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Welcome to A Writer's Landscape!

You have entered the realm of my mind where words play with the fabric of our existence. This is the map of my imagination: the very foundations of inspiration, musing, and thought splayed for your wandering eyes. Dive deep into the tides of these forces and experience my reality, my fantasy, my world; and if you should be so inclined, share your words with this land.

Peace and Love!

J Hart F

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Day of Broken

Jeffrey Cernunn Godfrey awoke with glistening dancing rainbows in his eyes. He let them play across his face as only one who truly appreciated their magnificent essence would; for these rainbows only happened twice a year: once on the longest day and once on the shortest. Jeffrey had planned this intricacy when he was much younger and recently accomplished the effect with his alter to Cernunnos upon the windowpane facing the east. As the sun rose, its light broke apart into a myriad of rainbows all across Jeffrey's bedroom just as he predicted.

No yawn shattered the sleepy lips because a smile so broad hastened itself before the God.

Jeffrey jumped out of bed, landing perfectly on his feet upon the carpeted old floor which creaked under the new found weight. The resounding elation was infectious and seemed to shake off the night from Jeffrey's room as the light spilled above the alter. Of course, Jeffrey couldn't take his eyes off his little experiment's success. Last year rain fell so harshly several branches from the tree outside had snapped clear off in the early hours, though perhaps the breaking limps were due to the outlandish winds that ripped across the plains. This year was different, and for the first time Jeffrey was able to appreciate such long scheming to fill his room with beauty.

He quickly got ready for work. Something told him, whispering so carefully, that he alone would change many people's lives that day. He couldn't wait and was especially excited to listen to his loud music during the forty-five minute drive southward. Popping in one particular CD whose message sang of devoted love strengthening the will to search for new and intriguing levels of relations, Jeffrey turned the volume nob till the digital display read "31". This was certainly loud enough to permit passersby to overhear the jubilant lyrics and the ringing intonations of soft percussion with contemporary harmonies. Jeffrey sang at the top of his lungs with the windows down and the air rushing in as he drove.

People stared and could not help but smile at the ecstatic enthusiasm of a young man boisterously living uninhibitedly. Their torturous drive and broken apart into moments of diverse life, and most of the onlookers began searching for others who might be sharing such joyous occasion to sing without regard to judgment from fellow travelers.

Once he arrived at work, Jeffrey immediately continued his tour of music with his trusty iPod which he rarely took with him for fear of its loss. However, today was no ordinary day and trust was overwhelmingly abundant in foresight. Going about his tasks revealed a broken door on a very important freezer: somehow moisture was gathering along the edges and pooling on the floor, whereby the floor polish discolored under the constant supervision of liquid. Upset would have been Jeffrey's first reaction to such a worrisome event, but he knew nothing was truly damaged: the temperature still read "-14.7" in Fahrenheit, the door was closed properly, the floor could be resurfaced with a new layer of wax, and someone somewhere would be able to dispatch individuals to assist in the mending of this object.

Thus Jeffrey made two important phone calls to two important people whose influence would hasten the repairs.

By lunchtime, Jeffrey's day was going handsomely: sales were flowing as they should, people were smiling at Jeffrey's conversations, the skies were full of sunshine, and someone had arrived to look at the freezer door already. Jeffrey decided to depart for a quick bite to eat a local convenience food supplier.
What greeted him, if greeting it could be called, was a woman whose smile was strained to say the least. Even hopeful glances to a clock somewhere in the distance of her imagination couldn't turn the corners of her lips anyway but downward. Unfortunate as this was, Jeffrey decided to grant her all the gracious appreciation for her hard days work in the minute his interaction would accrue.

And by the end of that minute, a genuine smile crested her tired face and a little laugh beckoned forth.

Jubilant success made the mediocre meal taste like a grand steak brazen with gentle herbs and a side of garlic mashed potatoes, perhaps with a pint of dark ale cold as winter. Those thirty minutes passed with rejuvenating forces only the sun could give to those whom suffered from eyes drooped under days of restlessness. Jeffrey's smile reflected the joy hidden deep in people's hearts as they entered his store, and they couldn't help but return the favor. On one occasion, a woman accidentally nudged a jar off a table, whereupon it shattered against the concrete floor and oozed thick, sticky, gelatinous relish in a nice and elegant puddle. Her response was frightful and on the verge of hysterics. At this point, Jeffrey couldn't be deterred by a spill of any proportion, less it drown, and he quickly put the woman at ease. She couldn't bare but leave without praise for such a generous and happy boy (but let none know how much she actually spent with much generosity of her own, even though all her intentions were to never spend a single dime in Jeffrey's store at any time whatsoever for any reason whatsoever).

Such delivering near the end of his long hours would never be diminished even by a friendly delivery man who always seemed obnoxiously cheerful even at the hardest of times. On this particular day, he resembled much the same face as the aforementioned food service representative. This gentleman's immediate response to a welcoming "Hello! How are you doing on this wondrous day?" was to instantaneously donate his tragedy by declaring a distinct loss of catalyst which therefore encouraged the distinct disposition of anti-desire. That is, his motivation had broken somewhere along the freeway between songs of love and songs of death on the radio.

Quickly, the man left without another word, head dropped and heart desiring his wife whom had left the previous night. No smile, nor enlightened words, would sink into that broken and shattered membrane to bring a different mood which normally visited anyone who cared to listen.

Jeffrey faltered in his smile, and his eyes reached out with mournful shifts hoping to encounter one more soul to affect before he fell to such desolate predilection of life.

However, his bell had rung and the sun sat hotly over the western mountains. The drive home was filled with heartfelt worries for someone he knew for moments each day but never encountered outside a prescribed environment developed for the consumption of reckless miniature endorphin dumps granted through the exchange of monetary value for stuff. Even the blithe music, still louder than necessary, took on a tenuous tone, revealing subtle hints of dangerous discourse between quarreling lovers and the desire to escape.

As the sun set on the longest day of the year, Jeffrey watched from his backyard while listening to the gentle humming of bugs hidden among the bushes and flowers displaying their delicate colors for nature's purposes. He thought, long at hard about his day until the light permitted no view but the presence just before him. Clouds rolled in and sparks of light trusted themselves landward, rolling deeply resonating notes in Jeffrey's chest. He smiled to feel the intense vibrations in which few relished.

His broken mood returned for that instant, in an appreciation for something natural, without reason, and in solitary beautiful.

The night whispered to Jeffrey of the man's dangerous plight. It spoke of resolution and strength which time would heal, and one day his heart would feel the voice of nature again, see the smiles inherent to its faces, and know that even darkness has its treasures.

The next day a hard rain fell giving way to new seeds forgotten in the ground.

1 comment:

  1. Well, I love it. LOVE it.

    It's exactly this style of writing that I encounter every so often that makes me think "Damn. If I could write like that - that's all I would do with my life."

    It's very . . . Harold Crick-ish. Hehe.

    Sadly - I can't write like this no matter how hard I try so my second best hope is that if I ever do anything great - be it good or bad - I hope someone writes about me just like this.

    I am splendidly impressed Josheleh.