When the Colors Fly and Selected Short Stories

By James Norman

James Norman was born and raised on the south side of Chicago, and partially educated there. He grew up during the 40s, 50s, and 60s where he gained a realistic understanding of this society. It was during these years that he gained some sense of history, and in particular, that of his people. This was primarily due to his parents and his grandparents. At some point he started to look at the world and yearned to discover it. He knew he had to leave Chicago. He settled in historic Fort Greene, Brooklyn, where he raised his family and presently resides. He says he writes because he must.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 21, 2009
• ISBN: 9781499072570

James Norman

James Norman was born and raised on the south side of Chicago, and partially educated there. He grew up during the 40s, 50s, and 60s where he gained a realistic understanding of this society. It was during these years that he gained some sense of history, and in particular, that of his people. This was primarily due to his parents and his grandparents. At some point he started to look at the world and yearned to discover it. He knew he had to leave Chicago. He settled in historic Fort Greene, Brooklyn, where he raised his family and presently resides. He says he writes because he must.

Book preview

WHEN

THE COLORS

FLY

AND

SELECTED

SHORT STORIES

James Norman

Copyright © 2009 by James Norman.

ISBN:       Softcover         978-1-4415-5479-6

                Ebook               978-1-4990-7257-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

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Contents

THE BARMAID

HOMING, FROM A GREAT DISTANCE

THE MAGIC BELL OF ABUNDANCE

A FACE IN THE MIST

WAGER ON THE EDGE

THE BOSS

SILK BOX, VELVET POUCH

WHEN THE COLORS FLY

DEDICATIONS

I dedicate this book to the memory of Mr. Robert L. Turner, my grandfather, who taught me the great value of thought and words.

To my mother, who has never lost faith in me.

And finally, to the woman who married me and bore my children, and who gave and taught me

how to love.

SHORT STORIES

This is where my heart lies. I love short stories. They present the greatest challenge and demand the most discipline if one is to write the short story very well. Here are some of my efforts.

Image.jpg

THE BARMAID

The failure to hear, see, and feel one’s lover, whether due to a lack of awareness, or a lack of caring, is a most unfortunate state of affairs. At best, it creates a place of anguish and desperation in the heart. At worst, it leads to an irretrievable loss. Such was the condition that Christopher Douglas and Whillena March were rapidly approaching.

Last night was a little strange, Whillena said, sipping her coffee.

How so? Chris asked.

I’m usually elated to see you when you return from an assignment. But last night was not exciting, she confessed. It was as though you were not touching me. I saw you last when we went to the ball at the U.N., and that was two months ago. You left the next day and I had no word until last night when you came in.

You know I’m a career officer- he started to say.

Yes, I know. You’ve said that many times in the six years that we have been together. You have explained that in Army Intelligence you can’t reveal certain things to me. Please hear me, she continued, I keep telling you that I am tired of spending all of my time alone. I have a life. I have a man in my life, but I don’t have a man in my life. I have no love life. I feel as though you were married, and I am your mistress, and must take what is leftover. I feel that I’m on a roller coaster, with my feelings running hot and cold. It’s eating me up. I still love you, but I’m reaching a point where I no longer miss you. I’m getting used to you not being around. Very simply put, it doesn’t matter whether you come to see me or not.

I promise dear, I’ll see what I can do. I love you, Whillena, and I want you to be happy; but you have to understand that the military is my life, he told her.

Chris left three days later, leaving her a note stating that he was called away. Three months later he returned without a word. He went to The Regal Lounge.

The dark, slightly built, immaculately dressed man in black tie eased quietly into the bar, greeting a few acquaintances while moving to the rear. He calmly watched the approach of the barmaid, Whillena, as he took his seat. They momentarily looked at each other in silence. She was a breathtakingly beautiful woman—voluptuous, sensuous, and loving. She had a peeved expression on her face, yet her eyes were warm and caring.

Major Christopher Douglas, she spoke. You’re out of uniform.

A ball at the embassy. Sometimes I have to wear civies, he explained.

What are you having? she asked.

You know, he replied, still looking in her eyes. What he saw there made the empty pain in his abdomen spread.

You’re changing everything else, she said, turning her head and looking out the door.

I love you, Whillena.

The civies look good, she said, pouring a Glen Livet on the rocks. You look well, perhaps it’s because I haven’t seen you in a while, she jabbed.

I’ve been on duty abroad. I just returned yesterday. I said I love you, he countered.

No word for three months.

Army Intelligence is like that. Please don’t do this, he pleaded.

I love you also, Christopher, she said as she moved back up the bar. Goodbye.

Image.jpg

HOMING,

FROM A GREAT

DISTANCE

David sat in his car parked in front of the house, taking breaths and trying to calm his nerves. The lights inside the house were bright and warm, and inviting, but he would just glance at the windows and turn his head away. As in the past, only the lights on the parlor floor were on at this time of the evening. He lit another cigarette, the fourth in the past fifteen minutes since he had been parked here. He turned to look in the windows, and decided that if he didn’t go in now, he would leave, and that was not what he wanted to do. He got out of the car, and stood there looking at the house while he finished his cigarette. As he walked up the stoop, he felt a rush of emotions from the lower part of his stomach, and momentarily felt his hands tremble ever so slightly. He wondered what he would say to the children, Robert who was now 14, and Elizabeth who was 13. How would they react to him? Would they like him? Would they still love him? It had been six years, and that was a long time. How would Lauren react? Had she changed? The door suddenly opened and a strange woman was saying, Hello, who would you like to see?

Lauren please, if she’s in.

Oh, she said, Mrs. Stevens, yes she’s in.

Mrs. Stevens? He thought to himself. What the hell is going on here?

Is she expecting you? She asked pleasantly.

No, he replied, but I’m sure it’s okay if she’s not busy.

Come in, she said as she opened the door. Wait here would you please? And whom shall I say is calling?

David, he said as she disappeared through the sliding doors.

Instantly she reappeared, opening the sliding doors wide to admit him, saying with a smile, Would you please come in, sir?

He stood frozen in the doorway, looking across the room at Lauren seated in a chair next to the fireplace. He was certain that she could hear his heart beat, and