Reflections

By Carol Christofferson

Carol Christofferson is a versatile artist and writer who carves words, molds letters and paints emotions with such flair and mastery.

Carol's short stories and poems are inspired by his watercolor paintings, reflections of the world around us, illustrations of his own life experiences and expressions of women’s and men’s emotions.

His poems and short stories are insightful and inspiring, and they enable the reader to feel strong emotions. He invites us to walk with him on unknown avenues, using a voice that ranges from melodic and sweet at times to melancholic and whimsical.

When asked what the intention of this book was, Carol answered, “The stories in this book are meant to bring to life the feelings that may have been buried for a long time, or forgotten altogether, a world seen through the eyes of a child again, memories of a mother’s touch, in short, the pleasures and pain of life.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Sep 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781989540015

Book preview

Reflections

by Carol Christofferson

REFLECTIONS

Copyright © 2019 by Carol Christofferson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.

NATIONAL LIBRARY OF CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION DATA

Cover artwork by Carol Christofferson

ISBN - 978-1-989540-01-5

To order a copy of Reflections, please contact

[e-mail]

Published and printed in Canada by

Bestsellers Publishing Academy

Publisher: Lucia Monica Gorea, PhD

www.monicayourpublisher

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I would like to thank my lovely wife, Jean Christofferson for reading early drafts of my stories, for her advice and tremendous support.

Table of Contents

The Mill

Getting Ready for a Party

My Room

Reflections

My Love, Me and My Dog

Try and Try Again

Women Tears

Men Tears

Mr. Dave Stormhouse

Light

Back Alley

The Money Tree

The Blue Princess and the Yellow Prince

To Hell and Back

The Mill

The hypnotic sound was caressing his mind. The roughness of the noise irritated his senses, and at the same time the chattering of machines, motors, wheels, propellers and the voices of working men created a power of confusion and harmony in the soul of this vulnerable mill. Today was like any other day.

First, a long drawn out whistle of the only melody this mill had, then came the men shuffling their feet, all in unison to their place of torment.

If only they could look up at the sky; if only they could see the beauty that surrounded them. But their heads were bowed down to the curve of their desperation.

The mill had perceptibly changed from producing proud work to fashioning rumors. The mill will expand to double its capacity. We are all going to lose our jobs and guess what? They are going to keep the pension money. With all those rumors, a man can easily lose his sense of sanity and coherence.

One man, in this ocean of sorrow, raised his eyes, not to cry or wail, but to rejoice at life’s promise. He just couldn’t imagine a life without this mill. Time had proved that rumors or gossip rarely confirmed the truth about reality, but still, the talk was vibrating in his head like the sound of war drums; the beating tempo of horror before the battle.

The long day of toil begins and ends with the same long, drawn-out note from the mill whistle, and the same stories of closure and faraway boundaries prevail through the lent of one solar cycle. The words, the frightening words in their voices fondle his imagination to the point of rupture. A splinter of his mind just refuses to believe the inevitable; only visions of encumbrance, haze filled his reason.

The day of reckoning arrived with no surprise and no animosity. Only a deep sensation of emptiness remained in the dark cracks of his soul.

Arriving at the front door of his home, haunted by a deep feeling of despair, he stood there; paused like a statue of stone, questioning himself about what life was composing for him and his wife. His wife, who was at the point of exploding into a frenzy of insanity, waited on the other side of this door.

This used to be a happy home where children used to play and where he used to hear the giggles and sighs of women, all of them anticipating their husband’s return. Home - the word used to mean something blissful. Now it symbolizes a culvert of tension, conflict and worries.

She greeted him with the same kiss on the cheek and the same caress on the shoulder, as she had done for so many years. The look in her eyes reflected an expression of gaiety, happiness upon seeing him, her lover, friend and husband for the first time in the light of this day. The conversation was habitual about the day’s events.

This time she noticed a flaw in his voice with the first syllable he uttered. What’s wrong Roy? Did they say something about the mill shutting down today?

He turned away from her, not to hide the truth, but because he just couldn’t look at her. In her eyes, he had found comfort on many occasions that it hurt him to have to replace that regard with emotions of misfortune.

Yes, they said something today, and rage took over his mind. He only uttered a few words, wrangle babble, but she knew immediately what he was trying to say. Roy turned around to face her. A tear was forming at the corner of his eye, a tear of remorse, failure, and fear.

She was standing next to the stove, preparing the meal for the day, calm, peaceful, one could even say, placid. In this brick building, she had encountered the same scenario on many different occasions. In her kitchen, haunted by her memory, weight was removed from her shoulder. It surprised him. He thought she was going to crumble into a million little pieces, but she didn’t.

Helen, he managed to say with a small tremor in his voice. Helen, I lost my job. We lost the only means that we had, and you are just going to cook supper as if nothing has happened? What’s wrong with you? The words he just said seemed out of place while facing her at that time.

Now we know, she calmly repeated." Now