Through a Darkened Pane

by compound complex 730 Replies latest social entertainment

  • snowbird
    snowbird

    The Two-Room Schoolhouse

    It stood squarely and resolutely on the grounds of Rosemary Baptist Church which is located in section 35, township 13 north, range 8 east; its purpose was to provide the three R's to the children of Bussey, Cochrane, Flatwoods, Miller's Hill, and Oliver's Bend.

    When was its foundation laid, the last board nailed into place, and the roof attached? If there are records, they are long lost to the ravages and/or carelessness of Father Time. It lives only in the memories of those children, now in their twilight years, who passed through its two doors.

    It was at this school and church that I learned to love the Bible. Each day was begun with a song of praise and a Biblical quotation; we were dismissed with a song of thanksgiving and a prayer.

    Love for and compassion toward others were the order of the day. Oh, we had our little spats and scuffles, but they were often forgotten as soon as the tears dried. We were like a family - that was the most important lesson to be learned.

    It nearly broke my heart when, due to desegregation orders, the little school was disbanded. When the doors, which had never been locked before, were shut for the final time, a part of me was locked inside the tiny building.

    Sylvia

  • BabaYaga
    BabaYaga

    Sylvie!

    (and CoCo, I am left shuddering from yours!)

  • compound complex
    compound complex

    Beautiful, Snowbird!

    Your writing skills and storyline reach both the intellect and the heart. It's interesting how buildings play such a profound role in our lives, from birth to grave.

    Thanks!

    Thank you, Baba, for getting the frissons - in horror it's called the tingle factor [or some such ...].

    Love,

    CoCo

  • snowbird
    snowbird

    Thanks, Baba and CoCo!

    You have no idea how much TADP inspires me.

    Sylvia

  • snowbird
    snowbird

    Un Soupcon d'Horreur

    As I knocked on the door of the immaculate white cottage with the green shutters, my heart was filled with anticipation of starting a Bible study with the woman and her three kids - all boys, ranging in age from 10 to 14.

    The previous week they had shown intense interest in the brightly illustrated brochure, What Does God Require of Us?, and had eagerly accepted my offer to return for an in-depth discussion of its contents.

    The middle child opened the door, his obsidian eyes sliding away from mine. "Come in," he said softly. I stepped over the threshold into a comfortably furnished living room that, too, was immaculate. The mother and other two boys were nowhere to be seen.

    "Have a seat."

    "I'll be right back."

    I sat on one of the cushiony wing chairs as the young man headed toward the kitchen.

    As I sat, waiting expectantly for mama and the others, I noticed that an unnatural stillness had come over the house. Suddenly, my whole body was suffused with a feeling of impending doom. The only thing that mattered to me was the need to get out of there at once!

    I tried to call out to the young man that I was leaving, but my throat refused to work. I tried to rise and head for the door, but my legs wouldn't budge. The last thing I remember is seeing the blurred outline of a sepia, leering face as the boy returned from the kitchen with a stainless steel steak knife.

    Then, merciful darkness enveloped me as I fell forward in a dead faint.

    Sylvia

  • compound complex
    compound complex

    More soupcons, Sylvia!

    Excellent!

    Gratefully,

    CoCo

  • snowbird
  • snowbird
    snowbird

    The Execution of John Doe

    September 12, 1978, dawned bright and clear with a promise of an early Fall coolness to counteract the oppressive heat that had lingered sullenly over the countryside.

    In his prison cell, John Doe ate his last breakfast, savoring each bite of the crisp bacon, fluffy eggs, and buttery grits. The scalding hot coffee, laced with real cream, tasted like the nectar of gods as he swirled it around in his mouth before swallowing it with gusto.

    He had arisen early, showering and shaving in the pre-dawn hours before his daily reading of the Scriptures. Today's reading was the 23rd psalm, copied from several online translations he'd found on the prison library computer. It was funny how he had done all those routine things automatically, refusing to allow himself to think about the fact that he would never do them again. Not in this life, anyway.

    How does a person go on, knowing that today, this day, would be his last on earth?

    To Be Continued ...

    Sylvia

  • ziddina
    ziddina

    This thread's BACK!!!

    Aw, Sylvia... The little school house... Brought tears to my eyes...

    "John Doe" sounds interesting... Ever heard of "Tom Dooley"??? [I guess I should look that one up; if he was an actual historical figure, I suspect that he was Irish...]

    CoCo!!!! Looking forward to reading more!!

    Zid

  • snowbird
    snowbird

    Finishing his breakfast and sliding his tray and plastic utensils to the guard, John Doe lay on his cot and relived the memory of that night 10 years ago that had forever changed his world, his outlook, his raison d'etre.

    Why had he gone along with Jimmy Joe when he knew that there was no chance of their pulling it off? True, they had done a number of hits before and had gotten away without even a description from their terrified victims, but his gut instincts on that fateful night told him to leave well enough alone.

    Well, no need for soul searching and recriminations now. Alea jacta est - the die had been cast. Tonight at 9:01 p.m. Central Daylight Saving Time, he, John Philip Doe (his real name), would be started on an IV drip containing a lethal dosage of sodium thiopental.

    Why 9:01? Because he'd been allowed to choose the time, and he'd chosen the numeric of the house where he'd lived and been happy with his maternal grandma for the first 12 years of his life. After his grandma's death, he'd drifted, working at odd jobs, getting into occasional brushes with the law, always telling himself that one day he would settle down and start doing the right thing.

    "You'll be settling down for good now, boy." He chuckled sardonically as he shifted his position on the narrow cot.

    to be continued ...

    Syl

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