The Neighbor

     Taylor woke and cautiously looked around the room. It was quiet and dark with no windows. The only light coming in was from a small skylight. He slowly stood and walked to the door and put his ear to it. He could hear faint noises.

     ‘How the hell did I get here?’ he thought. ‘Oh yeah I was trying to look in my neighbors back yard because I heard strange noises.’ Then everything went blank.

      The walls were covered with photos of wolves. He noticed the word ‘Run’ written in what looked like blood on one. He inspected it and decided it might be crayon instead of blood. The pictures resembled a group of family portraits, just not humans.

    Taylor hadn’t ever seen dogs at his neighbor’s house but the fence around the yard was quite tall, which is what he was trying to look through when someone must have hit him over the head.

     His neighbor was rangy with long shaggy dark hair but he didn’t look particularly scary. He’d moved in a month ago and never seemed to have any visitors. The two of them had never spoken. Taylor lived alone and didn’t really have much interest in his neighbor. Until now!

     Taylor slowly turned the door knob and opened it just enough to stick his head out. He heard what sounded like a television but all he could see was a hallway. He walked out and around the corner and suddenly he was in a living room.

     “There you are, how do you feel?” The neighbor was sitting on the couch staring at him. A wolf lay on the couch next to him and two more were sitting on the floor at his feet.

     “Like someone hit me over the head with a baseball bat.”

     “What did you think would happen when you trespassed on my property?”

     “I was just trying to find out what the noises I heard were. I wanted to see if everything was alright.”

     “Why didn’t you just knock on my door?” His dark eyes narrowed and kind of sneer formed on his lips.

     “I don’t know, I guess I wanted to see if there was really something wrong before I bothered you.”

    “Nice try. I think you are just nosy. I bought a lamb yesterday and it wasn’t happy I took it away from its mother. If you had come to the door I would have told you that was what you heard. My name is James. Who are you?”

     “Taylor. I heard the lamb making noises I guess, but I don’t know what that sounds like. I’m sorry I bothered you. ”

     “I bet you are. Are you scared?”

     “No, why would I be? Are you threatening me?”

     “What do you do for a living Taylor?”

     “I’m a writer, or at least I’m trying to be.”

     “That’s nice. Where’s your wife?”

     “I don’t have one. Where’s yours?” Taylor was annoyed at James line of questioning.

     “Now don’t get mad. I just wondered why no one has come looking for you. You have been out for a few hours.” James stood and strode over to Taylor and put his hand out, a gesture as if he were going to be friendly.

     “I’m not your friend. I’m going home now. I won’t press charges since I was trespassing, even if you didn’t have any cause to attack me.” Taylor pushed James’ arm away and started towards the door.

     “Tristan, get the door!” The large silver and black wolf stood and blocked the exit.

     “What the hell! You can’t stop me from leaving.” Taylor started to panic and his eyes showed fear.

      “We’re getting ready to eat dinner, why don’t you join us?” James had a fiery sparkle in his eyes and then he smiled.

        Taylor noticed his front teeth were large and his canines looked like fangs. “No thank you. I have dinner plans. They will come looking for me if I don’t show up.” He nervously started to back away.

     “Don’t lie to me. You don’t have any plans and no one is looking for you. Relax. You will enjoy dinner. Let me get you ready first.” James walked down the hall and motioned for Taylor to follow. Taylor looked towards the front door and the huge wolf was still standing in front of it.

     “Where are we going?” 

     “Back to the family room, the one you were in earlier.” James said and entered the wolf picture room. Taylor followed and noticed one of the other wolves trailed them down the hall.

     “Now what? You’re going to kill me?”

     “Of course not! I’m going to turn you!”

     “What do you mean…”  James was at Taylor’s neck before he could even move. It felt good when his teeth sunk into his jugular. He heard dying was peaceful.

      Taylor woke up on the floor like before, only this time he felt different. His head didn’t hurt anymore. He looked around, the pictures of the wolves were still there but the word ‘Run’ was gone. The door was open so he got up and warily walked down the hallway to the living room.

      James was sitting on the couch with a woman next to him this time. A boy and the large wolf were sitting at their feet.

     “Hi neighbor! Are you feeling better now?” His eyes were locked onto Taylor’s.

     “What happened?”  He had a vague memory but he was sure he must have been imagining things.

     “You passed out in our front yard so I brought you in the house. You came to for a minute and said you needed the pills you had in your pocket so I gave you one. You said you needed to sleep a little. You were breathing alright so I let you sleep. My wife said I should have called an ambulance but you seemed fine. We’re having fresh lamb for dinner would you like to stay?”

     James smiled and when Taylor saw his fangs he quickly ran out the front door.

Dealing With The Devil

     The day was beautiful and the sun was shining brightly with no clouds in the sky. I meandered on down the road as I was done with most of my chores and had time to kill. I kicked a rock and as it hip hopped around I ran up to boot it down the road again. I’d already walked up to the neighbor lady’s house, she kept frozen treats in the freezer to give to me when I brought the mail to her. Her driveway was long and she had trouble making it to the box.  

     Suddenly a beat up old pick up roared past me. I watched as it came to a screeching halt in front of me. It stopped so fast it was scary. Then it just sat there, like it was waiting. The truck was faded blue with spots of grayish bondo on the sides.

     I slowly walked up to the vehicle as it sat there beckoning me. The passenger door opened as I got closer. Should I walk up to it? Probably not. Yet I went there anyway. I was curious.

     I looked inside the truck when I got next to the door. A little old man sat inside and he stared at me. He had gray hair and a long beard. His eyes were dark and he looked annoyed.

    “Hurry up, I don’t have all day.” He said and then turned to look forward.

    “I’m not looking for a ride Mister.”

    “Are you getting in or not?”

     It seemed rude not to accept so I got in. “Thank you sir.”

    “Don’t call me that. Just shut the door and put your seat belt on.” He snapped at me and put the old beast in gear and continued on down the road.

    “Where are ye headed to?” He asked after a silent minute.

    “Home.”  My answer seemed to piss him off.

    “That ain’t tellin’ me much.” He glared at me with fire in his eyes.

    “Sorry. I live at the end of this road on the right.”

    “Do you know why you’re here?” It didn’t really sound like a question.

      I hesitated and then said, “Because I was walking on the road?”

     “What’s your name boy?” He looked at me like I was an idiot.

     “Jonas, sir.”

     “Well Jonas you have a lot to learn. You’re lucky I feel like teaching today.”

     “Yes sir, thank you.” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to answer.

     “When I was a boy there weren’t these iron horses on the roads.”

     “I ‘spose not sir.” I assumed he was talking about cars. “Thanks for the ride.”

     “Shut the door boy. It’s time for me to go.”  He peered at me with his fiery black eyes and gave me a little nod.

      He was scary and I wondered why he stopped to pick me up since I wasn’t hitch-hiking. I watched as the truck went on down the road and then I walked up the driveway to my house. I could see my mother watching from the window. She wasn’t going to like me taking a ride from a stranger. She really wouldn’t like it when I told her I didn’t have a choice really.

    “Who was that you got a ride home with?”

    “I dunno.” I avoided her eyes and went out to the barn to do my chores.           

    “It’s dangerous to ride with strangers!” I could hear her yelling at me as I quickly scurried out to feed the horses and goats.

     We only had one old horse that had been my father’s when he was younger and a younger one that a neighbor gave us for me to ride. I ride her several times a week, usually down to the neighbor lady’s house I bring the mail to. She gives my horse apples when I eat the ice cream treats. She is very nice. I like to go there when my parents are fighting. I think she knows but she never asks me about what goes on at home.

     I felt lucky that night because at the dinner table mom didn’t tell dad about my getting a ride home with a stranger. If it had been one of our neighbor’s it wouldn’t have been an issue at all.

     When I woke up the next morning, after I ate breakfast, I went out to the barn to feed the animals. While my horse was eating I brushed her. Then I saddled her and rode her out in the pasture for a while and then headed to the neighbor’s house to bring her the mail. It came early on Saturday. I asked the mailman once why it was so early on Saturday.

    “I get to go home and don’t have to go back to work until Monday,” he smiled at me when he said that and waved and went on to finish delivering letters.

     When I got to Mrs. Johnson’s house I noticed the blue truck that had picked me up the day before was in her driveway. I wasn’t sure if I should go up to the house. That man was pretty scary. I decided to be brave and walked up to the door with the mail and knocked.

    “Good morning Jonas. Tie your pony up and come in for a treat. I have a visitor I would like you to meet.”  She smiled broadly and walked away leaving the door open. I tied Trixie up to a post on the porch. I took off her bridle and tied her up by her halter so she could eat the grass while I went in the house. I wasn’t sure how long I would be in there.

     As I walked in the old man gave me a long hard stare. I could tell he remembered me and I sure knew who he was.

    “So this is the young man who has been helping you out. Nice to meet you son, my name is Daniel. Mary has been telling me good things about you.” He smiled and held out his hand.

     I knew this was the same man I met the day before but he was acting so different. I shook his hand and sat down at the table where Mrs. Webster had put a plate with a piece of pie or me on it. I warily ate the treat while Daniel and Mary watched me.

    “Daniel would like to hear you play the piano. I told him about the lessons I have been giving you and he thinks you have some real talent.”

     Mrs. Johnson taught how to play the piano and how to sing several songs to go along with the music. “You have an angelic voice young man. Some day you will be famous.” I really enjoyed her admiration. I didn’t get anything like that at home.

     I was hesitant to play in front of the man who had shown only disdain for me the day before but I really did love to perform and this was an opportunity and I took it. After I was done both of them were raving about my performance.

    “Young man, that was excellent. How would you like to go to work for me?” His black eyes piercingly stared into my soul.

    “Thank you sir, but I still have to finish school.” I lowered my head and avoided looking in his fiery eyes.

    “You’ll be sorry! I could make you famous!” Daniel railed at me all the while trying to scare me.

    “I’m sorry but I would rather be good than famous. If I am good I will get famous.” I answered and ran out of the house. I quickly untied Trixie and put her bridle back on. I rode her as fast as she could go back home. I said nothing to my parents about what happened.

     Monday when I was in English Literature class my teacher told us she had a special treat for us.

    “Today we have the author of a tale of a deal he says he made with the devil. His name is Daniel Webster.”

Cheesy Egg Benedict Casserole

4 whole English muffins, split in half and lightly toasted

8 poached eggs, poach to just barely desired doneness

8 muffin sized pieces of ham

2 cups cheese sauce:

4 tablespoons butter

4 tablespoons flour

1½ cup milk

½ cup cream

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon pepper

½ cup Parmesan cheese

1 ½ cup cheddar, Swiss or combination of both

Tablespoon parsley and green onion tops

Butter a large casserole dish and toast muffins and place in dish. Make cheese sauce by melting butter, stirring in flour until well mixed and add milk, cream, salt and pepper and stir until thickened. Add cheeses to sauce. Poach eggs your preferred method until almost your preferred doneness. Place ham on muffins and top with eggs. Spread sauce over all and top with parsley and onion. Broil for a couple of minutes to reheat everything and serve.

Mediterranean Potato Salad

4 medium potatoes, any kind, peeled or unpeeled, boiled whole and then diced

4 boiled eggs, boiled and finely chopped

4 tablespoons olive oil mayonnaise

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

2 tablespoons capers

2 tablespoons Kalmata Olives, quartered

2 tablespoons Green Olives, quartered

4 whole green onions, minced

1/2 teaspoon fresh rosemary or thyme, whichever you prefer

1 tablespoon hot sauce, any kind you prefer

1 pepper, any kind you prefer, hot or regular, minced

2 teaspoons salt

2 teaspoons fresh ground pepper

1 teaspoon hot smoked paprika

Start eggs and potatoes and mix the rest of the ingredients and let set while cooking and chopping up the eggs and potatoes. Taste the sauce after it sets for about 10 minutes and add more of any of the ingredients you want to taste more. Remove hot eggs and potatoes and chop them and place in bowl. Add sauce and taste. Add more of any ingredient and adjust seasonings and serve warm or cold.

Suicide Isn’t Painless And Probably Not A Choice

 I read John Donne and I like the poem Death Be Not Proud. But what is a proud death exactly? My best friend for almost thirty five years was paralyzed in a motorcycle wreck when he was twenty five. Instead of killing himself he moved heaven and earth to live as much as possible and made it for thirty seven more years to the age of 61. He made sure he had enough pills around to kill himself just in case he got really bad off, he asked me not to tell anyone he had them and asked me if I would help him if he needed it. I said yes but he never used them and quietly went off into that good night without any help. He is my hero and I miss him every day and I would say he had a proud life but not everyone has the same strength.

“Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

What’s courage? Is it to keep on living when every fiber in your being questions why you are doing it? Or is it being able to let go? Being miserable doesn’t seem like a reason to kill yourself but it sure doesn’t sound like a reason to live either and if you feel like you are already dying then maybe it is.

When you think about it having a person die when they are youngish and not at an age one would naturally hope to live to is a tragedy. When someone dies at an age over what most of us can reasonably hope to achieve, no matter what the reason, it is much easier to accept when the death occurs no matter how it happens. When death comes from random incidents, whether it is a car accident or murder, it feels much more tragic when the same death happens to a young person than a seventy year old person. Think about it, it’s true. When someone who has cancer dies we feel it’s sad, because cancer is unfair but we understand they didn’t want to live in pain and suffering any more. That really isn’t any different that when a person who is suffering from extreme depression or mental problems kills themselves, they are already dying in a way that only they can understand. If they had cancer you would forgive them.

The first friend I had that killed themselves tried to first do it at the age of thirty by stabbing himself hari-kari style and he somehow lived through it. Russell was struck in the mouth with a baseball bat when he was a kid playing little league and it broke off his front teeth. His family was poor and couldn’t afford to fix his teeth. He grew up being teased about his broken teeth and was afraid to smile. He became a drug addict and eventually shook that and got a decent job. Russell was painfully shy and insecure and fifteen years after he stabbed himself in the stomach. Eventually he finally had a good enough job to afford to get his teeth fixed and he came by and showed them to me and told me how much better it made him feel. I was happy for him. A month later he hung himself, he couldn’t shake the feelings of being a worthless person after spending most of his life looking at a man in the mirror with broken teeth. It was too late to fix him.

The next friend that killed himself was a man who had cancer. He had successfully fought it off fifteen years earlier but when it came back he was tired of fighting and couldn’t do it a second time. He came to visit me a few days before to let me know it was his time. He was at peace with his decision and so was I.

The third person I knew that killed himself was a schizophrenic, when he was twenty one and in college he started believing that people were following him and watching him. He ended up moving back home with his parents. Roger told me he knew he was crazy and that he was making his parents miserable. A couple months later he lay down on his stomach on the back of their property and drowned himself in a foot of water.  It was a noble and sad thing as the medication he took never seemed to help him.

Just a few weeks ago a very outgoing and friendly girlfriend of mine hung herself. This was after trying carbon monoxide poisoning a year before and a friend found her and stopped her and six months ago she took a bunch of pills and someone else found her and stopped her. I suspect she was manic depressive but I guess it doesn’t matter, she finally picked a way to kill herself when no one was around to catch her in time. I hope she is finally at peace, whatever that is.

The first suicide I ever had to deal with was when I read that Pete Deuel shot himself. I was a young teenager and I couldn’t understand how a good looking young actor who was successful could be so miserable that he would kill himself. I had never been involved with the world of suicide before this and it totally blew me away. As I got older I grew to understand the fragile nature of life but I still struggle to understand giving it away willingly.

I watched a television show about the band INXS and the suicide of the lead singer by hanging and after I found out that he had a traumatic brain injury that left him without a sense of smell or taste I thought that this would be a rather horrible fate to have. No matter how bad things in my life get I always loved to cook and eat and I am not sure how I would react if that was something I no longer had. No one knows of course what he was thinking in the end.

I don’t understand how someone with a nonfatal debilitating disease would kill themselves because I was born with one of those diseases 57 years ago and still choose life.

Suicide is a synonym for madness and maybe that’s exactly what it is. The people who are suffering from their madness don’t want to be and they are not intentionally trying to hurt you. Forgive them for wanting to leave their suffering and walk towards the light. You know not what they are going through. No one chooses the suffering they go through that leads them to kill themselves.

Walk into the light always and if it grows dark do everything you can to bring the light back.Suicide Isn’t Painless And Probably Not A Choice

 I read John Donne and I like the poem Death Be Not Proud. But what is a proud death exactly? My best friend for almost thirty five years was paralyzed in a motorcycle wreck when he was twenty five. Instead of killing himself he moved heaven and earth to live as much as possible and made it for thirty seven more years to the age of 61. He made sure he had enough pills around to kill himself just in case he got really bad off, he asked me not to tell anyone he had them and asked me if I would help him if he needed it. I said yes but he never used them and quietly went off into that good night without any help. He is my hero and I miss him every day and I would say he had a proud life but not everyone has the same strength.

“Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

What’s courage? Is it to keep on living when every fiber in your being questions why you are doing it? Or is it being able to let go? Being miserable doesn’t seem like a reason to kill yourself but it sure doesn’t sound like a reason to live either and if you feel like you are already dying then maybe it is.

When you think about it having a person die when they are youngish and not at an age one would naturally hope to live to is a tragedy. When someone dies at an age over what most of us can reasonably hope to achieve, no matter what the reason, it is much easier to accept when the death occurs no matter how it happens. When death comes from random incidents, whether it is a car accident or murder, it feels much more tragic when the same death happens to a young person than a seventy year old person. Think about it, it’s true. When someone who has cancer dies we feel it’s sad, because cancer is unfair but we understand they didn’t want to live in pain and suffering any more. That really isn’t any different that when a person who is suffering from extreme depression or mental problems kills themselves, they are already dying in a way that only they can understand. If they had cancer you would forgive them.

The first friend I had that killed themselves tried to first do it at the age of thirty by stabbing himself hari-kari style and he somehow lived through it. Russell was struck in the mouth with a baseball bat when he was a kid playing little league and it broke off his front teeth. His family was poor and couldn’t afford to fix his teeth. He grew up being teased about his broken teeth and was afraid to smile. He became a drug addict and eventually shook that and got a decent job. Russell was painfully shy and insecure and fifteen years after he stabbed himself in the stomach. Eventually he finally had a good enough job to afford to get his teeth fixed and he came by and showed them to me and told me how much better it made him feel. I was happy for him. A month later he hung himself, he couldn’t shake the feelings of being a worthless person after spending most of his life looking at a man in the mirror with broken teeth. It was too late to fix him.

The next friend that killed himself was a man who had cancer. He had successfully fought it off fifteen years earlier but when it came back he was tired of fighting and couldn’t do it a second time. He came to visit me a few days before to let me know it was his time. He was at peace with his decision and so was I.

The third person I knew that killed himself was a schizophrenic, when he was twenty one and in college he started believing that people were following him and watching him. He ended up moving back home with his parents. Roger told me he knew he was crazy and that he was making his parents miserable. A couple months later he lay down on his stomach on the back of their property and drowned himself in a foot of water.  It was a noble and sad thing as the medication he took never seemed to help him.

Just a few weeks ago a very outgoing and friendly girlfriend of mine hung herself. This was after trying carbon monoxide poisoning a year before and a friend found her and stopped her and six months ago she took a bunch of pills and someone else found her and stopped her. I suspect she was manic depressive but I guess it doesn’t matter, she finally picked a way to kill herself when no one was around to catch her in time. I hope she is finally at peace, whatever that is.

The first suicide I ever had to deal with was when I read that Pete Deuel shot himself. I was a young teenager and I couldn’t understand how a good looking young actor who was successful could be so miserable that he would kill himself. I had never been involved with the world of suicide before this and it totally blew me away. As I got older I grew to understand the fragile nature of life but I still struggle to understand giving it away willingly.

I watched a television show about the band INXS and the suicide of the lead singer by hanging and after I found out that he had a traumatic brain injury that left him without a sense of smell or taste I thought that this would be a rather horrible fate to have. No matter how bad things in my life get I always loved to cook and eat and I am not sure how I would react if that was something I no longer had. No one knows of course what he was thinking in the end.

I don’t understand how someone with a nonfatal debilitating disease would kill themselves because I was born with one of those diseases 57 years ago and still choose life.

Suicide is a synonym for madness and maybe that’s exactly what it is. The people who are suffering from their madness don’t want to be and they are not intentionally trying to hurt you. Forgive them for wanting to leave their suffering and walk towards the light. You know not what they are going through. No one chooses the suffering they go through that leads them to kill themselves.

Walk into the light always and if it grows dark do everything you can to bring the light back.

True Love

He loved me from the minute we met

He promised he would love me forever

And he did until the day he died.

His love was the truest I ever had

He didn’t care if I was happy or sad

He always loved me just the same.

He loved me more than any human

He loved me until the end

He was my dog. 

Manchego Scallops

Manchego Scallops with Pasta

1 ½ pounds scallops, sea or bay

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 tablespoons butter

½ cup onion, diced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 small red pepper, diced

2 tablespoons flour

1 cup milk

¼ pound prosciutto, minced

1 hardboiled egg, chopped

Salt and Pepper and Paprika

1 cup grated Manchego cheese

Package of fresh linguine pasta

½ cup grated Parmesan

2 tablespoons minced chives

Wash scallops, cut in half if using sea scallops, and season with salt, pepper and paprika. Heat olive oil with butter and sauté scallops briefly and remove. Add onion, garlic and pepper and sauté for a few minutes. Stir in flour and when blended with butter and oil stir in milk. When sauce has thickened stir in cheese, egg, and prosciutto. Taste sauce and add salt, pepper and paprika to taste. Pour sauce over pasta and arrange scallops on top. Sprinkle with Parmesan and chives. Broil for a minute or two and serve. This recipe is equally good with any shellfish, oysters, mussels, shrimp, etc.