|Uncle Tom (standard:Inspirational stories, 3425 words)|
|Author: Baron||Added: Apr 23 2005||Views/Reads: 1934/1136||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|In order to have peace he has to fight.|
He sat quite still, like a deer does when it is listening to footsteps. The television in the dark room flickered; a documentary of the war in Vietnam. The room didn't have any windows, and Michael couldn't work the remote. So he watched the war, a spectator 20 years later, and thousands of miles away. The roof of the single wide mobile home leaked. The leaking water slowly dripped from the ceiling in the closet and made the apartment smell of mildew and mold. The T.V. was an old imitation wood-finished console that was big enough to be buried in. Michael liked to say that it was illiterate, because for some reason when writing was on the screen, the picture would warp, and the words would mash. Michael stopped watching the television. The narrator refused to be ignored. The harder Michael tried, the louder the narrator spoke. Michael stared intently at a chessboard on a T.V. tray beside him. There was nothing fancy about the pieces; they were cheap plastic. Michael looked at them for a long time. “Michael, why aren't you dressed and ready to go?” Michael's Uncle Tom was laughing softly. He looked at Michael sitting so still and asked. “Are you ready for your match today?” Michael rolled his head to look at Tom. “I'm ready.” Tom Picked through a drawer. “Do you want to wear a tie?” “Yes, but I don't want to wear my blue shirt I want to wear a white shirt.” Tom threw the blue shirt back in the drawer. “Are you nervous?” Michael thought for a moment, and sighed. “Yeah, when I think of Springfield I always get nervous.” A soldier on the television was shouting. “Can you turn that thing off please, Tom?” Michael looked at Tom he had dark eyes and a black mustache. The very top of his head was naked. His glasses were well worn and he had a black string that held them around his neck. Tom reached over and shut off the ancient television. Then he straightened the black rimmed glasses that were sliding off his nose. “OK, are you ready?” “OK.” Michael looked at a picture of Toms wedding on the wall. He wondered how a man like Tom had ever gotten such a beautiful woman to marry him. Tom pulled Michaels limp body from the wheelchair. He slid him onto the made bed, and changed his clothes. He struggled with his dead arms and legs. After Tom dressed Michael he brushed his teeth, and Michael spit into a plastic cup. “You know everyone thinks I'm going to fail.” “Yeah, well you can't get what you want, if you do what others want.” Tom shook his head at what he had just said. “Do you know what I want, Tom?” “What do you want, Michael?” “I want peace. I want my own ranch far away from everyone else, with a big house where we can all live. I want to find a place where there will be quiet. Where at night we can sit on the porch and look at the night sky and see all the stars. During the day we'll watch our horses playing in the fields and we won't have to worry about anything or anyone.” Tom laughed, as he looked around the apartment to make sure they had everything. “I thought you wanted to travel the world winning chess championships.” “Well how else am I going to afford to pay for all that?” “You know Michael; you don't have to have a big ranch in the country to have peace. You can have peace right now if you want to.” Tom pushed him down a ramp in front of the house. Click here to read the rest of this story (322 more lines)
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