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    Jots: Just Our Thoughts
    Jots: Just Our Thoughts
    Jots: Just Our Thoughts
    Ebook142 pages1 hour

    Jots: Just Our Thoughts

    By Beate Korchak

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    About this ebook

    From mystical science fiction to romance and philosophy, the fifteen short stories presented in JOTS: Just Our Thoughts by author Beate Korchak present an eclectic offering.



    In this varied collection, accompanied by illustrations, some of the tales possess emotional power, such as Lady of Stone in which a woman frozen by grief is brought back to life by a little girls tenderness. Others, such as the wrenching family narrative, Survivor: A Glimpse into a Life, presents a portrait of an immigrant who rose above his cruel circumstances. Be Careful What You Wish For delves into the world of science fiction as Catherine, on a whim, seeks the advice of a physic and the answers may not be what she is looking for.



    Drawing from a diverse range of topics and genres, the stories delivered in JOTS explore depression and grief, present family memories, and examine love and morals.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateOct 15, 2012
    ISBN9781475951813
    Jots: Just Our Thoughts
    Author

    Beate Korchak

    Beate Korchak is a court monitor by day and an author by night. She is the author of the novel Itsy Bitsy Spider, and her stories have appeared in the Cup of Comfort series and Community Speaks. Korchak lives with her family in Cambridge, Ontario.

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      Book preview

      Jots - Beate Korchak

      JOTs

      Just Our Thoughts

      Beate Korchak

      iUniverse, Inc.

      Bloomington

      Interior_1%20-%20Cover_20120823080435%20copy.jpg

      JOTs

      Just Our Thoughts

      Copyright © 2012 by Beate Korchak.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

      This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

      iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

      iUniverse

      1663 Liberty Drive

      Bloomington, IN 47403

      www.iuniverse.com

      1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

      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.

      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.

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-5180-6 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-5182-0 (hc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-5181-3 (ebk)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2012917895

      iUniverse rev. date: 10/09/2012

      Illustrations by Chantelle M.

      Contents

      Careful What You Wish For

      Daniel

      Dear Mr. So and So

      Deeper

      I Too Had My Moments in the Sun

      Jequirity

      Lady of Stone

      Mirror Of Truth

      Perception

      Sequins and Lace

      Streak Lightning

      Subject 5987

      Survivor

      Tadpoles

      Toast To A Feathery Friend

      To

      Terry and Whitney, my little family,

      who will always have my love and admiration

      * * *

      To

      Chantelle Mann with my grateful thanks

      for her editing and illustrations

      * * *

      "Dream as if you’ll live forever,

      live as if you’ll die today."

      —James Dean—

      Interior_2%20-%20Careful%20What%20You%20Wish%20For_20120823080641%20copy.jpg

      Careful What You Wish For

      It had been a particularly gruelling day at work, full of tight deadlines, or what in my opinion, were unreasonable demands. I was grateful when it was time to escape. On the drive home, the tires ate up the pavement with a voracious appetite. I knew I had reached my destination when the headlights reflected their twin beams back at me—dancing on the garage door. Home at last! I cut the engine, and with briefcase in hand, made my way up the front steps. I stopped, opened the mailbox with the rooster painted on it, and relieved it of the weight of advertisements and bills. Inside the house, I rifled through the jumble of correspondence; I didn’t find anything of particular interest, that is, until a small white flyer caught my eye.

      It’s human nature to want to know what the future holds. Does it hold romance, wealth, and happiness? Starsha specializes in tarot, crystal ball, talismans, and palm reading. For your personal reading, call Starsha—Gifted Psychic—100% satisfaction guaranteed

      I put the pamphlet on the kitchen counter and set about preparing my solitary supper. I’ll admit my curiosity was piqued. Every now and again, my eyes strayed back to the flyer. It wouldn’t hurt to call I thought. I picked up the flyer, and slipped it into my briefcase. I intended to call Starsha the next day and make an appointment. The following day I dialled the number.

      Starsha here. I help? A voice inquired.

      Yes, it’s about the flyer.

      You want Starsha read for you?

      Yes, yes I do. I want to make an appointment for a tarot card reading.

      You come, when? Starsha asked.

      Would tomorrow at 7:00 be all right?

      I see you 7:00 okay Catherine. The line went dead. I sat there in shock, for I was positive I hadn’t given her my name.

      The next day I arrived at Starsha’s at 6:45 because I’m always punctual. The psychic ran her business in a strip mall. Her unit wedged between Kurt’s Bakery and Suds Laundromat. A sign in the window flashed, Psychic Open, in gaudy neon pink. Other psychic paraphernalia adorned the window; amulets, dream catchers, mysterious bottles containing crystals, hours of operation and services offered. I’d never seen a gifted person advertise this blatantly; usually psychics live behind a curtain of anonymity. Now, even though I was filled with scepticism, I entered despite my misgivings. A tiny bell announced my arrival. I found myself in an area that reminded me of a waiting room in a doctor’s office. I stood there unsure where to go, when a woman materialized from a shadowy doorway. She looked me over with care. She approached and my eyes widened in fear. She asked, You Catherine? I be Starsha.

      Starsha was an old lady with a bent body. She wore a black raggedy skirt that reached down to her bony knees. Tucked into the waistband of the skirt was an off-white blouse that boasted numerous stains. The blouse had a missing button that exposed her sagging bosom. Each time she moved, the material at her bosom opened—a fish gulping for air. Her face was a roadmap of wrinkles, and when she smiled I saw she had only a single upper tooth. She was definitely creeping me out. I took a step back.

      I think I’ve made a mistake. I managed to squeak out as I took another step.

      Did you? She challenged as she closed the distance between us entirely. Starsha was now right in my face. I towered over the small, wizened woman. She looked up at me; I looked down, and found myself gazing into dark brown eyes that convinced me of her abilities. Her eyes held secrets of her craft, and answers to my unasked questions.

      How do you know who I am, or why I came? I whispered.

      She didn’t answer. Instead, she grasped my elbow in a surprisingly strong hold. We go now.

      Her accent was definitely European. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact origin. It sounded Hungarian, Romanian, or something of that sort. We entered a long, narrow room with ebony walls liberally painted with stars, and a fair rendition of the solar system. From the ceiling hung dream catchers of every imaginable size and colour. One wall housed shelves that contained different sized bottles filled with crystals and powders. For all I knew, perhaps eye of newt or lizard’s tongue. A wicker basket exposed its wares of silver chains and amulets were pushed into the corner underneath the shelves.

      Oh my! You certainly have the set up here.

      It’s where I do ‘the work’. She made her way to a large table covered with a constellation tablecloth of black velvet. The table held a huge crystal ball, tarot cards, and another basket; this one containing little smooth stones. Starsha sat, I followed suit. The old psychic said matter-of-factly, you here bout man and pushed a pad of paper and a pencil toward me. Write man’s name. She held up three fingers. Write ‘tree’ tings you like bout man. She pointed a bony finger at me. Make like dis. She ripped off a sheet, folded it numerous times and threw the tiny pieces into a bowl. Now you do."

      I did as instructed, and wrote down the man’s name and how I’m attracted to his sense of humour, kindness, and good looks. I folded the paper and put it in the bowl. She smiled her almost toothless grin, and reached into the pocket of the shabby skirt, drew out a packet of matches, struck one, and threw the matchstick into the black bowl.

      What are you doing? I exclaimed.

      You see. The paper burned quickly, leaving my secret desires in ashes. Next, she produced a small spoon and a black amulet from the same pocket. She opened it, revealing that it was actually a box. She scooped up the paper ashes with the tiny spoon, and poured them into the amulet.

      What now? I questioned truly perplexed. She didn’t answer right away but threaded the amulet onto a silver chain. She did up the clasp and slipped the chain over her head. She flicked her long grey hair over her left shoulder and placed a gnarled hand over the amulet.

      I take charm, go church, and do ‘the work’ for you. You go home now.

      That’s it! No reading, no nothing? How do you know what I wrote? I challenged, suspicion colouring every word.

      Spirits guide. Pay Starsha $40. I go church. After pray, I read. Again, she held up three fingers. Catherine, ‘tree’ days come here.

      When I come back I’ll get my reading, right?

      You come, I read. Starsha promised. I gave her the $40.

      Three days later, I was back at 6:45. Again, the tinkling bell announced my arrival. Starsha appeared dressed in the same shabby skirt and stained blouse; the only variation, knee socks making the outfit look even more ridiculous.

      Catherine, spirits do ‘the work’ for you.

      Really, what did they say? I asked, intrigued despite myself.

      They say man like you back. She took my arm and propelled me toward the reading room. I sat down. Starsha remained standing. She removed the amulet from her neck and held it out to me. You wear. Keep secret, yes.

      I took the amulet from her. I slipped the chain over my head, and tucked it into my sweater. I was surprised at its weight and felt powerful owning something with magical properties. Starsha placed a hand on top of my head. She tilted her head to one side, and closed her eyes—her body gave a hard shudder. Her free hand found the back of my chair. She gripped it with such strength that her knuckles turned white. Small beads of sweat formed on her brow, and her blouse bled dark with sweat.

      "I no read.

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