Passages: Stories and a Baker's Dozen Poems
By Doug Hodges
()
About this ebook
These stories are shared with me by the Spirits to be, in turn, shared with any and all. Other than being short stories, they have no framework, no rack upon which to hang a hat. They are inter-dimensional, timeless, real and unreal. They cross the boundaries of myth, religion, history, and space.
Some may seem simplistic, others convoluted; all are recorded as given to me. All are for the readers entertainment. If more is gained and judging by many responses, this is the case then, I feel, that is why they were given to me and why said reader is reading them. I think, and I hope others agree, that they can be very funny.
Again, as in the previous volumes, Raven and Coyote, more often than not, take the lead; however, there are some others, herein, lending their voice.
In the back of the book, a bakers dozen poems appear. I usually shy from mixing prose and poetry yet I noticed a number of the stores dealt with music and, in any event, I was led to include the poems.
As in my previous books, save the first one, I have tried to illustrate the way with, what I think are, pertinent images.
The world of these tales is miraculous, mysterious, wonderful, surprising, shocking, and some times confusing. It is a world that I have grown fond of and forget it may seem strange to the new reader. I suggest one just jumps in. All the stores from all the volumes stand on their own. If the reader enjoys this particular book, I recommend the others.
Within, there is a story, a word, an image for everyone.
Doug Hodges
I have been writing since I was old enough to hold a pencil, with my first poem written in the fifth grade. This led to a career in Colorado newspapers, which lasted more than twenty years, though in a variety of capacities. I once wrote an historical column, titled The Trail’s End. This tied my love of words in with my love of history, a deep-seated yearning flowing throughout my life. A need to blend the humanity and emotion of raw life with the cold stone of fact, the idealism of win and loss with the blood and bone reality of violence being a lose-lose proposition, trying to find that spiritual truth among the physical fact. In 2014, a good friend invited me to share a trip to Gettysburg, which reawakened a long-dormant civil war seed. From this journey came our collaborated book, Bob’s Gettysburg Saga & Poetry. Upon its successful publication, we decided that Bob should visit other historical sites and chose the Alamo for his next venture. Unfortunately, my friend was not able to participate in this endeavor. So I continued, trusting that the spirit of Bob’s creator would find its way between the lines. Following Bob’s section are a couple of obituaries I penned some time ago. Completing the volume are a couple of Western tales. I hope the reader may enjoy this collection of historical reminiscence as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now, on the backside of sixty, I reside in the Rio Grande Valley with my wife, who is also my personal editorial department (all errors are still mine, she will be quick to note), three dogs, and a parrot. My wife taught high school English and communication (speech) for over thirty years. When not writing or visiting family, we like to sit around and discuss words and language.
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Passages - Doug Hodges
© 2012 Doug Hodges. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse
ISBN: 978-1-4685-4618-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4685-4620-0 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012901297
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Thanksgiving
St. Stephen’s Miracle
A Coyote Christmas
Temptations Abound
Coyote and the Singing Angel
A Day On The Range
The Road to Apex
A Week In Denver
The Twelfth of Never
Children of Age
The Thing In The Desert
Hermann,
the Little Blue Dragon
Interludes:
Poems: A Baker’s Dozen
The Afterword
‘Tis the good reader that makes the good book;
…in every book he finds passages which seem
confidences or asides hidden from all else and
unmistakably meant for his ear.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Works and Days
All thanks to the Great Spirit for allowing me to participate in the first place -
Thanks be to all the Spirits who have blessed me, guided me, shared with me, allowed me to be a part of their existence -
Thanks be to a lifetime of folk who have woven their lives into
my own -
A special tip of the hat to my wife, Linda -
mate, partner, fellow traveler, proofreader, and soundboard.
A very warm welcome to one and all!
If you are continuing along with me on this spiritual journey of myth, mirth
genre-slipping, reality-leaping,
sense-wandering amazement,
tighten your cinch and
saddle up, partners!
If you are newly joining me
on this path,
I am honored to share with you my seventh literary sojourn.
On behalf of Raven, Coyote, & all the others, I humbly and sincerely wish you happy journeying.
for Linda
- to all those who would share
my ripples across this great
endless pond of ours and allow me
to share their’s in return
raven.jpgRaven
Thanksgiving
i
Coyote and Raven sat next to each other, Coyote in the tall grass beneath the old weathered two-rail fence, scratching himself; Raven perched upon one leaning post, preening and generally taking in the morning. They were somewhere in the world; where didn’t matter, for the world was theirs.
The morning had dawned as gorgeous as ever; the two had sung the day in with blessings and prayers.
Coyote was always grateful for whatever gifts the Great Spirit may have bestowed upon him, whatever paths, challenges, happenstances… all were true blessings. Yet, quite often he wasn’t sure of how to take these things, how to react, what to say or do… so, he tried not to think about things at all and merely live them.
Raven, on the other hand, immediately recognized such blessings and opportunities. He, too, was constantly grateful and ever-ready to arise to any and all occasions. He never once questioned reason nor doubted his ability. Raven thought and planned and remembered. Every thing that he observed and lived was crafted into a great tapestry of life.
Of course, Coyote wove a similar tapestry. He just never looked at it and definitely had no conscious effort in its creation.
Raven,
began Coyote, what shall I do today?
Do nothing!
replied Raven with a cocked eye. The same as everyday.
That’s not true.
said Coyote, with a small frown.
He continued, I want to do something special, today. I feel so thankful that I want to pass it on, you know.
I do not know!
said Raven, who in actuality did know and was feeling the very same way. He just refused to agree with Coyote on general principles and, besides, Coyote’s plans always seemed over-complicated and doomed to… if not failure, some exasperating detours, before any end was achieved.
What say… we save some town from destruction… earthquake, volcano, tsunami, blizzard, mudslide, fire… something like that?
Coyote looked expectantly up at Raven.
What say, in a word, NO!
The last word Raven spoke in a quiet but very positive manner. That would be treading in waters not of our purview, and you know it.
Raven went on, Such powers are only given us through the Great Spirit and in their own time.
Raven sighed and thought, started to scratch one wing with a foot when he realized it made him look too much like Coyote and stopped. We could find the band…
he started, maybe, give an impromptu concert…
Coyote responded, If we have to organize it, it wouldn’t be impromptu.
Fine!
said Raven, peevishly. Just trying to help.
ii
All at once, a great wind came up, the sky darkened and rain began to fall in sheets. Raven muttered, I can not fly in this!
Coyote shouted, Climb aboard. I know where there’s a cave.
The two were off, moving through the waves of rain, Coyote trying to use what trees and rocks he passed as shields, Raven clinging for dear life between Coyote’s shoulder blades.
They came to a shallow draw, normally dry, now with the bottom foot of its seven foot depth running with churning, muddy, water. Coyote slowed and moved along the edge.
Here,
he said, just over the side. There should be a rock ledge and a small cave going back about six feet.
Raven peered over the ledge. If you say so.
And, over he went, Coyote following.
The two gazed out the opening at the wet world. Rain still swept in sheets. The water below flowed higher and seemingly faster.
Raven asked,
Do you think the water will reach this high?"
I don’t think so…
replied Coyote, it never has before, that I know of.
With that, the two backed off into the cave. The ceiling was low but not uncomfortable for these two; it smelled musty, maybe like an animal… then, again, a wet coyote smells pretty strong, as Raven was quick to point out as he shook out his feathers.
Coyote circled around a couple of times, curled up and said, At least it’s dry. I’m going to sleep.
We might as well,
agreed Raven, who then snuggled next to Coyote and closed his eyes.
When Coyote awoke, he unwound himself from Raven and seeing bright sunlight outside, he walked to the cave’s entrance.
I wouldn’t go too close to the ledge, if I were you,
came mumbled from behind.
I didn’t know you were awake.
Coyote said.
I am not. At least, I am not sure… take a look for yourself.
Raven stated cryptically.
Coyote looked.
The world lay below him, thousands of feet below him. And, he could see for hundreds of miles. It was some sort of incredible mountain wasteland.
Coyote craned his head and looked above. They were still just below the lip; yet, the soil was no longer grass and dirt but solid rock.
The wind careened and whistled and Coyote took a step back into the cave so as not to be sucked away.
I don’t think we’re in Kansas, anymore,
he said.
We never were in Kansas,
replied Raven who had walked to Coyote’s side, but, I know what you mean.
What just happened? And, how?
Coyote asked.
I do not know,
said