Billy Ray Chitwood's Blog, page 11
April 19, 2016
The Open Book
The Open Book
The professor placed his glasses on the open book, rose solemnly from the comfortable chair, and took the stairway to the roof level of the old building, circa 1900.
He walked slowly the seven floors to the top. The door to the roof was seldom opened, so he tugged with some effort to get it open, the scraping sounds echoing eerily down the stairwell.
He stepped through the door onto the gritty and stained rubberized roof flooring, his feet giving slightly on the softened surface.
He looked all around, knew he was the only person on the roof, and walked to the far NE corner and stood at the short wall barrier, looked and found some blocks away his brick home with its old iron fence and gates. Clara was there now with all the memories of the past forty years.
His face carried his sixty-nine years in craggy lines and sorrow, his three-day old whiskers a mix of gray and white.
His mind was in no hurry in presenting him with the pivotal points in his life…the summa cum laude graduation and notable milestone accomplishments from this very university upon which one of its many roofs he now stood…marriage to his lovely Clara, an awe-struck young lady who found it so easy to fall in love with him…the happy years of noted achievements and awards…the unhappy day when the doctor declared there could be no children because of his lack of fertility…all the happy days with Clara, their talks about adoption, and their decisions to travel, see the world, enjoy their lives…the awful day when the doctor announced that Clara had stage 4 cancer.
The thoughts continued as he stood, hands in his pockets, staring at the only home he and Clara ever lived in. His six-foot frame began to tremble with his tears as last night came vividly to him.
He suddenly felt used up, all those moments that mattered were no longer there…
Then he heard the police sirens, saw the cars with flashing lights. The cars were stopping at his house those few blocks away…
They would be finding Clara at any moment now…he could not let her suffer any longer.
Then, he stepped up to the short wall, tears flooding his face, and jumped to his death on the hard earth below.
Flash Fiction by Billy Ray Chitwood
April 19, 2016
(I write fiction and non-fiction- mystery, suspense, thriller, romance, memoir… Please preview my 13 books at my website – http://www.goo.gl/nWMXm3
Or
my Amazon Author site.)
LINKS:
http://www.goo.gl/nWMXm3 (website)
http://www.about.me/brchitwood
http://goodreads.com/author/dashboard/billyraychitwood
http://amazon.com/author/billyraychitwood
http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood
http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner
http://googleplus.com/billyraychitwood
Proud member of #ASMSG – #IAN – #AHA
Proud recipient of eleven blog award nominations.
April 14, 2016
When a Leader…
When a Leader…
When a leader denies the urges of greed and trappings of gold to do what is right for the nation he leads, the people will always win.
When a leader stands by what he/she knows to be morally right, when a soft compromise does not damage the true essence of a law, policy, and principle, the people will always win.
When a leader is given false data and acts on that data, yet later discovers the fallacies therein and declares an action void, the people will always win.
When a leader is charismatic and genuinely speaks from the heart without mutterings of doubt, the people will always win.
When a leader takes the complexity of an issue away so that all can understand, the people will always win.
When a leader protects by all means available against an enemy off our shores, with a sound entry and exit strategy, the people will always win.
When a leader provides jobs and a thriving economy, the people will always win.
When a leader can provide avenues of learning for the skills of many, the people will always win.
When a leader keeps the military components of his nation at the highest qualitative and quantitative numbers, the people will always win.
When a leader has Faith in a higher Intelligence, without bias for those of other legitimate Faiths, and shows that in his actions, the people will always win.
When a leader follows a script for governance and the rule of law, written in the blood of past generations, the people will always win.
When a leader and his team of leaders know when it is time to go and replace themselves with honorable men and women, the people will always win.
Billy Ray Chitwood – April 14, 2016
(I write blogs, books of non-fiction, and fiction – mystery, suspense, and romance)
LINKS:
http://www.goo.gl/nWMXm3 (Website, Bio, & Books)
http://www.about.me/brchitwood
http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood
http://amazon.com/author/billyraychitwood
http://goodreads.com/author/dashboard/billyraychitwood
April 7, 2016
Dreams Denied
Phoenix, Arizona
Amazon US – goo.gl/fMt82R
Amazon UK – goo.gl/HTQGo
Amazon Worldwide – http://authl.it/1sv
A book inspired by the
brutal murder of a young actress.
*
Dreams Denied
A beautiful desert city – Phoenix, Arizona!
I fell in love with it the first time we met so many years ago, after a long drive from California.
Those were the days when I ran loose and let the world wait for me. There was some work but it was mostly play – enjoying film work, television commercials, even had a starring role in a stage play at the Phoenix Little Theater – The Pleasure of His Company… A real ‘hoot’, and it even got great reviews in both Phoenix newspapers.
My play time was often with some attorney buddies – cocktail hours, playing Liar’s Poker but for the most part, it was I chasing the pretty ladies. Ever so often one of those pretty ladies would come along and I would suspend my operational procedures…until our time was over… Okay, I was a very nice guy but a ‘lotus eater’ of the worst kind.
One of my attorney buddies had a lovely lady as their receptionist and secretary. She was also a very dear friend of mine and of some of the ladies I dated. And, she had been the one to get me into acting, TV commercials, and modeling. Carmen had her dreams of home and hearth, someone to love and with whom to grow old.
This is her story! The forensic details are all pretty much true, but I have fictionalized and imagined some events in the book.
By all accounts, Carmen spent her last night of life at dinner at a nice and well-known Phoenix restaurant with her boyfriend. After dinner it is supposed Carmen followed in her own car her boyfriend to his apartment.
That was basically what was known at the time.
Carmen lived with her mother and two children in an apartment complex across the street from an elementary school.
The morning after the dinner, Carmen’s car was found on the side of the road next to the elementary school, car doors open, and her purse in the front seat area.
Then, it would be many weeks before Carmen’s body was found in the northeast section of Phoenix by two rock hunters. She lay in an arroyo, ravaged by the summer heat and the denizens of the desert. It appeared the perp or perps stopped dragging her body across the desert floor every few paces to drop heavy rocks on her head…presumably making sure she was dead. So much of forensic value was lost with the passage of time and summer monsoons.
After all the years I decided to write a series of mysteries. The series is called the Bailey Crane Mystery Series – Books 1-6.
An Arizona Tragedy – A Bailey Crane Mystery – Book 1, is the first book in the series and it is about the awful tragedy that brutal murder created .
Sitting here, writing this post, I want to tell you so much more… But, suffice, the book represents in some small way my closure. Of course, I hope you buy the book and meet Bailey Crane…yeah, he’s a lot like me.
Billy Ray Chitwood – April 7, 2016
Some Other Links:
http://www.goo.gl/nWMXm3 (Website)
amazon.com/author/billyraychitwood
http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood
Proud member of #asmsg – #IAN – #AHA
Proud recipient of eleven blog nominations.
March 30, 2016
Murder in Pueblo del Mar
Murder in Pueblo del Mar
Amazon Worldwide: http://authl.it/1sy
Puerto Peῆasco – AKA Pueblo Del Mar.
In Arizona, Puerto Peῆasco is known by its English name – Rocky Point.
The ‘AKA Pueblo Del Mar’ is the name I used for one of my ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Books’. There are six titles in that series, and Murder in Pueblo Del Mar is the fourth book in the sextet. While fictional, this book was inspired by a true event in Rocky Point some years ago.
The ghastly murder in Rocky Point of an Arizona wife and mother happened a few hundred yards from my father-in-law’s villa. The good lady was on holiday with her husband and two children.
In writing Murder in Pueblo del Mar – A Bailey Crane Mystery, book 4, I built two of my characters from Bob Gerhandt, my father-in-law, and his wife, Diane. Bob and Diane had a beautiful villa which they had built to their architectural plans…unique for the area at that time. They gave the villa a name – La casa de las campaῆas y de las mariposas (The house of bells and butterflies). So beautiful, It became a directional marker for people having trouble finding friends in the Las Conchas subdivision. 0n one side of the villa’s great room was the master suite. On the other side were two guest bedrooms with access to a long curving veranda. The villa had three red-tiled turrets. The tiles for floors and showers were specially made for Diane – with bells and butterflies on the white facing.
From the veranda was a most glorious view of the Sea of Cortez. My wife, Julie, and I spent many happy weekends in that lovely villa…we called them ‘Bridge Weekends’ and the bridge game winners were usually Papason and his partner – me. (Papason was the nickname I gave to Bob.) Ah, the memories – cocktails on the sweeping veranda watching dolphins frolic in the sea, looking out at the far horizon, and listening to Placido Domingo and John Denver sing ‘Perhaps Love’ on a favorite CD.
Bob and Diane are now gone, and I find myself often thinking of our bridge games and wonderful soft desert treks on our three-wheelers near the estuaries. The big handsome and husky giant with the white sculpted hair played his football for the Denison ‘Big Red’ in Granson, Ohio. I wonder at times if he is playing Bridge with ‘Clarence’ and the Angel Group… I miss the big guy!
So, in writing Murder in Pueblo del Mar – A Bailey Crane Mystery, I was in a familiar atmosphere, knew well the area, knew many of the details in the actual murder case, and knew some of the personal problems Bob and Diane were having, vis a vis Diane’s alcoholic consumption. So, as Bailey Crane is wont to do, he muses about the effects of his friends’ personal lives while helping Pueblo del Mar’s Chief of Police solve the murder case.
The true details of the mother’s brutal murder, the transsexual element in the case, and the US –Mexico pre-occupation with jurisdictional matters, are for the most part accurate in the book. Even, some of the fictional elements have validity. I am of course biased but I believe Murder in Pueblo del Mar makes for a darn good read.
A number of the six ‘Bailey Crane Mysteries’ are fictionalized but inspired by actual cases and true events. You can easily find them all, plus seven other books at my website: http://goo.gl/nWMXm3
This blog is in part an ‘In Memorium’ for Bob and Diane, both now in a happy afterlife adventure – at least, that is my hope. The other part is an attempt to create a different kind of sleuth in Bailey Crane, one who stays tuned to a case but muses a lot with his alter ego about life’s many elements, his loves, his miscues, a sleuth that readers will like. I suppose the phrase is ‘cozy mystery’… For me, I get a lot off my mind. J
Actually, I just want to write serious books that have fun elements with an amusing entertainment narrative and quality. So many times the characters ‘tell’ me where to put them and what action to give them.
Each of the six ‘Bailey Crane Mysteries’ stand on its own, but there is a progression in Bailey’s development.
One last point about Murder in Pueblo del Mar – A Bailey Mystery (book four of the series), I was fortunate to live for several years in Rocky Point (Puerto Peῆasco, ‘Pueblo del Mar’) on the Sea of Cortez and enjoyed the nostalgic feel of old Mexico. That was after Bob and Diane had passed. The town is located about sixty miles from the Arizona border and a 4-hour drive from Phoenix (or, less). The people are generous with their kindness, and ‘Kiko’, the mayor, is a fine gentleman who is making great inroads for tourism. I have met him and know he intends to do good things for Puerto Peῆasco.
If you ever wish to visit, there are great rental deals on the Sea of Cortez… Google and check it out.
Oh, and buy Murder in Pueblo del Mar – A Bailey Crane Mystery (Book 4). You will enjoy the read. It’s available in paperback and Kindle – FREE on Kindle Unlimited.
Billy Ray Chitwood – April 1, 2016
OTHER LINKS:
http://ww w.goo.gl/nWMXm3 (My Website)
http://www.about.me/brchitwood
http://goodreads.com/author/dashboard/billyraychitwood
http://amazon.com/author/billyraychitwood
http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood
http:// goo.gl/sn8w4y (Linkedin)
Proud member of #asmsg – #IAN – #AHA
Proud recipient of eleven blog award nominations
March 24, 2016
Spring and Summer
Spring and Summer
The boys are playing baseball – a rite of Spring, synonymous with Mom’s apple pie and Pop’s homemade vanilla ice cream.
The girls are wearing their tank tops and cut-off jeans, strutting model-straight as they pass the boys in school hallways all across the country…getting close to bikini time and raging hormones.
The high school football boys are looking for summer jobs that will build up their bodies for the fall/winter pigskin season.
Come Summer, some of the young and timid boys and girls with acne spend many hot days in the sun, hoping to hit the zits with its brutal rays. At least, by the start of school in September they have a great tan.
The private and public swimming pools with diving boards are open for the boys to get attention from the girls as they perform their half-gainers, one-and-a-half flips, and swan dives. Naturally, there are an adequate share of belly flops and bruised egos.
There are family weekends, many spent in the mountains, or, many go on a full two-week vacation to a beautiful lake or ocean resort, or, few are off to sponge off relatives or friends who live in a swankier spot on the map.
There are couples saying their nuptials, to love and honor and obey all marital pledges. There could be pre-nuptials here and there, just to be on the safe side.
There are once-happily married couples getting divorced, some with kids in troubled states of mind.
There are political primaries to elect a new president, with television debates and all the ads – ad nauseam. During this important time period, there are many private political debates as well. Some neighbors become enemies, and, in other instances, a person thought an enemy becomes a friend.
There are in our world uncivilized, unholy earthling barbarians, cutting off Christians’ heads, cutting off heads of people who will not do their bidding in building a global Caliphate, drowning people in large cages, burning folks to death, and, of course, shooting the infidels. These ogres of the innocent and oppressed are coming our way – in fact, they are already here… So, I’m thinking it might be a very good idea to wipe these bastards off the face of the earth.
Yes, our Spring and Summer come to us this year with some major events taking place. Be wary and watchful but enjoy as well you can this beautiful time of the year.
This author will continue to write his blogs, his books, and songs until the cow is back in the proverbial barn giving milk for our newly born.
Life is full of proverbial ups and down, good deals, bad deals, war, peace, love, harmony. It’s all recorded in our history books…if they are not too severely revised. Some of us feel we must be pretty dumb not to be heeding the advice given by history.
We will get back to that.
Billy Ray Chitwood – March 24, 2016
My thirteen books of Mystery, Suspense, Romance, Memoir can be previewed at my Website: http://www.goo.gl/nWMXm3
http://www.about.me/brchitwood
http://facebook.com/billyraychitwood
https://goodreads.com/author/dashboard/billyraychitwood
Proud member of #asmsg and #IAN
Proud recipient of eleven blog awards
March 17, 2016
Custard-Filled Doughnuts and Sunsets
Custard-filled Doughnuts and Sunsets
Dreamers and Romantics have a keen sensitivity to life, some mysterious alchemy within their souls that mark their steps through time and dimension.
They see the sun pausing, creating a great palette of lucent magic as it makes its final descent into the morning on the other side of the world. Something stirs within the Dreamers and Romantics, and they must somehow celebrate this mystique that sight can only present. They cannot embrace this beauty they behold, cannot feel the orgasmic wonder that comes with the climactic end of two joined in making love.
There is an intense urge to capture this supreme moment of sunset, so the Dreamer and Romantic compose their lines of verse, their songs of longing and love. Words will come but they must be noble, virtuous, and worthy of this scene that has aroused their souls.
It is so as well with the novelist, short story, and flash fiction writer. There is a need to express some inner desire, some exposition of a great notion or theory.
Are these Dreamers and Romantics special people among the masses?
Perhaps they are to those who like to read, who like the singular turning of a phrase, a poem, story – those who have other talents, those who design and build our great structures, our bridges, our roads, those who fly our planes, drive our buses and trains, those who sweep our streets, clean our houses.
I’m a Dreamer and Romantic! I love that sunset and a lovely woman with whom to share it. As Lord David Prosser might say, I want to hug that sunset! What I believe David is saying (if he were to say it), The sunset is so beautiful that spoken words fail to express the exalted feeling…you want to hug it, make love to it, more than just say, it’s beautiful!
That is why we have Dreamers and Romantics writing, painting, composing music – and, at times, being real pains in the arses. Some can be rascals, malcontents, arrogant, pompous, perhaps thinking they are a special breed…well, actually, they are! Otherwise, no dancing, no reading, no sculpting, no painting – well, you get the idea.
Can you believe it? All of this came from eating a custard-filled doughnut this morning – I saw the sunset in my ‘pictures’ file.
Billy Ray Chitwood – March 17, 2016
My Website – My bio and books: goo.gl/nWMXm3
http://www.about.me/brchitwood
Facebook.com/billyray.chitwood
Goodreads.com/author/dashboard/billyr...
Linkedin.com
Proud member of: #asmsg – #IAN – #AHA
Proud recipient of eleven Blog Awards
Custard-Filled Doughnuts and Sunsets
Custard-filled Doughnuts and Sunsets
Dreamers and Romantics have a keen sensitivity to life, some mysterious alchemy within their souls that mark their steps through time and dimension.
They see the sun pausing, creating a great palette of lucent magic as it makes its final descent into the morning on the other side of the world. Something stirs within the Dreamers and Romantics, and they must somehow celebrate this mystique that sight can only present. They cannot embrace this beauty they behold, cannot feel the orgasmic wonder that comes with the climactic end of two joined in making love.
There is an intense urge to capture this supreme moment of sunset, so the Dreamer and Romantic compose their lines of verse, their songs of longing and love. Words will come but they must be noble, virtuous, and worthy of this scene that has aroused their souls.
It is so as well with the novelist, short story, and flash fiction writer. There is a need to express some inner desire, some exposition of a great notion or theory.
Are these Dreamers and Romantics special people among the masses?
Perhaps they are to those who like to read, who like the singular turning of a phrase, a poem, story – those who have other talents, those who design and build our great structures, our bridges, our roads, those who fly our planes, drive our buses and trains, those who sweep our streets, clean our houses.
I’m a Dreamer and Romantic! I love that sunset and a lovely woman with whom to share it. As Lord David Prosser might say, I want to hug that sunset! What I believe David is saying (if he were to say it), The sunset is so beautiful that spoken words fail to express the exalted feeling…you want to hug it, make love to it, more than just say, it’s beautiful!
That is why we have Dreamers and Romantics writing, painting, composing music – and, at times, being real pains in the arses. Some can be rascals, malcontents, arrogant, pompous, perhaps thinking they are a special breed…well, actually, they are! Otherwise, no dancing, no reading, no sculpting, no painting – well, you get the idea.
Can you believe it? All of this came from eating a custard-filled doughnut this morning – I saw the sunset in my ‘pictures’ file.
Billy Ray Chitwood – March, 2016
My Website – My bio and books: goo.gl/nWMXm3
http://www.about.me/brchitwood
Facebook.com/billyray.chitwood
Linkedin – goo.gl/sn8w4y
Proud recipient of eleven Blog Awards
Proud member of #asmsg – #IAN – #AHA
COMMENTS BELOW
March 10, 2016
Requiem For A Beautiful Lady
Requiem For A Beautiful Lady
The fish smell came to her on the breeze but it was filtered by the ocean waters that slapped against the wharf pilings and made for a joyful smile upon her face.
“Oh, Daddy, I’ve missed our lunches and our wharf walks.” She hugged her father and kissed him on the cheek.
Having just left the restaurant they stood now at the pier railing looking out across the waters at pelicans cawing and flitting from morsel to morsel along the wharf. The sky was a soft blue and sea gulls floated effortlessly above a distant spit of land.
“I’ve missed you, too, my golden-haired princess.” He was still a relatively young father, still handsome without the mid-life paunch and burdensome weight. He looked into the soft blue eyes of his daughter, squeezed her shoulder while milliseconds rapidly retraced in his mind the lovely vignettes of memory.
She was twenty-three now and a most beautiful young woman. Her blond hair tossed about in the wind and her marvelous blue eyes twinkled like tiny stars of wonder.
It was their day together. She was just home from a trip abroad. Mom was at home. Brother was at work. Her fiancé was on a business trip. This was their time together to update their days apart.
She told him about her fiancé’s rental car breaking down on the outskirts of a cobble-stoned city in southern France called Perpignan. She laughed time and again as she tried to pronounce the name of the city. “’Purr-peen-yong’ is the best I can do, Dad, but the car problem was minor and it turned our trip into a delightful fairy tale. We met young people our ages in restaurants and cafés all over France and Spain. Some spoke English. Most did not but it didn’t matter – we laughed and had fun making it into a sort-of ‘Charades’ game.”
So they walked and talked, stopping occasionally to pause and view the boats and landmarks.
It was during one of their stops when the daughter gave a whimper, “Oh, Daddy!” and collapsed in his arms. The shocked father tenderly lowered her to the ground. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” He was bewildered as people began to gather. Her eyes were closed, and he felt for a pulse. There was none. His confusion now turned to tears of agony, and he saw the blood coming from her body.
It was determined the daughter was shot by an illegal alien some distance away who was immediately arrested, an illegal alien who it was later reported had been deported five times from the United States, had just recently been released by the sanctuary city of San Francisco. The felonious Illegal alien, deported five times, was in the United States for the sixth time.
This tragedy, this heartbreaking homicide was covered in the media. A great furor came from the crime, and a case was pled by many to do away with sanctuary cities in the United States. Another case pled for a law that would automatically imprison an illegal alien for five years if it was found he/she was illegally in the US and committed a serious crime.
Finally, many believed that,we have a feckless and inept federal government and that this was the year for accountability with a general election coming in November. Many said that our free market system, our freedom and our liberty were being eroded by the liberal progressives. Many more people said that the face of our country was now near unrecognizable, and that it was crucial ‘we the people’ took back our nation by electing only people who pledged and swore under penalty of dismissal to follow the law of the land and follow no action or precept that was not to the benefit of the electorate.
Time would tell.
Flash Fiction from Truth by: Billy Ray Chitwood
March 10, 2016
My 13 books of mystery, suspense, thriller, crime, romance, memoir, fiction, and non-fiction are presented on my website at goo.gl/nWMXm3
SOME LINKS:
goo.gl/nWMXm3 (Author’s Website)
http://amazon.com/author/billyraychitwood
http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood
http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner
http://goodreads.com/author/dashboard/billyraychitwood
Proud member of #asmsg, #IAN, and #AHA
Proud recipient of eleven Blog Nominations.
March 4, 2016
To Be or Not To Be
To Be Or Not To Be
To Be or Not To Be
“You can go ahead and get dressed, Daisy. We’re finished with the examination.”
Dr. Pickering handed a hastily scribbled prescription to his nurse attendant, “Call this in to the pharmacy and tell them Ms. Catrell will be picking it up within the hour.”
Daisy Catrell zipped up the front part of her easy-wear workout top. “Will the pills hasten the miscarriage, Dr. Pickering?”
“No, Daisy, the pills are to lessen the daily anxiety you’re feeling. Look, I told you I’m not an abortion doctor. I know you’ve declared you don’t want the baby because you’re too young with too much living to do. You’re twenty-three years old and you should have had those thoughts before you engaged in sexual activity with your live-in room-mate…”
“But, Doctor, Jimmy doesn’t want the baby either!” She started to say more but saw the anger building in Dr. Pickering.
“’Doesn’t want the baby’!” the doctor slammed his file folder on the computer counter. “Daisy, you’re thirteen weeks into the first trimester of your pregnancy. Your baby has formed, has a face, a body, the fingers are growing nails. In the fourteenth week, you go into the second trimester where the baby will release urine into the amniotic fluid. Your baby will be able to form facial expressions, maybe even suck its thumb. You have a healthy life inside your body, being protected by you, nourished by you, fulfilling one of the most meticulous, miraculous and sacred rituals known to our world.”
Dr. Pickering paused, studied Daisy’s face, saw the tears forming and spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks.
“I’m so scared, Dr. Pickering. You’ve told me before how you feel, but I thought you were going to help me today.”
“I’m trying very hard to help you, Daisy.”
“My parents, they don’t know. It will be so hard for them to take.”
“Nonsense, Daisy, I’ve met both your father and mother. They’re sensible, caring, people. They will be there for you, even if Jimmy is not… I’ll be here to help you. This is a life we’re talking about, Daisy, not a toy doll. This person inside of you could grow up to be president, a great artist, a scientist, an inventor.”
“Oh, I’m so mixed up, doctor. You make good sense, but…”
“Look, Daisy, take the pills I’ve prescribed for you. Let’s see if they lessen your doubts. If you wish, bring Jimmy in and we will have a long talk about all of this. Will you do that for me? Will you, please, not do anything foolish at anyone’s suggestion? That would devastate me.
“I’ve been your family doctor for years. Please trust me on this. Come to full term on your pregnancy. If, at that time, your final wish is to give up your baby for adoption, I will help you. But, don’t kill it before it has a chance to see the world. Will you agree to that, Daisy? I promise you, the pills will help, and you will feel better, even excited, about this beautiful person you’re carrying inside of you. In just a few weeks we will know its gender. You can see the baby’s sex on mid-pregnancy ultrasound.”
“Okay, Dr. Pickering, I will agree. The idea is so new to me, and I’m flustered. And, what you’ve said here today has helped me a lot. Thanks for that.”
Daisy embraced the doctor and left the examination room.
On her way home, Daisy stopped at the pharmacy and picked up the prescription Dr. Pickering had ordered. The label on the pill vial noted: ‘Take one a day’. She bought a bottle of water and took a pill on the spot.
Daisy then decided at the last minute to drive by her parents’ house and share her pregnancy with them. It was time they were told, and she knew, as did Dr. Pickering, they would be loving and supportive.
On her way to her parents’ house, she thought about what Dr. Pickering said: His words made a difference the way he put everything. It’s neat that I may have a future president in my stomach, somebody who will possibly gain fame and fortune. Ah, it doesn’t matter so much about the fame and fortune – just be healthy, little person. You will surely get all the love you need. Old Doc Pickering knows how to reach a person with words. He changed my perspective. I think I always wanted this baby. Now, my tiny person of an unknown gender, I love you and will keep rubbing my tummy and telling you that every day until I hold you in my arms…
She saw the school bus too late as she went through the intersection. The bus was not moving very fast but it T-boned her and pushed her car into another moving vehicle.
Daisy Catrell and her unborn baby died at the scene instantly and without time to surrender to bodily and emotional pain.
Flash Fiction by Billy Ray Chitwood- March 4, 2016
My bio and thirteen books of Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Romance, Memoir…can be viewed on my Website: http://www.goo.gl/nWMXm3
P;ease follow me on Twitter.com/brchitwood
February 25, 2016
Hear My Scream
Hear My Scream
Lost my family! A devoted wife and two sons who cherished me!
Lost my job!
Lost the right to call myself a responsible family man of Faith and Fidelity!
Lost it all to the fickle finger of fate and, more likely, a sinister weakness within my genes!
What happened to this man of ideals and noble purposes?
With a work promotion to a corporate low-rung Vice-President of ‘Acquisition Management’ came a salary boost. There came, too, that exhilarating sense of pride and accomplishment.
For months, we, my family, enjoyed our new luxurious living. We went to the park on weekends. We took trips to historical landmarks. We got a spacious new van, and our Russian Blue cat, ‘Vlad’, and our Golden Retriever, ‘Toby’, were as thrilled as the kids on trips. We even built up a tidy rainy-day fund in our bank. Life was so good!
Then, the company merged with a larger corporation that was global and had a financial sheet far exceeding our own, a ‘Pac-Man’ hungrily gobbling up many big, small, and medium businesses at a voracious pace.
The rumor mill made work difficult…people were going to be dismissed. It took six months for the head honchos to announce that my position was no longer needed as the buying behemoth had their own people in place. For the first time in my working life, I was unemployed.
Trying to keep my family worry-free I put on a happy face and left the house in the morning as was normally my wont. I job-hunted all day, every day, for months, even tried executive head-hunters, but I found I was ‘too qualified’ for some jobs and ‘not qualified’ enough for others.
My patience at a low level, our rainy-day funds going down rapidly, pressure mounted. Frustration became an emotion I couldn’t hide and it filtered down to the family
A huge Indian Casino opened a few miles from our house in Chandler, Arizona. It sat on two hundred+ acres and looked like an ‘Arabian Nights’ apparition in the desert. It was lunch time, and I thought, why not have some lunch and see if the casino could use my corporate experience.
It took a while before I found the executive offices and someone in authority, but it became immediately clear that all of their executives had the Indian connection and there could be no position for me.
In the dining room I ordered a hamburger, fries, coke, and thought about my dilemma. In the background I could hear simultaneous shouts of joy out in the gaming areas. A thought stirred in my mind, dumb in hindsight… Why not try a few turns at ‘21’? Not much of a gambler, but my Dad taught me how to play the game, what to do, what not to do, and I became good at ‘21’. Just maybe I could build up the ‘rainy day’ account and buy more time in looking for a job.
I hurriedly finished my hamburger, fries, coke, and walked around the casino’s rows of ‘21’ tables. I was now excited about the possibilities – people won big in gambling because they knew and practiced certain rules.
My Dad told me he always found a table where he felt the people playing knew what they were doing – watching a dealer’s ‘show card’ to determine whether or not to take a card: if the dealer’s ‘up card’ showed a possible 12-16 and the players’ down cards amounted to 12 or above, players stayed ‘put’, hoping for the dealer to bust. Of course, ‘21’ – Black Jack – was an automatic winner – unless, of course, the dealer matched with his own Black Jack…the player didn’t win the bet but gained a ‘push’ with the dealer. Tied hands with the dealer meant no loss of the bets. Dad also told me about the psychological aspects of ‘21’ – know when to play, know when to quit. Dad felt there was a time of the day or night when a person could win but that person needed to follow their self-imposed rules.
So, I found a table, watched the players and dealer for a while. Satisfied the players knew the game and would not make stupid moves, I sat and exchanged three hundred dollars into chips of various colors – $5 chips, $10 chips, $20 chips, $50 chips, $100 and so on. The time was 12:45 PM.
In the next few hours I learned the highs and lows of gambling. I reached a euphoric stage when my neatly piled chips amounted to $6900…including the original $300 buy-in. People gathered behind our stools to see how far I could go. Surprisingly, the time was 6:00 PM. (Dad’s rule about knowing the time to quit had somehow by-passed my mind’s circuitry.
By midnight the $6900 was gone back to the casino, along with another $3800. My face was flushed, my stomach was in knots, and my mind was numb with anxiety and regret. I cashed too many checks at the casino and was also feeling the consummate moron.
With my head reeling with uncertainty, I left the casino and drove home.
My wife was frantic. She tried to call me several times during the afternoon but I never answered the cell phone.
She cradled me in her arms as I told her about the day, about the frustration of looking for work, and my stupid behavior at the casino. She was not happy but she told me I was entitled to a mistake…a lot of bad stuff landed on me in the past few weeks.
The next day I looked for work. In between stops, I thought about the gambling…had I stopped when I was ahead, there would be $6600 added to our ‘rainy day’ fund. Thus, my mind told me, you need to know when to stop while you’re ahead – good luck cannot last forever.
Back at the casino that afternoon, I stopped gambling at the ‘21’ table at 6:25 PM, my winnings totaling $3200. I left the casino feeling good, having gotten back almost half of the losses the previous day.
I did not tell my wife about the gambling, and I took her and the boys out for pizza.
Without giving a day to day count, I’ll sum it all up. In the next six months I looked for work in the mornings and gambled in the afternoons. My wife knew what was going on and pleaded with me. The boys sensed there were problems and walked around the house in a timid slow motion.
The ‘rainy day’ account was gone.
Suffice it, my marriage could not survive the constant arguments, my excuses and broken promises. My lovely boys were cautious and fearful to be around me.
The wife could not take it any longer and took the boys to live with her sister in Oregon.
What about me? What about the tattered and torn fabric of my soul? What about the man who used to be?
I’m in prison, serving time for robberies…had to have money to gamble. It’s difficult to imagine anyone feeling as small and insignificant as I do. I don’t need a mirror to see a man with a prison pallor and a broken heart. I know the damage I’ve caused, the other hearts broken, and two wonderful boys growing up without a father.
Several days ago two inmates attacked me in the yard, cut me up pretty good, broke some ribs, and I kept pleading with them to finish me, to get me out of my misery. I truly wanted to die, but no such luck…and, I’m too much of a coward to find a way to kill myself.
The wife and the boys will never know how much I love them and regret the terrible mistakes I made. I only hope they find happiness, love, and forget their terrible wretch of a husband and a father.
Perhaps in some other dimension I can make atonement.
For now, I long for death…death longs for me, but it is dark to die and I fear that I still wish to be.
Flash Fiction by Billy Ray Chitwood – Feb. 25, 2016
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My thirteen books of mystery, suspense, thriller, romance, memoir – some inspired by true events – are viewable and described at goo.gl/nWMXm3
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