|Stone Echoes (standard:drama, 3739 words)|
|Author: BENTLINK||Added: Aug 29 2008||Views/Reads: 1615/889||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|You can’t escape the sins of your past even in a grave yard.|
STONE ECHOES On the surface, it seemed to be a simple trading of time for meals and housing. Roy allowed himself to be transported to some sites around town where work needed to be done and in exchange, he got a flop and two hots plus sometimes a tip that gave him walking around money. It was not a bad deal for a guy that would otherwise be homeless and alone. The work was not that bad; picking up trash in parking lot or play ground, cutting weeds from around one of the local churches. The food; well he'd had better and been thankful for a lot worse. The shelters menu contained loads of starch and beans, some damn good biscuits with gravy and from time to time a little mystery meat found its way onto his plate. The large serving of hot food in the evening was always preceded by a drawn out “God bless this table and the men who eat from it” blessing but Roy didn't care because while the latest guest preacher droned on Roy went to the tiny remaining calm sane place in his mind and got himself ready to eat. The nights were the worst part of the whole deal, always too hot or cold and almost every night somebody would have a yell out loud nightmare about biting snakes, men with knives or other things that would've been dismissed as nonsense if seen in the cold light of day. The night yelling was bad because Roy found going back to sleep on the shelter's hard fold up army cots next to impossible. Still Roy stayed on because the shelter filled his most basic needs, he was never alone, and yet no one knew anything about him. By keeping each day that passed almost identical to the last Roy was able to avoid thinking about his past and how much of his life he was trading away for this anonymous existence and meager handout of food and shelter. With only a few exceptions, each day just sort of ran together with the one before and the one before that. One day might separate itself from all the others because it was very cold, heavy jacket and gloves cold while another got recalled by being stripped bare to the waist hot. Bitter cold, need ice water hot or I can hardly catch my breath humid were the last things reaching Roy on his emotionally numb starch and hard cot island. He was approaching a year as a regular at the homeless shelter, when a call came asking about a crew to help in resetting dozens of grave stones some vandals had knocked over in a church cemetery. This type of odd job had not come up before and all the people on the work crew were excited about getting to do something totally different and meaningful for a change. When the church's elders had reported the damage to the police and ask the city fathers for assistants in making repairs at the historic old cemetery they got a long rambling written reply. The letter inferred that the old churches parishioners were somehow at fault for failing to have proper security over their grounds so getting the stones tipped was not a problem of the city's making. The letter went on to say the city budget was totally out of control largely because of the tax exempt status churches and others like the shelter had enjoyed. Page two of the city's letter went on to explain, using city workers to right the knocked down grave stone would be a mixing of church and government business. The letter failed to mention the fear every politician harbors of being caught using precious city resources to help a church. Any elected official worth bribing knew helping any religious group could attract swarms of state and federal lawyers. Being caught hip deep in hostile lawyers was not a good thing for even well liked politicians in an election year. After receiving the city's final word on the matter, the church elders sought estimates from a few local companies, and then the pastor placed a call for help to the homeless shelter. It was agreed that if the shelter's workmen could help the shelter treasury would get half the amount most local contractors wanted to do the job. The shelter director was pleased to have a chance to improve the shelters finances and at the same time repay, the kindness the little church's parishioners had shown the needy over the years. Click here to read the rest of this story (305 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
BENTLINK has 33 active stories on this site.
Profile for BENTLINK, incl. all stories
For a quick, anonymous response to the author of this story, type
a message below. It will be sent to the author by email.