Downloads from the Gray Matter

By James Lawler

This book contains a collection of short stories, my labor of love; Ive honed to my satisfaction. Theres love stories, mystery stories, humorous stories and Im sure that some of the content will bring a tear to the readers eye.
During my life-time Ive seen much violence and corruption which I have attempted to tone down by humanizing in my writings, to remove the ugliness, or at least make light of it and in some instances turn it into humor.
Life isnt all glamour, its not simple, its complicated; nor is life predictable. Life is harse and sometimes we have no control over events in our lives.
When Im stressed out I pick up a book and escape. Part of me is incorporated in my writing, as is with many writers. Ive attempted to suspend reality by creating a respite, an escape a safe place for the reader to get away from it all. Open the cover and read, weep and enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524658304

James Lawler

I was born on an old farm in 1934, you could see daylight coming through the crack in the walls until papa could afford plaster to fill them in. Mama would bath us kids once a week in a big round wash tub.. There were ten of us kids, three girls and seven boys. All my brothers are gone and I’m still here with my three sisters. We had no indoor plumbing or electricity; we got our water from a hole in the ground and the toilet was out back in a little wooden shack. We read by candle light and in the evenings we sat around telling stories; we were always in bed by nine. Papa had a hard life trying to feed all of us but I don’t recall ever going hungry. He stood in the bread line for hours many a times and he worked for the WPA, a welfare program earning a dollar a day. He was also a share cropper, off and on through-out the years. We went through many hard times and looking back, oddly enough, I miss those hard times; we all pulled together as a family I’m eighty two years old now and I love to tell stories; it keeps my mind occupied My darling wife was aflicted with Alzheimers bless her heart and there’s nothing I can do for her, I feel so helpless. I wrote a novel a couple of years back; I also published a book of poetry and one of short stories. I’m worhing on three other books; I just hope I have enough time left to finish them.

Book preview

HOW LONG IS FOREVER?

What are dreams and what purpose do they serve; does anyone really know? There have been countless explanations but it matters not which we choose to believe because in the end it all comes down to speculation.

My story is about a man who has only a dream to cling to; a dream of lost love a world away; his dream kept him alive.

The year was nineteen thirty nine and across the sea in Europe an evil dictator was slowly gobbling up the small countries surrounding him.

Claus Von Helsinger was a struggling young artist and he was deeply in love with a beautiful Jewish opera singer; her name was Rachael Solomon and everyone knew she was destined for super-stardom.

They lived in a little Austrian village and were planning to wed the following June but a world war came between them and tore them apart.

Before Claus went off to battle he held her in his arms and vowed that he would love her forever and if for any reason they should become lost to one another he would search the world over until he found her if it took forever.

She looked up into his eyes and whispered softly; And I shall love you my darling with every breath I breathe and with each beat of my heart until forever; however long it may be.

They never saw each other again after that; he wrote many letters but they were always returned stamped return to sender, address unknown.

After the war Claus returned to his hometown and made inquires about his Rachel but no one seemed to know her whereabouts. The consensus was that she had been shipped off to one of the many concentration camp.

After wandering endlessly in and out of the cities and villages of war torn Europe for many, many months he discovered a grave in a little church yard on the outskirts of Berlin far from her homeland. The name Rachael Solomon was etched on a simple iron cross.

He knelt at the grave site and prayed. He laid himself down on the cold damp ground above her and pressed his body against the soft grassy earth as close as he could get and whispered, "I love you my darling Rachael and I will never stop loving you for as long as my heart keeps beating.

That night he slept where he lay and awakened in the morning with her name still on his lips. He struggled to his feet and before leaving he bent down and placed a warm kiss on the cold iron cross and then he left the grave yard.

Having ended his search he could find no reason to stay on in his homeland so he sailed off to America to make a new start.

Soon after his arrival in America he decided to Americanized his name by changing it to Claudius Singer.

He bought a little cottage on the New England coast with the funds he had brought with him. He spent his days by the sea, high above the rocky coast where he painted beautiful works of art on which he made a living.

He never married and he was never alone; next to his heart he carried a faded photograph of Rachel, his one true love.

The years were kind to Claudius and he wore them proudly. He was in his seventies now but he was young within his heart.

At night his dreams were always filled with Rachel; he would find her waiting by the seashore where they had long ago walked together. They would join hands and once again stroll along the water’s edge.

When the sun came streaming through his bedroom window in the morning, her hand would slip from his grip and he would awaken clutching his pillow and calling her name.

In one of his many dreams they stood by the sea and Rachel asked him to sketch her picture.

He found himself sitting in front of his easel sketching and when he awakened next morning the entire episode was indelibly stamped on his memory and he decided to put it on canvas; to paint her portrait.

Each night he would find her waiting there by the water’s edge where they had once walked together. She would pose for him and each day he would sit by the sea and transpose it on canvas.

When the painting was finished it was beautiful, a masterpiece, worthy of sitting along side the Mona Lisa.

Claudius placed it above his fireplace and would spend endless hours dreamily gazing at it. She was almost alive, he thought and in his tormented mind he longed to once again hold her and feel the warmth of her body against his but he knew this could never be and somehow he managed to hold to his sanity for another day and go on dreaming.

One day a friend came by to visit him and saw the painting hanging above the fire place.

Claudius! the friend exclaimed excitedly, Where on earth did you ever get such a beautiful painting? I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life and she’s so lifelike! She’s an angel, he sighed. She looks as though she could step off the canvas and fly away.

Claudius smiled and walked to the fireplace. He reached up and gently touched his fingertips against the canvas. She is an angel, he said and went on to tell his story.

When he finished, the friend was silent for a long while and then he spoke.

Your tale is so moving Claudius; it brings a tear to my eye. I don’t know what to say other than I sorrow for you and your Rachael, my dear friend.

Just before he was about to depart he walked over to where the painting hung, Could I take a picture of your beautiful painting Claudius? he asked.

If that’s your desire, the old man answered.

The friend was a camera buff and always carried a camera slung about his neck and so he took a picture and later showed the picture to a friend of his who an art dealer.

The painting was an instant sensation. Critics were comparing it to the Mona Lisa and every newspaper in the country had it plastered on the front page.

Claudius’s phone was ringing off the hook with offers to buy his painting. He even got calls from both the Metropolitan and the Louvre in Paris France, with queries about the painting.

It’s not for sale, he would tell them," but the calls kept coming from far and near so he had his phone temporarily disconnected.

Far, far away in a little Austrian village on the other side of the world, Anna Reichmann sat in her rocker on the front porch waiting for the paperboy. As she waited she watched her little granddaughter playing with her dolls.

Here’s your paper Mrs. Reichmann, the young man said, tossing it to her. When she unfurled it and spread it on her lap she was shocked and couldn’t believe her eyes; her heart skipped a beat and began racing as the news paper tumbled from her lap and fell to the floor.

She tilted her head backward against the rocker and closed her eyes and memories from long, long ago flooded her head.

Moment later when her heart stopped racing she sat up in her rocker and with a trembling hand she reached down and picked up the paper.

She drew it up close and stared at the picture on the front page and then she looked upward toward heaven and whispered, Thank you dear lord for protecting the one person in this whole world I’ve ever loved. She looked back down at the picture and realized her Claus was alive somewhere out there in the world and she knew she had to go to him.

She rushed in the house and called her daughter. Sweetheart come quick and get little Rachael, and please hurry, I’ll explain when you get here, she said.

I’ll come right away mother her daughter told her and when she arrived her mother showed her the newspaper.

Look honey that’s me in the picture; as I was many years ago before you were born. Claus painted it and that’s where we used to walk together by the sea; there’s the willow tree at the water’s edge where Claus carved our initials in it all those many years ago. she said excitedly, pointing to the picture.

Her daughter was stunned, she had no idea what her mother was talking about and asked, Who’s Claus? I don’t understand, mother! she exclaimed.

He’s your father honey; your real father and he’s alive, she said excitedly. I’m sorry I never told you about him but I’ll explain when I get back. Right now I’ve got to go to him. Take little Rachael and go home, she said. I’ll call you later.

She ran to the phone and called the airport making reservations and the next morning she packed her suitcases and was off to America.

The plane landed at Boston International and outside she flagged down a cab and showed the cabbie the wrinkled newspaper she had clung to all the way from the other side of the world. Take me here, she exclaimed, pointing to the article.

Shortly after the cabbie pulled over to the roadside and stated; This is it mam, he said and stopped in front of the little seaside cottage.

She stepped out of the cab and hurried along the cobblestone walk and knocked on the door. Her heart felt as though it might burst as the adrenaline flooded her veins. She waited anxiously for a few seconds and then knocked a second time.

I’m coming, I’m coming be patient, a stern voice called out from inside. Will they never cease pestering me? Claudius thought to himself as he walked to the door expecting yet another query about his painting.

He unlatched the door and swung it open wide. When he saw Rachel standing there before him he was speechless; his legs weakened and tears began to cloud his vision. Rachel, Rachel, he managed to call out in a weak voice and clutched his hand to his chest.

My darling, my dearest Claus, she cried and threw her arms around his neck drawing him close to her bosom and sobbing uncontrollably.

He held her in his arm for the longest while and when their lips finally touched it was with all the pent up passion and desire that had been suppressed for all those many years.

That night they held tightly to one another and their love exploded in orgasmic ecstasy.

When morning came they sat by the sea, high above the rocky shore where Claudius had spent countless hours dreaming and he began to sketch as they chatted.

After the war I search for you, he told her. I searched everywhere. It seemed like forever and it was quite by chance that I happened upon a little church outside of Berlin and found a grave marker with your name etched on it; I thought you were–, he wiped a tear from his eyes. I spent the entire night embracing that cold mound of earth believing you were there beneath me.

I’m here now Claus and I’ll never leave you! she reached out and took hold of his hand. When you went off to war Hitler’s Storm Troopers rounded up all the Jewish people in our town and sent us all to Concentration Camps. she explained; "A high ranking SS Officer took a liking to me and smuggled me out of the camp.

He got an ID card from a dead German girl and gave it to me. The grave you visited must have been Anna Reichmann’s, the girl whose ID he insisted I use.

He was good to me Claus, she sighed, And I had your child inside of me; I did what I had to do in order to survive. I prayed each night that you would come back safely to me, she told him. and when the war ended there were still many Nazi sympathizers; it would have been unwise to have a Jewish name. That’s why I continued to go by the name of Anna Reichmann.

Where is he now, the German officer? Is he still alive? Claudius asked.

His name was Hans Heimlich, she told him, He was executed for war crimes.

Did you love him?

Rachael threw her arms around his neck and whispered softly in his ear. I could never, ever love anyone but you my darling.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss and afterward Claudius cleared his throat and asked, Will you marry me my darling Rachael?

She took hold of his hand and squeezed it tightly. Yes, yes, yes, a thousand time yes my dearest Claus; there’s nothing in this world I’d rather do more, she sighed.

OLD ACQUAINTANCES

The old couple sat at the kitchen table; Henry sipped his hot coffee while Mildred enjoyed her apple pie along with her tea.

The old man looked up at his wife of fifty years and reminder her, In just about two hours they’ll be ringing in the year 2000 dear, isn’t it amazing how the time flies, he reminisced. Why I can remember nineteen fifty just like it was yesterday, he said with a deep sigh.

Goodness yes, the old woman replied. Remember how we used to bring in the New Year Henry at that little tavern down on Main Street; way back when we first got married.

I’ll never forget, the old man replied. We used to dance the night away, he recalled squeezing a tear from his eye.

I miss the old crowd; she said. we were like family; every last one of us. Yes those were grand old days, she recalled sadly.

Folks were different back then. It’s simply shameful how everything has changed, the people, the town. It’s almost like living in another world nowadays; old folks just don’t seem to fit in anymore.

I know what you mean Mildred, Henry said, shaking his head sadly. But you know what’s changed lovey? It’s the people, the drugs they’re subjecting themselves to and the chemicals the government is allowing food processors to slowly poison us with. he added. It’s having a dramatic influence on our biological processes causing countless medical problems for many of us; just look at how widespread cancer is these days.

The old woman took a forkful of her pie and washed it down with a sip of tea and set the cup back on the table; she looked at the old man thoughtfully. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could go back Henry? Oh I don’t mean to do it all over again; God know we’ve had a wonderful life but just to go back for a short while and visit our old friends? I’d give anything just to be back there for one evening, she told him, the tears welling up in her eyes.

The old man got up and walked around the table and put his arm around her shoulder; he bent down and kissed her old grey head. Stow those bitter tears my love, he whispered softly and gently wiped them away.

She looked up at him and asked; But wouldn’t it be wonderful, Henry she said again in a soft voice.

Yes it would, he replied. but they closed the doors to that little tavern years ago after ole Charlie passed on, he recalled and walked back around the table.

Poor ole Charlie, he run the finest tavern you could find anywhere, he was one in a million, Henry mused.

They sat in silence for a long while, each remembering those days of yester-year. When at last Henry broke the silence, I just got the grandest idea, he said.

Mildred set her cup down and looked up. What’s that dear? she asked, her dark eyes lighting up.

Let’s take a ride down memory lane, he said. we could revisit all those special places we used to enjoy, if they’re still there and see how they’ve changed through the years. We could just ride by and remember them as they used to be back in our day. Wouldn’t that be fun?" he said, getting a bit excited himself.

Oh Henry, what a wonderful idea! she exclaimed. I’ll get my coat, and she hurried off to the closet. When she returned Henry was waiting at the door. Let me help you with that my love, he said bowing like the fine English gentleman he was and helping her slip into the jacket."

Wait here my sweet while I warm up the car, he told her. I’ll give you a honk when it’s warm.

Henry pulled his coat collar snuggly around his neck and went out to the garage. He returned shortly afterward and walked her to the car and they drove off.

Oh look Henry, Mildred pointed out, There’s the high school where we attended classes; that’s where we first met, remember? she said.

I’ll never forget, Henry answered, and reached over giving her hand an affectionate squeeze.

They drove on by slowly and turned the corner. I wonder if that drive-in is still on the square. Henry said glancing at Mildred.

Why I don’t know dear, it’s just down the block a ways, she said. If it’s still there we could stop by and order a milk-shake just like we used to back then.

But the little drive-in was no longer there; it had been replaced with a service station.

We might as well pull in and get some gas, Henry told her. We’ve got a lot of territory to cover before this night is over, he reminded her.

They left the gas station and headed on down memory lane to recapture still another memory.

That just breaks my heart, Mildred sighed.

What’s that my love? Henry asked.

That little Drive-in, she said. The young folks now a day will never know what they’re missing, it was such fun wasn’t it dear? she said moving closer to him.

Yes my love, he agreed. We had a lot of good times back then. I wonder if the amusement park is still out by the lake? he said thoughtfully.

The last I heard it was still there Henry but it wouldn’t be open this time of year, Mildred answered and said. Turn left at the next corner dear, I want to ride by the house where I was born; it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen it; I wonder if its still standing.

Henry drove slowly along the dimly lighted street while Mildred peered out the car window, pressing her face against the glass. It’s somewhere along here as I recall, she said peering into the darkness.

There it is, that’s where I used to live dear, she told him, pointing at the empty lot. It used to be right there but it’s gone now they’ve torn it down, she said sadly.

Henry sensed the disappointment in her voice when he saw the vacant lot where once her family had lived.

It was an old house my love, it might have just collapsed and fallen down, Henry told her and asked.

What time is it, my dear?

She looked at her watch, Its twenty minutes before midnight; it’s almost time, she told him.

Yes my sweet, we’ve got just enough time to get there, he told her and headed the vehicle across town towards Main Street.

On the way they passed by the little church where they’d gotten married.

That was the happiest day of my life dear; the day we got married, she recalled and he agreed with her.

Pull over to the curb dear, Mildred told him. I want to get out and stretch my legs; we can walk up the steps and take a peek inside, she said.

It still looks the same as it was on our wedding day fifty years ago, Henry noted.

They left the church behind and continued on toward Main Street.

It was ten minutes before mid-night when they pulled up in front of the little tavern. Henry turned off the engine and they sat there in silence for a short while.

Two lonely souls in an unfamiliar world, longing to find their way back to a New Years’ past.

It still looks the same as it did back in the Fifties; Henry sighed. The old neon sign is still swinging up there above the doorway, he pointed out.

He opened the car door and stepped outside and walked over to the building and with his hand he rubbed a spot clean on the window glass and peeped inside.

Mildred dear, he called back the old woman. There’s a faint light in there, he told her and reached down giving the doorknob a twist. To his amazement it turned; it was unlocked.

Come on sweetheart, he called out to his wife. The door is unlocked, he said excitedly. Let’s go inside.

He opened the door and they went inside closing it behind. They walked over to the bar and crawled up on stools.

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