gorgeous man seeing her in her nightgown shameful?


"Well, I saw a light in the distance and my curiosity got to me. I thought maybe someone was in trouble."


He watched her pull her slicker close and wondered if she had caught him enjoying the view. He was amazed to see her on the dock wearing a pair of rubber boots and a slicker over her long nightgown, which was nothing but a thin wisp of cotton. He had better think about his predicament and not about how her wet hair fell onto her shoulders or the frame of her face and, well, the rest of her. He needed help and a place to dry out.


"Do you think you could help me out? I need a place to dry out until I can get some help with my boat."


"Oh, uh sure, I just live up there. I'll call Ben; he'll be able to help you. Follow me and while I'm calling, you can wait on the porch."


She felt terrible making him stay on the porch, but she didn't want to take a chance just in case. Not that he couldn't just grab her now if he was the serial killer type.


He was disappointed he couldn't get into the house to dry off, and the more he looked at her, the more he wanted to know her. Maybe this was a place he could disconnect from his hell of a job in New York. The boat was just the start, the freedom he was looking for, and maybe fate brought him here with the tide.


Kara came to the porch with a tray of hot coffee and some cookies. She had changed into jeans and a tee shirt and ran a brush through her hair. The rain had stopped, and the humidity was settling in. It wasn't unusual for the temperatures to remain in the 70s during the night.


Kara hadn't been attracted to a man in a long time; maybe fate was working to her advantage. She knew it was crazy to think what she was thinking.


"I called Ben; he'll be here in a bit. He's making some calls to get you help with the boat and he's bringing work clothes for you to change into."


She watched as he wrapped his hands around his coffee mug and wondered why not. She leaned in and smiled, "By the way, my name is Kara."


© Beachwalkermari 2011

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