A Barren Earth
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A Barren Earth - Stalburn A. Vansluytman
Copyright © 2020 by Stalburn A. VanSluytman.
ISBN: Softcover 978-1-7960-8066-7
eBook 978-1-7960-8065-0
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.
Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
Rev. date: 01/07/2020
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CONTENTS
Preface
A Barren Earth
I Happy Isles
II
III
IV
V
VI
Part II The Valley Of Dry Bones
I
II
Part III
Conclusion
PREFACE
A Barren Earth was conceived during the early part of 2008. It began as a chronicle of a series of unfortunate events that I was observing on a daily basis in my immediate surroundings while the media and many around us were proudly proclaiming the benefits of the jobless recovery
. When the sitting president announced later in the year that the country had been in the throes of a major economic crisis I decided to condense the manuscript into a single day of the life of one man whose foolish excesses and lack of moral and practical discipline leads to tragic consequences.
The characters in the book are not meant in any way to represent any particular person or circumstance or to criticize or impugn the character of any person. The Martin Luther King Holiday is used as a poignant symbol of reverence for a man and a date that the nation sets aside for us to put aside much of our avarice and greed and to practice volunteerism and service to our fellow humans. I hope that you will enjoy the irony and bizarre events that builds up to a kaleidoscopic confrontation between our protagonist and his date with destiny.
TO THE UNDYING MEMORY AND SPIRIT OF ELIZABETH ANN VANSLUYTMAN, WHO ON THE EVENING OF HER PASSING FROM THE EARTH, WAS SAID TO BE, IN THE WORDS OF THE NIGERIAN HOSPICE CHAPLAIN: NOW SAFELY IN THE HANDS OF THE ANCESTORS
AND,
TO MY SON, THOMAS ANTHONY VANSLUYTMAN FOR HIS UNDYING STRUGGLE TO STAY TRUE TO THE MISSION OF HIS IMMIGRANT GRANDPARENTS.
A BARREN EARTH
PART ONE: THE PROMISED LAND
The alarm radio came on with some final words of a speech by the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. It was the early morning hours of the day set aside to honor the great man’s birthday. On any other day the clock radio would have been bouncing off the table with the pounding rhythms of the drums, trumpets voices of the regular lineup of soul, rock, and funk bands played by the morning drive-time DJ Jack Spanier – better known as the Clock Doc. But this morning was special. Today is Dr. King’s day and the station – as it has done for over two decades – will devote most of its programming to his memory.
"DOUBLE U EN E DOUBLE U – EF EEHHM" (WNEW FM – Newton station chorus)
JACK SPANIER!
(STATION CHORUS SHOUT)
Soft spiritual music in the background
"Yes, ladies and gentlemen this is yo’ main man, Jack, man with the plan,
The spider in yo’ cider,
The man that starts yo’ day with the sounds that pay,
Getting’ you there with time to spare.
The Clock Doc makin’ you rock.
That’s right, yo’ bruthah like no othah.
On most days y’all would be listenin’ to my show while you are rockin’ in yo’ caddie or yo’ hooptie. Takin’ public transport or walkin’ in the shoes you just bought. But today! To Day! We gonnah take pause to think, whether you workin’ or shirkin’. Whether you goin’ to church or just layin’ in the lurch. We gonnah do our thing with some words from the King! That’s right, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. himself! Today is his day and we here at WNEW FM, Newton, Gee A will honor his memory and legacy in the way we would all like to do it all day long. After this message from our sponsor we gonnah return with a hymn from –."
I
HAPPY ISLES
He was running through what seemed to be an endless canyon of college buildings. To either side of him were tall buildings resembling the Parthenon with pillars and endless steps leading to the heavens. Here and there were large stone statues, tall as the Colossus of Rhodes, with cold granite eyes that pierced his inner soul. But he had to get to his first day of class. He kept his focus straight and firm. He was immovable in purpose yet agitated in his efforts to avoid the critical stares of Frederick Douglas, Martin Luther King, Jr., W.E.B. DuBois, Thurgood Marshall, George Washington Carver, Langston Hughes, Nelson Mandela and others. They were like living ramparts lining his path on his first day back to college after having dropped out for a few years. He huffed and puffed along trying not to be late. He stopped for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow and to shade the burning sun from his eyes. Where is the main entrance sign of the college? He knew he was close but for some reason he could not find the gate. Something kept blocking his view. I’m gonna be late!
He widened his stride and started running again. Then he looked down and noticed that the pavement had turned into some kind of rolling concrete treadmill, just rolling without end. Ain’t no end to this! This is a waste of time!
Ezekiel Royale Orville – known as Zeke, Z by others, and EZ at times - buried his head in his pillow. He turned away from the morning’s brilliant sunlight that shined through an opening in the royal colored curtains.
He heard a woman’s laughter. Students across the street at Mae’s Diner were probably laughing at him as he made a fool of himself. He craned his neck but could not see that sign. The pavement grew into an incline and his legs grew heavier and heavier but there was no time to stop. He had gone through so much for the school administration to take him back. He paid back money owed and took online courses to make up for failed grades. Now was his chance. His chance to prove to everyone and himself that he could do it. The laughter now took on a preternatural tone. His shame now turned to fear. Beads of sweat formed along the edges of his forehead.
The pavement below him now started to glimmer with a bright red glow. In the distance he heard a school bell ringing. School bell?
It sounded like the bell from his old grade school.
What the hell is going on here!
His breathing grew heavier as he looked around to see where the laughter was coming from. He
seemed to be in the same spot that he was in before, yet running ever faster and faster. The laughter grew louder.
This some kind of joke or sumthin’?
Zeke turned and lay on his stomach resting his head in the crook of his elbow. His eyes opened slowly and peered around the room. He stirred and smacked his lips softly. He blinked and swallowed a couple of times. Then he closed his eyes again.
Somehow, some way, there was now the far off sound of a horse’s huffs galloping.
Clup-clup, clup-clup, clup-clup.
Gradually the sound grew louder and strangely keeping time with his steps.
Boy, hurry up. You goin’ be late for school. Don’t forget, ‘Time and tide waits on no man!’
.
He recognized the voice. It was the voice of his father, Pastor Orville. The aroma of bacon and eggs and baked bread or some kind of pastry consumed his senses and played games with his mind. It was the familiar smell of his father’s hearty breakfasts that he would whip up for them when they were in grade school, sometimes around five in the morning, before he rushed off to work. Zeke looked around for his father. He looked up at the giant figures glaring down at him. The sky had suddenly turned dark. The voice of his father continued, yet there was no movement from the lips of any of the granite figures. But, now a red hot glow miraculously started emanating from the eyes of the statues. It was as if the glow from the sun was now emanating from the eyes of the martyrs. The glow hurt his eyes and he had to turn away but now the heat from them started to cause his neck to burn. He felt his heart pound as he continued to run. Don’t worry, I’m getting there!
Hurry boy! Hurry!
Now the voice faded out to the rising thunder of the galloping hooves. Once again Zeke looked around to see if he were about to be trampled by a horse! He rubbed his burning neck and felt the sweat that was forming. But now he started feeling a burning sensation coming from his feet. He looked down and the pavement was a shimmering red glow that shined so bright he could not see his feet.
Zeke awoke with a startling gasp. He panted and seemed to be having some kind of anxiety attack. He held his chest and tried to slow his breathing.
I was dreaming about something. Something about a horse. A horse? And my father.
He knew he had been dreaming but could not remember what he was dreaming about. All he knew was that he was on the brink – on the brink of something, but he could not remember what it was. He turned over and heard Deborah laughing downstairs. The phone.
She’s on that damn phone again. Running up my damn bill.
What the hell was that dream about? I gotta check it out and figure out a number for it.
He could not recall but he knew it was something important. He tried to think then he was overtaken by a wide mouthed yawn. He propped himself up on his elbows and reached on the night table for the remote control but it was gone. He forgot. He had hocked the bedroom TV last week. Damn! He started feeling a deep sense of frustration but his anger was overtaken by the aroma of sausages, eggs, and fresh brewed coffee.
Zeke groaned as he swung his large legs over the side of the bed. He threw the heavy comforter to the floor. His body was wet with sweat. Debbie had the heat up. Told her about wastin’ our money with all that heat. She always feelin’ cold. Hmf! My own fault for gettin’ hooked up with her in the first place.
He sat there and tried to remember that dream again. He thought for a moment but all he could get out of his efforts was a larger yawn with a stretching of his entire anatomy. He got up and dragged his body across the tan colored carpeting and into the bathroom. He gazed in the mirror for a while then wandered over to the toilet bowl. While emptying his bladder he wondered if Debbie would have the time to get in a few hours of work today. Her work hours at the hospital were so erratic since she was sick he could never tell when she would be called in to either help out when they were overloaded or when she would have to cover for a full-time nurse who did not come in that day.
He walked over to the mirror and studied the dark flabby face looking back at him with piggish, bloodshot eyes. He ran his hand over his nappy head. I need a shape up.
He raised his chin and noticed stubble here and there. He would have to shave this morning. His daily smile bore yellowing teeth. He had to drop dental insurance to save a little money, so he could not afford a cleaning. He reached down and picked up the half-full tube of toothpaste that claimed to make your teeth whiter than white
. He ran the water and spread a healthy layer of the paste on his toothbrush. His mouth filled with white foam as he vigorously brushed his teeth. He filled his mouth with water and gargled then spat it out into the sink. This ritual went on about four times. When he finished he smiled wide exposing his one gold capped canine. Yep, did the trick again.
After he was finished washing up and brushing his teeth he returned to the bedroom and picked up the notebook that was sitting on the dressing case. He browsed through it. He wanted to study it for the speech he was to give at the prison chapel that day. With the kids grown and away at college he and Deborah needed more money to pay for all of the debts they had accumulated over the years.
The steps protested with creaks and cracks as his large frame descended its steep path. Zeke was like a zombie drawn to some far-off command. The large flat screen TV was on in the living room but the sound was lowered. The larger than life faces of anchors Courtney Johnson and Alvin McCoy alternated reporting the news. On a corner of the screen the temperature showed that the weather was a lot warmer than usual. It was 59 degrees already. Wasting electricity. She know how much electric this damn thing uses up?
He picked up the remote off of the coffee table and turned off the TV set. He proceeded on into the kitchen.
He opened the swinging doors lightly and peered in before entering. Over by the counter he saw Deborah’s robe covered back. Her arm was busy as she seemed to be wiping or stirring something. The wireless phone was tucked between the crook of her neck and her shoulder. His bare feet softened his approach as he snuck up on her and gently planted a peck on her unoccupied cheek. It startled her and she almost dropped the bowl of batter she had been whipping up.
Zeke, you scared me!
She screeched, then cunningly ahemmed
into the phone.
She smiled sheepishly and touched his large hand in response.
He went over to the coffee percolator but she tapped him on the shoulder and motioned to him not to touch it. She pointed to the kitchen table that was piled high with scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and pancakes. He chose the latter.
As Zeke pulled up a chair to partake of the large, sumptuous offering Deborah came over and poured him a glass of orange juice. She returned to the counter and brought him his large cup – which said BIG PAPA
on the side – of steaming coffee. It was just the way he liked it. She touched him on the shoulder then disappeared into the living room. Her phone conversation had been reduced to, Uhuh
, and Yeah
.
Zeke leaned his large shoulders over as sparks flew from his knife and fork. Large portions of sausage wrapped in bacon and pancakes flew off the plate and into his wide open mouth.