Empty Sky Chapter 1 – The Cabin (28 Aug 2020, Audio)

The version of the chapter presented here is a far cry from the version currently in print (and I have a standing offer regarding the current version; Buy a copy, leave a review, I’ll send you a signed copy of the rewrite when it’s published). For that matter, the version presented here is a stretch from the previous versions posted on this blog (most recent here).

The version here is my reading at a Read ’em and Weep online workshop I recently attended.

Fascinating experience.

Creator and above level members can listen to the reading here.


Chapter 1 – The Cabin

Jamie reached for Shem’s tail. The big golden sat on Jamie’s bed staring out the cabin window. His coat glistened in the moonlight, his tail thumped with excitement. Peepers and crickets chirped outside. Raccoons chittered. Opossum and skunk barked. Owls hooted. Loons called. Far off a wolf howled. Another answered in the distance.

Jamie caught Shem’s tail and held it motionless. “What is it, boy?”

Shem looked back at Jamie and whined softly.

Jamie ran a delicate hand through his ginger hair. He looked past Shem to the oak, elm, and pine of the northern Michigan forest. The Moon, full and bright, illuminated the trees and the small, one-room cabin at their center.

“Do you have to pee?”

Shem jumped off the bed and scratched at the door to go out.

“Shh.” Jamie glanced at his parents, Ellie and Tom, asleep on the other side of the cabin. “You want to wake mom and dad?” He crawled out from under the covers and tip-toed to the door. Standing on a chair, he drew back the bolt and lifted the latch.

Cool winds changed rustling treetops into brooms sweeping low-hung clouds from late September skies. Dust devils spun mists where night air met day-warmed rocks. Trees bowed to the rising Moon.

Shem walked into the night. Jamie followed.

The Moon continued her ascent. The woods fell silent.

Silent.

Ellie sat up in bed, her hands clenching the blanket, holding it tight against her. A cold, dank wind swirled through the cabin, lifting things slightly, inspecting them, putting them down, drawing a musk of old earths in its wake.

Moonlight entered the cabin’s single room.

Her eyes fixed on Jamie’s empty bed.

“Jamie! Shem!”

Tom rose and put his boots on in one motion. “Where are they?”

Ellie pointed at the open door.

Tom threw Ellie her coat. “They must be together. Shem won’t let Jamie out of his sight.”

“Something’s got them. Some wild animal.”

“There’s no blood anywhere, Ellie. Shem’d raise hell if something got in the cabin or near Jamie.” He grabbed an iron poker from the woodstove.

Ellie stopped at the door, a silhouette against the night. “Shh.”

Tom came up beside her. “What the…?”

“Shh!”

“What are they doing?”

“It looks like they’re playing.”

“With whom?”


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Shaman Story Chapter X – DeathSong

This is the last of the “Childhood” section of Shaman Story. The next section, Adolescence, tracks Gio through elementary school to college. But that’s for later. Now, “DeathSong”.

Read Shaman Story Chapter X – Council of All Beings.


Shaman Story Chapter X – DeathSong

 
“You promised.”

“Gio.”

“You said you’d never leave me.”

“Gio.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Gio.”

I turn my back. I won’t face him. I won’t I won’t I won’t.

I feel his arms encircle me, hear his voice inside me. “Do you feel me, Gio?”

I don’t answer.

“Gio.”

“No, I don’t feel you. Alright?”

He withdraws. The energy that cradled me, rescued me, taught me, pulls back.

I spin, reach out, fall into his arms. “No, Buppa. No. Don’t go, Buppa. Don’t die. I need you. I don’t want to go home.”

He holds me against him. I feel his heart, not strong. His arms are weak. Still he holds me. I hear his breath, smell his clove aftershave. He rubs his beard stubble against my forehead, he sings an old Sicilian song.

Inside I hear. “Am I with you now, Gio?”

“Yes, Buppa. Yes.”

“As long as you keep me there, I’ll never leave you. Do you understand, Gio?”

I don’t want to understand. I don’t want to know.

“I’ve done all I can here, Gio. I’ve learned all I can learn. Is it right for me to stay here when The Universe needs me somewhere else?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. His chest rattles. “Gio.”

“No.”


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Shaman Story Chapter X – Council of All Beings

Read Shaman Story Chapter X – Mr. Zelli’s Ice Cream.


Shaman Story Chapter X – Council of All Beings

 
Voices dance over me like ants at a harvest. I shake with the deep bellow of whale song, the answering trumpet of elephant, am tickled with the chirping of crickets the size of busses. A spider wraps me in her web, places me on her back. Her chalice’s grate “Ha-angg—on-n,” and she balloons up into the sky.

“Where are we going, Grandmother?”

Her chalice’s grate again. “Coun-n-c-cil-l—o-of-f—A-a-ll—Be-ei-ingg-s-s. Yy-you-ur-r—Ggrannd-d-ffa-a-ath-ther-r—i-s-s—wai-ai-ait-t-inn-g-g.”

We descend through clouds, through fog, through mist, through water, through waves, through oceans into the earth, through boiling rock and land on an island deep in the sky.

“Buppa!”

He lifts me in his arms. “Are you ready, Gio? Are you ready to meet your friends?”

The island grows and grows and more and more arrive. John and Running Water and Apara and Chan and Joe Swota and Erdös and Lan and Han and Timbe and Rose and Bee and Spider and Moose and Hummingbird and Hawk and I recognize them even when they don’t look like I’ve seen them before.

“You’re passing!”

“Do you see me who I am, Gio? Do you see me who I am?” It’s a game to them, too!

My friends teach me to play their games and ask me to teach them mine.

Then a voice I’ve not heard before. A voice of fire, like a mountain. A throat clearing that sounds like trees falling in a forest. “Hello, Gio.”

“Hello.”

A wall of sky offers me its hand. I hold stars and planets and galaxies in mine, not even knowing what they are.

“Who are you?”


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Shaman Story Chapter X – Mr. Zelli’s Ice Cream

Read Shaman Story Chapter X – Healing.


Shaman Story Chapter X – Mr. Zelli’s Ice Cream

 
Grandma, Buppa and I walk to Mr. Zelli’s ice cream shop, up two streets on the corner. Buppa likes the ice cream there. It’s special, called gelato. Mr. Zelli has ice cream for his L’Inglese and gelato for us. Buppa says it’s the best.

Buppa makes it a game. “What flavor is it, Gio?”

I answer quickly. That’s too easy.

“Which of Mr. Zelli’s helpers made this? Was it Antonio? Maybe Francesca? Or Anne? Who was it?”

I have to travel back through the flavor to feel the hands on the machine then go up the arms to feel the face. “Anne made this one.”

“Go ask Mr. Zelli. What does he say?”

Mr. Zelli watches Buppa and me play. I say “Anne?” and he looks at Buppa then back at me.

“You asking me or telling me, Gio?”

“Anne.”

He laughs and nods.

He asks what’s my favorite flavor and sometimes I say “Paolo” or “Cozmo” because I feel the maker in the flavor.


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Shaman Story Chapter X – Healing

Read Shaman Story Chapter X – Little Girl Lost.


Shaman Story Chapter X – Healing

 
A woman comes on a hot August night. Grandpa and I sit on the frontporch watching traffic and sipping steaming hot espressos. She carries a boy in blue shorts, white shirt, blue three button jacket, knotted blue tie and topped with a blue hat. Her dark, mid-calf skits seem heavy in this heat. Her walk and clothing tell me she’s not from our neighborhood or any other I know. Her long, thick, black hair hangs loosely about her shoulders, not done up or held back with pins the Sicilian way. Her makeup is also thick and rich. A strap over her shoulder supports a large, beaded purse which hangs like some kind of bladder.

Grandpa smiles and nods as she walks past. She stops at our gate and opens it without asking, as if it’s her own.

On the porch her steps are so light the floor doesn’t creak and I can tell from the sound she wears expensive shoes.

Grandpa stands.

She talks in whispers and holds the boy out to Grandpa.

The boy is no older than me.

The woman puts him down. She pushes him at Grandpa.

Grandpa shakes his head and steers the boy back to the woman.

I come over and ask if the boy wants to play with me in the garden.

He pulls back into the woman’s skirts.

I Lower-Center-Relax-Breathe.

Grandpa puts his hand on my shoulder, a warning. I look up at him. He stares at me wide-eyed and shakes his head, no, pursing his lips.

Pain. Raw pain. Pain of an animal in a trap gnawing its own leg to be free.

I cry, my body, my bones, my joints on fire.

The boy.

Such pain. How can he stand?

Grandpa yells — it is the only time I hear him raise his voice in alarm — and pulls me back. His four-bodies come together, between me and the boy, falling like thunder.


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