| General Fiction posted October 27, 2017 |
  |
Here are two characters I am exploring for a large challenge
Two Characters
by jusylee72
It took two years after graduating from college before Doug could move out of his parents' house. His degree in Exercise Science and Kinesiology was a step in his plans. His real dream was to become a doctor. Reality ruined that hope when he took the MCAT. He failed it twice. Test anxiety haunted him from the time he was in first grade. He would study his spelling words. In first grade, he won the spelling bee. Yet, couldn't pass the written test. By third grade they had him tested for Special Education Programs. Despite an almost genius IQ, 137, he couldn't put his words on paper. The special ed psychiatrist tried to explain it to his parents.
"He is very intelligent. He just can't put it down on paper. I asked him to make up a story and showed him a picture of two people on the moon. He told me the most elaborate, imaginative story full of dialogue and humor. Yet, when I asked him to write it down he wrote three sentences. "There were two people on the moon. They saw the stars. They liked being on the moon." He is probably dysgraphic, a form of Dyslexia that most people don't understand."
His Dad thought it was just a bunch of malarkey.
"He just isn't trying hard enough. Slow down, write slower. Discipline is all you need ,boy."
He didn't want to sign the papers to put his oldest son in Special Education.
"You need to live up to your name, Douglas Edward Montgomery the Fourth. No child of mine is retarded."
It took his mother to convince her husband, the son of a Texas Rancher, to realize what his son needed.
They were a unique couple, his Mom, and Dad. Dad grew up on a wealthy cowboy ranch. His Mom, Janie, as they called her, grew up on an Indian Reservation. Being half-white, half Cherokee helped pay for college. It was quite the scandal when his Dad, Doug the third, brought her home to meet his mother.
They met in college. He studied animal science at Texas Tech. At most he was a B, C student. He knew college was a formality. He was going to inherit the ranch. He already had a house on the 3000 acres that he could call his own. He had always dated the cheerleader types in high school. Then fate sat him next to this tall, dark-haired, beautiful woman in a mandatory psychology class. They were put in a study group together. They disagreed on almost everything. The attraction was immediate. He fell in love with this feisty woman. She finally let him date her a year later.
Taking her home to Mama was a real challenge. No one had ever married outside of their culture. By this time he knew she was the woman for him. It was a slow process but eventually, she won over the rest of the family. They were married in a simple ceremony on the ranch and began their lives together. Douglas Edward Montgomery the Fourth was born on August 16th, two years after their marriage.
Janie's Mother came to the hospital shortly after the birth. She was full Cherokee. She had a small bag of Indian medicine in her hand. She gently shook the bag above her grandson's head. She gave him his Indian name, Silver Fox. She turned to her daughter and spoke.
"You must give Silver Fox this bag when he is 8 years old. Then his gifts will be revealed. He is the Great-Great Grandson of a medicine man. Two of his gifts will be healing and kindness. The rest will be revealed in time." His grandmother died before his 3rd year of life.
Janie kept her promise and gave her son the medicine bag on his 8th birthday. Shortly after, his gifts began to emerge.
Some little boys bring home stray animals. Doug's parents soon learned their boy was different. He didn't just bring home small puppies. He brought home any injured creature he could find. A baby bird with a deformed wing, a rabbit half eaten by a fox but still alive, a cat with three legs, even a group of baby skunks he found after a Texas flood. Dad almost lost it when he brought the skunks home. Mom always gave in. She knew her boy's heart and couldn't stand when he was hurting. She helped put them in a box and take them to the wild animal shelter 40 miles away. The vet there said they were almost old enough to be weaned so he fed them some formula. He promised the young boy that he would release them into the woods when they were ready.
Miraculously, most of his little guys did survive and were able to go back into nature. Doug had a natural gift for healing. He would gently bandage them, figure out a way to feed them, name them and love them. He named the three-legged cat -- Hop a Long, The Rabbit, -- Bunny Who Has No Fear and the little bird, Eagle Who Will Fly over the World. Even Doug's little brother would run to him when he scraped his knee and needed a bandage.
The little bird was his greatest miracle. The wing was deformed. Most people would have no hope for such an animal unless you kept it in a cage. It stayed with him for 6 months. During that time Doug would gently stretch the wing out and splinted it in a new position each week. He fed the little guy day and night. As he grew the wing became straighter and stronger. He would tell the bird stories about seeing the world from the sky. Five months later the bird showed signs of wanting to fly. Doug would take him out to flight school every day after school. Sitting on the ground he would cup the sweet creature in his hands then gently throw him a few inches at a time. Each week the throws were a little bit further. He didn't plan the day the bird would take flight. He just waited for nature to decide. He placed him on a low branch and let him watch the sky and other birds. One evening he simply flew. He stayed close to their house for about a week. Then he flew away to see the world from the sky.
When he was ten, he asked his Mother to call him Silver Fox. His father would have nothing of it. "You were born with a strong Texas Heritage. No son of mine is going to be called Silver Fox. Be proud of the name you were given."
His Mother took him aside. "I know your father can be controlling but he is a good man. He treats me well. He has given me two strong sons. A woman who marries someone with the idea that she can change him is a foolish girl. It was my choice to marry him and love him as he is. He is my provider. Your name does not have to be spoken to make you powerful. Greatness will find you in time."
Now six months after moving out he lived in a small one-bedroom apartment. To Doug, it felt like a castle. He worked at Taft High School as their athletic trainer. He still wanted to be a doctor but he was enjoying working with athletes and being able to use his medical knowledge when any of them got hurt. He also taught a sports medicine class.
He celebrated his Indian Heritage. He grew his long black hair out and pulled it into a ponytail. When he met new people he would introduce himself as "Silver Fox but you can call me Doug." People enjoyed his personality and humor.
Today, Thursday, he was up early. He didn't admit it to anyone but he had a crush on the new Girl's P.E. teacher. Patty was only 4'11". Doug stood a bit over 6 feet. He towered over her. Patty was starting a zero hour beginning gymnastics course. He volunteered to be the trainer just in case one of the students twisted an ankle or something. She had competed on the Junior Olympics Gymnastic's High School team several years back. She graduated from Michigan State where she placed 2nd in Nationals An injury kept her from advancing. Since she graduated at midterm, she decided to take the new P.E. opening at Taft, until her knee healed. Our school had none of the equipment she needed for a gymnastics team. That did not deter her. She was going to start simple with stretches, rolls, flips, dance moves. She was completely convinced she could get the funding she needed from grants.
Doug loved her ambitious attitude. He planned on asking her out for dinner and a movie tomorrow night. He was sure he could convince her. 'After all, my name is Silver Fox which of course makes me clever and wise. Surely she won't say no. '
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sherry's Story
The internet is amazing. You can find anything you need -- Coupons, DYI home improvements, furniture, technicians, TV schedules, ways to kill yourself.
Sherry's research was almost done. She even had a date in mind -- June 15th. The school year would be done. Graduation would be over. She would have all the time she needed to build her little stockpile as she called it. No one would know she was gone. When the students came back the next year they would just assume she found another job opportunity.
It wasn't that she wanted to die. It was just too painful to live.
She had tried the doctors. "Situational Depression" the obvious diagnosis, a supposedly curable form of depression, it simply would take time to get better. The antidepressants did help a little. At least it took the edge off. Too many life events at once. Her doctor stated, "Anyone would be sad after the last few years you've had." Sherry knew that, after all, she was the Psychology Teacher. How ironic is that?
In fact, her knowledge of the signs of suicide helped her to hide her intentions. She hid from the world how she felt. A drug addict on a TV show she watched taught her how to get the drugs. First, you use your insurance and the co-pay with your regular doctor. Then you go to small clinics that don't really keep track of you. Weekends were the best time to go. It was expensive seeing all these doctors but in all honesty, money didn't matter. She hardly needed money where she would soon be. It was amazing to see how easily she could get a bottle of Vicodin. Just tell them your back hurt. The doctor would give you muscle relaxers if you were a good enough actor. "Follow-up with your regular doctor on Monday."
How long had it been now? It was five years since her husband's death. Two years before that Wayne had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Those two years were a roller coaster. Some days were hopeful. Wayne and Sherry searched for cures, new treatments, experimental drugs. They laughed at but actually considered miracle water cures. Sometimes, Wayne would get a new treatment and seemed to be getting better. Those were good days. Then some new little corner in his body would erupt with new cancer cells. He put up a brave front for his teenage son.
The last six months of his life were the worst. He no longer knew his wife. He would accuse her of poisoning him. He had always been a kind man now the words he spoke were devilish. Horrid words would stream out of his mouth. He screamed at his son, "Come on, Pussy, be brave enough to shoot me! You know you can do it."
When death took him she expected to be relieved. Instead, life just felt empty. She still had her son so she had to be brave in front of the world. There were some good times in the next three years.
"I'll never leave you, Mama." Mason loved to joke with her,"You're going to have a thirty-year-old bachelor living with you who still wants his Mama to wash his clothes and make dinner for him."
She would laugh and perk up. Three years after Wayne's death life, while still lonely, felt bearable.
Then came Prom Night. She watched her son leave with one of the prettiest girls in school. They went out as a group of four. Sherry gave Mason the keys to her car. "I'll see you back here about one or two, I made snacks and rented movies for you all to enjoy." She loved the idea of having all the teenagers over for the after party.
"Thanks, Mama. See you soon."
That evening she made some of his favorite food to share with his friends. His favorite was homemade macaroni and cheese. Mason called at about ten thirty to ask if he could invite more people over for the after party. "Sure, it will be fun."
Sometimes she pretended the afterparty had actually happened. In real life, God, or whoever some people perceive to be God, had other plans.
During the last five years, Mason devoted his life to taking care of his mother and doing well in school. He never went against the rules. This night, one of his buddies had liquor in his car. Mason had never had a drink. This time he didn't say no. He had no idea how drunk he was when he got into the car to drive home. The rest of them were equally messed up.
When the policeman came to the door she didn't bother to look through the peephole. She opened the door wide and happily teased, "Come on Mason, did you forget your house keys?"
She doesn't remember much after that. The police said she passed out. They took her to the hospital. She woke up several hours later. Drugged up and full of questions.
Mason had driven off an overpass. He was killed instantly along with the two girls. The fourth had been flown to a hospital. He may never walk again. They landed on another car. No news on how the other victims were doing.
The next 6 months were a blur. Mother's Against Drunk Drivers put a sign on Sherry's lawn in the middle of the night -- "Drunk driver/ murderer's home". The lawsuits against her insurance company were getting larger and more complicated. The newspapers villainized her son.
Friends tried to comfort her but their words were often hurtful.
"At least he died fast, not like the drawn out death of your husband."
The sarcastic voice in her head had a response.
Let's see, which is better? Watching someone you love slowly get sicker and sicker until his days are filled with pain and he begs to die and he asks you over and over to help him end it. Or going down to the morgue to identify your only son but they stop you at the door and caution you that you may not want to see him. But you go in any way and you identify your child because he is wearing his father's ring that you gave him. Why? Because you can't recognize him with his face is torn off. Great choices, Huh?
Except for working, Sherry became a recluse. People finally stopped dropping in to see how she was coping several months ago. Some of her friends had tried to come by but she pretended she wasn't home. All she wanted consisted of isolation and a few glasses of wine.
It's finally Thursday, only a day away from the weekend. I can make it through another day. She trained the people at work to not ask her how she was doing. "Please, I really don't want to talk about it at work. It is too hard for me." They respected her wishes.
Before she left she opened the back bathroom's medicine cabinet. That's where she kept the true answer. "Hello, my little friends. Soon. Very soon."
It took two years after graduating from college before Doug could move out of his parents' house. His degree in Exercise Science and Kinesiology was a step in his plans. His real dream was to become a doctor. Reality ruined that hope when he took the MCAT. He failed it twice. Test anxiety haunted him from the time he was in first grade. He would study his spelling words. In first grade, he won the spelling bee. Yet, couldn't pass the written test. By third grade they had him tested for Special Education Programs. Despite an almost genius IQ, 137, he couldn't put his words on paper. The special ed psychiatrist tried to explain it to his parents.
"He is very intelligent. He just can't put it down on paper. I asked him to make up a story and showed him a picture of two people on the moon. He told me the most elaborate, imaginative story full of dialogue and humor. Yet, when I asked him to write it down he wrote three sentences. "There were two people on the moon. They saw the stars. They liked being on the moon." He is probably dysgraphic, a form of Dyslexia that most people don't understand."
His Dad thought it was just a bunch of malarkey.
"He just isn't trying hard enough. Slow down, write slower. Discipline is all you need ,boy."
He didn't want to sign the papers to put his oldest son in Special Education.
"You need to live up to your name, Douglas Edward Montgomery the Fourth. No child of mine is retarded."
It took his mother to convince her husband, the son of a Texas Rancher, to realize what his son needed.
They were a unique couple, his Mom, and Dad. Dad grew up on a wealthy cowboy ranch. His Mom, Janie, as they called her, grew up on an Indian Reservation. Being half-white, half Cherokee helped pay for college. It was quite the scandal when his Dad, Doug the third, brought her home to meet his mother.
They met in college. He studied animal science at Texas Tech. At most he was a B, C student. He knew college was a formality. He was going to inherit the ranch. He already had a house on the 3000 acres that he could call his own. He had always dated the cheerleader types in high school. Then fate sat him next to this tall, dark-haired, beautiful woman in a mandatory psychology class. They were put in a study group together. They disagreed on almost everything. The attraction was immediate. He fell in love with this feisty woman. She finally let him date her a year later.
Taking her home to Mama was a real challenge. No one had ever married outside of their culture. By this time he knew she was the woman for him. It was a slow process but eventually, she won over the rest of the family. They were married in a simple ceremony on the ranch and began their lives together. Douglas Edward Montgomery the Fourth was born on August 16th, two years after their marriage.
Janie's Mother came to the hospital shortly after the birth. She was full Cherokee. She had a small bag of Indian medicine in her hand. She gently shook the bag above her grandson's head. She gave him his Indian name, Silver Fox. She turned to her daughter and spoke.
"You must give Silver Fox this bag when he is 8 years old. Then his gifts will be revealed. He is the Great-Great Grandson of a medicine man. Two of his gifts will be healing and kindness. The rest will be revealed in time." His grandmother died before his 3rd year of life.
Janie kept her promise and gave her son the medicine bag on his 8th birthday. Shortly after, his gifts began to emerge.
Some little boys bring home stray animals. Doug's parents soon learned their boy was different. He didn't just bring home small puppies. He brought home any injured creature he could find. A baby bird with a deformed wing, a rabbit half eaten by a fox but still alive, a cat with three legs, even a group of baby skunks he found after a Texas flood. Dad almost lost it when he brought the skunks home. Mom always gave in. She knew her boy's heart and couldn't stand when he was hurting. She helped put them in a box and take them to the wild animal shelter 40 miles away. The vet there said they were almost old enough to be weaned so he fed them some formula. He promised the young boy that he would release them into the woods when they were ready.
Miraculously, most of his little guys did survive and were able to go back into nature. Doug had a natural gift for healing. He would gently bandage them, figure out a way to feed them, name them and love them. He named the three-legged cat -- Hop a Long, The Rabbit, -- Bunny Who Has No Fear and the little bird, Eagle Who Will Fly over the World. Even Doug's little brother would run to him when he scraped his knee and needed a bandage.
The little bird was his greatest miracle. The wing was deformed. Most people would have no hope for such an animal unless you kept it in a cage. It stayed with him for 6 months. During that time Doug would gently stretch the wing out and splinted it in a new position each week. He fed the little guy day and night. As he grew the wing became straighter and stronger. He would tell the bird stories about seeing the world from the sky. Five months later the bird showed signs of wanting to fly. Doug would take him out to flight school every day after school. Sitting on the ground he would cup the sweet creature in his hands then gently throw him a few inches at a time. Each week the throws were a little bit further. He didn't plan the day the bird would take flight. He just waited for nature to decide. He placed him on a low branch and let him watch the sky and other birds. One evening he simply flew. He stayed close to their house for about a week. Then he flew away to see the world from the sky.
When he was ten, he asked his Mother to call him Silver Fox. His father would have nothing of it. "You were born with a strong Texas Heritage. No son of mine is going to be called Silver Fox. Be proud of the name you were given."
His Mother took him aside. "I know your father can be controlling but he is a good man. He treats me well. He has given me two strong sons. A woman who marries someone with the idea that she can change him is a foolish girl. It was my choice to marry him and love him as he is. He is my provider. Your name does not have to be spoken to make you powerful. Greatness will find you in time."
Now six months after moving out he lived in a small one-bedroom apartment. To Doug, it felt like a castle. He worked at Taft High School as their athletic trainer. He still wanted to be a doctor but he was enjoying working with athletes and being able to use his medical knowledge when any of them got hurt. He also taught a sports medicine class.
He celebrated his Indian Heritage. He grew his long black hair out and pulled it into a ponytail. When he met new people he would introduce himself as "Silver Fox but you can call me Doug." People enjoyed his personality and humor.
Today, Thursday, he was up early. He didn't admit it to anyone but he had a crush on the new Girl's P.E. teacher. Patty was only 4'11". Doug stood a bit over 6 feet. He towered over her. Patty was starting a zero hour beginning gymnastics course. He volunteered to be the trainer just in case one of the students twisted an ankle or something. She had competed on the Junior Olympics Gymnastic's High School team several years back. She graduated from Michigan State where she placed 2nd in Nationals An injury kept her from advancing. Since she graduated at midterm, she decided to take the new P.E. opening at Taft, until her knee healed. Our school had none of the equipment she needed for a gymnastics team. That did not deter her. She was going to start simple with stretches, rolls, flips, dance moves. She was completely convinced she could get the funding she needed from grants.
Doug loved her ambitious attitude. He planned on asking her out for dinner and a movie tomorrow night. He was sure he could convince her. 'After all, my name is Silver Fox which of course makes me clever and wise. Surely she won't say no. '
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sherry's Story
The internet is amazing. You can find anything you need -- Coupons, DYI home improvements, furniture, technicians, TV schedules, ways to kill yourself.
Sherry's research was almost done. She even had a date in mind -- June 15th. The school year would be done. Graduation would be over. She would have all the time she needed to build her little stockpile as she called it. No one would know she was gone. When the students came back the next year they would just assume she found another job opportunity.
It wasn't that she wanted to die. It was just too painful to live.
She had tried the doctors. "Situational Depression" the obvious diagnosis, a supposedly curable form of depression, it simply would take time to get better. The antidepressants did help a little. At least it took the edge off. Too many life events at once. Her doctor stated, "Anyone would be sad after the last few years you've had." Sherry knew that, after all, she was the Psychology Teacher. How ironic is that?
In fact, her knowledge of the signs of suicide helped her to hide her intentions. She hid from the world how she felt. A drug addict on a TV show she watched taught her how to get the drugs. First, you use your insurance and the co-pay with your regular doctor. Then you go to small clinics that don't really keep track of you. Weekends were the best time to go. It was expensive seeing all these doctors but in all honesty, money didn't matter. She hardly needed money where she would soon be. It was amazing to see how easily she could get a bottle of Vicodin. Just tell them your back hurt. The doctor would give you muscle relaxers if you were a good enough actor. "Follow-up with your regular doctor on Monday."
How long had it been now? It was five years since her husband's death. Two years before that Wayne had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Those two years were a roller coaster. Some days were hopeful. Wayne and Sherry searched for cures, new treatments, experimental drugs. They laughed at but actually considered miracle water cures. Sometimes, Wayne would get a new treatment and seemed to be getting better. Those were good days. Then some new little corner in his body would erupt with new cancer cells. He put up a brave front for his teenage son.
The last six months of his life were the worst. He no longer knew his wife. He would accuse her of poisoning him. He had always been a kind man now the words he spoke were devilish. Horrid words would stream out of his mouth. He screamed at his son, "Come on, Pussy, be brave enough to shoot me! You know you can do it."
When death took him she expected to be relieved. Instead, life just felt empty. She still had her son so she had to be brave in front of the world. There were some good times in the next three years.
"I'll never leave you, Mama." Mason loved to joke with her,"You're going to have a thirty-year-old bachelor living with you who still wants his Mama to wash his clothes and make dinner for him."
She would laugh and perk up. Three years after Wayne's death life, while still lonely, felt bearable.
Then came Prom Night. She watched her son leave with one of the prettiest girls in school. They went out as a group of four. Sherry gave Mason the keys to her car. "I'll see you back here about one or two, I made snacks and rented movies for you all to enjoy." She loved the idea of having all the teenagers over for the after party.
"Thanks, Mama. See you soon."
That evening she made some of his favorite food to share with his friends. His favorite was homemade macaroni and cheese. Mason called at about ten thirty to ask if he could invite more people over for the after party. "Sure, it will be fun."
Sometimes she pretended the afterparty had actually happened. In real life, God, or whoever some people perceive to be God, had other plans.
During the last five years, Mason devoted his life to taking care of his mother and doing well in school. He never went against the rules. This night, one of his buddies had liquor in his car. Mason had never had a drink. This time he didn't say no. He had no idea how drunk he was when he got into the car to drive home. The rest of them were equally messed up.
When the policeman came to the door she didn't bother to look through the peephole. She opened the door wide and happily teased, "Come on Mason, did you forget your house keys?"
She doesn't remember much after that. The police said she passed out. They took her to the hospital. She woke up several hours later. Drugged up and full of questions.
Mason had driven off an overpass. He was killed instantly along with the two girls. The fourth had been flown to a hospital. He may never walk again. They landed on another car. No news on how the other victims were doing.
The next 6 months were a blur. Mother's Against Drunk Drivers put a sign on Sherry's lawn in the middle of the night -- "Drunk driver/ murderer's home". The lawsuits against her insurance company were getting larger and more complicated. The newspapers villainized her son.
Friends tried to comfort her but their words were often hurtful.
"At least he died fast, not like the drawn out death of your husband."
The sarcastic voice in her head had a response.
Let's see, which is better? Watching someone you love slowly get sicker and sicker until his days are filled with pain and he begs to die and he asks you over and over to help him end it. Or going down to the morgue to identify your only son but they stop you at the door and caution you that you may not want to see him. But you go in any way and you identify your child because he is wearing his father's ring that you gave him. Why? Because you can't recognize him with his face is torn off. Great choices, Huh?
Except for working, Sherry became a recluse. People finally stopped dropping in to see how she was coping several months ago. Some of her friends had tried to come by but she pretended she wasn't home. All she wanted consisted of isolation and a few glasses of wine.
It's finally Thursday, only a day away from the weekend. I can make it through another day. She trained the people at work to not ask her how she was doing. "Please, I really don't want to talk about it at work. It is too hard for me." They respected her wishes.
Before she left she opened the back bathroom's medicine cabinet. That's where she kept the true answer. "Hello, my little friends. Soon. Very soon."
"He is very intelligent. He just can't put it down on paper. I asked him to make up a story and showed him a picture of two people on the moon. He told me the most elaborate, imaginative story full of dialogue and humor. Yet, when I asked him to write it down he wrote three sentences. "There were two people on the moon. They saw the stars. They liked being on the moon." He is probably dysgraphic, a form of Dyslexia that most people don't understand."
His Dad thought it was just a bunch of malarkey.
"He just isn't trying hard enough. Slow down, write slower. Discipline is all you need ,boy."
He didn't want to sign the papers to put his oldest son in Special Education.
"You need to live up to your name, Douglas Edward Montgomery the Fourth. No child of mine is retarded."
It took his mother to convince her husband, the son of a Texas Rancher, to realize what his son needed.
They were a unique couple, his Mom, and Dad. Dad grew up on a wealthy cowboy ranch. His Mom, Janie, as they called her, grew up on an Indian Reservation. Being half-white, half Cherokee helped pay for college. It was quite the scandal when his Dad, Doug the third, brought her home to meet his mother.
They met in college. He studied animal science at Texas Tech. At most he was a B, C student. He knew college was a formality. He was going to inherit the ranch. He already had a house on the 3000 acres that he could call his own. He had always dated the cheerleader types in high school. Then fate sat him next to this tall, dark-haired, beautiful woman in a mandatory psychology class. They were put in a study group together. They disagreed on almost everything. The attraction was immediate. He fell in love with this feisty woman. She finally let him date her a year later.
Taking her home to Mama was a real challenge. No one had ever married outside of their culture. By this time he knew she was the woman for him. It was a slow process but eventually, she won over the rest of the family. They were married in a simple ceremony on the ranch and began their lives together. Douglas Edward Montgomery the Fourth was born on August 16th, two years after their marriage.
Janie's Mother came to the hospital shortly after the birth. She was full Cherokee. She had a small bag of Indian medicine in her hand. She gently shook the bag above her grandson's head. She gave him his Indian name, Silver Fox. She turned to her daughter and spoke.
"You must give Silver Fox this bag when he is 8 years old. Then his gifts will be revealed. He is the Great-Great Grandson of a medicine man. Two of his gifts will be healing and kindness. The rest will be revealed in time." His grandmother died before his 3rd year of life.
Janie kept her promise and gave her son the medicine bag on his 8th birthday. Shortly after, his gifts began to emerge.
Some little boys bring home stray animals. Doug's parents soon learned their boy was different. He didn't just bring home small puppies. He brought home any injured creature he could find. A baby bird with a deformed wing, a rabbit half eaten by a fox but still alive, a cat with three legs, even a group of baby skunks he found after a Texas flood. Dad almost lost it when he brought the skunks home. Mom always gave in. She knew her boy's heart and couldn't stand when he was hurting. She helped put them in a box and take them to the wild animal shelter 40 miles away. The vet there said they were almost old enough to be weaned so he fed them some formula. He promised the young boy that he would release them into the woods when they were ready.
Miraculously, most of his little guys did survive and were able to go back into nature. Doug had a natural gift for healing. He would gently bandage them, figure out a way to feed them, name them and love them. He named the three-legged cat -- Hop a Long, The Rabbit, -- Bunny Who Has No Fear and the little bird, Eagle Who Will Fly over the World. Even Doug's little brother would run to him when he scraped his knee and needed a bandage.
The little bird was his greatest miracle. The wing was deformed. Most people would have no hope for such an animal unless you kept it in a cage. It stayed with him for 6 months. During that time Doug would gently stretch the wing out and splinted it in a new position each week. He fed the little guy day and night. As he grew the wing became straighter and stronger. He would tell the bird stories about seeing the world from the sky. Five months later the bird showed signs of wanting to fly. Doug would take him out to flight school every day after school. Sitting on the ground he would cup the sweet creature in his hands then gently throw him a few inches at a time. Each week the throws were a little bit further. He didn't plan the day the bird would take flight. He just waited for nature to decide. He placed him on a low branch and let him watch the sky and other birds. One evening he simply flew. He stayed close to their house for about a week. Then he flew away to see the world from the sky.
When he was ten, he asked his Mother to call him Silver Fox. His father would have nothing of it. "You were born with a strong Texas Heritage. No son of mine is going to be called Silver Fox. Be proud of the name you were given."
His Mother took him aside. "I know your father can be controlling but he is a good man. He treats me well. He has given me two strong sons. A woman who marries someone with the idea that she can change him is a foolish girl. It was my choice to marry him and love him as he is. He is my provider. Your name does not have to be spoken to make you powerful. Greatness will find you in time."
Now six months after moving out he lived in a small one-bedroom apartment. To Doug, it felt like a castle. He worked at Taft High School as their athletic trainer. He still wanted to be a doctor but he was enjoying working with athletes and being able to use his medical knowledge when any of them got hurt. He also taught a sports medicine class.
He celebrated his Indian Heritage. He grew his long black hair out and pulled it into a ponytail. When he met new people he would introduce himself as "Silver Fox but you can call me Doug." People enjoyed his personality and humor.
Today, Thursday, he was up early. He didn't admit it to anyone but he had a crush on the new Girl's P.E. teacher. Patty was only 4'11". Doug stood a bit over 6 feet. He towered over her. Patty was starting a zero hour beginning gymnastics course. He volunteered to be the trainer just in case one of the students twisted an ankle or something. She had competed on the Junior Olympics Gymnastic's High School team several years back. She graduated from Michigan State where she placed 2nd in Nationals An injury kept her from advancing. Since she graduated at midterm, she decided to take the new P.E. opening at Taft, until her knee healed. Our school had none of the equipment she needed for a gymnastics team. That did not deter her. She was going to start simple with stretches, rolls, flips, dance moves. She was completely convinced she could get the funding she needed from grants.
Doug loved her ambitious attitude. He planned on asking her out for dinner and a movie tomorrow night. He was sure he could convince her. 'After all, my name is Silver Fox which of course makes me clever and wise. Surely she won't say no. '
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Sherry's Story
The internet is amazing. You can find anything you need -- Coupons, DYI home improvements, furniture, technicians, TV schedules, ways to kill yourself.
Sherry's research was almost done. She even had a date in mind -- June 15th. The school year would be done. Graduation would be over. She would have all the time she needed to build her little stockpile as she called it. No one would know she was gone. When the students came back the next year they would just assume she found another job opportunity.
It wasn't that she wanted to die. It was just too painful to live.
She had tried the doctors. "Situational Depression" the obvious diagnosis, a supposedly curable form of depression, it simply would take time to get better. The antidepressants did help a little. At least it took the edge off. Too many life events at once. Her doctor stated, "Anyone would be sad after the last few years you've had." Sherry knew that, after all, she was the Psychology Teacher. How ironic is that?
In fact, her knowledge of the signs of suicide helped her to hide her intentions. She hid from the world how she felt. A drug addict on a TV show she watched taught her how to get the drugs. First, you use your insurance and the co-pay with your regular doctor. Then you go to small clinics that don't really keep track of you. Weekends were the best time to go. It was expensive seeing all these doctors but in all honesty, money didn't matter. She hardly needed money where she would soon be. It was amazing to see how easily she could get a bottle of Vicodin. Just tell them your back hurt. The doctor would give you muscle relaxers if you were a good enough actor. "Follow-up with your regular doctor on Monday."
How long had it been now? It was five years since her husband's death. Two years before that Wayne had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Those two years were a roller coaster. Some days were hopeful. Wayne and Sherry searched for cures, new treatments, experimental drugs. They laughed at but actually considered miracle water cures. Sometimes, Wayne would get a new treatment and seemed to be getting better. Those were good days. Then some new little corner in his body would erupt with new cancer cells. He put up a brave front for his teenage son.
The last six months of his life were the worst. He no longer knew his wife. He would accuse her of poisoning him. He had always been a kind man now the words he spoke were devilish. Horrid words would stream out of his mouth. He screamed at his son, "Come on, Pussy, be brave enough to shoot me! You know you can do it."
When death took him she expected to be relieved. Instead, life just felt empty. She still had her son so she had to be brave in front of the world. There were some good times in the next three years.
"I'll never leave you, Mama." Mason loved to joke with her,"You're going to have a thirty-year-old bachelor living with you who still wants his Mama to wash his clothes and make dinner for him."
She would laugh and perk up. Three years after Wayne's death life, while still lonely, felt bearable.
Then came Prom Night. She watched her son leave with one of the prettiest girls in school. They went out as a group of four. Sherry gave Mason the keys to her car. "I'll see you back here about one or two, I made snacks and rented movies for you all to enjoy." She loved the idea of having all the teenagers over for the after party.
"Thanks, Mama. See you soon."
That evening she made some of his favorite food to share with his friends. His favorite was homemade macaroni and cheese. Mason called at about ten thirty to ask if he could invite more people over for the after party. "Sure, it will be fun."
Sometimes she pretended the afterparty had actually happened. In real life, God, or whoever some people perceive to be God, had other plans.
During the last five years, Mason devoted his life to taking care of his mother and doing well in school. He never went against the rules. This night, one of his buddies had liquor in his car. Mason had never had a drink. This time he didn't say no. He had no idea how drunk he was when he got into the car to drive home. The rest of them were equally messed up.
When the policeman came to the door she didn't bother to look through the peephole. She opened the door wide and happily teased, "Come on Mason, did you forget your house keys?"
She doesn't remember much after that. The police said she passed out. They took her to the hospital. She woke up several hours later. Drugged up and full of questions.
Mason had driven off an overpass. He was killed instantly along with the two girls. The fourth had been flown to a hospital. He may never walk again. They landed on another car. No news on how the other victims were doing.
The next 6 months were a blur. Mother's Against Drunk Drivers put a sign on Sherry's lawn in the middle of the night -- "Drunk driver/ murderer's home". The lawsuits against her insurance company were getting larger and more complicated. The newspapers villainized her son.
Friends tried to comfort her but their words were often hurtful.
"At least he died fast, not like the drawn out death of your husband."
The sarcastic voice in her head had a response.
Let's see, which is better? Watching someone you love slowly get sicker and sicker until his days are filled with pain and he begs to die and he asks you over and over to help him end it. Or going down to the morgue to identify your only son but they stop you at the door and caution you that you may not want to see him. But you go in any way and you identify your child because he is wearing his father's ring that you gave him. Why? Because you can't recognize him with his face is torn off. Great choices, Huh?
Except for working, Sherry became a recluse. People finally stopped dropping in to see how she was coping several months ago. Some of her friends had tried to come by but she pretended she wasn't home. All she wanted consisted of isolation and a few glasses of wine.
It's finally Thursday, only a day away from the weekend. I can make it through another day. She trained the people at work to not ask her how she was doing. "Please, I really don't want to talk about it at work. It is too hard for me." They respected her wishes.
Before she left she opened the back bathroom's medicine cabinet. That's where she kept the true answer. "Hello, my little friends. Soon. Very soon."
I am working on characterization. Also I need help. How do you show these characters in a novel. When is okay to put a back story in a novel? Any and all help will be appreciated.
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