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This poem is being written in stages to highlight the things I do toward frugal living.
https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2023/07/04/waste-not-want-not-dyi/
Chapter 43
Kol was getting ready for the day ahead. Kessa had already left. She placed a sweet note on her pillow.
There was a knock at his door, “come.” It was Frego. “My son, those are lovely.” Frego’s attention was pulled to a small desk at the foot of the bed. A large vase of flowers had been put there. Are they from you?”
“Me? No.” Frego shook his head. “I will take credit for it if you need me to.”
“They are lovely.” Kol was lost in thought.
“You know, you get flowers every year on this day.”
The expression on Kol’s face was of shock and dismay. “Something else I’ve forgotten.” He traced one of the colorful flowers with his finger. This day filled him with joy and torment. He would have like to forget it. But the man standing in front of him would never allow it. “Do you have special plans today?”
“A group of us are going to the far beach. Nothing really exciting. I’ve invited Violet.” Frego blushed.
“You like her?”
He had the same crooked smile that his dad had. “Yeah. She’s pretty amazing.” Kol handed his son a small velvet box. He was excited and nervous at the same time. “Dad!” He exclaimed.
Kol had given his son his mother’s wedding rings. “Keep them safe until the day you choose to give them away. Perhaps if things get serious with Violet, she may get your mother’s rings.” Frego was shocked when his dad cupped his hands around his and the box. “I am not giving you these as a trap. I don’t want you to view this gift as me pushing you in any way to get married or start a family. When you are ready, give these away because you want to. Because you feel that you can’t live another day without this person. Give them away out of love not any other reason.”
Frego choked down the lump that was in his throat. “Thank you.”
Kol smiled, “enjoy your birthday.”
“Thank you.”
How is everyone this morning?
I’m having some difficulty seeing some of your sites. If you have liked my work and I have not commented, I’m not being rude. I keep getting white pages on some or ‘content can’t be loaded’ on others. 😢
The first thing I saw was my feet. White toe nail polish almost glowing in the vast darkness. And I do mean vast darkness. A void so deep that I was afraid to utter a sound. Afraid it wouldn’t make it from my lips to my ears. The weight of the darkness would crush them before they could materialize.
My body felt almost weightless. It was that sensation you get when standing on the edge of a high diving board. Wiggling your toes over the edge into nothingness. True nothingness.
I moved my head and neck to the full range of their abilities. Leaving my feet planted in their spot. Darkness enveloped me on all sides. Should I breathe? I had to breathe. My lungs burned with a desire for air. Air that was sterile. Void of any flavor. Good or bad.
A ball of light whizzed by my head. If it made a sound, it was absorbed by the darkness. I tightly shut my eyes. Half afraid it would knock me over. With great caution, I squinted to see the ball in front of me. Motionless. Soundless. No light emanated from it. It was just a round ball of white light.
It floated before my eyes. Inside the light I read, ‘Fighting with God’. What? What could this mean?
I was so focused on this ball and its message that I hadn’t noticed the hundreds of balls that now danced before me. Some were different. They ranged from bright white to pale yellow. Several of them flickered. As if they were about to go out.
A flickering one moved from the far back of the pack to my face. Between flickers I was able to read, ‘Mad man at my door’. The flickering messed with my sight. Forcing me to close my eyes.
This one was yellow, ‘5023’. Another bright white one, ‘Buck’. Then it dawned on me. These were stories, poems, things I was working on in different stages of production. Bright white ones were complete. Yellow, was a work in progress. While the flickering ones were ideas.
The darkness suddenly started moving. It startled me. What now? The vast darkness. Endless darkness seemed to turn itself into round shapes bouncing off each other in a helter skelter fashion. Some of the balls turned gray.
This gray one said, ‘thank you’. It had been an idea that I hadn’t used. Didn’t know how to form the right words.
What were these black ones? No. These? NO! These couldn’t be all the ideas I had rolling around in my brain. Some of them brushed up against my skin. Causing it to tingle. While other seem to dance in my hair. I imagined my hair looked like it was full of static electricity. Clinging desperately to the orbs.
Do I really have so many ideas bouncing around in this small brain of mine?
I held out my arms. Wanting to feel the vibration against my skin. Was I floating? Did these orbs have the power to lift me from this vast darkness? How many of the black ones would I be able to turn white?
I smiled. Wanted to giggle but refrained. Wanted to shout for joy but remained quiet. Secretly afraid I would scare the ideas away.
The lady in the garden
“Looks that way. We shall touch nothing until Inspector Hopkins arrives.”
We went back inside and waited for the inspector. It was eight o’clock when the good inspector arrived with a local constable.
“I’m sorry sir, I understand not,” the constable followed Inspector Hopkins heels as he entered the study where Holmes and I were sitting.
“It is nothing personal constable,” Holmes read his questioning remark. “Inspector Hopkins and I are working a case together and this incident holds bearing.”
“And you are?” The bright eyed constable asked.
I stood at once, “this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes and I am Doctor Watson.”
“Ah yes, there have been stories about you.” The constable answered. “Well, then I guess you won’t be needing me?”
“Quite to the contrary constable; you assisting us will be invaluable.” Holmes smiled. “Follow me.” Holmes led both men to the side of the cottage. With as much light as we could find; the two representatives of the legitimate police force investigated this gruesome sight.
“Looks like suicide to me.” Our constable friend remarked.
Holmes stood on a square box that was no more than two inches from where the body hung. He was at eye level with her. “I agree.”
“If this is suicide Mr. Holmes, then why did you call for me?” Inspector Hopkins asked.
“I am sure you recall referring a man to me because you are not in a position to assist him?” Holmes stared at the inspector.
“Of course sir.”
“This woman, Mrs. Martha Brookstead, according to the local landlord, delivered a package to me that I believe has direct bearing on your missing person.”
“She is what brought you to Sussex Downs?”
“No good inspector, if I may borrow a phrase from you, ‘a feeling did’.” Holmes gave a half smile. “I feel it is important to keep you aware of everything that unfolds in this case; including the self-inflected death of Mrs. Brookstead here. It is a most dark and sinister business.”
“At first light we need to cut the ole girl down.”
“I would agree.”
Inspector Hopkins let the good constable go home. Holmes and I stayed at the cottage. I found a nice little guest room. It was quite pleasant with a warm and inviting atmosphere. I had no trouble falling fast asleep. I woke to find Sherlock Holmes still in the garden. It was obvious even to me that he had spent all night there. He was walking around the circle that was the garden; his chin buried to his breast, arms clasped behind his back, and surely lost somewhere other than the yard. In one corner of the porch lay his perfectly placed shoes and a large pile of spent cigarettes. Wait, barefoot. Holmes was bare foot. “Morning,” I finally summoned the courage to speak.
“Watson,” he broke neither his stride nor his concentration, “this case is going to be the death of me.”
“Nonsense, the Reichenback Falls was unable to take you, neither shall this.”
“Two totally different cases, different threads, and different reasons.” Holmes waved his hand about in the air as to dismiss me.
But I was confused. “Ole man, why are you walking around on this damp earth with bare feet? Heaven! Where are your socks?”
He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and produced a pair of black socks from his pockets. He looked down at his feet, wiggling his toes, “it is refreshing.”
Soon the good inspector had returned with two constables. They cut Mrs. Brookstead down and took her to the local morgue. Not before Holmes had taken the paper that was pinned to her chest.
“Where did this unfortunate lady live?” Asked the inspector.
“Ah,” called one of the constables, “she lived behind the inn. Max has a key.”
Holmes raised an eyebrow, “then let us visit Max.” He retrieved his shoes and we were on our way.
Describe your most memorable vacation.
On what subject(s) are you an authority?
Nothing 😂
Chapter 42
“Dad. Dad.” Frego was trying to wake Kol up. He had fallen asleep in the library; slumped over the desk. “Dad.”
Once Kol realized it was Frego; he got up and hugged his son. Whatever Kol had been dreaming about, it scared him. Frego was shocked by the intensity of Kol’s hug. Kol received a hug in return. “What brings you by?”
“We can talk later.” Frego was fidgeting.
“Please,” Kol pointed to one of the chairs.
Seating himself in the other. Kol allowed Frego to take his time. He could tell there was something bothering his son.
“Dad, will you be disappointed in me if I didn’t go to sea?”
“What would you like to do instead?”
“Kessa is the only person that I’ve spoken with about this. By her own admission, she’s good but she’s not the healer Rajaf is. As much as we fight it, we will all die someday. Rajaf is the best healer we have. Look at what we are going to lose when we lose him. I would like to be his apprentice.”
Kol was impressed with the passion that was in his son’s voice when he spoke. “What did Kessa have to say about it?”
“She thinks it is a great idea. And one that Rajaf will be thrilled about. I know that I need to get permission from the captain to be released to make sure that I’m not leaving him a crewman short. And of course I need to talk to Rajaf to make sure he is okay with an apprentice.”
“I’m very impressed that you are thinking about what this decision will do to others. No matter how trivial, every decision we make affects someone. Good or bad.”
“Thank you.”
“I have noticed that you have been spending more time around Rajaf.” Kol smiled. “What has brought about this change?”
“I never wanted to go to sea. I only signed up because the men in this family have a long history in the military. I’ve heard stories about you fighting alongside the army.”
Kol smiled, “you can still be on the battle field with them. You can patch them up as they get hurt.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“Kessa thinks this is a good idea. What about her? She has no interest in being a healer?”
“It doesn’t seem so. I believe God has a different path for Kessa than in the footsteps of her father.”
“And you? Is this throne in your future? Is it something that you can see yourself doing when I no longer can?”
He blushed, “at this point; I see Abraham making a better king than I ever would. But, you have a long way to go before we ever start talking about such things.”
“Even so, I want you to be ready.”
“So you’re not upset that I don’t want to be a military man?”
“As a father, I am so very happy that you want to stay.” Kol gave a sleepy smile. “You will let me know as soon as you have spoken with everyone?”
“Of course. Thank you.” Frego got up to leave, stopping at the door. Kol hadn’t moved. He went back and sat on the corner of the desk.
Kol raised his groggy head toward this son. “What else is on your mind, my son?”
“Will you allow me to walk with you to your chambers? I want to make sure you make it okay. I don’t want you falling out on the way there.”
“The Bejhar are everywhere.”
“True as that is, please. Lady Kessa will be sore with me if something happened to you.”
“Of course.” He smiled, “afraid of her?”
“Yes.”
Kol stumbled but Frego was alert and caught him, “son, I in no way want you to rush into anything. When you find her, have the courage to be better at this than I am. As you get older, more obstacles are in the way. This job isn’t easy. If you have a strong partner to share the burden with, you are a lucky man.” Frego led him into his chambers where Kessa was waiting with open arms. “Thank you, my son.”
Frego gave his dad a hug. “Thank you, my father.”
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