Notes & continuing of scene 4, ch. 6

        After lunch. Carol is sitting at the table with you reading the newest letter from the Westerville Historical Society. You had a good lunch of meatloaf, made this morning, and broccoli with a diet strawberry popsicle for dessert. The cat is making muffins on Carol’s left arm while sitting on her lap. The beginning of relaxing afternoon.

         You spent time watching last night’s Warehouse 13, the old movie, Airplane. Then the national news followed by two Seinfeld’s. Carol is due back shortly from her dinner with friends. This was after an earlier hour or so spent getting your wireless keyboard to work with the iPad but you have two apps, iFile and the business app, Quickoffice, now you are not able to transfer your files to the iPad. That began the lack of focus on writing.

        

         I don’t know how people can write anything fiction when they are focused on something real. Reality takes precedent. Always. It is upsetting to find software doesn’t work like it is supposed to work. Sometimes tinkering works, like it did with the keyboard. I tried it a couple of times last week and couldn’t tweak it, this time I could. Major accomplishment. Now the files aren’t loading. Not a good sign. I want to have this working when we go to Michigan in less than a month. I want to be able to only have to take my iPad even though I will take both, one for a backup. 

         Sitting at Home Depot on Tylersville while Carol runs an errand, then to Hallmark for a card for Kim. Tomorrow sales people coming to check our windows as that will be the major purchase this Fall. Then a new countertop and sink and garbage disposal, maybe a new kitchen cabinet or two.

         Home, Carol is talking to her sister. You have been thinking about scene four but under cover, so to speak. Let’s hit it. > You have continued a second and third paragraph in scene four. – Amorella.

Scene 4

         An unusually frosty late Fall pre-dawn nests on the vegetation along the presently named town of al Kifl in Babylonia in the sixth century BCE.  The Euphrates, low this time of year, flows to old Ezekiel’s left as he stands for the last time, looking across the river and the desert west towards his birthplace, Israel. His last thought, ‘I see my Israel coming at me on this commonly dry and strong southwesterly wind.’

Focus fell from the tired eyes and large spots of color erased the details of sight. Ezekiel felt his head silently float across the river as his priestly body collapsed without tension for the first time in his long life. The Euphrates below and sky above. ‘I never turned to see the rising sun,’ settled on his mind like the cool morning frost and he never thought to look back to see his limp body on the light mustard brown streaked sandstone and dull edged gray to black shale clothing the sides of one of the two great rivers in Nebuchadnezzar II’s  Babylon. Babylon, whose much earlier great Mesopotamia’s king, Hammurabi, had carved the world’s first known coded laws in stone.

         I look for my father priest, thought Ezekiel and “Buzi!” called out from his now naked mind, seemingly flowing like a river from his once skull-dressed brain. A first self-revelation: I am Ezekiel still.