My Dear, Relentless from Spirit's Tales

He took another drag from the cigarette and watched the birds cross the sky headed for the south. He enjoyed watching nature, it was almost as soothing as his smoke-almost. Calib caught a whiff of something putrid, he looked down and spied a smelly banana covered in flies. Turning his head, he looked down to his other side. The bag lay as if neglected at his side. He was simply at his wits end trying to stay sane and the predicament which had befallen him. His wits weren't as good now a days either, Calib was 75 and he could feel all those little years knawing away at the joints in his legs and arms. Yes, Calib felt death approaching and he still wasn't sure if he was ready. Why, who the hell was ready for that, anyway. Calib chuckled and brought the cigarette to his cracked lips. He pulled the smoke in deeply. Calib felt the whole world suddenly get bigger and spin as another one died somewhere far away.

"Damn, this never ceases to startle me." Standing slowly, Calib's knees creaked and his whispy grey hair fell in his eyes. He looked down beside him at the garbage bag. Calib had a gift it seemed. Sometimes, when a person died, Calib could feel it. Calib had sensed the gift as a teen when one of his friends killed himself. He didn't like the feeling then and he damn sure didn't like it now. Hundreds of times in the past, Calib had been a morbid reciever of death. The moment when time stood still, reversed and then restarted, Calib was convinced. No, he wasn't a skeptic. He just accepted the gift as an occurance that could not be explained. Then, when it happened over and over, Calib accepted it as a portion of his life. When Calib lost Pepper, the only thing he felt was empty.

"Poor old Pepper, he was a good dog." Calib spoke to no one in particular. His eyes closed taking in the stale air. He flicked his cigarette but into the soft dirt behind him. Calib stared at Pepper's bag and frowned. Pepper had been with Calib since he was a puppy, and he was a damn good dog. Pepper was clean and very smart, hell, he didn't even bark all that much.

But lately,about a week before his death, Pepper started acting strange. The dog would pace back and forth in front of the door and whine. As time went on, Pepper began to speak to Calib. First it was a few sounds that were odd and almost like a human gag. Then Pepper started to speak simple words. Calib would be cleaning his gun and Pepper would speak to him. When Calib was in his recliner, Pepper would always come to sit at his feet. Calib would reach down and scratch between Pepper's ears and talk to him. Just silly words really, but an obvious expression of love from Calib to an obedient dog. But this time, Pepper spoke back.

read more at
http://bloodysmores.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-dear-relentless.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+SpiritsTales+%28Spirit%27s+Tales%29

Happiness ever after

I was checking Facebook recently when I saw a wall post from one of my friends. I can’t remember the exact quote but I remember the line “Happily Ever After doesn’t have to be forever” or something close to that. I thought it was a very nice statement, both real and yet not sad. In my mind at least she was saying enjoy the moment, don’t worry that the good times won’t last.
To me it seemed a very adult way at looking at love and at life itself. We can struggle looking for that perfection, that Prince Charming or Snow White, or we can live life to its fullest with what we have. To many people toss aside wonderful relationships looking for a perfection that is ephemeral.
It was a more cheerful version of one of my favorite sayings. Happily Ever After has a very short shelf life. To me that’s two polar opposite ways of viewing the same thing. So much is transitory in life including true love. There’s the old song that says “When it’s love it will last forever.” That’s only true with your last love. We as humans have the capacity to find true love, see it shattered, only to find it all over again. We swear it was meant to be, and end up swearing affidavits or just swearing at each other.
The love that poets write about and balladeers croon too is pretty much fiction. If you doubt me just look at the personal lives of most of these people. Poets tend to be habitual womanizers, and if you want to know about the sensitive song writers just Google John Mayer and any of his former girlfriends. That eternal “true” love is something we all dream about, but are all to often rudely awoken. The truth, hard and cold, is that love is transitory.
I’m sure those currently in love would disagree with me. I’m just as sure that a year from now 50% of those people will no longer be in love with the same person. True Love has a horrible burn out rate. Just look at the divorce rate and the number of tattoo cover ups if you doubt me. True love isn’t something that happens, at least not with two people. It’s something that takes work, devotion and a thick skin. It is possible for one person to fall in love. Far to often this is the case and it is tragically sad.


read on here to page   http://socyberty.com/philosophy/happily-ever-after-for-a-moment/2/

Billy the Bear Was a Great Childhood Friend by Kendall Goode

Unable to have conventional pets due to living next to a busy highway, a five-year old from north Mississippi takes up with a chained black bear in 1962 – an era which was much different from current prevailing opinions regarding animal captivity issues.

 

By Kenny Goode
  Most five year olds have either dogs or cats for pets.  Of course, I would have to be different.  My pet was a black bear named ‘Billy’.  As a child, I lived in the village of Hickory Flat, in north Mississippi. It was as idyllic as Mayberry in those happy and carefree days.  We lived on ‘Goode Hill’ where several families of Goode kinfolks all resided in close proximity.

  My grandfather, John Goode, owned an auto repair shop, known as Goode’s Garage, where the flower shop is now.Across the street, Florene Elliott and her husband, Luther, owned a restaurant and service station, which was where the barbecue restaurant is now. Florene and papaw were distant cousins. Billy belonged to the Elliotts.

  My parents would no longer let me have any pets because they always got run over in  busy, two-laned highway 78, which ran between Memphis and Atlanta.  But, that didn’t matter. I had my wonderful friend, ‘Billy’.   He was also a tourist attraction for those who continually came through on the way to some other destination. Luther and Florene had brought Billy to Hickory Flat from Georgia, North Carolina or somewhere in the Smokies. He created quite a stir to motorists who stopped by.  I liked him too!  Every day, after lunch, I would go and see Billy. Sometimes, I would slip off – a BIG no-no since you had to cross the busy highway.

  Billy loved soft drinks and my grandfather had a coke machine at his business. They were only about a nickel in 1962.  He preferred Pepsi, which he is shown drinking one photo made at that time, but he would drink Coca-Cola too. He was also partial to Orange Crush soda!   When he emptied the bottle, usually in one great big chug-a-lug, he would toss it to the four winds, Russian-style! No recycling for Billy! Florene was constantly sweeping up broken glass in the parking lot, due to Billy’s antics.

 

Now, as I said previously, Billy liked Pepsi and Orange Crush, but would drink practically ANYTHING.

 

  This was a different era regarding animal abuse.  And some nefarious characters always thought it was funny to give Billy moonshine and watch him get drunk

Read more: http://authspot.com/thoughts/goode-news-billy-the-bear-was-a-great-childhood-friend/#ixzz1HaM1mIAN

 

photo

Photot above is copywrite Spiritwalker


http://lovenightmask.blogspot.com/

The Gospel of Robert Lee

This is an excerpt of an interview with Robert Lee Henry before his Album “Rest For The Wicked ” was released.  It is reprinted in as it ran in Music Master magazine.
Music Master magazine is sitting down today with Robert Lee Henry who is being tauted as the Godfather of the American Blues revival.  Born in Creekmore, Mississippi, he moved to Memphis in his teens to become a singer.  He started his career as Bobby Sweets, a R&B/ rapper with a small but loyal following.  Despite criticism of “not being real,” he seemed ready to break big. The future looked  bright, when suddenly it all fell apart.  He was dropped by his manager after a disastrous club show and onstage, rage fueled breakdown.  He allegedly killed his girlfriend a week later and was sentenced to the State Correctional Facility in Rankin County.  He only served six months before the State Supreme Court overturned his conviction, but six months was long enough.  Henry was savagely beaten by a prison guard and his larynx was damaged beyond repair.  The gravelly voice coming from the man sitting across from me now bears little resemblance to the voice that was once compared to a young Marvin Gaye.  The state settled for an undisclosed amount and Bobby Sweets was reborn as Robert Lee Henry.  A record deal and club tour followed soon after.  Leaked recordings from the studio appeared on the Internet, and as impossible as it may sound a blues record is now the most eagerly anticipated CD in years.  He’s a man surrounded  with mystery and controversy. Some people in his home town are saying he made a deal with the devil like Robert Johnson claimed to have done years before.  He has granted Music Master an exclusive interview at the Southside Que on Historic Beale Street.  Its his first interview since his release and acquittal.
MM- Its nice to meet you Mr. Henry.  The whole world seems to be waiting for your CD.  How does it  feel to have an early taste of success, then have it pulled from your grip?  You now seemed perched on the verge of even greater success.  Are you afraid of losing it again?

RLH-  Call me Robert or Robert Lee.  I agree the world is waiting.  I don’t believe the world knows why it’s waiting.  Is it waiting for the blues? or just the next big thing?  You say I’m bringing back the blues, but the blues has always been here.  People just want to deny it. They want to close they eyes and think it’s gonna get better.  They want to listen to some happy, bouncy music shit like I used to play. Want to look at the MTV.  They ain’t waiting for me to bring them the blues, they got the blues.  They just waiting for me to maybe TELL them that they got the blues.


Read more: http://authspot.com/short-stories/the-gospel-of-robert-lee/#ixzz1HaDM1CGj

Welcome

Welcome to what I hope will grow to be a home and resource for Southern Writers, those who aspire to the lofty heights of Faulkner or Williams or even the mainstream success of John Gresham.  Here will be links, exceprts, and hopefully original works.  The word will be king here, preference will go to well written tales both real and fiction first.  Then to actual Southern writers, and then to stories set in the south, about the south, or having that peculiar southern flavor.  I will start it off with a meager work of my own