Candlelight

Riley Wickham was a man at odds with his life. Instead of looking forward, he looked back. Rather than feel excitement for what could be, he was sad about what no longer was.  Riley didn’t enjoy the present and preferred to dwell on the past.  He stopped planning for the future, no longer had hopes, or remembered to dream. 

Riley lived alone in a small cabin, which overlooked a quiet lake.  There was a time when he’d take long walks in the woods, fish in the water, and grow fresh vegetables in the garden.  From his fruit trees, he’d make delicious pies which he’d drive into town to sell at the local market.  Riley would call his children every day, send the occasional email, and brush his two cats, Oscar and Orion, with much enthusiasm. Now the garden was overgrown and the fruit trees diseased.  His kitchen was as dusty as the flour he’d once used for his pies and his fishing gear was put away.  His computer sat covered in the corner and his answering message was full of un-played messages.  Oscar and Orion were still brushed but Riley’s strokes were listless and their fur lost its shine.  Mostly Riley would sit on the front porch for hours, just looking out at the trees and listening to the sounds of the forest.  Evenings, he’d heat canned soup and read history books by candlelight.

Riley was not an old man.  He’d worked hard and fast and earned an early fortune which brought security for his family.  He’d amicably parted from his last wife, sold his company, and retired to this cabin with a few good decades of living ahead of him. Riley should have been happy and grateful but, for whatever reason, he wasn’t.  He’d lost his appreciation for life and was letting time waste away. 

One particular night, following yet another day on the porch, Riley was heating broth when he heard a knock on the door.  At first he ignored it but the knocking became insistent.  Annoyed, he switched off the burner and opened the door.  Standing in the doorway stood a woman with a very unusual appearance.  She was disturbingly thin with pale, almost transparent skin. Her eyes burned black and her hair was a mantle of flaming red.  A long gray cloak covered her which draped to the floor.

“What can I do for you?” Riley asked the strange woman.

“May I please come in?” she asked in a low voice, “There’s been an accident and I’d like to use your phone.” 

Riley paused for a moment.  For whatever reason, he felt strongly that he didn’t want to let her into the house. 

“Please?”  She asked. “I just want to call for help.”

 He sighed and opened the door wider.  “I suppose if there was an accident, then it’s all right.”

As she glided into the house, Riley was disturbed to notice how incredibly tall she was – probably the tallest person he’d ever seen.

“Was anyone hurt?” Riley inquired.

The woman stopped and looked at him.

“In the accident…was someone hurt?”  He asked again. 

She hesitated a moment before slowly replying. “Yes.  I rather think they were, but I think they’ll be all right.”

Riley gestured to the phone and went back into the kitchen to put his soup back on. Stirring the broth, he felt uneasy.  When he didn’t hear her talking he went back into the living room to see what she was doing.  The woman was standing in the center of the room, staring at a candle he’d lit earlier.  She looked up at him and, once more, he felt uncomfortable – almost…afraid. 

“Did you make your calls?  Were you able to get some help?”  He asked.

“I love candles” she said, turning her black eyes toward him.  They were like pools of ink poured into the hollows of her face.

“I know you like them too Riley.” She said.

Riley took a step backwards, towards the kitchen. “I didn’t tell you my name.” He said slowly, “How do you know who I am?”

The woman smiled.  “It’s not important how I know you.  What matters is why I’m here and what I’m going to do to you.” she said.

“Look, accident or not, I’d really like you to leave” Riley responded, walking to open the door, “Now.”

 “Oh I’m not going anywhere Riley,” she replied, “In fact, from what I’ve learned about you, I rather think I’ll be here awhile.”

She reached into her cloak and took out a twisted stick.  Carved into it were words and strange symbols that Riley couldn’t make out.  She pointed the stick at him with one hand and Riley was startled to see her put her other hand directly into the flame of the candle.

“And now, it’s your turn to call for help” she said.

Before Riley could react to her words, a stream of light came from the stick and hit him straight in the chest.  He felt a horrible burning sensation and cried out in pain. His body felt as if it was on fire and he was blinded by the brightness which consumed him. Before he lost consciousness, he felt as if his body was folding into itself, almost…melting

When Riley regained awareness, he was horribly hot and his limbs felt bound to his body.  He no longer had eyes to open but somehow still had sight.  He saw things through a bright, flickering light – candlelight, he realized with shock.  Horrified, Riley realized he no longer had a body but was somehow part of the candle.  Trapped in a wax prison, he burned. 

He heard laughter and the woman came into focus, although now she looked different.  She wore simple clothing and her wild red hair was tucked neatly into a bun. “Well Riley,” she said, “I hope you’re comfortable.”

She went into his kitchen and he heard the sounds of soup being prepared.  Riley couldn’t speak and slowly lost consciousness again.

When Riley woke again, his candle was out and the cabin was cool and quiet.  From the sunlight coming through the window, he could tell it was early morning. He heard a humming outside and movement in the garden.  This continued for some time and eventually, there was a step on the porch and the front door opened.  The woman entered and was carrying his gardening tools.  Dirt was smeared on her forehead and she was perspiring, as if she’d been hard at work.

“You should really be ashamed of yourself Riley,” She reprimanded him. “That garden will take me weeks to bring back.”

She shook her head, “And all that beautiful basil gone to seed.”

She put down her tools and went into the utility room, where he heard the sound of running water.  Later that day, she swept the porch clean and brushed Oscar and Orion until they gleamed. When the cats were snapping in a spot of sun, she took out flour and apples and began to make a pie. 

“Riley, you have seriously neglected those fruit trees.  I’ve done what I could do save them and for now, bought a bushel of apples in town to make a few treats.”  She continued talking to him as she made pies, turnovers, and strudel.  As the sun set, she tossed aside his history books and uncovered his laptop. 

“Time to get reconnected with the world,” she said, “I’m going to poke around on this machine for awhile but first, want to make the room cozy.”  Striking a match, she leaned over him.  While it didn’t hurt this time, Riley was sickened by the sensation of part of him dripping away. 

In the days that followed, the woman fished in his lake and brought her baked goods into town for sale. 

“I made some good friends there Riley,” she said, “I explained you’d gone away somewhere warm and I was staying in at your place until you got back.” 

She laughed and leaned forward to smell his candle.  “Not bad. Although truthfully Riley, I prefer a scent that’s a bit more vanilla.” 

For the next few weeks, things continued much the same way.  The woman took over his cabin and his world, doing all the things which he should have done.  During the day she baked pies, tended the garden, cared for his cats, and made friends in town. While each night, she burned a little more of him away.

Riley was trapped and helpless. He could do nothing but watch the woman and lament his loss.  Anxiously he’d wait for the setting sun, knowing that in the evenings, he’d melt down, smaller and smaller.

When all that was left of Riley was a blackened wick in a small pool of wax the woman drew close and looked at him. 

“Well Riley, it looks like this is it for you,” She said, “You’re really going to go out in a blaze, but I wouldn’t say there’s much glory.”

“Although when you think about it Riley,” She continued, “These last few weeks weren’t that much different than before my visit. You were still letting your life waste away but this time, I did it for you.”

She sighed, “It would all be such a shame,” she continued, “Unless, of course, you’ve learned something from this.”

With one hand she took out the twisted stick and with the other, touched the match to him.  What once had been Riley Wickham, the candle, faded away in a final flame.

When Riley next opened his eyes he was back in his body! The cabin was empty, the sun shining bright, and the woman was gone.  Indeed there was no sign that she’d ever been there at all.

In the days and years that followed, Riley approached his life with vigor.  Gone were empty days and he valued every minute that he had.  Riley went back to work as a part-time consultant for his former company.  He also became a professional fisherman, who traveled the world with his fluffy companions, Oscar and Orion. Back at the cabin, he cultivated an apple orchard of fruit-trees which yielded crops that people would come to pick in season. During his visits, he’d bake pies that he’d bring to the town’s farmer’s market, along with baskets of fresh-grown vegetables. In the evenings, Riley would make himself a hearty dinner – never soup, and wrote down plans of all the places he wanted to go and things to do.  Riley’s ambitions took him far and wide; however he always came back to his small cabin in the woods, on shores of the peaceful lake.  He appreciated the lesson he learned from the woman and going back served as a reminder to live the rest of his days to the fullest.  When asked, he’d tell people “Being here lit a fire in me.  One which I hope never goes out.”

Copyright Cathy Predmore, 2010. All rights reserved.

 

The Wise Words of a Feline Friend

Joseph Lazzara had lived 79 good years. He was a retired mathematics professor who was happily married to his wife and loved by his children and grandchildren. However, on the eve of his 80^th birthday he was unhappy with his age and what he thought it represented.  Rather than feeling excitement for what could be, he thought about what no longer was.  Instead of planning for the future, he preferred to dwell on the past.  Joseph still had hopes and happiness but he didn’t often remember to dream.

Joseph’s faithful companion was his cat, a big gray and white tabby named Morris.  Morris stayed by his side, keeping him company throughout the day, and was a source of great contentment. 

One morning after brushing Morris, he looked at him and said, “I’m an old man now Morris and I don’t like it one bit.  I have a big birthday coming up – eighty.”  He paused for a moment and exclaimed, “Shit, I don’t even like the sound of it.”  Joseph sighed and said, “What I wouldn’t do to have 9 lives like you, my friend.”

Morris turned to look at him and, to Joseph’s shock, he replied.

 “Joe, I would rather trade 8 of my lives, to have just one like yours.”

Joseph quickly dropped the brush and stood up.  “My god,” he exclaimed, “I must be losing my mind.” Frightened, he started towards the door to call for his wife.

“Wait Joe!” Morris continued, “Nothing is wrong with you.  Think for a minute, you’ve always known cats are better than people.  Well, you were right!  We are.”

Joseph paused for a moment and said, “Assuming that’s true, and I’m not going crazy, why talk to me now?  Why wait for all these years?” 

Morris replied, “Honestly Joe, I haven’t needed to speak to you before now.  You’ve always taken wonderful care of me.  You’ve given me special food, kept my water-bowl full, and brushed me just the way I like it.  You even make the trip to the litter box every day.  I can’t stay silent,” he continued, “Because I really hate to see you depressed, especially for all the wrong reasons.”

“What do you know about my reasons Morris?”  Joseph asked, sitting back down next to his friend.

Morris answered, “You are letting your age get you down and think you don’t have much time ahead of you. With all due respect Joe, I know you’re smart (I sit there when you do all those math problems) but you really have no idea.  Nobody ever knows how long they have in their life- not even you.”

Joseph thought for a moment and conceded, “I know you’re right Morris.  I just don’t like the feeling of being old.  It’s not very…pleasant.”

 “Look Joe,” Morris said, “You are in better shape than owners I’ve had who were decades younger than you.  I’ve lived with men in their 50’s and 60’s who can’t jog like you do, are three times your size, and in poor health. Heck, even I’m pretty overweight (not that I want you to cut down on my food).”

 “I’m fortunate to be in good health,” Joseph replied. “But I still can’t count on a life beyond this one.”

Morris said, “Look, I’ve had it easy with you and I really hope my other lives will be the same.  However, in some I could be a stray and then I won’t be very happy and certainly won’t reach eighty!  More importantly, I won’t do anything of real value and will be loved by just a few. While you on the other hand,” Morris explained, “Have done very important things in this one life of yours and been loved by many people.”

He went on, “Both your parents adored you, while I never even knew my father and my mother only stayed with me a short time.  I was really just abandoned in an alley before someone finally took me to the shelter where your wife found me.  Even after all these years, I’ve never fully gotten over it.”

“I always said you had a hard start Morris,” Joseph said, “But that’s the way it is for cats sometimes and unfortunately life isn’t always fair.”

“True,” acknowledged Morris, “But the great thing about any bad situation is that it can always get better. Who would’ve thought a scared kitten from an alley could end up on this comfortable couch talking to you? ”

He went on, “Unlike me, as a human you’ve had great friends; however, if I see another cat the last thing I want is to befriend it.  You’ve even had one friendship which has lasted over sixty years!” 

“That’d be Anthony,” conceded Joseph, “Did I ever tell you how we met?  I heard him playing the piano back when we were boys in Brooklyn and we became friends right away.”  Joseph smiled at the memory.

“You’ve been a soldier Joe, who served his country and traveled the world!” said Morris, “My only journey has been from couch, to food bowl, and back again.  And we both know that’s hardly a trip I’ll be saluted for taking,” Morris said.

“Being in the army changed me in so many ways Morris,” Joseph said, “It was good for me and taught me things I never would have learned staying in Brooklyn with my parents.”

Joseph laughed and said, “That reminds me Morris, sometime I’ll have to tell you about my French girlfriend.”

“That’s something else you have over me Joe,” Morris replied, “I’ve never had a girlfriend and, not that I hold this against you, but don’t even want one thanks to that little operation you gave me awhile back.

“You’ve also been a terrific teacher who influenced the lives of many thousands of students during your career, “Morris pointed out, “Now that’s an amazing accomplishment!”

“Well I enjoyed the subject matter Morris,” Joseph explained, “And was happy to share it with others.” 

“Speaking of the subject Joe,” Morris said, “Mathematics has interested you for your whole life, while I get tired of chasing a toy mouse after only a few minutes. I wish I had something I enjoyed like that and so do many humans.”

“Now that I know you can talk Morris, maybe I can try showing you some simple math,” Joseph offered.

 “Thanks, but I’d rather sit on your paper or knock a pen onto the floor.  I may talk but am still a cat” Morris replied, “And did you forget you are a musician? You’ve played the piano since you were a child. In fact, anytime I hear Rhapsody in Blue – in this life or next, I’ll think of you. The only music I make is by meowing, which most people don’t think isn’t very musical.”

“My wife would probably agree with that Morris.”  Joseph admitted.

 “And where you’re really fortunate is in your family Joe.  You’ve been married for over forty years, while I’m a lone cat. You have two grown children who love you as their parent and like you even more as their friend,” Morris said, “I’ve never had kittens and, even if I do in another life, it won’t be in my nature to know them.”

“In that I couldn’t agree with you more Morris,” Joseph said, “I’ve always said a man without a family doesn’t have much of anything.”

“And don’t forget your grandchildren Joe,” Morris said, “You have five who are crazy about their grandpa.”

“I do love them,” Joseph said with a smile, “One of my grand-daughters is even a cat-lover like me Morris.”

He paused and said, “Look, I know I’ve been very lucky.  I’m grateful for my family and they give me a lot of happiness. But Morris, it’s thinking of what’s ahead that gets to me,” Joseph explained, “Or worse…what might not be ahead.”

Morris replied, “Joe, we’ve been friends for a long time and hopefully will be together for many more years.  However, it’s not likely I’ll speak to you again so think carefully about what I’m saying now.  You know you’re fortunate to have lived such a wonderful life.  But you need to believe that you still have many possibilities for the future. Approach each day with enthusiasm and look forward – not backwards. Nobody ever knows how much time they have so make the most of yours!  What will be at the end is a great mystery; however, it may very well be a new beginning. It may turn out that you do have another 8 lives or even more….only time will tell.” 

Joseph sat quietly for awhile thinking about what had happened.  Then he got up, brushed himself off and said, “Morris, on a day when cats can talk, I have to believe that anything really is possible.” Then he smiled and said with resolve, “I might as well listen to you.”

Morris jumped down from the couch and Joseph said, “Morris wait!  Promise me one last thing.”

 “What’s that Joe?” Morris asked, looking back over his shoulder.

“Before my 90^th birthday, I think we’re going to have to talk again.”

Morris gave a meow of agreement and walked out the door.  

Copyright Cathy Predmore, 2010.  All rights reserved.

 

The Sparrow’s Wife

In a small nest, in a tall tree, in a country across an ocean, there was a bright brown sparrow born with the spirit of a man. When he was just a baby bird, this special sparrow was too young to understand that he was different. He shared the nest with his brother and sister bird, ate seeds brought to him by their mother, and acted like all young birds do. He ate, slept, and learned to fly. After several weeks passed, he started to become aware of himself. He began to think and feel not like a bird, but as a person. At first the sparrow was confused and then sad. He couldn’t speak or communicate his thoughts to the other birds and didn’t know who he was or what had happened to him.

One day he was scavenging for food when he was struck with a memory. It was of a young boy and girl laughing with a man. He searched his mind and more images came to him. He could envision the same boy, older now, throwing a baseball and playing a guitar. The boy and the man drew pictures together and shared stories at bedtime. Later he could see the boy grown and leaving for school, hugging the man who had gray in his hair. The sparrow saw the girl holding an orange cat and singing to herself in a pretty purple room. More memories came back of her playing a piano and running across a field of flowers jumping into his arms. Her hair was brown and she shinned in the sun, radiating happiness.

When the sparrow evoked the image of a woman, his bird’s heart beat rapidly against his breast and he almost fell from the sky. She had long dark hair and warm brown eyes that looked at him with longing. He knew in an instant that she was his forever love and all their memories together came flooding back to him. It was after seeing her in his minds-eye that he knew for certain that he had been a man and had to find his family.

It was time for sparrows to migrate but, rather than follow the others, this bird went in search of the people who haunted his mind and held his heart. He flew far from the land where he’d been born again, guided only by his senses. The small sparrow flew through several countries and glided over vast waters. His journey took many months. Finally the bird reached a street in a town which felt familiar. He spiraled downward and saw the house that he knew had been his; however, it looked older and things were different. He perched in a tree where he watched and waited. After a time, a car pulled in the driveway and a woman got out. When the sparrow saw her, he wept. Tears spilled out of his eyes, wetting his feathers and running down his beak. The woman had been his daughter but she was much older than the shinning girl he’d remembered. He realized many years must have passed from the time he’d been a man and when he was born as a bird. His daughter was no longer young and he believed his wife was gone. Hope of finding his love faded and the sparrow folded his wings over himself in sorrow.

It was many days before he raised his head. The sparrow was still mourning his wife but was growing curious about their daughter. He hoped the little girl of his heart was still happy. The bird watched her come and go. She kept many animals as pets and seemed content. When she would lie in a hammock, reading in the yard, he’d perch close to her. She noticed the bird and was kind. She put out seed for him to eat and sang to him in a soft voice, much like the child he remembered. The sparrow grew comforted being around her.

One day she had visitors. A man and woman arrived with three children, two boys and a girl. He realized with a start that the man was his son. His son carried his own daughter up on his shoulders and his boys followed behind their mother into the house. The sparrow perched close to the house on a bush. Eventually the door opened and his son and the older boy started to play a game of catch in the yard. The younger boy came out after them and pushed a toy bulldozer over the grass. The little boy got close to the bush and spotted the brown sparrow. The bird and the boy looked at each other for a meaningful moment before his son called the child over to him. The sparrow heard that the child had been named after him and was moved to see how he was remembered. When his son’s family left, the sparrow nestled quietly in the tree. Thinking about his children and grandchildren brought him a sense of peace. He stopped feeling sad for all he had lost and began to feel pleasure in what he had found.

On a warm day his daughter got into the car and the sparrow had the urge to follow her. He soared above until she reached a large building, surrounded by green fields and pretty gardens. He landed in the garden’s courtyard where there were many tables and benches filled with people. He noticed that they were very old. Some were talking quietly, while others played cards or read the newspaper in the soft sun.

He saw his daughter enter the courtyard and a woman who had been reading a book gestured to her. The woman was quite old with white hair pinned loosely in a bun and dressed in flowing clothes. As she called his daughter over, the sparrow noticed a ring on her finger catch the light. His hard beat wildly as he recognized the ring and knew the woman. It was his wife. She was alive and living in this place! He looked more closely saw how much she’d changed with the passing of  time. Her once smooth skin was heavily wrinkled and the dark hair he remembered was white. She had always moved quickly but now her movements were slow and unsteady. However her smile was the same, as was the dark warmth of her eyes. She was still beautiful to the sparrow.

Now that he had found her, the jubilant bird couldn’t bear to leave her side. He built a nest in a tree in their garden and planned to stay by her until the end of his days. He watched her talk to others and saw their children come and go. Their grand-daughter visited with pictures she had drawn and their grandsons would tell her tales of their baseball games and adventures.

Her routine was quiet and sometimes, when she was alone, she would take out his picture and stare at it for awhile. Her fingers would trace over his face and she’d sigh and gaze out into the distance. During those times, he flew into her sight hoping she’d sense he was near. Indeed she would smile when seeing the earnest brown bird but then returned her gaze to the photograph.

The sparrow stayed for many months until the day came when he saw her stumble and fall. After that, it was a while before she came outside. When she finally did, it was in a wheelchair. She seemed smaller and quieter. She didn’t read her books anymore and spent a lot of time simply sitting still. Then she didn’t come out again. His children didn’t return and, when he flew to their old house, he saw his daughter crying softly because her mother was gone.

The sparrow took to the air with heavy heart. He flew high and far and wondered why he was brought back if only to lose her again. Many days passed as the sparrow fluttered listlessly and grieved. One day he saw something coming towards him in the distance and realized it was another bird. It drew nearer and he observed it was a sparrow and something about it was very familiar. It was flying fast and hard in his direction, soaring across the sky. When the other sparrow reached his side he looked into its dark eyes and was filled with the sweetest joy. It was the sparrow’s wife. He now knew why he was brought back as a bird. It was so their spirits could soar together, side-by-side, against the setting sun.

Copyright of this story Cathy Predmore, 2009.  All rights reserved.