domingo, 18 de agosto de 2013

Him...he could...!


     He couldn’t contain himself; he walked from aft to stern again and again inside his dark cabin. Then, he sat in front of his old folding table. He just stood there for a while, gazing at the nice kindled lamp as the fire danced once more for him. He just wondered in thoughts, and as a revelation ended up thinking he was some kind of mythological being.

     His reality came back again as he made eye contact with his hangued uniform, his belt, his hat and the batch attached to it.

     Just to think he would wear those to the grand opening of his neighborhood park. Now, that was something that got him back in to a bright-spirited state. It was his park, his loyal arena for the past year. Then his eyes went back again  to the small bit of fire. “They make everything so difficult, now everyone is just fighting. But I will be surveying them; no one doing bad deeds will prevail in this park. I’m going to get there early. I will then go near the children’s play-box, then near the birthday gazebo. No one, no one will escape me, it is my park grand re-opening. The villains will flee; this is the piece I will carry tomorrow. Those crime lovers will know much better. Now let’s get to sleep”

     But it wasn’t like that… Half an hour later he was still awaken. Awaken and sitting outside the aft, swinging his legs in the air as he sat on top of the ice box, until the sun came out. He stared at a sea gull all night, a bird that was just afraid to get near him but friendly enough to keep his company all thru the night. Once and once again he tried to feed her some bread, without any luck. Just to get a chance to feel her white and soft feathers was all he was looking for.

     The color of the ocean looked like mild tea, mixed with water, he also stared at it.

     In front of him, right at the dock, was the live-bait store. Was the size of a two story train station. She had just a few air-vents at the top of her barn looking roof level. All of the bait shop was covered with rotten zinc panels the color of red fire ants. Some of them new, some of them were planks made out of old wood. It had a huge water-tank that seemed to him like a giant. Sometimes he looked at it as if it was a gushing oli-rigg that had just truck gold. But it was really a rusty structure covered in rotten metal, drenched by lead and bluish huge stains. He also stared at that that insomniac morning. He stared at the light sign that blinked from it's side beam and said live-bait.

     Someone had the courage to line up hundreds of empty beer bottles, all transparent, all around this place. Who had the courage to build this? Who had the stamina to build a cement arch, incrusted with hundreds of pieces of colored glass? With all kinds of bottles and mosaics that resembled weird looking faces. It just gave you the feeling this place belonged to some kind of cult and rather less to the fisherman kind. He also reflected on that.

     The sound of that days morning tow-boat air horn, reminded him again that time was moving on. He balanced back to the cabin that gave him shelter, and before steping down, he spotted something in the waters.

     “Nicole!” he shouted at an old lady who swam with her hat across the mild colored waters. “I will be at the park today, bring Nicolay, you can be sure I will be looking around for your safety.” But the lady continued her swimming, more less did she notice that from that old boat, a man dressed in uniform pretended to get her attention.

     It already seemed to him that someone was in the need of his service. He went back to his plan. He also thought that this was the best day that the year could bring. He also thought that after all of that year had passed, after all of those vigilant days at his old park, that those visitors at the opening ceremony, would reward him with a warm baked chicken pot pie.  “By now they should be baking that delicious pie. It may have my name written on top, or maybe my batch number carved on top of its delicious crusty cover.”

     At 1:00PM, as always, as he did for so many months, he strolled near the play-yard area. The few parents there, didn’t care a blimp about him, no one looked at him as he passed along. With the exemption of a weird, tall looking man who was hiding at  the back of some wild branches.  Who saw him from afar and jumped like a cricket out of his hiding place.
 As he passed near the birthday gazebo…, the same thing. Not one friendly salute for him, not one welcoming gesture, not one cup of water for the security hero. Yet, some weird looking couple who planned to rob most of the moms purses, walked away when they saw the hunched figure for as far away as the parking lot.

     Their fertile ground for fraudulent acquisitions was no longuer available for their team.

     He wandered all around the parks gazebos and picnic tables, till dawn...  Not knowing by then, than more than ten criminals had scrammed out the premises due to his presence. The parks inaugural ceremony was also over. “I will trap them all, leave them to me. Can’t even get the blues…what am I going to do…,” he said as he walked, he swung his black stick.

     He had a wondrous stride. His piece, his hat, his cuffs, they all dwelled as a part of him, just as the park dwelled as part of his heart.

     He made it back to the bait-shop on his way home. At the entrance, he looked from side to side, and cleaned his sweat. The sweat that poured out of him just like coins pour out of a casino slot machine that had struck the jack-pot.

     As always the enormous bite-shop had only two racks with only a dozen of rubber baits available. The show room was all empty; the kitchen was as lonely as a desert. And only an old sandwich toaster stood on top of its cutting board. “I have gone around for a long time today; I’ve seen all sorts of villains today”

     “Yes, Yes, I know…” answered the owner, who stood there eating pretzels and going over the Nascar race and the PGA golf tournament. Once and once again he pressed last- channel at the control and sipped his beer. “Take some of those coffee cakes before they rotten, take them for free,” he suggested him.


     And him, he took them, and saluted the owner holding on to his hat. “Thanks,” he replied.
 On the way to the dock, he passed under the modern art , glass incrusted cement arch. “Hey, no one has taken care of that park like me today,” he said gazing at a weird looking mosaic that resembled an old indian chief. Then he untied his small wooden rib, and feeling peace with himself,  made his way to his old abandoned fishing-boat. He entered  his under level cave, and as he stepped down the wooden stairs, he started to get rid of his plastic toy gun, his hat with replica plastic badge, and his light gray plastic toy cuffs. And stood in front of a long polished mirror and said to himself.
     “No one, not one of them will get out of my reach, I will get them all!”


     This is one example of those characters that I rather get rid off in a short story before they become attached to me, my blog is full of them. Most of the time they become very short stories. This took me five days before I saw the painting at the Kissimmee's Flea Market. "Hey, I found you a home character," I thought. 

     Then I went to Space-Bar,  in D.T. Orlando for the scene-scheme over a Brook Beer. Downloaded the story on paper while visiting Down Town Disney next day, were I celebrated the outcome with a hot churro, yes!  Down Town Disney gets your creations flowing, good place full of sets. Hope you liked HIM!

Visit my: "Sundance Film Foward" post.


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