Simple Things by Press Lycan Valley & Catrin Sian Rutland

Author:Press, Lycan Valley & Catrin Sian Rutland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lycan Valley Press
Published: 2017-05-26T04:00:00+00:00

That silver egg-shaped item you’re holding is an incense burner, complete with a few cones of incense. I believe it originated in the Orient given the intricate markings along the side. Well, at least it came from an Asian fellow running a thrift shop.

Award-winning filmmaker—and the world's first blind movie director—Joseph M. Monks thought we might be able to find it a new home. He lives in Southwest Florida and can be found online at joemonks.com.

ASHES

Joseph M. Monks

THE box was spectacular. Dusty, true. But that hadn't prevented it from catching his eye. Roughly eight inches long and nearly as wide, its lid was engraved with so many intricate motifs he had a hard time looking away. Mahogany, he suspected, or perhaps a black cherry. Shame, he thought, passing it by. No place for something like that anymore. Not where he was living. The realization caught him off guard. Left him feeling a little somber.

The brass capsule beside it, however, now that held promise. It sat on a fist-sized velvet pouch, the price tag tied to its fluted tip. For the life of him—which wasn't a whole lot these days—Walt couldn't figure out what the damned thing was. About the size of an egg, it had a flat base, supported by three tiny legs. The domed top started out round, but the smelter had twisted it so that it narrowed into a hollow point. Intricate symbols ringed the dome, ornate and beautiful despite their coarse nature. Walt couldn't help himself. He moved to pick it up.

The dome toppled, striking the shelf with a tiny clatter. Walt jumped, but quickly regained control. Before he could put things back the way they'd been, he noticed a grey residue on his palm.

Incense burner, he realized, his good mood returning. A faint scent lingered in the ash, woody and pungent. Not unpleasant, though. Far from it, in fact. Walt pursed his lips.

"Hey, slugger. Find something?"

Lana stood beside him, beaming. Walt grinned back, enjoying the moment. God, but Lana was something else. Twenty-five, with plenty of everything in all the right places. And that smile… The kind of smile that could get an old man thinking about things he hadn't thought about in years. Sometimes, he went to bed thinking: If you weren't a third my age…

A third? Not even, he remembered, turning back to the shelf. Lana wasn't into sports, but he didn't mind the moniker. For a time during the '60s, he'd made his living in the ring. Eight fights, all told, with a six-and-two record to show for it. A win or two from cracking the top twenty, his manager believed. Maybe a title shot, too, in the not-too-distant future. Promising career, had it not been for Emily. The young lady with whom he'd become infatuated didn't fancy the idea of marrying a boxer. For his part, Walter didn't find living a life without her worth pursuing. So, he'd made a compromise. One of many, he reflected. But then, you didn't make it this far without cutting a deal or two.

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