As I sat down this morning to surf thru the shortwave, I remembered of a time when ‘surfing’ had a similar meaning. Back then, we took our freedoms for granted as we eagerly surfed the Internet or the TV. My grandchildren (eight and ten in age when they died) would look at me with awe as I would tell them stories of listening to XM radio while driving from South Carolina to South Georgia every weekend. I could keep the boys spellbound about classic rock and roll songs from the 1960’s, changing stations to listen to news from various networks, then sliding a CD to help me stay awake on those long trips. We took our God-given rights for granted, but that was another story that I was saving for another time.
They always asked about the music. But I knew they wanted the stories about the musicians that I grew up listening to and the crazy things I did during my younger days. Then I would pick up my Fender six-string acoustic and strum out a few songs, reflecting on my mood at that moment. Not being much of a singer, I discovered that the boys were quick at learning the words to songs like Stairway to Heaven, Clapton’s Change the World, and Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb. Man, their mother would be so upset at me. She was afraid that the boys would be overheard singing, as she put it, “those radical songs that you’ve taught them”. I knew she was remembering those times in her youth with fondness; yet there was caution to be taken. But all that was before the SuperFlu epidemic just five months ago.
The flu hit the youngest like a hungry eagle chasing down a small rabbit. We lost both boys in just 48 hours. A couple of months later, my Sweetheart left early one morning while I was still asleep. Her note said that she knew I was the strongest and could continue on without her. She was going to see Mama and I knew what that meant. I ran thru the house, and sure enough, her mother’s .38 caliber S&W revolver along with one of my hidden AK 47s were gone. I knew the automatic was for any trouble on her way down to her Mama’s grave near Eridu, Fl. The .38 would serve a final purpose at the end of her trip. With tears running down my cheeks, I read the words:
I’ve always loved you, Daddy. You were the rock for everyone to lean on when Mama died, then later when both Louis and Rick died during the Nashville rebellion. Please don’t try to follow me, as I’ve got the only car left and you wouldn’t be able to find another working car within 50 miles. You know what I’m going to do and I hope that God forgives me. Remember the truths that you warned me about not so long ago and I wouldn’t listen to?! Know that I came to understand what you were saying when martial law was declared, but I was a little too late. You were my hero when you drove up from home to rescue me and the boys. Louis would have been proud of you and James would have been grateful. You have always been my hero; now our country needs heroes. I love you forever, your Sweetheart.
Now, as I surf thru the shortwave, I reflect on the loss of my loved ones in such a short time. My beautiful wife, with that gleam of wisdom and beauty in her eyes, as she fussed about her hair; stroke. My son as he grew up and went to fight for the republic that I taught him about; died for freedom. My daughter whose final words about heroes still ring in my ears. Near tears, I find what I’ve been waiting for: “Blackwell Liberty nine”; A call to arms in Blackwell, S.C. in five days at nine o’clock pm.
With the horse saddled, the weapons and gear packed, and my dog Scruffy following along, we made our way out of town. A new revolution was beginning and our forsaken republic needed heroes.
Point well taken, Dean. Thanks for the critique. I now have that introductory and the first three chapters to rewrite. But as I look back at some of the successful authors I’ve enjoyed, I recognize what I’ve always seen in their writings but neglected to put it into my beginning work; which is exactly what you were talking about. By the way, from another old hippie, I appreciate your honest response.
There’s a hundred and eighty degrees of separation between you and me Bill, but personal beliefs aside, this needs work.
You’re a passionate man but the only way to write with passion is to stand back and approach the subject with detachment. I understand that seems a contradiction but for once, trust an old hippie and try it – if the narrator becomes a remote observer, it forces the reader to become a part of the story. Otherwise, the work becomes a self-absorbed rant about what could have been, and what might be.
Just an opinion – Semper Fi.
Dean
Brenda, this is an ongoing project. As I stated in an earlier post response, I’m using this as the opening to the full story, which will jump back to the recent past (as related to this storyline) and write the story from a certain point in time (the future; in 2011), introduce the main characters and develop the storyline. I plan on the storyline to establish the events that are referenced in this piece. I will probably be using this piece as the finale to wrap up the story. If successful, I’ll follow up with another story that will pick up from the main character’s trip to South Carolina. Maybe a bit too ambitious, but I’m going to give it a try.
If anyone has any other comments (please be honest and brutal), I would greatly appreciate it.
Bill
William,
This is an interesting beginning, but it needs another round of revision. Pay attention to the use of and lack of prepositions. Also, be sure to change non-standard spellings such as “thru” to “through.” It does promise a good, action-packed story, though. Is the next chapter on the way?
I was troubled about the structure and flow of the first paragraph. I came to a solution as to rewrite it with more clarity but that would have exceeded the word limit for the Aspiring Writers competition. So I’ve left the rewrite for the complete work. Thanks for reading the story and your constructive criticism. More comments (please be honest and brutal) are asked for by others as well.
Bill
I’m not military, but I liked the story and wasn’t troubled by the uncertainty of time frame. There’s some odd spacing in the first few lines that could be cleaned up, as well as a typo (thru).
All in all, an interesting “intro” to something longer.
Thanks for contributing.
Thanks for the comments, John. Points well taken. This piece was written as part of the Aspiring Writers competition, with a 715 word limit. My intention in writing this piece in the chosen manner was to peak some interest as to where the author was going. Hence, if this piece (after some leading facts were added to clarify the what and when) was used as an introductory to the whole story, I could then jump back to the recent past and write the story from a certain point in time (the future about two years from now), introduce the main characters and develop the storyline. I’ll stop at this point and ask for more comments (with this explanation in mind).
P.S. I’ve received other responses back from other sources/friends from the web. I’ve found that military-type personnel generally caught on to where I was going with this short piece (including relatives of military personnel). I find that interesting.
William,
Forgive me, but I have no idea what your story is about, what time frame we are reading about and even what era – I thought it was current, or perhaps in the future, until you mentioned the horses etc. in the last paragraph.
It is an interesting piece but it needs a lot of work to make it readable. Remember, you know what you are trying to say, but is that what’s coming through in the prose?
Keep writing.
Regards:
John