Markwildyr.com,Post #250

 

Image Courtesyof Masterfile (Royalty-Free Div)

 

First, I have toapologize for being late with this post. I missed my 5:00 a.m. posting time by severalhours. That hasn’t happened often in my ten years or so of hosting this site. Noexcuse… just an apology.

Hope you enjoyed last post’s DilFarmer and Thew Miller, a little piece of flash fiction.

This week, we’ll try a little flashfiction. Enjoy.

 

* * * *

            SHAMUS LAZRUS SHUTTLEFORD

Shamus Lazrus Shuttleford wasa dignified man. Not much else was notable about him, but he was proud andprotective of his propriety, including the lettering of his middle name, whichsome considered as misspelled out of ignorance. Shamas was not what many wouldcount as successful, although he would dispute that. He owned his home andautomobile, had few debts, and had cared adequately for his children until theygrew up and grew away. They were still respectful and kept in touchappropriately on holidays and birthdays and the like, but they certainlycouldn’t be called clingy offspring.

He'd been close to his wifebefore she passed a year ago in her sleep—hopefully without pain. They’d beenclose but not demonstrative as some of the other couples they knew. When Violetleft, he had some difficulty coping, but eventually found his way again.

But the world was changing,and very frankly, threatened to leave him behind. He’d managed to bridge thegap between pen and paper to the typewriter, and finally to those electronicmonsters they called computers. In fact, he was adept at typing on the beasts,finding them infinitely easier to correct errors than either pen or typewriter.That was the only thing he liked about the forced conversion.

But of more concern was thedeportment of others these days. Especially, the young ones, and especiallyabout… well, sex, to be frank. That was a subject that did not claim a greatdeal of his attention, but increasingly he found himself facing the subjectwhichever way he turned and wherever he went… even in the grocery store, forcrying out loud. They had those magazines in racks right by the cashiers—wherethey couldn’t be avoided—literally screaming that short, pungent word.

Shamus believed, all thingsconsidered, he had adjusted to the new “normal,” until yesterday. What he sawout his kitchen window sent him bustling for the telephone to call his next-doorneighbor until he decided what he’d witnessed was none of his business.

He’d known for years theneighbor kids thought there was a completely private nook in their back yard.They’d gotten into mischief since they were toddlers in that private cornerscreened from their parents’ prying eyes. But Shamus could see into that bower,although it probably appeared his lattice of Violet’s climbing roses obscured theview. No such thing. He saw the spot clearly. And what he saw yesterday rockedhis world.

The older three Gideonchildren were away at school or at a job in some remote place, but Timothy wasstill in residence. He was a strapping, good-looking lad with honey hair likehis mother and a firm jaw like his father. Always cheerful. Forever playingsports… first this one and then that one. Respectful as all get out. Andhelpful too. Always offering to help when Shamus was in the yard tending tochores. Downright likeable.

But what he’d seen yesterdayafternoon after school shook Shamus’ faith in his judgment of others. He had toswipe his eyes and look again to believe what he was seeing.

Timothy was spread out on amakeshift pallet of some sort in the corner of the yard, his pants bunched athis ankles, and someone’s head was bobbing up and down in his middle. Shamusgasped aloud and reached for the kitchen wall telephone when he finally madehimself believe that other head—the one working so hard—actually belonged toanother boy. He couldn’t believe it. Timothy was allowing himself to be abusedby a boy.

Shamus couldn’t believe thathe actually stood there gaping, the phone in his hand, for several minutesbefore he came to his senses and slammed the blind on the window closed. Thenhe made the conscious decision that what he’d observed was none of his affairand hung up the telephone. But the image wasn’t that easy to forget, and hefound it disturbing his sleep that evening. Usually, he dropped off when hewent to bed, but the night after he’d witnessed that disgusting scene, he’d witnessed.He had trouble reconciling it with the pleasant youngster he’d known for years.But he finally managed to clear his mind and fall asleep after deciding he’dbrace young Timothy and admonish the lad for his lapse in proper behavior.

 

*.*.*.*.

Sometimeskitchen windows see things that ought not be seen. But see, Shamus did. Does heowe Timothy’s parents a call, or is he decision the proper one?

 

We’ll see next time,and I’ll try to be prompt.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.