Showing posts with label Cathy Burton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cathy Burton. Show all posts
Thomas Divide Lights
By Cathy Burton
She pulled off the Blue Ridge Parkway onto the outlook for the Thomas Divide. No one else was there. Cars come and go, but none stayed as she watched the sun setting in brilliant reds and oranges behind the ridge of mountains. Birds chirp to each other as if calling all to bed in the nest hidden in an oak growing out of the sharp decline of mountain. The birdsongs stop when all are safely in the nest.
Rays of sunlight punch through the clouds to valleys and treetops as a mist rises briefly. The dark takes over with the sun's last rays of color. Just the outline of the oak is visible.
A thunderous engine of a pick-up approaches without headlights and parks next to her. Tinted windows hide the occupants, but she notices the plates are local. The pick-up engine is suddenly still as she climbs back into her car. Waiting to see if the truck's occupants will emerge, she starts her engine and locks the doors. She is determined to see the lights that appear on the Divide that
no scientist has yet to explain. Fear of unknown strangers will not deter her. Soon the other engine starts and leaves going back down the mountain with no headlights to distract the view.
The stars shine brilliantly, silently. Light pollution blocks her view of them at home making this a memorable night. Alone, she admires the stars she has not seen in years. A solitary cricket is there somewhere in the dark of the forest singing to itself. The full moon rises casting her shadow on the pavement as she stands next to her car. On this autumn night, a spotlight in the heavens shines on and reflects off the colored trees.
The cricket is suddenly silent. The wind has stopped its movement. Through the thickness of stillness around her, no sounds are heard. A light on the distant Divide glitters and fades. Then another appears, but dances on the mountain ridge before fading. Soon more appear, dance and fade throughout the ridge.
The wind stirs the dried leaves. A bird sings one short note before there is a crash in the forest behind her. The lights on the ridge disappear. There is only the moon casting shadows on the pavement as she reaches the car door.
- - -
Cathy Burton is an RN whose recent writing has been mostly medical in a non-fiction world.
By Cathy Burton
She pulled off the Blue Ridge Parkway onto the outlook for the Thomas Divide. No one else was there. Cars come and go, but none stayed as she watched the sun setting in brilliant reds and oranges behind the ridge of mountains. Birds chirp to each other as if calling all to bed in the nest hidden in an oak growing out of the sharp decline of mountain. The birdsongs stop when all are safely in the nest.
Rays of sunlight punch through the clouds to valleys and treetops as a mist rises briefly. The dark takes over with the sun's last rays of color. Just the outline of the oak is visible.
A thunderous engine of a pick-up approaches without headlights and parks next to her. Tinted windows hide the occupants, but she notices the plates are local. The pick-up engine is suddenly still as she climbs back into her car. Waiting to see if the truck's occupants will emerge, she starts her engine and locks the doors. She is determined to see the lights that appear on the Divide that
no scientist has yet to explain. Fear of unknown strangers will not deter her. Soon the other engine starts and leaves going back down the mountain with no headlights to distract the view.
The stars shine brilliantly, silently. Light pollution blocks her view of them at home making this a memorable night. Alone, she admires the stars she has not seen in years. A solitary cricket is there somewhere in the dark of the forest singing to itself. The full moon rises casting her shadow on the pavement as she stands next to her car. On this autumn night, a spotlight in the heavens shines on and reflects off the colored trees.
The cricket is suddenly silent. The wind has stopped its movement. Through the thickness of stillness around her, no sounds are heard. A light on the distant Divide glitters and fades. Then another appears, but dances on the mountain ridge before fading. Soon more appear, dance and fade throughout the ridge.
The wind stirs the dried leaves. A bird sings one short note before there is a crash in the forest behind her. The lights on the ridge disappear. There is only the moon casting shadows on the pavement as she reaches the car door.
- - -
Cathy Burton is an RN whose recent writing has been mostly medical in a non-fiction world.
Family Fears
By Cathy Burton
The black and white television was flickering across the room where husband and wife sat close together on the couch.
With a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, she looked at her glass and said, "Leonard, the doctor told you today you have to stop smoking or you won't be able to breathe one day. The emphysema is killing you. He said you only have a year to live. Less if you don't quit." Her voice strained, fighting back the tears. "I don't want to lose you, not in a year, not ever. How would the kids and I manage without you?" She took another drag of her cigarette and then a swallow of her gin and tonic.
"Nathalie, I know what he said. I was there remember? I've been smoking just about my whole life. So have you." He compressed the cigarette in the ashtray beside him and picked up his beer. "Do you realize how hard it would be for me to stop when you smoke and everyone at the paper smokes? It's impossible to stop right this second, so just let it alone before this gets out of hand and you wake-up Lois. I feel fine." He lit another cigarette trying to keep a steady hand.
They sat in silence, as the television seemed to shout, "One of these days, Alice. One of these days..." and audience laughter rang out.
The front door opened and closed softly. Richard wanted to get to his room without being noticed. A cigarette was dangling from his mouth as he locked the door behind him. He put his keys on the table by the door and hung his fedora on the hat stand.
"How was your date tonight?" his mother asked cheerfully and hoping for some good news. She saw him looking at rings earlier in the day through the jeweler's window. They liked the girl he was seeing. He was in love but his face appeared worried.
His parents never went to bed until everyone in the family was home safely. His little sister was already be asleep. He had been hoping that getting home late would at least find his father in bed. He had to be at the paper at 5am and should have been in bed hours ago. The dark circles under his father's eyes made his face drawn and old.
"We went to the ice cream parlor over on Irving Park. I'm tired. Good night." He tried to smile as he crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray next to the keys. His hands trembled as he started for his room.
"Just one minute, young man." His father's raspy voice halted him in mid stride. "Come here and sit down."
He sat in the chair facing his parents with his back to the laughter coming from the new box.
"You came home late and I want to know why. You could have called us if you were going to be late. I know for a fact there is a payphone there and a few more on your way home. As long as you still live under my roof, you will obey the rules of this house. What do you have to say for yourself?" Both men lit another cigarette.
"What's wrong?" his mother asked when neither men spoke. "Did she break up with you?"
"I'm going to be a father."
Leonard smoked his last cigarette that night.
- - -
Cathy Burton is an RN whose recent writing has been mostly medical in a non-fiction world.
By Cathy Burton
The black and white television was flickering across the room where husband and wife sat close together on the couch.
With a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, she looked at her glass and said, "Leonard, the doctor told you today you have to stop smoking or you won't be able to breathe one day. The emphysema is killing you. He said you only have a year to live. Less if you don't quit." Her voice strained, fighting back the tears. "I don't want to lose you, not in a year, not ever. How would the kids and I manage without you?" She took another drag of her cigarette and then a swallow of her gin and tonic.
"Nathalie, I know what he said. I was there remember? I've been smoking just about my whole life. So have you." He compressed the cigarette in the ashtray beside him and picked up his beer. "Do you realize how hard it would be for me to stop when you smoke and everyone at the paper smokes? It's impossible to stop right this second, so just let it alone before this gets out of hand and you wake-up Lois. I feel fine." He lit another cigarette trying to keep a steady hand.
They sat in silence, as the television seemed to shout, "One of these days, Alice. One of these days..." and audience laughter rang out.
The front door opened and closed softly. Richard wanted to get to his room without being noticed. A cigarette was dangling from his mouth as he locked the door behind him. He put his keys on the table by the door and hung his fedora on the hat stand.
"How was your date tonight?" his mother asked cheerfully and hoping for some good news. She saw him looking at rings earlier in the day through the jeweler's window. They liked the girl he was seeing. He was in love but his face appeared worried.
His parents never went to bed until everyone in the family was home safely. His little sister was already be asleep. He had been hoping that getting home late would at least find his father in bed. He had to be at the paper at 5am and should have been in bed hours ago. The dark circles under his father's eyes made his face drawn and old.
"We went to the ice cream parlor over on Irving Park. I'm tired. Good night." He tried to smile as he crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray next to the keys. His hands trembled as he started for his room.
"Just one minute, young man." His father's raspy voice halted him in mid stride. "Come here and sit down."
He sat in the chair facing his parents with his back to the laughter coming from the new box.
"You came home late and I want to know why. You could have called us if you were going to be late. I know for a fact there is a payphone there and a few more on your way home. As long as you still live under my roof, you will obey the rules of this house. What do you have to say for yourself?" Both men lit another cigarette.
"What's wrong?" his mother asked when neither men spoke. "Did she break up with you?"
"I'm going to be a father."
Leonard smoked his last cigarette that night.
- - -
Cathy Burton is an RN whose recent writing has been mostly medical in a non-fiction world.
