Stories From The Earth

By DT Saroyan

Stories From The Earth is a series of short stories that visit the daily narratives and situational dramas which play out in the lives of everyone who lives and or has lived in this earthly realm. Love, life, death, terror, hope and triumph are but a few of the dramatic elements which reveal themselves within it's crimson pages. Literature - Fiction 

• Language: English
• Publisher: The storyboards.net
• Release date: Mar 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393678762

DT Saroyan

Daniel T Saroyan (nome deplume) considers himself  more of a storyteller than a writer. Both before and after garnering an MFA in screenwriting he wrote Op-Ed’s, plays , screenplays ,historical essays, short stories and novellas. His awards include: An Op- Ed for the Orange Co. Register ,(The Greatest Generation was also the Coolest !) . The short story “Our Daily Bread” (Palm Springs Writer's Guild award and the short film ‘Sasha’ (category winner, GlobalFest)  Daniel’s ongoing blog series ‘Just Us talking’ a featured Humorous -yet Serious observation of the human condition as seen through the POV of a cosmic fictional gossip columnist. His short story collection “Stories of the Earth"  in addition to his tandem novellas “Vengeance is Mine!” and ‘Native Strong!’  are both published by Draft 2 Digital and are available on Apple Books as well as literary Ebook vendors. His favorite quote is by the poet Virgil who after writing his epic conquering poem The Aeneid ,nevertheless reminded us to remember the “tears in things” Daniel’s stories tend to explore the imbedded drama in the everyday lives of everyday people and those ‘tears in the things of life. 

Book preview

The Serenade

There was an eerie calm in the weather as a young boy and his mother headed toward their city’s main park. A series of short but strong Summer storms had dissuaded most people from lingering in open places.  However an abrupt cessation in the rain along with an unexpected drop in humidity had created a refreshing and unexpected break from the usual mugginess and general discomfort that usually followed these seasonal showers. The pleasant climate also had the observable effect of lifting the general mood of the park’s visitors who seemed to go about their activities at more robust and animated pace.

Among these visitors was the boy and his mother who was carefully handling her son’s wheelchair while negotiating the several steps that led down to the park’s main entrance. Her son, eleven-years old and paraplegic from birth, was securely bound in the device which while well built and relatively light was nevertheless somewhat difficult to maneuver. Her son did his best to shift his weight to passively assist her as she carefully transported him down to ground level.  A few people nearby watched her strenuous efforts with a sense of admiration and sympathy. Some even contemplated lending a hand but the woman’s command of the task be-spoke of much prior experience so they confidently turned back to their individual activities. Ok’ she huffed upon reaching the last step.  Got it down all the way She looked at her son who smiled and gave the thumbs up sign.

The woman scanned the park’s environs for a suitable area to go. The park was active with visitors who like they had wanted to get out of doors and enjoy a respite from the spate of thunder showers.  Not too far from them an amorous young couple sat on a grass covered knoll cooing and cuddling like lovers in an old movie. Far on the other end of the park a little league team was practicing at a well-maintained baseball diamond. Their young coach, a teenager not much older than his players histrionically barked out commands like a military drill instructor. A few older more sedentary visitors could be seen sitting at intermittently arrayed benches and tables stoically reading through their novels or the latest magazines.

The women decided to set out in the general direction of a small cluster of very thickly foliaged trees which were orbited by park tables purposely positioned to make use of their ample shade. As she and her son were crossing the expansive field to get to the tables, they passed a small group of teenaged boys who were tossing a football back and forth. One of the football throwing youngsters seemed to recognized her son. A sharp voice rang out which stood apart from the park’s other ambient noises. Hey Steve....hey man how you doing? The boy and his mother paused and turned toward the inquiring voice. A tall middle school age boy of about 14, adroitly flipping his football up and down in his hands was the source. Oh, Hi Jerome replied her son.

Who’s that? asked his mother. That’s Auggie’s older brother Jerome. He goes to Marconi middle school. She recognized the name. Oh Augustine ...that’s his brother? By the way how’s Augustine been? He hasn’t come over for such a long time Well he joined the little league baseball team and cub scouts so he doesn't have any time on weekdays, and he’s got family stuff going on weekends so...so he’s been pretty busy. replied her son.  His voice tapered off slightly as he spoke. The woman nodded yet grimaced faintly at the reminder that her son’s peers had what were considered ‘normal lives’ and  options that he simply didn’t have. The teenage boy with the football tossed it back over to one of his peers who caught it effortlessly. Hey man, I’ll tell Auggie I saw you The boy in the chair nodded. Sure...yea, ok. The woman waved and smiled politely at the teenager and then with renewed vigor wheeled her son’s chair over the grass in the direction of their shady oasis. The air was light and pleasant with only a smattering of wispy clouds over head. It truly was a lovely day to be outside she thought to herself.

As they progressed the faint but distinct sound of classical music could be heard. The boy and his mother peered in the direction of its source.  A short distance away ensconced under one of the large shade trees a ballet class of grade school age girls were pirouetted, spun, and leapt to the tempo of a JS  Bach Aria that emanated from an enormous boom box attended by their instructor. Their easy grace and nimbleness seemed incongruous with their tender ages. Wow, remarked the woman. Pretty  good little ballerinas over there The boy nodded. Yeah

A few seconds later they arrived at their spot. She got him settled at the end of a solid picnic table sheltered by leafy branches overhead. She then sat herself down next to him eager to take a well-earned rest. The spot seemed the perfect location from which to peruse the park’s environs. The baseball coach’s peremptory admonishments, now even more intense than before seemed to be reaching a voluminous critical mass. The young couple by now had virtually intertwined themselves into a human lover’s knot so that they were essentially indistinguishable from one another. They jointly scrolled through random pictures on an iPhone still indifferent to their immediate surroundings. The magazine readers remained engrossed in their respective readings like medieval monks pouring over sacred manuscripts, their relaxed postures a testimonial to their enjoyment of the pleasant surroundings.

The football throwers, with the physical bravado of youth were launching the ball at one another like a ballistic missile testing each other’s mettle like budding warriors. In stark juxtaposition to this masculine  display of elan the soft strains of Bach continued to hover in the air like a protective chaperone watching the diminutive ballet dancers. The sheltering canopy of trees provided a natural venue of sorts for their exhibition. The woman looked over at her son who was also observing these various scenes. He had a relaxed and satisfied smile...which likewise encouraged her to smile. She stretched back on the table to get a little more comfortable but before a couple of minutes had passed the realization came upon her that she had forgotten something. She abruptly leaned up and turned to her son.  Hey Steve, you know what I just remembered, I left my handicap car sticker at home,  and I think I better go back real quick and get it. We don’t need another 300-dollar ticket She gestured in the direction of their car which was parked in the handicapped zone albeit without the requisite sticker. Sure, no problem. He nodded. Ok then I’ll be right back You  got your water? The boy nodded and lifted his liter bottle of water. Got it,  She smiled Cool, and you have the cell phone. He nodded again, Ok then.. The woman turned and jogged at a brisk pace across the park’s expansive field towards the car.

The boy pulled out his smart phone and halfheartedly manipulated it’s keypad. His mother dissuaded him from getting on his mobile devices while on outings. Outdoors time is computer off time was her firm assertion. He couldn’t get her to understand that his smartphone wasn't really a computer ...but it was admittedly close enough. He pocketed the device partly out of guilt, partly out of existential commitment to keeping promises and continued to peruse the park’s sights and sounds. While so doing  he noticed a small group of younger boys, closer to his age that had likewise arrived at the park roughly around the same time he and his mother had. They were aggressively throwing a small compact flying disk at one another as if it were a deadly weapon. Moreover they were very loud at this and  issued a steady and robust stream of profanities which accompanied their exertions. C’mon, shoot that dam little sonofabitch barked the loudest one. His fellows responded with similar language. Their profane and raucous banter was somewhat disconcerting to the boy and seemed to break the erstwhile serenity of the park. They’re lucky mom isn’t here  he thought to himself. She would let them know how she felt about that. However in spite of this distraction he got caught up in the drama of their little blood sport. One boy would do running start and heave the hard rubber disk as fast as he possibly could at the nearest player. If the disk was reasonably on target the other was obliged to catch it or concede a ‘point’ to the other if he failed to do so. If it went awry in any direction the one throwing it lost a point, but if the thrower managed to hit the one at whose direction he hurled, he would score a bonus point...ostensibly for having inflicted a  measure of pain on his opponent. The boy in the wheelchair felt compelled to watch this for a few minutes having been drawn in by it’s gladiatorial touch of violence. 

After a few minutes of this he turned again toward the group of ballet dancing girls whose accompanying music hung on the air like a soft tapestry. Their dance instructor carefully observed their moves as they bowed, twirled and minuet-ed in sync with the tempo of the ancient melodies. The boy in the chair was momentarily memorized by their seamless and fluid motions. Suddenly the music ceased and with it a spell had seemingly been broken as little girls abruptly transformed from dancing fairies to typical giggling, chatty little kids ready for a break. The group quickly became dispersed with most of them gravitating toward their teacher who sat at an adjacent bench. One of them however approached the vicinity of the wheelchair bound boy and plumped herself down on an outcropping of extremely large  stones, using one of them as a defacto stool. He watched her for a few seconds as she sipped juice from small bottle and browsed through a smart phone she had pulled from her little handbag. Before the boy could look away the little girl looked up at him and smiled broadly. He awkwardly averted his gaze but not before noticing something about her smile. It was a smile which seemed to convey a quiet yet unobtrusive sympathy ...not a sympathy derived of condescending pity but of a sincere empathy to his condition coupled with an appreciation that he, like she, could be outdoors and enjoy this beautiful day. He diffidently returned her smile for a brief second as if to convey his acknowledgment of her perceived good will. While thus engaged he felt a slight tap on his feet. He looked down and saw the small freebie disk which the young boys had been chucking at one another. One of them trotted over to him at a quick pace, then stopped a few short feet away from him. Hey sorry man, could you pick that up for me? The wheelchair bound boy looked down at the disk laying at his feet and felt mixed emotions, he knew getting down to it, notwithstanding it’s immediate closeness to him would be daunting. There was nobody there to steady the chair and spilling out of it headlong would be awkward...and of course embarrassing. Yet to not even try would be more embarrassing and equally awkward. He weighed the risks and opted for the former choice to save face. Sure he replied ...just a second" He shifted his weight as best he could and edged toward the end of the seat from where he would try to lower himself down using the strength of his arms as pulleys. However just as he was on the cusp of his seat and in a position to reach the disk a violent jerk from behind caused his chair to lurch forward and tumble him face first onto the grass.

Immediately the boy who had just a moment before entreated him to fetch the item began to taunt him Ha-ha-ha, look at the gimp ...ha-ha! Then two other raspy voices chimed in a laughing chorus with the first one, one of them having been the culprit who had toppled him over from behind. Gimp ...gimp!

"You’re that gimp from Grant school, ha-ha we heard of you! ...you’re a monkey gimp, monkey gimp ...monkey huh, huh, huh, ah, ah, ah!

They danced around him in mocking simian postures as he struggled to remount himself back on the chair. One even feigned tipping him over again which caused the boy to brace himself for a new shock. Then the  circle of taunting demons grew ever closer causing the boy to sling his head into his chest and close his eyes in an desperate effort to find an inner refuge from this abuse. After gathering up the resolve to deal with this crisis he looked back up at them intending to declare resolutely that his mother would soon be back and severely deal with them but before he could get out any words a hurtling projectile, seemingly out of nowhere, swished through the air and with the precision of a cruise missile slammed directly into the face of the boy who had first asked for the help The force of the impact of what turned out to be a thrown football was so sharp that it knocked the boy’s head back 45 degrees and left a huge welt on his forehead. He yelped in a high-pitched shriek and clasped his hands over his face. One of the teenage boys who had been throwing the football around with his buddies came sauntering over to them at a brisk pace. Oh man! I’m sorry! My ball got loose! The wheelchair bound boy recognized him as Jerome, the boy who’d been speaking with him and his mother a few minutes earlier. You threw that dam thing on purpose! squealed the one who’d been struck still clutching his bruised brow. He desperately suppressed tears as that would have branded him a ‘wussie’ by his little gang and possibly even threaten his top dog status.  He regained a little of his  Alpha male composure and let out a growl Hey...that hurt man! What’cha you do that for! The teenager farcically feigned innocence What? I didn’t do anything! The ball just got lose from me His voice easily conveyed the contempt and sarcasm he had intended. Hey you threw that at him! said another boy. That wasn’t an accident! The one who’d been struck took one of his hands away from his injured forehead and pointed an accusatory finger at the offender I’m gonna tell my dad about what you just did! Oh yeah? retorted the older teenage boy, You can do that and I’ll just tell ‘em you guys were making fun of a cripple kid! There was an immediate shocked silence brought on by those two last words. The wheelchair bound boy winced in a manner that resembled someone who’d experienced a sudden physical trauma. The older boy, suddenly cognizant of his gaff, almost literally bit his tongue as he perceived the boy’s pained glance. Even the taunters were momentarily taken aback at the unintended moment of brutal clarity. The teenage boy turned again toward the others Get away from his chair! C’mon, back off!  The two accomplices of the first boy who had initiated the taunting immediately obeyed the peremptory commands and backed off.  Ok now, get outta here...all of you!

They all hesitated for a moment in confused silence waiting for one of them to make the first move. The older boy, seeing this, doubled the volume  I said Now! He snapped the last word like a bull whip which startled them into action. They abruptly scattered away in an uncoordinated retreat. After that there was a momentary awkward silence.

You ok, Steve? The  older boy asked in a subdued voice. The boy in the wheelchair looked over at his erstwhile Good Samaritan and smiled dutifully. Yea ...yea thanks Jerome, thanks so much The other waved his hands. It’s ...it’s cool, hey look, I’m sorry man. There was another uncomfortable silence. The older boy cleared his throat Those dumbass kids don’t have a squirrel’s brain between ‘em. The other boy didn’t react to this. Hey, Steven look man, if you need anything, I mean are you ok? Can I get you something? The boy in the wheelchair politely waved him off. No, it’s ok, my mom’s gonna be right back, she’s getting back real soon now. Hey thanks again Jerome ...really. The other nodded. "Ok man, I guess I’ll go back then. He glanced over at his two other friends who had been standing a few yards away from the action. The boy in the chair smiled again dutifully. The older boy winced in an effort to smile back. He nodded one last time then gestured for his friends to follow him. They took the cue and accompanied him back to the spot where they had been throwing.

The boy in the wheelchair took a deep breath as he perused the park’s familiar scene once again. Some people who had anxiously watched the unpleasant confrontation from a distance had already turned back to their activities satisfied that the crisis was over. As he continued scanning the immediate area, he noticed that the little ballet girl who had earlier smiled at him had already left her perch on the elevated rock and apparently