Norvis

By Cliff Jones

Carlos, Norvis whispered as he stood as still as possible so as not to cause the big old cat to advance upon him. Think, Norvis, what would Paw do in a situation like this? I couldnt run, that would make things easy for Carlos and bad for me. I dont have a gun, and my knife . . . my knife . . ., Norvis thought as he slowly felt for the knife on his waist then realized that he had placed it on the ground to retrieve the amulet. Easy, boy, Norvis said as he put his hands in front of him. Carlos bared his teeth and gave a shrieking growl, hoping to get Norvis to run in fear so that he could give him a better bite around the back of his neck.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483672281

Cliff Jones

A Central Texas country boy turned miner at age thirty-six, Cliff Jones was inspired to pursue his lifelong passion of becoming an award - winning writer and author. He was introduced to the more complex intricacies of writing as an English major and collegiate athlete through Sam Houston State University. His extensive travels by way of the United States Navy, and ten years as an American trucker traveling the entire continental U.S., including Canada, has given him a broad understanding of cultures and geography . He lives in South East Texas with his wife Brandolyn, and his two sons Praiyer and Addai.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Cliff Jones. 136894-JONE

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013913426

ISBN:

Softcover 978-1-4836-7226-7

Hardcover 978-1-4836-7227-4

EBook 978-1-4836-7228-1

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.

Rev. date: 08/07/2013

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Table of Contents

Sunrise

The Forest Speaks

Lost Pines

It’s Dinnertime

The Plan

Sleepless Night

Sneak Attack

Story Time

The Truth

The Beast

The Dream

Understanding

Up All Night

Reality

Too Close for Comfort

Today Is the Day

In the Nick of Time

The Answer

Surprise

Let’s Stay Together

SUNRISE

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Henry, the little red rooster, shook the early morning dew from his wings as he took up his position on the barnyard fence. One flap, two flaps, and a cock-a-doodle-doo, it’s morning time, now wake up not just one but all of you. Henry waited a bit, looked around the yard, and was sure that no one heard. He said, Come on, Henry, you can do it. You’re a big enough bird. One flap, two flaps, and a cock-a-doodle-doo, everyone wake up, for we have work to do. There was still no movement as far as Henry could see. He said, I’ll just have to buckle down and tighten up to make sure that they hear me. Henry took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and cleared his throat. He screamed out his song loudly without missing one note. One flap, two flaps, a cockle doodle doo! Wake up and get busy. He coughed as his face turned dark purple and light blue. He coughed, and he choked; it was such a terrible sight. I’m going back to bed, he said. To all of you, good night. When Henry hopped from his stage, feeling the agony of defeat, there was movement up ahead. Listen, little baby chicks singing tweet, tweet, tweet. As the hens began to scratch and their chicks began to follow, the other farm animals began to slowly awaken from their beds and hollows. The two old horses, Rusty and Barney, used their tails to swat bothersome flies; they hovered and buzzed around their hind flanks, shoulders, and even their eyes. Gilbert, the greedy goat, gnawed on freshly cut hay; it had been brought in by Paw Thompson early on yesterday. Bernice, the duck, led her four ducklings under the fence and across the road to their favorite part of the pond, wiggling and waddling to their favorite quack, quack song. Beamer, the beagle, could be heard down by Old Cottonwood Creek, barking and baying, surely waking the neighbors from their nice and peaceful sleep.

Inside the house, Maw Thompson was busy baking biscuits, frying ham, and scrambling eggs for her bunch. No time for rest, she would always say, because soon after breakfast, it will be time for lunch. There was Arvil, the oldest child whose age was sixteen. He could be a handful at times and also sort of mean. Otis was a strong thirteen-year-old and already bigger than his brother who was older. He could carry two squares of hay had they been placed on his shoulder. Rebecca, the only girl, could do all the things as Maw. She could sew, knit, cook, and clean, but she really loved to seesaw. She was ten years old and very tough was what her paw was told. She beat up Arvil and also Otis with her old wooden fishing pole. The last of the family and the youngest of all was nine-year-old Norvis; he spent most of his time walking deep in the forest. Norvis loved his family but disliked the rhyme. I wish they would all just speak normal. I really do for just one time. Day in and day out, they rhyme when they talk, that is why I retreat to the forest for a long walk. In the forest, I can speak normal, not like they do here at home. Yes, in the forest, my thoughts are free to roam.

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When Maw rang the old breakfast bell, which was not actually a bell but a wooden spoon and a pan, she placed the plates on the dinner table, and down the stairs the children ran. Arvil was the first to the table, and Otis was close behind. Otis sat in his seat and said to Arvil, I’ll beat you to the table the next time.

Norvis walked downstairs, with his hair ruffled and uncombed all over his head. Maw, Rebecca is upstairs, and she won’t get out of bed.

Well, did she say why? Is she hurting? his worried mother paused to say.

"No, nothing like that, she just wants to sleep in a little