Wednesday, February 1, 2017

2-1-17


Back in June 2016, I started a new "series" of posts... if you will... 
 And so on Wednesdays; I've been posting an old photograph to inspire your creativity.
Write a poem!   
 Plot out a short story.
 Have inspiration for a piece of art or composition.... let your artistic soul shine.
--and occasionally I write my own sordid story or poem. 
 (you can click on the photos in this post to make it larger to see).

~~~

Kay and Clyde were twins, and they did everything together.
Growing up at their parent's junkyard in rural New York... they often roamed the woods in search of adventure. Clyde, like most boys in the 50s, learned hunting, fishing and the like. While Kay tended to sick animals she would rescue. They grew healthy and strong... but then the war in Vietnam shattered their idyllic times with the harsh reality of the world.
Clyde joined the Army as soon as he was able, and Kay, ever eager to help...became a nurse.
She would tend the very classmates she grew up with, and fell madly in love with a boy from the next town over. Clyde returned from the war, but as most would say, "he wasn't the same..." and their voices would trail off. No hero welcome on his return, he reluctantly went back to working his parent's junkyard... fixing old machines, repairing cars, and selling parts to those who needed them. Their parents were long gone, and as the years dwindled by, phone calls between the twins came fewer and farther between....but they were bound by a much stronger bond, and always felt the presence of the other.
Kay's husband had severe PTSD, and one day while she was bringing in groceries after her shift at the hospital, he envisioned her as a local Vietcong breaking in... and shot her. As she crumpled to the floor, he realized his mistake, and shot himself.
They would be together again... he thought. And so they were.
As soon as the shots rung out... Clyde instantly knew what had happened... though they were miles apart.
He dropped his wrench on the floor, and slumped down. It was his breaking point.
Years of tragedy etched in his face, and on his heart. He could take no more.
He packed his bags... and wandered into the woods.

There would be rumors ....
folks who thought they saw that "crazy old soldier" in the haze at the edge of the woods.
Old widows would mysteriously find their winter wood pile replenished.
Pets would miraculously find their way home.
Cars would be fixed, when money was too low to afford repairs.
No one would be sure.... but they suspected it was Clyde.
And a full decade later, on the anniversary of her death, a younger Clyde walked down a dirt road,
and joined hands with his sister... finally home.