The Subject of Desire Chapter 19
By Paula Andrea Pyle MA, 16th Mar 2011 | Follow this author
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Posted in WikinutWritingShort Stories
Background
We never are fully aware of what we are doing; we can't be. But, we can be conscious of where our feet are planted IF we retrain our mind's incessant wandering from the past to the future.
Chapter 19: Pay Attention: Mind's In Your Feet
If he had allowed himself, Charlie Braxton McRoy, could have put a new twist on the term depression. With no end in sight, he could have easily given up; but, when you don't know what else to do, just keep placing one foot in front of the other. Where that thought came from, he had no idea. In fact, he had no idea where any of the motivating words originated.
Having gotten involved with the clowns had churned up more questions for the young lad. How much unfamiliar, unrealistic information can the mind process without exploding? What is the real meaning of reality? Can there be worlds that exists that we are not aware of right in front of our eyes yet we are vibrationally programmed not to see them, due to a lower or higher frequency? Yesterday's life seemed so simple and uncomplicated.
"My only problem was I didn't own a genuine Red and White Sandblaster. Today, I realize with full clarity, other universes operate somehow with their own unique problems." Charlie's voice echoed a deep sense of loss.
"Mama used to tell me about the hard choices we all have to make sometimes. I never knew what that meant. I guess, I just made my first one. I don't know what will become of the little colorful clowns, but we live in two different worlds. I've got to go my way and they've got to go theirs."
He hurried down the ever winding hall of mirrors. Not conscious of the regent line of reflections, he simply moved his feet scissorly in a natural fashion until he ran out of mirrors. He couldn't have explained how it happened, when, or why, yet, without any added effort on his part, he stood outside. The sun bathed him luxuriously.
"It's just like Selena-LeAnne and the mechanical voice told me, I didn't need any help, after all. I don't understand any of it and I don't care. I'm out." He jumped two feet into the air screaming a whopping "YAHOO!"
Did that mean he was any closer to getting home? What did that matter? He was freed from the wretched hall of mirrors. "One minute at a time. That's all I can do. No more than that." He calmed himself in an 'it's going to be alright' way.
Charlie spied more carnival scenery indicating he had not left the premises of wherever, merely released from the clown's residences. He stood in what he perceived as the 'valley of decision'. He could either search out other occupants of the carnival, in hopes, they may have beneficial answers, or he could head out in an entirely new direction. Which should he do? He realized, for a fact, he was being tested in the most precarious of situations for reasons he could not possibly comprehend. The test of the clowns proved to be amusing and entertaining but, at the same time, he wanted to be through with them.
"Enough of anything's enough, too much of anything ain't good for nothing or nobody," his red headed uncle Noland Blake used to say.
Charlie needed to make haste; the sun would soon be setting. He sure didn't want to be out wandering around in the dark who knows where. From out of the blue, a Bible verse ran through his mind, "Daniel purposed in his heart. That's strange. I haven't been to church since I was ten. How did I remember those words?"
He decided the best thing to do was to shut his eyes real tight since church verses were invading his mind.
"Mama always called this trick the 'owl in the dark' game. She said when you come to a place and you don't know what to do, close your eyes. Be still; listen with all your heart, not your ears. Call the owl to you."
The familiar MELODY! That strange MELODY played once more. Over and over, the tune swayed through his mind, calling to him. Nothing else to do but follow the song; it resounded as clear as if it had been performed live in the air. He opened his blue eyes determined follow the melodic notes. Louder and louder the tune grew, even though not a single solitary soul could be seen. The peppy encouraging song rejuvenated Charlie's downcast sprit. It seemed like a million years since Charlie had been five years old.
"Oh hell, it seems like a half a million, since yesterday." His mind reeled explosively. The re-run version of what he had been through taunted him. Could he survive? Did he have the stamina?
"THIS minute, right this second, eternity is unfolding. That's all I've got," he screamed. "That's all I've ever had. Can't say a word about the next minute; it's nothing but speculation and fantasy."
Abruptly, uncomfortable rubble prevented his next step. He joyously smiled for the first time, he could remember, since having begun his journey. "Hey, here's the deal. I AM really all right. No matter where I am or where I think I am or don't think I am; I, Charlie Braxton McRoy, am 100% ALL right. Nothing has harmed me in any way! So what if I don't know what I'm doing or why, I'm breathing, I'm not hungry, not hurting, and I'm not alone. Although it seems like I am; I KNOW I'm not. I can't explain it. I wouldn't try to if I could. What's the point? How about that? I might be killed in the very next minute but right this second I AM Okay."
Charlie just couldn't believe it. Through all of his bizarre adventures, of he should be damaged or at the very least, changed in some way, but if the truth be known, HE WAS THE VERY SAME GUY THAT WAS SITTING IN MRS. MASON'S ENGLISH CLASS THE PREVIOUS DAY. He started to laugh uproariously
"How can this be? I've seen more in two days than most kids will see in their entire lifetimes, and I'm feeling great. In fact, I feel super. What I've been through would have driven much stronger guys insane. But, I'm still here and kicking. I ought to be out of my mind. Doubting everything I've ever been taught. But, I don't. My minds big enough to take it all in and more, IF I have to." Charlie had been enthusiastically babbling aloud when he suddenly realized he may be getting a little too cocky for his own good
"Who knows what's in store for me, next?" He kicked the crusted, mangled rubble out of the way and walked. Charlie McRoy approached each tent cautiously but never peered inside. No other thing, person, or sound resonated. Absolute silence.
"This is too strange! When did the music stop playing?" Charlie remarked.” I know the music had to be coming from somewhere, but where? Now, I don't know which I way I should turn."
Charlie, so submerged with the loss of the sound of the music, he could not possibly have stopped himself from tripping over what appeared to be an eensy, teensy, weensy house of some kind. On the ground, a furious teeny itsi bitzi carpenter waved his hands, raving about what Charlie had done to his structure. In Charlie's oblivion, he had accidentally smashed the old man's miniature palace to bits.
"Hey, Buster what'd ya think ya doin?"
Charlie was dreadfully sorry. He didn't mean to destroy the little guy's project. Because of the incredibly, small size of the carpenter, Charlie found it necessary to drop to the ground on his belly to communicate. What surprised Charlie even more was the fact, that even though the little guy was no larger than an insect, the sound, pitch, and range of his voice was completely normal.
Belly-bound to the ground, Charlie was able to look the grasshopper size carpenter eye to eye. Charlie apologized for the unfortunate mishap.
"I'm so very sorry sir, but I did not see you. I followed a sound of music when it stopped. I was not paying any attention."
"You said that right! Pitiful, flimsy excuse, if you ask me. You been smashin' everthin' in sight for several yards."
"I did?"
Charlie's voice seemed to have been diminished. He had to scream, to be heard by the little guy, even though, the articulation of the inch size construction worker, was perfectly audible without his having to raise his voice. Charlie surmised this incident the strangest of all he had encountered. How could it be, a guy no bigger than a cockroach, could speak loud enough to be heard while he had to scream?
"Are you always so self-absorbed, you don't look beneath your feet to see what's going on down here?"
"No, I mean, yes, I mean, maybe, I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."
"Well, you do know enough to see that you smashed my shopping mall don't you?"
"Shopping mall? I thought, it was your house." Charlie hung his head. "I'm awfully sorry."
"Sorry! Sorry won't do a thing for you or me. There's no place for sorry. I've been working on this site for nearly two years. Sorry won't drive a single nail back into any of these boards. The only thing that will is a sure fired deliberate hand and wrist motion. You know anything about hammering?"
Charlie found the bug-like carpenter rather funny. The size of the hammer he was using could be no more than an an eighth of an inch in size. How was he going to even pick up something that small, much less use it?
"Well, what's it gonna be, boy? You gonna repair what you broke? Or leave it up to someone else to clean up your mess, not to mention the money. Make up your mind."
What was Charlie suppose to say? The truth was: he had broken the speck-sized carpenter's shopping mall but his hands were much too big to help restore the damage he had inadvertently created. Nothing he could do about it; he couldn't change the size of his hands.
"I don't know if you can understand this or not, sir, but you see my hands don't fit your hammer."
"That's mighty fine thing to tell a working man. Why don't you just admit that you're too dadbern lazy, disinterested and uninvolved?"
"But, I'm not. I would love to help you. I just can't."
"CAN'T died in the cornfield with the rest of imbeciles who don't like to do an honest day's work. Be off with you, then, I don't need your hangin' round hampering what I've got to do." The little old carpenter struggled with the smashed boards, labored as he ripped them apart, just so he could hammer them back together again.
Charlie overcome with guilt tried to explain. "Please mister, I feel so bad. I'd be glad to try and help you if I could; I just am not able to."
"Trying won't get it done. Never has. Never will. Either jump in and help or be on your way."
There was nothing for Charlie to do but adjust to and accept another impossible situation.
"I can't just leave the little guy to clean up the mess. That wouldn't be right; what can I do?" Thoughts of uneasy remorse flooded his mind.
Charlie clumsily reached his large cumbersome fingers into the tiny bit of rubbish boards, began separating them the best he could. Now, you must realize that the boards were no longer than an a half an inch in size. To Charlie they were so excruciatingly tiny! The nails were so small they looked like grains of sand. To the carpenter, they were manageable. Charlie groped in stupidity trying to help the guy. No way could he even hold the microscopic saw. The tiny hammer he held between his two fingers exactly like he had positioned the two inch tube of clown papers.
It didn't take the little guy long to respond, "I really appreciate your help, boy, but I can see wood-working aint your forte'."
"Forte'?" Charlie hadn't ever heard that word before. "No sir, I haven't done much carpentry in my life."
"You work at it, son. It takes years to master somethin'. Can I have my hammer back? You were willin''; you jumped in with your heart; instead of standin' there a jawin'wid' ya mouth. That's all there is to it, boy. I love carpentry that's why I'm the best at it 'round these parts. I don't think building malls is yours. But, who knows? Anythin's possible; if you love it with all your might and practice, everyday, things 'ill happen. Don't ever give up; it could seem like its ten million minutes away, but that's really when it's the closest to you."
With two boards, he hammered one stroke, forming a perfectly smooth corner.
"Where you headed boy?"
Charlie thought before he answered. "I'm headed home. I followed the music. It led me to you."
"I don't hear no music. But, that don't mean nothin'. I've lived here all my life; could be playing and I don't hear it. Work's my special music. Everythin's got its own rhythm an groove."
"I guess so," Charlie said.
"Well, you best be on your way, son. Don't forget to watch where your feet's planted. You might be stepping on somebody's house."
"I sure will, mister. I sure will. By the way what's your name?"
"Downunder. Downunder Neath. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He stuck out his teeny iney hand for Charlie to shake.
Charlie obliged.
"And, what's yours son?"
"Charlie, Charlie Braxton McRoy."
"Well, Charlie Braxton McRoy, don't mean to be rude but I've got to get back to work. The sun'll be going down, soon. Need to finish up what I can, while I can. See you around, sometime."
Charlie knew he'd never see the little fellow, again. He got up, brushed himself off. He thought carefully about what the little guy had said as he began to walk.
"Always know where your feet are planted. How do you do that?" Charlie couldn't ever remember being consciously aware of his feet (much less where they were standing), unless they were hurting in some way.
And, he certainly hadn't ever conceived the idea that he might be standing on someone's mall or home. He sure had learned a lot of good stuff since he had started on this magical journey.
He examined the ground beneath. He was safe. The path was clear. "Everything around me is alive. I sure am glad to know it. I have a good feeling; I 'think' I can trust it."
Chapter 20
Chapter 18
Comments
17th Mar 2011 (#)
Good reading. Thanks for sharing
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20th Mar 2011 (#)
I am so happy to hear you are reading about Charlie McRoy's adventures. Am I happy? Yes!
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30th Mar 2011 (#)
I am enjoying Charlie's adventure so much, I am dreading it ending....
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30th Mar 2011 (#)
Wonderful! Just keeps on getting better, Paula...
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1st Apr 2011 (#)
I am so delighted you are able to get the story in the manner you are receiving it. Do I love that? Yes, I do. Do I appreciate you, Indeed, 1000000000000000 million times.
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