Prologue


The streets of the city were silent and the moon shone bright upon the buildings’ edges. Old newspapers were strone upon the streets making up for the people who were warm inside their homes. It was almost eerie, but then the silence is broken with a sudden laughter. A group of boys ran down the street, running at top speed. They were free upon a bird’s wings jumping over trashcans with mighty leaps and soaring on top of parked cars. They were too young to be out this late, but too old to be here alone, but they ignored all safety issues, because regardless, the city was their playground and they were not about to give up the greatest part of their day.

From afar, they looked like they were almost lost, like they had no where to go, nothing to do, or no where they want to be. But when you got close, you saw something deep within their eyes: a mission. Who knew of what, but they were out for something, stalking prey in their mass jungle of concrete.

Abruptly, the one in the lead stops. The others follow, forming a ring around the apparent leader. You see the young ones turn their heads to the large building before them, casting glances at the long beautiful sculptures carved into the marble. The leader held his chin up high and watched the newcomers. “You know what you must do.” He said in a growl. Then he turned and within seconds he and his followers disappeared into the dark shadows of the night. The ones left huddled together, taking positions and warning each other of what they were about to do. Without any warning, they dispersed like the wind that blew at the cans in the street and the assignment began.

Chapter 1- The Welcoming Party

The jury’s final decision on the case knocked the breath out of Edward. Had he heard the speaker correctly? Was he truly being sent to prison for three long, lonesome years? He looked over to his other companion in orange and saw his expressionless face. Then he finally looked at the one person who he knew he had done wrong: his mother. From the look of it, she hadn’t breathed since the jury had read his sentence. She looked down as the tears filled her eyes, tears of grief and failure. As the officer came around the desk, he realized what was happening and suddenly the reality of the event came together into his mind.
“What have I done?”
______________________
The jailhouse of Atlanta was on the outskirts of the city. Not even the face of death could scare him more than this place. Now that he was out of a public office, Edward would go by his street name, E, again. E stared out the barred van windows at the bland colors of the prison.

The doors were automatically opened by more guards. No one even glanced at the new comers as they were escorted down the long hallways, but he took in as





much as possible. He took in the faces of the strangers that were now his brothers.





Some old, others young, some scared, and a few full with a pride that can only belong to someone who is not ashamed of his past actions. No matter who’s eyes he looked into, he plunged into their cold irises searching for something more. It was like looking into an old book about that person’s life. “People can not hide the story in their eyes. The things that give them the ability to see the world are also a passage for the rest of the world to see into them.” That’s was one of the last lessons his father had taught him. Before…
BAM!

The cell door was carelessly slammed and the guards were leaving him. All he could think of was the next couple of years. He would not be alone, but in his heart, nothing could penetrate the new-formed ice. That was what went through his mind over and over again, until he heard it. The words did not come from his long time friend and now cell-mate, Z. There was someone else in the cell with them. As E slowly turned around, he heard the elderly man repeat his question.

“Why ‘al be darn, how did you young boys get into a place like this one?”

Chapter 2- The Meeting
The man’s smile was like an innocent child’s and his brown eyes stood out upon his black skin. His snow while hair was cut short, but still noticeably curly and he
had the starting of a beard. He stood taller than E in his worn out shoes, but visibly slouched. As he looked over this man, he became more and more confused. Z didn’t see it, but Edward did. He knew this man shouldn’t be in prison, but E would never mention this in front of another one of his new gang members. So he walked past him and sat on the flat mattress that was now his home. He hated showing this much disrespect to a man he had never met before, but image came first. The man turned around and asked him ,“What’s yo’ name, boy?”
“E”, he answered in an uninterested tone.
“I’m guessin’ that is short for….hm, Ethan?”
“No, Edward.”
“Ah,” he looked over at Z, “and that is short for Zachariah?”
“Yeah, What’s it to you?” Z unlike E, did not know what respect was so he had no problem saying these things.
Ignoring the remark, the man turned and sat in a rocking chair and began to rock again. It was quiet for a while. Edward wanted to ask the man’s name, but he only
laid on his bed until the doors were opened for everyone to go into the mess hall.

Z was gone before the door was completely opened, but E stayed for the man’s name.
“Excuse me, sir, but, um…” he didn’t know how to ask.
“Don’t worry, son, I understand. People here call me Mr. Maurice, but my full name is Maurice Wilmer Claude. Call me what ya’ want, it doesn’t matter to me.”
He turned and walked off. E was bewildered. He knew?! He thought what did he know? Did he know I didn’t belong? Does he know the reason I had to join? No, impossible. Mr. Maurice…

Dinner was long and to the point. E walked through the line and was forcefully given a tray. He walked out and spotted a seat. He kept his eyes low, hoping no one would see him, but he didn’t hide well enough. A big man stalked up and sat beside him, facing away from the table.


E looked straight ahead, avoiding the man’s eyes, but only finding other curious stares among the crowd.

“You gotta smoke?” he mumbled low beneath his breath. E didn’t have a clue what to say, so he stayed silent.
“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you, boy. DO YOU HAVE A SMOKE?” he raised his voice an inch from his ear. E just stared out, and the mysterious substance that floated into his powder mash potatoes.

The guy was agitated now, but finally he just gave up. “Man, you stupid,” was the last thing he threw at E before screeching the legs of the chair against the floor to leave. As he walked away, E heard him from afar telling his friends about “the-mute-silent-guy-with-no-smokes-in-the-corner”


He then realized how hard life had just turned, all just for one stupid mistake.
Chapter 3 -- A Dance for the Past
The days past slowly and it seemed E was more alone here than he thought. Z had abandoned his long time friend for a bunch of guys who were in prison for the exact same reason. Z wouldn’t even look at him, let alone talk to him. That left only one other person, Mr. Maurice. Though it was only light chit-chat, it helped comfort E. And then that beautiful day came.
All the prisoners were in the courtyard. It was almost like a rest and relaxation time. E did his usual walk around. He would watch everyone and learn their morals, their passions, and their lives. Looking back on that day, he realized just how special the event was. Twitch, a young dealer who had earned himself 4 years, had his stereo out as usual. A bunch of guys surrounded him, bobbing their heads to the concealed melody hidden beneath the bass of the music. Twitch, trying to act cool, decided to pick on “the senile, old man”, Mr. Maurice, who was humming an old tune, next to the wall. Twitch went up to him and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Hey, why don’t you show us some of your moves,”
he laughed then snickered “maybe you can show us how to REALLY dance.” He turned back towards the group and nodded.

Mr. Maurice sat there a second then finally looked up and replied, “How am I
supposed to dance when I have no music?”
Twitch was confused now. With his eyebrows furrowed, “Well, we have a stereo.” He rolled his eyes towards the group then added “It plays musi-”
“That is not music.” His voice was not harsh and his eyes were soft, but he had been given everyone’s full attention.
“Music is something that tells a sort of story, whether with words or without. It relieves your soul or helps you get back to what you truly need.”
Everyone was truly shocked. Mr. Maurice got up and changed the station on the radio, not even glancing at the awed boys.
The new station was fuzzy, but the beat of the song mixed beautifully with the melody. E watched with intensity as Maurice began to sway back and forth. He then went into a swirl as a smile stretched across his face. He moved around making circles in the dirt with his large shoes. Then to everyone’s amazement, with a laugh, he clicked his heels and jumped high into the air. He landed softly upon the gentle dirt and turned into twirl. Around and around he went, lifting the hearts around him. All too soon did the music end. Mr. Maurice did one final turn then stopped, breathing deeply. He was somewhere else in his mind, perhaps in peaceful past memory.
Later that night, E laid thinking in his bunk about the incident. The music had
been so different, yet so calming to him, thought that was not what struck him the most. What was was Mr. Maurice’s face while he danced. It was a light in the dark, a giver among takers, and a belief among science. Oh, and how high he jumped! He looked like he was going to the heavens, yet the Earth still wanted him, like he was needed.



E needed him.
He wasn’t sure how, but something deep inside E knew Mr. Maurice was the answer to all his problems and the angel that would help him.

Chapter 4-Realizing the Challenge

So how was he going to do it? Night and day E thought of how he could get
closer to Maurice, in the mind and heart. He had given up on Z. He only ignored him, even when he tried. His days were especially quiet when he was watching Mr. Maurice. E had not noticed a lot of things till he made it a priority. Maurice Claude was a strange man. In the mornings, he woke up before the sun even started to peer over the edges of the Earth. He spent his mornings leisurely as he could in a prison, humming and eating only toast. He spent as much time as he could looking out of the wire fences into the woods or streets. He never rushed; he had as much time as he needed. That was one thing E had, too, time. He wasn’t quite sure, but he knew he had been there for about 40 days. On what he had counted, it was the 47th day when he sat alone again at the deserted lunch table. He
mashed his destroyed beyond all recognition meat with a fork as his thoughts began to wonder. He jumped a little when a tray was dropped on the table in the seat in front of him. The old man sat down slowly and smiled at E.

“How are you today, Edward?” Digging his metal spoon into what looked like plastic green beans.

“Oh, the usual.” Though they both knew there was no “usual” in prison. Silence filled the air between them until finally Mr. Maurice said what he come over to say.


“Why do you want to be friends with those boys?” He asked in a low voice, glancing over at the other table.

“I don’t.”
“Now don’t play stupid with me. I watch you as well as you watch me. You look at them with yearning eyes, and then look away in remorse, but I can see it isn’t wasted upon wanting to be like them. So, what is it?”
There was a still silence.
5
“Well, sir, you are right. I don’t want to be like them, but what choice do I have?” E didn’t feel like spilling out his thoughts, but he had to open his heart for this man before he could know how to help.
“You have every choice in the world! What makes you think that?”
Edward thought about it for a minute then said seriously, “No I don’t, I need the money, though I just finished high school, I have no where to go because I have no
money to get there, so that means no future.”
Mr. Maurice paused, “You really believe that?”
“Well, of course I want to g-” the loud buzzer sounded for lunch to be over.
He walked down the hall with his section and waited for the security guard to open the door to his cave of a cell. When the officer shut the door, the sound wasn’t as sickening as it had been for those first few weeks. The small window high above his head allowed the first stars that fought against the sun into view. E stared out at the sparkling dots as though he had never seen them before.

It reminded him of when he was little, sitting on the porch outside of his apartment with his father. He would sit on the cement block stairs while his father stood out on the sidewalk carrying on a casual conversation with a few neighbors.















































Thoughts of E’s father rushed into his head: the way he stood so tall, his hands in his hands jingling change in his pockets, the smell of the frequently used aftershave and cologne. E didn’t even blink when the lights instantly shut off, he just searched the dark sky for answers to his questions that he never got to ask his father and will never have a chance to. How could God be so cruel to him? Ever since he was old enough to go, he was cleaned up, washed and dressed properly for early morning church on every single Sunday. Was his loyalty to the all-powering God not good enough? Did he have to take away the most love, caring, and respectable man E had ever known? He felt hot anger rise through him and warm tears ran down his face. He laid his cheek against the steel bars of the window, feeling their winding patterns dig into his skin, cooling his suddenly warm face. Out of no where the sweet song of a harmonica filled the air. It was Maurice’s and the slow movement of the notes helped finally give him enough comfort to sleep.

Chapter 5- Sympathetic Visitor

The visitor’s room was silent as Oda May walked through the doors. “Good Mornin’, ma’am.” Said the receptionist as the bell stopped ringing.

“Good mornin’, have visiting hours started yet?”
“Why, yes, ma’am, just fill out this form and we will get right back with you.” The pen was cold in Oda’s hand, but started on the paper quickly. After returning the paper, she walked slowly back to her seat, waiting for the nice lady to call her. She had not realized she had been holding her breath until the doors opened for her to enter. Seconds later, she was guided by an officer to a meeting-type room that had the sun pouring in onto the tables. She was told to sit on what looked like the visitor’s side. The doors swung open and in came two guards who led a poor-looking boy into the room. He looked up from his feet to his mother and he smiled wider than he had in months. Apparently, he didn’t care if his fellow cell-mates saw him at his mother’s mercy, because it took him a blink of her eyes for him to come over.
“Hi, mama.” He said as tears filled his eyes. He was then cuffed to a chair like a crazed person, but he looked sick in the face. He seemed much older dressed in the orange jump-suit.

“How are you doin’, baby?” she asked with as much care as she possibly
could.
“I….well, my cell mates cool. He is kinder than most of the people here. He seems to be my only friend.”
“That’s good, what is his name?”
“Maurice.”
“Hm, that is a nice name. I once knew a Maurice, but that was many years ago.”

“Everyone here calls him Mister Maurice. I think he is the only sane fella in this place. Zachariah doesn’t talk much anymore. I wish he would, but then again, it might be better he not. I think you would like him ma, he reminds me of dad.”

Oh, don’t worry about Zach, he’ll be okay. Mr. Maurice seems to be a nice man. What happened to him?”

Silence, E did not know how he got in here. He had always just…been there. He felt curious now, yet cautious on the subject of Maurice’s life.

They talked a little longer until E’s time was up. When lunch came, E looked at the smiling man sitting in front of him, wondering what horrors filled his past.


Chapter 6- Stopping Hearts
“Come on, Daddy!” yelled the little girl at the freshly painted fence. She waved her little hand in the air in hopes that he would follow.

“Not today, baby,” said the child’s father, resting his head against the porch swing’s cold, rusted chain, “Maybe tomorrow. Daddy is tired. Let me rest.”
A tall, beautiful woman came out with a glass of lemonade, the ice cracking against the sun’s heat. “Go with her, Willy. She will only be a child for so long.”

He looked at his wife’s big brown eyes and could only tiredly smile at her. He looked at all the work needed to be done at their small house and realized there were not enough hours in the day to complete it all. His son ran up and pulled the leg of his pants. “Please, papa?”

He sighed deeply and pulled him up from under the arms onto his lap, “Do you really want to go?”

“Yes, Sir!” he exclaimed, bouncing with the words.
“Alright then, what are you waiting for?!” he popped up, setting the young noy on the ground.

The little girl ran up and hugged him as tightly as she could. The three walked out, and the children waved to their mother as they skipped along, father in tow.

The creek was large. It would be easier for an adult to swim across, but this was where the children played. The little girl stripped from her yellow sun dress down to her o ne piece bathing suit. She had begged for this one, she loved purple stripes. The little boy had no swim suit, so he just peeled the shirt off from his warm skin. He was nearly eight years old, but not that much taller than his five year old sister.

The creeks water was clear and the rocks were visible from the sleek surface. The current twirled around the long branches and tips of rocks, swirling in endless circles.


The father smiled as he seated himself at the base of a tree, he relaxed his shoulder’s into the crook of the tree’s deep, concave wrinkles. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes to the sound of his children splashing in the water.
And the next moment was chaos.
“PAPA!” shrilled the young boy. The man sat straight up to his son’s scream. He searched the scene for a moment. The boy was searching the now-clouded waters, the two sets of clothing on the bank, and his daughter nowhere in sight.

“Where is she?!” he screamed in a voice like sandpaper.
“I….I can’t…FIND HER!” yelled the boy as he unsuccessfully tried to part the water in his search.

The man jumped from his spot gracefully dived into the water. Clouds of disturbed mud danced through the cold water. Where is she? Soon his lungs burned for air and he came to the surface, gasping. Still, only his son stood at the water’s edge. Why is she playing this game? When will she pop up and say “Here I am, Daddy?” like she had so many times before? Why wont she come when I call her?”

Four times he went under, searching every spot, until he saw the purple stripes moving in the current upon the creek’s floor. Her small foot had gotten caught between two rocks and her body moved slowly with the under current.

He freed her easily, but it took more force than a terrified five year old could have mustered. He folded her in his arms and swam to the surface. The little boy’s face looked excited when he reached the surface, but it was blown away with panic as his father carried his sister away from the water. He ran quickly ahead, not slowing until he reached the kitchen. His mother caught him in her arms.

“What happened?” she demanded.
He somehow got the words out and her face fell from its once happy expression. She stood slowly and looked out the open kitchen window to see a muscular man carrying something from the woods.


She carelessly ran out the backdoor and down the steps. Her mouth fell at the scene before her as she finally saw her husband’s face. It was distorted in pain and drenched in-she couldn’t tell which more of-river water or tears.

She fell to her knees as he finally reached her, and she reached her hand up to touch the girl’s motionless hand.

Then she leaned her head back and stared up into the blue of the sky as the tears rolled down her face. She curled her child’s hand up in hers and with all her might, screamed into the heavens in hope she would come back. And as all her happiness and faith drifter away, she whispered her daughter’s name, “Danielle…Danielle….Danielle…”.

Chapter 7- What we are

Time past slowly for the two men, but in their long hours of isolation they found comfort between each other. They talked of politics, history, world cultures, and farming. The conversations would dwell on for hours, never once touching the subject of home. E started forgetting his past reasoning on ways to find money and developed something he had never thought he would have before, a plan. In his conversations with Mr. Maurice he found he had a purpose; that he actually meant something to this world, something he had never felt before. He suddenly felt the
need to go to college, to grow up, and to do well. He gradually sensed in himself the idea of not following his friend’s acts, but pitying their ideas of this made up happiness and he took a turn for the better.

On usual days, he would wake up early; watching the others get ready for
another day in their confinement. He watched their choices, what made them smile, and what brought sorrow onto their minds. He would sing with Mr. Maurice and dance in times of unusual joy. Smiles appeared more often and laughter could be heard from their corner in the courtyard. They would then eat lunch, always giving their deserts to a jail mate in need.

The day came when Mister Maurice thought it would be good to talk about the past. He would tell stories of his childhood. His favorite to tell (he told it tons of times, but E would always laugh just as hard as the first) was about a fishing trip he took with his brothers and they pushed him in or even the one where he put
a mouse in his sister’s shoe. All of them brought tears of laughter to his eyes. Even every now and then E would tell his own stories of living with his cousins and the mayhem they would bring.


Z started slowly slipping away from E’s needs and he began to realize that maybe prison wasn’t so bad. Maybe, people are sent here to change not only in their way of lives, but in their state of minds. E finally decided it was time to drop the nickname and be proud of his father’s name; the one his mother had given him. When he told Mr.Maurice his intentions, he smiled and patted Edward on the back.

“You would be surprised how much you have changed, Edward. I know you can’t see it, but you can see the lines in your face are beginning to fade and your eyes are now filled with a wonder that only a few people find.” Mr. Maurice said to him one day in their bunks. Edward was quite shocked. He had never heard anything like this come from Mr. Maurice and wasn’t sure what he was saying.
“What do you mean?” he said slowly.
“I mean you know you have happiness in yourself. You are not just pretending for the sake of other people. Take care of that and make sure to never lose it.”

Edward to his words to heart and hoped he never forgot the remark Mr. Maurice had just spoken. He suddenly grasped the moral of what Mr. Maurice was
saying. He was stating that not everyone is happy, even if they act it, sometimes its
just a show, had he been apart of this? Was he one of the fish that swam towards the nets while the smart ones swam against the crowd? Unexpectedly, he saw that it was time to move on from his past life, thoughts, and morals and move on to a true happiness.
Chapter 8- A note of good karma
“Good afternoon, mister Cummins.” Said the judge as Edward Benjamin Cummins walked into the courtroom.

“Good afternoon as well, your honor.” He replied while sitting down, trying to move the handcuff that were digging into his back. Edward turned to look at the jury, who all looked deflated with boredom. He wished Mr. Maurice was there. If this didn’t work out like they had planned it, Edward would not get out of his horrid prison walls until two years after Maurice.

“Well, Mr. Cummins, it has been 26 months since I last saw you standing before me. I have heard you don’t go by your “street name” anymore. Is this apart of your turning-over-a-new-leaf plan?”

“In a way, your honor, you see, I realized that the shortened name did not give a good impression on others.”

Thank you Maurice for making me work on my answers! He thought.
“…hm, I understand that these papers in front of me are for parole, yes?”
“Yes, sir, they are. I have big plans once I get out.”

“Oh, what are they?”
“Oh,” he hadn’t thought this question would come up, “More than likely get a job out of state, find a home, start a family, and who knows what else?!”

Many more questions past between the two until there was a moment of silence in the room. The judge hit the mallet then said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Court adjourned fir a fifteen minute recess.”

Edward sat there for the full fifteen minutes frantically praying. When everyone came in from the break, his fate was sealed by the jury. AN old man walked up to the clerk and gave her a slip of paper. She then stood up and in a squeaky voice announced, “The Jury for the case of Edward B. Cummins has decided to grant parole if he wishes.”


Edward let out a long stream of air he had been holding in and leaned over and hugged his lawyer.
He was finally free.
Chapter 9-Taking that leap to freedom

The next few weeks were full of court dates for Edward. Both Edward and Maurice were counting down the days till they were out. The talked about what it
will be like once they are out. Yet as their conversation went on, they started to open up on subjects they had closed for years. Their family and past started to slowly sink into the talk.

“Where are you from?” Ed asked one day.

Maurice sighed and answered, “South Carolina, from a small town called Whiskire. It is so small, it can only be found on certain local maps. Not too many people know about it, but I grew up there and lived there all my life.”

“Well, then how did you end up in Atlanta?”
“Oh, my son, Henry; he goes to Georgia State. He is working on a degree in…oh…I don’t remember. I think it had to do with technology of some sort.”

“Well, it seems that your visit has been a little longer than planned, right?”
“My son got into a bit of trouble. I didn’t want it to ruin his life, so I took the blame. It would have destroyed his record and chance for a good job and they would have kicked him out of school. So, here I am.”

It was strange to see that while Mr. Maurice was talking a smile grew across his face. He was back in a good memory.

“What about your wife? Did you have any other kids? Where is-“
“Whoa, sonny, I’m not a slot machine of answers! I want to ask you some questions, too. You have never spoken of your father. Where is he?”
Silence.

He cleared his throat and began his story. “Dead. He died eight years ago. He
was shot on the street in a cross fire. He had done nothing. He was just walking home and happened to be in the wrong spot at the wrong time.”


“I’m sorry to hear that. I lost my father as well when I was young. He worked for a logging industry right outside of town. I used to go out there with him and my dog, Teddy. We would play in the woods during the day. He liked the smell of the pines. Have you ever smelled a fresh cut pine tree, Ed? They smell so good; it’s almost as if you were tasting the earthy sap upon your own lips. Oh, and I can’t forget the sound!”

“The sound?”

“It is a special sound; like a mystery that is almost so mystifying, you don’t want to solve it. It’s funny ‘cause I have only ever heard it in the fall or at night. The trees sing. The pine trees here in the south have long needles as you know, the only place in the world. When it is windy outside, the wild, untamed wind runs through the trees creating a choir of murmurs and sighs. It is like nothing you have ever heard. It is a whisper dancing through the high tree tops, singing for you. It has a soft flow of rhythm and sounds. Oh, sorry, I got carried away there!”


“It’s okay, I like hearing you talk. I have never seen things like that, so it’s
interesting to hear about them, but what about happened to your dad?”



Well, let’s just say…he liked the trees, but apparently they didn’t like him all that much.”


“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“So, how did you end up in jail when you should be in school?”

Edward was worried on what Mr. Maurice will think of him. He was a poor boy, trying to get money for electricity, insurance, the apartment, and especially food.

That was one of the good things about being in prison; you never had to worry about where your next meal was coming from.


“I needed money. There were no close jobs to my school that would supply enough money for my mother’s my and my needs. So my friend, Zach, “he nodded in Z’s direction, “Told me about a different way. Drugs. I have never taken any, but I knew there was a lot of money involved. So Zach set us up for a meeting with a few guys- some who are in this very prison.


“They told us that we could join their, um, a good word for it would section, as drug dealers. Under one condition, we had to prove we were capable of working for them. It is called an initiation. We had to break into the art museum and take a piece from the center display. I thought it was a bad idea, but Zach was so excited. Four of us went that night.


“I kept watch by the window, not wanting anything to do with it while Zach and another guy went to get it. We were running from the building when we were caught.”


“Well, we all have our stories.” Mr. Maurice said as he stood up. Edward wanted to know more, but it seemed Mr. Maurice was still wanting to keep part of
his past in the deep depths of his own memory.


Chapter 10- Final Rise

The sun rose on this day just like every other day, but instead of this sunrise
bringing imprisonment, it brought upon its fine rays a day of freedom. When Edward woke up to the same pale wall he had been looking at for 26 months, he realized this was the last time. While eating breakfast, he saw the permanent grim in the tables this final time. Finally his normal day’s routine vanished and he was on his way to a different, new life.

He walked down the hall with his best friend until they reached the double doors. This was their good-bye for several weeks.



Maurice sighed and said, “Take care, my friend.”
“I will,” he said shaking his hand, “and I am coming back for you in a few more weeks.”

“So long!” was the last thing Edward heard before he left his secluded, prisoned life behind.




He took a bus to his street and jumped down the steps onto the hard cement. Nothing had changed. The neighbor’s beach stairs still sat among the sparse dead weeds in their small patch of yard. The screen door creaked, just like always. He heard from within someone noisily coming down the stairs. Casey.

A woman flew out of the door and jumped into his open arms, “EDDIE!” Tears started to form at the edges of his eyes. “Casey.” He whispered to himself. She hugged and kissed him then hugged him some more. “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting here this early?! I would have gotten ready earlier.”


“I wanted to surprise you.” He said as he looked at her. Casey Darwell had been his love for years and it made him the happiest he had been in a long time to finally have her back.

They walked along the sidewalk, feeling the hot Georgia sun press against their skin.

“It’s been lonely here without you.” Casey kicked a rock with her shoe and dug her hands into the depths of her pockets.

“Are you saying you missed me?” Edward turned to her and smiled. He grabbed her hand and decided to break the news. “Case, I’m going to South Carolina for a while. I…don’t know when I’m coming back…or if I ever will.”

She closed her eyes as she listened to their steps, echoing in the cement jungle they strolled.

“Okay, and what are you expecting now? You leave for almost two years and now you tell me you’re going away on your free will? I don’t even know who you are anymore. I’ve been around you less than an hour and I see the strain in your face. Who are you and what did you do with my Eddie?”

He was quiet. Then under his breath he murmured, “He left when you suggested drug dealing.”

They walked back into their area of the neighborhood. Casey jumped up the stairs to her small home and looked down at Edward.

“Eddie, it was your choice, not mine; my idea, but your choice. Don’t blame me for the crime you commited.” She walked in through the screen door, the image of her becoming fuzz the deeper she moved into the house.

His home was across the street. He jumped the white-washed stairs and threw open the door.

He walked in and saw his mother getting up from the small, fold out kitchen table. “Hello, Edward.” She said as she wrapped her arms around him. He sat her back down at the table and Casey came in with coffee, “Elena wants you to come over sometime today for some cookies.”

Ms. Elena was one of his momma’s bridge-playing friends. She had been making him cookies since he was three. “Alright then, but I need to go run a few errands first. It has been a while since I have been out on any streets,” he said with a smile.

His homecoming was simple and was more like him coming home from a short vacation, but it still made him happy to see the most important people in his life. He walked to the street corner and looked into all the stores that were so familiar to him.

That is when he got the idea. He looked into the shop window and saw the perfect coming home present for Mr. Maurice.
Chapter 11- Freedom at last


Ed held the leash tight as the puppy wiggled in its new collar. Mr. Maurice would be released within the hour so he wanted the first thing he sees is his present. The doors finally opened and out came the old man in his worn-out suspenders and everything. Edward thought 2 years was bad, Mr. Maurice had been stuck with eight. When he finally caught sight Ed and the dog, he smiled a big toothy grin.

“Well, what do we have here?” he said bending down to pet the dog.
“I found him in a shop window. He did not have a home and was going to die soon. His name is Teddy.”
Mr. Maurice looked up into Edward’s eyes and responded, “Teddy, what a wonderful name.”


Mr. Maurice was given back his old truck and off the two went north. The radio played old tunes that Edward had never heard, but again like the one’s in the courtyard, they were soothing, happy, and alive. They passed fields of gold and green, reaching out inter the everglades of nothingness. Lakes sat as still as pictures standing ever so perfect as they flew by. Forests filled the open windows with green and gave the air a fresh feel against their smiling faces. All the while, they snaked through the states, until they finally reached it.

The hills rolled with fields hiding the little town of Whiskire and just beyond the downtown, snuggled in the valley of the hills, laid a small house. It looked insignificant among the massive pastures, but it still over looked the land like a king upon his thrown, surveying the beauty of his land.


The road wound around the house and as the truck pulled up the details of the once-alive home stood out. Time had taken its toll on the cottage. Maurice stepped slowly out and walked slowly up to the faded, picket-fence. Everything here was faded, like a memory. He reached out his hand and rolled his fingers between the spaces of wood, taking some of the paint off with the movement. He turned and looked Edward in a lonely gaze and turned back to stare at the slowly dying house. He unhitched the rusty lock and whispered, “We’re home.”


Teddy walked up to the front door, not even noticing the sadness it held. By nightfall, Edward had set a fire in the fireplace and the lights brightened the long since darkened room. Mr. Maurice sat in his rocking chair that he had brought to the jail. The house’s heart beat again with the voices of the two men, drifting into the night. “It has been a long time since this house has seen guest.” Mr. Maurice said, patting his hands on the dust table.

“I see, but you’re home now, and I am here, too. We will make it beautiful again.”

After the two said good night, Edward laid under hand-sewn quilts that night upon an unfamiliar bed, but though this was the first time he had ever been in this room, it felt more like home than anywhere he had been.


That morning he woke up to the smell of toast and pipe smoke. HE walked out and saw Mr. Maurice munching on a piece of toast. “Hey, Mr. Maurice, did you make me any for me?”

“I will, if you stop calling me Mister. It’s too official.”

“Alright, then, What’s on the agenda for today?”


Maurice bit deep into the layer of jam that rested on the top of a piece of toast. He slid a piece of paper across the table. Edward turned it around so he could read it, but he already knew what it said.


“Do you want to do all of this today?” he asked in awe,
“No, no, just over time. Unless you are planning to go home soon…”
“Actually I wanted to ask you about that. I need a place to stay, you know, help you settle in.”

Maurice spread his arms out and replied in a booming voice, “I offer you my home.” They both laughed and then with a bing! Edward’s blackened toast flew out of the toaster.
Chapter 12- Fixing lives


The rumble of the truck awoke the town from its afternoon sleep. The truck stopped in from of a small shop with a faded sign on the roof reading “John’s General Store”. Maurice got out and yelled to the man sitting on the porch, “Hello, Mickey!”
“Why, if it isn’t Maurice Claude, how are you?” Edward looked at the sign then turned to Maurice, “Who’s John?”

“John? Who are you talking about?”
“John, the guy who owns the general store”, he stated with a face full of confusion.

“Hm….I am not quite sure. Mickey, who was John.?”
“I don’t recall, I think it was the name of the man who stole an apple from a tree in old man Fritter’s yard and got shot for it. Yes, that was it! ‘Cause he made the front page of the newspaper here in town.”


Edward was dumb-founded. He looked between Maurice and the man sitting in the rocking chair before him. He quietly told the two that he would go and a get what they needed, so that Maurice could catch up.


He stepped into onto the creaky wood floors of the store and took in what he saw. The store was small, only with the things you would need on a farm, or what you would need for repairs. The only light came from the front where the windows allowed the hazy afternoon sun to shine through the gritty glass and lay on the dusty floors. The bell on the door still slightly rang as he made his way through to the back. It was quite as he looked down at his list: Hammer, nails, paint, a mirror, eggs, a toothbrush….it went on and on. He stopped in front of the hammers and his eyes glazed over with confusion. There were so many types of hammers! He picked up one and then another to compare them. He picked up another and held all three together. The more he tried to see a difference the more confused he got. Maurice still stood on the porch with Mickey telling some funny story he had heard several times. He tapped his foot in impatient.



“You know the right one is best for interior work.” said a voice right next to him. His heart skipped a beat and he dropped every hammer to the floor, hitting his foot on the way. “Ah!” he exclaimed and bent over, but the voice beside him had the same idea and went for the injury, making them crash heads right into each other. On the floor they both fell, holding their heads. Edward was so furious with who ever it was! What idiot would sneak up on someone in a place like this?! He looked up and looked right into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. The woman had laid her head against the shelf supporting her head that she pushed back with her hand. All of a sudden, the pain was dulled. He only saw her. Every move made her long hair shimmer and every gleam danced off her darkened skin, all stood out among her beauty. In one second, he lost all senses.



“What the heck was that for?!” she yelled. The things she had held in her hands laid splayed on the floor with the hammers. She grabbed for them. Edward saw her need and tried to attend to it. “No, no, I’ve got it.” He said, staggering to stand, but then he went light-headed and lost all strength.


“No, don’t move. Give it a second you will be fine,” She answered calmly placing her head against her Levi-covered knees. She looked up at him and then realized she didn’t know him. “Who are you?”

He smiled and answered, “I’m yours.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. From outside two voices moved into the store. “Myra, what are you-oh, it seems you two have met.”

“Not quite,” she said sarcastically, “He won’t give me his name.”
“Edward.” He answered softly, smiling as he stood.
“I am sorry for startling you. I thought you might have heard me and you looked very confused.”

“I was doing alright, thank you.”
Maurice piped up then, “Ed, don’t be a fool. Myra knows more about tools than you do.” He chuckled at his joke.

She then followed with, “That’s right and I think I deserve an apology.”

Edward picked up everything and then looked at her and asked “How about dinner?”

“Will it be as painful as the introduction?”

“Not unless you try to help me with picking my own fork up.”
“Then okay. Ill go.” She laughed and then turned around from her boss and went back into the store.

As Maurice and Edward left Maurice only stated, “Wow, Eddie, you’ve only been in town for a day and you are already having a date with the most beautiful girl in town!”


He stared at the window of John’s General Store where Myra rang up another customer, laughing at something they said. She looked out at him and smiled then turned back to what she was doing. “I guess I’m just lucky.” he said then smiled at the irony.

An Unexpected Twist

Visiting Myra became a regular thing in Edward’s and Maurice’s schedule. Days past of picnics, movies and repairing, everyday Maurice’s looked more like the home it once did. Now days were just the sun passing over head. The hours were when you were hungry. A smile was a minute. He was surrounded by a new beauty he had never been able to find. He would lay there on the roof under the stars with Myra while the night passed. He worked hard and the land showed it. That was, until that terrifying day came.
Edward had been out in the front yard. He was slowly painting the picket fence, allowing the white paint to slowly glisten wet in the afternoon sun. He was thinking about Myra’s daily visit that evening. The only radio station in town was playing an old tune he was now familiar with when he heard a sudden crash from the kitchen.


“Maurice, will you check what that was?”
Silence.
“Maurice?”

Edward jumped up from his knees, pulling a towel from his shoulder. From the open window, he took in the scene in the kitchen.
“MAURICE!”
He ran in and fell to the floor beside his friend who lay motionless before him. He checked his pulse and still felt the steady beat against his skin.

He called the doctor and brought him in to the local hospital. Edward fretted the entire time. He sat contemplating by Maurice’s bed side, watching the steady beat of the scanner. The doctor came in holding a folder. He broke the news fast and quick. Maurice had cancer of the liver and there was no possible way for him to survive.

Chapter 12- Letting go slowly



A tear formed at the edge. There was nothing left for the hospital to do. Edward helped his weak friend into the truck and off they went to their home. Maurice did not speak for days, only stared out of his bedroom window with a wanting look, wanting something that was not there.


Maurice had been the first father figure in Edward’s life in years and now he was losing him too. No, he thought, Do not think of this as losing. He is going to a better place. He will be happy there.

Days were flying too fast as Maurice some how got sicker and sicker. After only a couple, Maurice was starting to feel the softness of death’s hand upon his tired body.

It was June 14th when Maurice struggled to talk to Edward. He thought of it as a sign he was getting better, but Ed soon realized that the end was coming closer.
Maurice looked older, except in his vivid brown eyes. He was in much pain, but he defied the spasms of pain running through his body and sat up.


“I just needed to tell you the truth before I went. You once asked me if I had a wife and I just wanted you to know that I did. Her name was Grace Eliza Mason.

“She lived down the road from me our entire childhood and I had the biggest crush on her. Soon that crush turned to love. Her father was the town preacher, a very religious man. My father was not and my mother only went to church on Easter and Christmas. When I asked for her hand in marriage, I was twenty-two. He was not going to let me marry her. In fact, he was determined not to let her marry anyone. She would cry and cry on my shoulder when we secretly met, both of us knowing we could not be together until her father was gone. So Grace did the only thing she could for us, pray.

“She prayed and prayed, holing her most precious cross in her delicate
hands. When her father finally passed on, god rest his soul, I did not wait one minute to ask for her hand in marriage. WE got married and found this very house. We were finally blessed with a set of twins, Henry and Danielle. Gracie loved those two more than any mother could, that is why when little Danielle died, she went into a kind of depression. She did not see the reason god took her little girl away so young, she was only six!”


Edward dared to ask the question that was tugging at his mind.
“What…what happened?”
Maurice looked at him with sorrowful eyes, eyes that were filled of grief from years and years of regret. “A creek, we had a creek by our house and she fell. Gracie did not know what to do. She gave up on god. She gave up on life. Danielle was her baby girl.”

He pulled out a cross from his right hand pocket. “This was hers. She does not know I took from the trash can. Soon after Danielle’s death, the Gracie that I had loved had dwindled down to just a living, breathing thing. I took care of her, I tried to bring her back. She died on the most beautiful day I have ever seen. I have only my son now. I took care of him, but soon he left his small town roots for the city, myself included. I think you know the rest from there.

“I am not afraid to die. I have been waiting for this. Grace was able to do it. She was strong, so I can make it through this too. I think that is what I am looking forward to. I will be with her again. I will be with my baby and I will be with my wife.”


He was smiling now, off in another place. Edward had heard a lot that day and he went out onto the porch to think it over.


Two days later, Edward walked into Maurice’s room with his usual piece of tost and tea with their playing cards when Maurice turned his head slowly and looked at him smiling. Ed put down the tray, “Are you hungry?”

“No.”
“Do you want any coffee?”

He still smiled, “No.”
“How about a game of cards?”
“No, not now.”

Edward suddenly realized Maurice’s mind was slowly slipping off into another place. He sat down and grabbed his wrinkled hand.

“Maurice?”
“Edward, I want you to know I have lived a hard life, but a good one. I got everything I needed-”
Edward was starting to get scared, “No, Maurice, hang in there. Please don’t go, please.”
“-I want you to do me a favor,” he placed the cross gently into Ed’s sweaty palm, “hold onto this, do with it as you wish, but please put it somewhere special.”
His breathing became shallow and heavy. Edward’s pulse began to race. He did not know what to do and with one final breath drawn in, Maurice finally let go of his life on Earth.
Chapter 13- Epilogue

Tears filled my eyes as I held his now lifeless hand. I let out a sob and laid my head upon his motionless chest. The moments crept on and still the pulse was gone. I finally sighed and closed Maurice’s eyes for the last time. Teddy was looking at me peacefully from the floor; eyes solemn and head low. There was nothing left for me to do next to the bed so I got up and walked to the telephone in the kitchen. I first called Myra, then my mother and I finally got the courage to call the funeral home.


The service was held in the small cemetery by the Baptist church, even though Maurice was Methodist. He would have laughed at where we had to put him. Not many people came, he didn’t know that many anyway. That day was one of the most beautiful days. You would never think that someone was saying their final goodbyes on that lovely afternoon. The saddest part was his son did not show up. I figured as much from the stories I have heard, but after all Maurice had done for him, he didn’t even have enough respect to honor the one who had given up 8 years of his life for him. My mother came up and is now staying with me. It is nice to have her here. Cooking smells fill this house up all day. She was glad to be out of the city. It never suited her well anyways.


Today a letter came. It was addressed to me, but it had no return address. I turned it over and over and then sliced the edges open to reveal its contents. There was a letter inside and it knocked the breath out of me when I saw who it was from.

Dearest Edward,

By now I am probably gone. I know I am getting sick and I don’t have more than a couple of months and I know how horrible mailing stuff is these days! If I am already gone, could you do me a favor? Could you place a bundle of lilies on Gracie’s grave on September 16th? It would mean a lot to me. As you have heard, my son wants nothing to do with me, so I thought why should I leave him anything? Ha! So I leave you everything. Yes, everything. From my house to that stupid old reclining chair, I give it to you.


Oh, there is also 35,000 dollars in my bank account. That money is for your college. It was for Danielle, but well… Anyways, please don’t be sad. I know I am happy. I am with Grace again! Do not dwell on my death for long friend. I am gone and there ain’t nothing you can do about it! Ha, well, I must be running off. You really helped me out, boy. You are my best friend. Go out there and marry Myra, she’s the one for you, ya know. Ah! Why are you still reading?! Go!

I am not your last and greatest friend. I was only the middle man and it was time for me to be cut out. Live well, Edward. And remember I love you like you are my own son.










Yours Truly,













Maurice Claude
I read it over and over. That was a lot of money. I was finally going to college! Ask Myra for marriage? Would she want it? I would have to ask. I ran in to show my mother the letter, not even taking the other mail.







The morning of the 16th was cool. The leaves were colored and falling with their grand finale twirls. You would not believe how hard it is to find lilies in September, almost impossible! But I still walked through the leaves, holding the yellow flowers in my hands. I decided to walk, it seemed more appropriate for the weather.

The cemetery was silent besides the leaves that were crumpling under my footsteps. I finally stopped in front of an angelic figure. The stone below said:
Grace “Mason” Claude
September 14th, 1933- September 16, 1995
Loving mother and Wife
I knelt down and touched the familiar headstone. I said a prayer and laid the lilies in front of the headstone, the pedals softly brushing her name. I had one more thing to take care before I left.

I scooted over a few feet before I was in front of the headstone next to Grace’s. It was newer and also had an angel resting upon it. It read:

Maurice “Wilmur” Claude
January 11th ,1930- June 16th, 2007
Loving husband, father, and friend

I brushed my hand across the words, pausing a moment on “friend”. I opened my
hand, looking at the cross and chain that had once belong to Grace. It hit the stone with a clink then limply draped itself across the top. “Just like you wanted”, I said aloud.

As I stood up, I heard a sound I have never heard before. It was a choir of long needled pines, whispering a song to the world. I closed my eyes and listened. Their song danced in the air, hugged the clouds, and clothed you with a strange sort of warmth. Then I realized why I felt so wonderful. They were singing about the life and times of Maurice Claude, a story that was truly magical.