You were home in time for the national news followed with left over Papa John pizza from last night, half veggie and half works, not difficult to judge which half is yours. – Amorella.
It was good to see Cathy and Tod, lunch at Olive Garden at Polaris for a change. Then we stopped and visited with Aunt Patsy and Uncle Ernie for an hour and a half until we left at four-twenty to beat the Columbus Friday rush hour traffic, which we mostly did, but just barely; always a fun challenge.
Continuation of scene ten:
With little apprehension Ezekiel poked his nose into the hole and sniffed. No fresh air. He pulled away and put his finger on the rather indifferent rocky cliff. No moisture. ‘The water is right down there, six feet away and no moisture. It feels wet when hands and feet are placed in it, but it appears to dry rapidly. Here and gone in the blink of an eye. He turned to climb up to the path and he saw a stranger looking down at him. “Hello,” he said with a hesitant upturn of his lips. “We are all strangers here, at least the few of us I have witnessed.”
“You are no stranger to me, Ezekiel, even though we have never met,” replied Tiresias quietly.
Ezekiel blinked in the forming tears. The repercussion within was jarring and absolute. “Wait. Please. Do not leave me.” I have not heard my name uttered here in Heaven. I am blessed. What is there in the sound of one’s name by another voice? Friend or foe, I feel blessed. Ezekiel quickly arrived at the path. “In kindness please, how is it you know me?”
“I am not from here,” replied Tiresias almost timidly, while suddenly wondering what he was going to say. He had not expected to see tears running down the old prophet’s eyes. He thought, ‘I do not think this man realizes he is crying.’
Wet faced, Ezekiel responded, “Nor am I?”
“I am Tiresias.”
“You are Greek?”
“The others I have met did not know me, nor themselves upon questioning. None could remember their names. He pointed up, “The sky is blue but I say it is brown earth. We dead are buried and G-D is in his Heaven.
“We are dead, Ezekiel.” Tiresias paused in consideration,” then continued, “Our souls survive along the same river. You know this by the name Jordan and we Greeks know it by the name Styx.”
“I must cross the River Jordan to find family and friends who have passed before me.”
“This river appears as wide as our Styx,” noted Tiresias sympathetically. “It may be you will need to find a way to cross to the other side,” then he cautiously added, “boats cannot cross.”
“I have no body what need I of a boat?” responded an angry-minded Ezekiel abruptly.
** **
It is late, orndorff. Enough for tonight. Post. – Amorella.
I did not expect to write at all. I have spent part of the evening reviewing the new cars, for fun mostly; we are not planning on a new one for a year of two. Comparing hybrid models. I think it is a guy thing. Reading the hype about new and 2012-2013 cars is a fun diversion.
You did not write, you processed the keys and made the words I suggested to you. – Amorella.
I think they are fine for a first draft I had no sense to change them.
Now they are yours, old man. You can do with them as you wish. – Amorella.
I work better with you, Amorella. I am not built to revise and edit these books alone.
Once this chapter is complete. It will be time to revise and edit at least through an audio draft on these last two chapters.
Good. I would feel uncomfortable without catching up. I wonder about Ezekiel.
No need. He knows who he is. The reassurance of hearing your name again, once dead is something the Living cannot begin to realize. Friend or foe, if someone utters your name you know you still exist, even without a body.
If that were to happen to the likes of me, being dead, I would come to the immediately conclusion that I am not completely fiction, which indeed would be a blessing in such circumstances.
The Living, in these books anyway, have a tendency to think they are more alive than they really are. They become like the small pebble in someone’s sandal are feel greatly pronounced. This could be considered sad, but I see the humor in it. Once Dead it becomes a laughable moment, at least for most. Breaks the inner tension, so to speak, among heart soul and mind. Post. – Amorella.
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