Medicine People

Medicine People
by Thadd Presley

The man pushed the needle under her flesh and smiled. He whispered into her ear, as he pulled the plunger back. “Drugs aren’t exactly good or bad, you know?” Her, until now, uncorrupted blood mixed with the sick, brown liquid and delighted the man. “You’re like a medicine man,” he mused. “You’ve heard of then haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled. Already able to feel the strong concoction. “They’re like Indians…”
“Yeah, well kind of, but many cultures them. They were the people who had the guts to try things the others were too afraid to do.”
She nodded. “Like shaman?” She pronounced it slowly: “Shay-men.”
“Exactly. They’d go into the spirit world and come back with knowledge from the other side.”
She smiled. “Like wisdom.”
“That’s right! And it would change everyone’s life? They found out things from the ancestors and were decades ahead of their time. Centuries, even.
“Are you afraid?”
He pushed the plunger and forced the liquid into her vein. She smiled as the numbness flowed across her chest and up her neck. Her eyes drooped twice and then closed peacefully as she slipped from the world of the living and entered the spirit world.

Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Rubbish Day (part 4)

Rubbish Day
(part 4)
by Thadd Presley

He pulled close to the ledge and got out. The view took his breath away. Never did he realize how deep the quarry actually was. There was no wonder why his mother begged him not to swim there. It lookedto be nearly 400 feet deep.

 He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. While he whistled a tune, he retrieved his pistol from the glove compartment.He didn’t think there were predators near and even if they were he didn’t believe they would attack him. But, just in case, he slid the gun into his waist band at the small of this back.

 then walked nearer the edge, still whistling.

Already the stress of the road was leaving him. A tiny echo of his own whistling came back to his ears and he smiled.

Peace, he thought, was anywhere you looked for it.

Then,a car horn blared behind him. He jumped and feared he would lose his balance. He was too close to the edge.

He heard laughter and without turning around, he knew the boys in the Honda had followed him.

A moment passed before he turned to faced the two boys who had began walking toward him.

“Better watch your step old man,” called the taller red-headed driver.

“Yeah,” his passenger seconded.

Jerald noticed the face of the driver. It was red and twisted by rage.

 Thecar! Where was it?

The boys stopped fifteen feet away. The were spoiling for a fight and weren’t going to stop until they found one.

Adrenaline flooded Jerald’s veins and fire filled his brain. Fucking punks, he thought. He hit the steering wheel with his palm. “I’ll not be fucked with today, thank you very much. Now, we had fun on the road,but this funny.”

The Honda’s passenger laughed. The driver looked hard at Jerold, but he was not as amused as his friend.

Jerald walked closer to his car.

“What you doing grandpa?”

Jerald wasn’t sure which asked him, but he didn’t answer back. Seemed today was a special day for punks. They thought they owned the road and wanted all their question answered.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Jerald turned and saw it was the red-haired boy speaking. He wasn’t any closer, but it looked like he was.

Nervously clasping his hands behind him, he felt the cold metal in his waste band. It calmed him a bit. He wasn’t going to let a pair of punks intimidate him. Especially after they put people’s lives in danger,his Porsche in danger, and followed him deep into a secluded,dangerous quarry.

Perhaps,they thought they could just do anything they wanted and get away with it.

Not today, Jerald thought. They weren’t getting away with anything.

No one was getting off easy today.

Today, we will all get our fucking reward.

They did exactly as he’d thought they would. They began to walk toward him, in an attempt to intimidate him. And in many ways, it should have been frightening. They were younger. He was a middle-aged,balding man who couldn’t fight worth a piss and had no chance to beat them in a fair fight. His belly stood out a bit too far and he didn’t have the breath he once did. But Jerold McCleary wasn’t afraid.He’d realized recently that he wasn’t scared of anything anymore.

He’d been Mr. Nice Guy for far too long, but somehow he knew Mr. Nice Guy was on his way out.

He was going to be in control of his destiny from this day forward, instead of going with the flow.

Assholes,especially assholes like these, were used to pushing people around.They expected everyone to cower in fear because that’s what people usually did when confronted by a unified front. They had forgotten how easily bullies crumble to the strong and courageous. They needed someone to step into place and do what they were too afraid to do themselves.

More and more, recently, Jerold had been thinking of the world and the pitiful state it was coming to. He was prepared to act on his instincts an create a new life for himself and his loved ones. It had become painfully obvious to him that the world needed someone with guts, someone with a pair of balls. There was just no other choice to make.

He had to do what was required of him. If not for his family, then he must do it for all the other struggling families in the world.

It would make the world a better place.

Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Jack’s Apartment (part 7)

Jacks Apartment
by Thadd Presley

He woke sitting up on his couch. The quilt had fallen in the floor and was laying too close to the heater. He could see steam rising from it. Sunshine streamed in through the windows,brightening his living room.
Then the knock came again. The same three booming knocks. He looked at the red, digital numbers of the clock blinking 12:47 PM

“Damn, the electricity must have gone out,” he said to no one. Then, to the knocking, he yelled, “hold on.”

“Jack,” someone called. It was a familiar voice. “You in there?”

“I said hold on. Just a second.”

Two sleepy steps brought him close enough to the only window for him to see the red pinto on the curb. It was Adam come to visit him. He opened the door.

“Mornin’ Adam.”

“Boy you’re a light sleeper,” Adam joked.

“Lucky I slept at all.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Adam sympathized. “I hope you feel up to coming to the food drive?”

“I had the craziest dream,” Jack began without being asked about the dream. “Something I hadn’t felt in along time.”

Adam saw the unsettled look in his eyes. “You have to give it time, Jack. It’s been a long time since you lived alone. It will get easier. Perhaps, it’s the temptation manifesting itself…”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Have you had urges…”

“Yeah, I guess, but no not really. I haven’t had time to think about all that. Trust me, that’s not what this is.” Frustration was showing in his voice and Adam heard it easily.

“Well, tell me about it on the way to the church. We have a food bank to stock. I’ve got some coffee in the car. Maybe I can help you figure out something that will help you readjust to your new surroundings.”

“Do you believe dreams have a meaning,” Jack asked,turning from the door, allowing his friend to enter. Then, without letting him answer, “I mean, I know what it’s about. I remember it perfectly, but you think it might mean something in the real world?”

“Maybe, probably, maybe not. What was it about?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“You are crazy.” Adam said smiling. “Or, maybe you should be.” He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Look, you probably just slept wrong.” He pointed to the couch as if it was proof.

“It’s not the couch, Adam. I’ve slept on way worse at the church and at the clinic.”

“Well, we’ll pick up my daughter’s old bed after the food drive just in case. I don’t want you sleeping on that old thing anymore. Who knows where it’s been. And then, tonight, we’ll have a few beers and talk about your new life. It’ll make a world of difference to talk about it and work out a few details of the coming week.”

“No, no, my stuff’s s’posed to be here today.Matter of fact, I should stay in and wait on the movers. Plus, I want to look around and see the best way to get started on the renovations.” But that wasn’t the only reason he wanted to stay.The dream was still fresh in his mind. He could hear the girl’s voice so clearly. He had to get that key, had to help her.

“Well, you going to tell me about the dream or not,”Adam asked, looking around the room. “It’s probably got something to do with this place.”

“That’s it exactly. It is this place. Maybe it’s the whole building.” He closed his eyes, trying to close out the locked door right in front of him, trying not to see his dream.

“Well, it’ll pass as you get used to it. Now, when do the movers get here?”
“Noon-ish,” Jack answered. “I just have the few things from the storage unit. No reason to pay forty bucks a month while I have all this room. I can put stuff in one of the other rooms until I get around to cleaning it up.”

“Yeah, I suppose you could. Tell you what. I’ll give you a call tonight.”

“Just give me a few minutes before you leave. I want to tell you about the dream.” He was starting to feel uncomfortable again, claustrophobic. “I need to tell someone.”

“Wow, this is really got a-hold of you, huh?” Sweat was visible on Jack’s face, and Adam realized then that his friend was actually shaking. “OK. Start from the beginning.”

Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Rubbish Day (part two)

There weren’t many Porsche in this condition. Ever since James Dean wrecked and killed himself in the same car, they were prize possessions and most were repainted, reupholstered, and otherwise ruined by zealous owners in an attempt to copy the car Dean drove on that fateful day.

Jerald could have driven any of his cars, but he chose the Porsche on this day because he was on an important mission. Perhaps even a dangerous mission. The weather was nice, the sun was shining, it was not too hot, and the Porsche gave the day – and his life – a nostalgic feel. Today, Jerold was taking his life back from the all the indecision he had surrendered to over the last two decades. He was taking charge of everything and making sure he was in control of everything that happened to him.

When the Honda suddenly jumped up it’s speed in an attempt to pass the Porshe, Jerold swerved aggressively and cut it off. “You shall not pass,” he said to no one and laughed a little. The Honda sped up and tried to stay on his bumper, but it was easy or Jerold to pull away from it. He gunned the motor a tad and looked in the rear view.

The Honda tried to pass again, but at the last second Jerold gunned the motor and pulled away easily. The Honda had no choice but to follow at a distance. It had no chance against the Porsche.

Of course, the young man driving the Honda couldn’t have passed the Porsche even if he had a faster, more powerful car. Jerald was a much better driver.

It amused Jerald, as he watched the driver grow visibly angry, but he didn’t want to put any of the other drivers in danger, so he did not taunt the driver. He did not want him to become any more aggressive than he had been. That was exactly the opposite of what he wanted.

Jerald kept his eye on the Honda in the rear view and thought of an endgame. This couldn’t go on for much longer or they’d both get hurt or go to jail. The driver showed no signs of slowing.

Then,unexpectedly, the driver flipped Jerald the bird and sped toward him.For a moment, it looked as if the Honda was going to ram the rear of the classic, but at the last second it backed off.

Maybe,he backed off because he thought better of it or maybe he was a coward. At any rate, and with a sigh of relief from Jerald, the cars did not collide.

Jerald pressed the clutch and revved the engine. He easily left the Honda in a cloud of black smoke. After that the Honda never gained an inch that Jerald didn’t offer.

We are a Spiritual Manifestation

This is an except from a Jordan Maxwell talk. I made it into a poem of sorts.

I am pure spirit

I always have been

I always will be

there is inside of me

a place of confidence

of quietness and security

where all things are known

and understood

this is the mind of god

of which I am apart

which responds to me

just as I ask of it

this universal mind

knows the answers

to all of my problems

even now the answers

are speeding

their way toward me

I needn’t struggle

I needn’t worry or strive

the answers will be there

I give my problems

to the great mind of God

I let go of them

confident that the answers

will return to me

when they are needed

through the great Laws

everything that I attract in life

will come to me

It is not necessary

that I strain about this

only believe it will be so

I see the hand of divine intelligence

in the flower, in the tree

the desert and the meadow

I know the intelligence

that created all these things

is in me and around me

I can call upon it

for my slightest need

I am a manifestation of that spirit

that spirit is perfect

therefore my body is perfect

therefore I can enjoy life

Each day brings

a constant demonstration

between the universe and myself

I am confident

no matter what the obstacle

it is nothing but perspective

There can be

no obstacle

to the mind of God

which is in me

around me

and serves me now