Life

is short and sweet.
or so they keep telling me

The Lion walks commentary

I started this project as an idea that my mother and I discussed trying to publish a book that was a collection of Witch Doctor and similar stories that captured the wealth and depth of the mystery that was and probably still is South Africa. I felt that the collection would need a framework or vehicle to carry the reader from one tale to the next. I was not comfortable with the idea of just presenting the public (reader) with another collection of stories. So I took a page from Robert Aspirin's Sanctuary series which were a series of short fantasy stories told by various authors all under the roof (or rather within the walls) of a Fantasy setting called Sanctuary. To some degree those books did work for the most part.
I later was forced to abandon the project as running down enough source material became tedious and bothersome to collect and my own creativity was pulled to other projects and the requirement of basic income consumed my energy to expound on the original concept. Added to that was a failed attempt to return to SA to add to the collection and give some fresh experiences to fill out the background more thoroughly.
Finally, and perhaps most disappointing was the total lack of enthusiasm I received from pretty much everyone I talked about the project to.

So, I put it all to the side and begin work on some non-fiction project that have consumed me (for the most part) until recently.

Who knows if I will return to it. it would help if I knew I had an audience for the amount of effort that it will ultimately take to produce it with any real quality.

A Lion walks under the shadow of the African Valley of the Moon: A Trek into the stories of Southern African and one man’s heart.

Bartlomeus Ridder lived a life filled with trouble and turbulence of which his boyhood chum, Michael knew nothing of save that he had always suspected that Bart’s future would not be promising or bright. Bart’s life ended at forty leaving a shattered family and a lost brother somewhere out in Namibia not knowing that Bart had died. Michael, who had found Bart through Facebook and had just begun to recover the lost years since he had returned to the States, did not realize the impact his friendship had made on Bart during those brief years at Max Stibbe.

            Michael had already looked in returning to South Africa to meet up with his old friend and look for others who made up his own past. His experiences with Facebook had forced him to reevaluate his own interpretations of his life, but with Bart’s sudden death had made it unavoidable for Mike to confront his own demons rather than just consider them. Michael decided that it was time enough to return to the Dark Continent, the land of his birth.

            To those of you, who have never been to Africa, know this, Africa is about land and this fact has more impact on a person’s soul than most can possibly recognize. Once in Africa always in Africa, the land is as inescapable as the promise of death. There is something about the land that will never let you completely go. Sure you can go somewhere else, live someplace else, even call it home and believe every word of it in your hearts of hearts, but Africa still owns a piece of that soul regardless. This was especially true for Michael.

            Michael had the advantage of being born there, so the part that belonged to Africa had settled in his soul from the beginning. He considered East Tennessee his home, did not long to live elsewhere and figured he would die there as well. But when he would close his eye and let his mind run free it would return him to the veldt of the Transvaal and he would run with the buck through the long grasses.

            He could not explain it to anyone who had never been to Africa, had ceased trying to talk about how it was almost like hearing the mythical drums in the jungle when his mind would wander. The drums had sounded louder and louder over the past few days since the news of Bart’s death had reached him in a tearful phone call from his estranged daughter Natasha. Michael knew that he would have to go and help Natasha put the pieces together, never mind say goodbye to his old friend.

            Michael’s mother was from East Tennessee and his father was from the Transvaal. His parent’s had met in Europe in the sixties and fallen in love and later married after his mother came to South Africa. They settled down to life in the largest city, Johannesburg. That was many years past and life had not gone quite what it should seem, but Africa had gotten into his mother’s soul as well. Michael had come along after another child and apparently was a bit of a surprise for his father when he did.

            Michael’s parents had not remained in South Africa long; his father had dreams of American living and persuaded his mother to return there. So an ocean crossing by ship was arranged and they were bound for the promise land. American life was very much a dream for Michael, a waking dream from which awakening as the eventual return to South Africa seven years later. His parents could never quite explain the reasons for going back, at least his mother had a firmer idea of what she had wanted, but his father avoided the topic completely for many years following.

            Michael first met Bartlomeus Ridder in the spring of 1981 at a school out in the middle of nowhere in the veldt east of Pretoria, the capital city of South Africa. Max Stibbe School was a boarding school on farm outside of a small town (someplace) east of Pretoria about two hours northeast of Johannesburg.

Juliet

Juliet, 

She is my poem, my muse, my love song
I sing it to her above me up there on her 
balcony
Under this full moon out from her bedroom
her hands fall upon the iron rail
my Shakespeare fails and speechless my words
run dry in my arid throat
words no longer rhyme as if the stop thump of 
my heart has forgotten how to start
She sings my name into the night
I find the pen is in my hand 
it is heavy with my sudden delight
to scratch to scrawl to write our names 
entwined on the white city walls
Juliet, I love you more than the stars
above, more than the flowers in the spring
more than the water in the well
more than the empty oaths I will tell
call to me and I will come to the
window where her lamp light breaks
on a stage, on the paper on the tattered page
her ink is scribbled on my heart
her lines are read written for her part
I life is a play and we stand now upon his whim
will William give me a chance like this again?

let's start again

       Paul sat up slowly, his face was  on  fire and it was wet. He absently wiped at the wetness on his cheek. Fucking women, why did  they have to get so violent? In his own opinion it was all this women's lib and  medication that was making them so unreliable. If we had been alone, I would have hit her back, he thought sullenly. He clambered to his feet, something  ran down his cheek.
       That Bitch! Monday,  when he got into the office,, he would  call that asshole down at the Police Station and tell him that he was going to press charges! He  was  right by God. He  wasn't going to take this  lying down. No one threatened Paul Murray  and got away- his bladder chose at that moment to remind him to be elsewhere. He inwardly clenched then began walking towards the men’s restroom.
        “She sure knocked the spit out of you.” cheered a man in blue jeans and black shirt that said something like `Hell Yeah!’ on it.
        "Fuck you asshole." Paul mumbled as he strode past  the overweight man.

Where the spit hits the fan

He glanced back to the concession counter to confirm that he had been heard. He looked back to Caitlin, who sat stiffly with a shocked expression on her face. She looked as if Paul had just slapped her and Paul decided that this was better than hitting her. Almost all the color had drained from her face, her mouth was moving but no sound escaped from her lips. Her right hand worked a class ring around her index finger in rapid twists. She blinked and then blinked again. Paul looked back to the concession stand to find everyone, three employees, an assistant manager and a customer staring back. Steven, the manager was in his office with a phone call, but had stopped midway and stood with the phone dangling in one hand as if deciding what to do. Paul then turned back to Caitlin.

“Are you listening to me!” Paul said as he turned back to face her. He heard the door to the office close behind him. “I will ruin you.”

Caitlin did not answer. Her right hand kept twisting the ring. She appeared to be caught in the moment. Then the color began to return to her face. She looked at Paul with newfound hatred.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.” Paul said as he glanced once more to the concession stand and noticed that the manager had joined them. Paul noted that he wasn’t coming over and relaxed.

He looked back at Caitlin. To his surprise, she made a quick movement and her right arm blurred. Paul barely had time to blink before Caitlin’s right hand struck his jaw with a resounding smack and a searing pain stabbed his face. She literally knocked the words out of his mouth, slapping him so hard that his saliva hit the wall. Paul toppled off the bench and rolled to the floor with a thud.  He lay there in shock as Caitlin rose to her feet. She looked at him, then at her hand, as if seeing the ring for the first time. A look of realization flooded into her face as she eyed first her hand and then Paul’s face.

            Cheers erupted as the employees and a customer broke the silence. Caitlin looked back at Paul, somehow knowing what he would do now. She looked over to the concession stand to find both Steven and his assistant on the phone.

“Cops,” she murmured, “no, oh not that.” She turned away from Paul and fled the theater out into the night and the rain. 

Note: I like this scene, it's where we see that Caitlin Marshall is made of firmer stuff than what Paul Murray has decided she is. I want to someohow rewrite it in order to enhance her femininity while keeping her human. There must be some measure of the sexiness/lust/mix that Paul feels for her there but at the same time a hidden strength that he has not seen or at least taken notice- I I feel it is important since Caitlin will be the prime suspect for awhile in the early part of the book. As Sam Waterton would say- it points to motive, and motive is all.

The good old days (sort of)

A year ago, Caitlin had joined the District Attorneys’ office fresh out of law school. She was vigorous and ambitious. She won several cases in the lower courts and had set her targets on the higher ones. She had drawn the attention of both the DA and the Attorney General with her erasable calm, professional demeanor and her quiet focus as she tackled one case after another. She seemed driven, Paul was attracted to that drive believing that it would make her formidable in bed, after all it he believed he had that same drive.

Paul had met her at a subsequent meeting and asked her out. Apparently his idea of an aggressive invitation had not been shared. He had placed his hand on her buttocks as a flirtation. She had not welcomed his touch nor his suggestion of sexual activity and had slapped his hand away. Then to confuse everything she had smiled. Maybe Paul had read it all wrong but to his understanding if a woman slaps your hand then smiles she wants it even if she is going to play hard to get. Paul had “pressed” his point harder after that.  Then the next thing he knew, he was being charged with sexual harassment. How did she dare to charge the Assistant DA with such an act? Caitlin had even gone so far as to suggest attempted rape. It was not hard for Paul to convince the predominantly male office that she was just one of those “Militant Feminists” out to destroy men. That she apparently was out to topple men in high places, like Paul and then claim his job. That this had been her ambition all along and that any one of their jobs (i.e. the DA or Attorney General) was next. The case had been thrown out for insufficient evidence (primarily thanks to a call from the DA on behalf of the AG) and Caitlin summarily dismissed.

Paul smiled at the thought of this woman, having whored her way to the peak only to fall all the way down. Oh, he had informed the DA as to her true nature. Had her disgrace been complete she would have left him alone, but the DA wouldn’t allow him to sue her for libel. He had fervently wished to pursue it, if only to strike back like a kid in the schoolyard.

Caitlin had changed weaponry and came back at him from new directions. She tried to slander his name to the press- that had failed when the Attorney General had backed Paul’s defense. She then began to follow him and harass him over the phone. Paul had a judge put a restraining order against her, but it had only slowed her down. She began to question his friends, neighbors, and girlfriends. Fortunately she had never learned of Peggy, and Peggy had no knowledge of Caitlin. Still Paul could not help the way he felt about Caitlin and now looking at her like she was a cornered animal; he felt a strange sense of power come over him. Recalling the excitement of gripping her arm, the feel of her goose flesh gave him a excitement that he rarely felt. He wanted so much to reach out and slap her across the face.

“What do you want?” Caitlin began fiercely.

“What do you think, I want?” Paul quipped back. “I have a restraining order against you.”

But I…“ She began, then stopped. “Look, this is just a misunderstanding, I just came to see the movie.”

“Where’s your date?”

“Where’s my what? I came alone.”

“From the West Side?” Paul shot back, the theater being on the northeast side of Knoxville.

“I was looking for a change of place- I mean pace and this grand old’ theater came to mind.” Caitlin smiled. “How could I have known that you were here?“

“How could you have known? Well, you have been interrogating my neighbors and friends about where I go, what I eat, and who I see.” He said this with an air of authority, feeling power in his words.

“No. It’s not like that.” Caitlin interrupted. “I didn’t interrogate anyone.”

            “Shut up! Look- what we did is over.” Paul said raising his voice, knowing he could be heard. “You can’t have it back. Get on with your life and leave me alone!”

“What do you mean what we did?” Caitlin replied, her face going pale.

“If I ever see you again,” Paul said commanding with his tone. “No- if I ever hear of you again, I will sue for every dime you have to your name. No- every dime you will ever have to your name. If that isn’t enough, I will have you charged with solicitation and prostitution!” Paul realized he was shouting, but the glee of his manner kept him going.

“And I mean every word of it you- you clinging, conniving bitch!”

notes: Paul Murray is mostly a split personality, that one finds more often among men then women, there are women like him but few are that much like him, most of those are probably that way because of someone like him ruining their lives at some point. Paul Murray is a predator who has taken the desire and need to dominate women to a level where he cannot fully separate the sexual from the sense of power over dominating them. Peggy represents the woman who feels that this kind of man (and believe me she has no idea of what her "boyfriend" actually is.) She has misinterpreted him to such a degree to believ that somewhere inside of the lust and dominanace that she means more than being an abject. Her relationship is not without reward, Paul does tolerate distractions like romantic movies in order to get what he wants but he is more interested in the ends to the means than in the process. Ironically, many men I have known operate on this principal alone. In fact, most of Pornography and pornographic material cultimates in what those men and thus Paul Murrray want/desire/need- total sexual pleasure through the domination of a person,persons or thing. It's ironic (to me) that the entire industry can be summed up in two words (primarily with a small concession to women). The porn Industry calls this moment the "money shot" and it means the one moment where all their "efforts" are summed up in a single frame of action, the male climax. The reason I am talking about this is to understand what I want you to see in Paul is that this part of his personality has overridden the other side of his persona and is basically getting out of his control.