[By the Railings] By the railing; yes, he stands there the ole man, just stands—for the moment, yes, by the railings, overlooking the Mississippi, the levee, feeling the torrential rain on his back. Says the old man, “Incredible”; he was desperately looking about, as he chattered to himself, and he said that. Cars flush with the waters; people’s waist, deep with water. “Yes,” he murmured, “ah…” (perhaps meaning ‘alias’) indeed, for the earth was surrendering to the sky. He only made sounds, never finishing a sentence, or even a line of words…perhaps—yes, perhaps it was not to be finished right now, he was not moving you know, or did he intend to escape anything, he was staying…looking over the rail, upon the levee, below the cliff, conceivably twenty feet below, or perchance, more like thirty feet: it could be. The winds were pussy, he stumbles a bit trying to hold his vision, focus, close to 60 ones eyes do not have the flexibility, the stamina, the potency to act so quickly as it did in his youth, it takes a moment to focus, time to allow the eye to digest, and then the mind to separated fact from fiction; was he seeing what he was seeing?

The levee contained sandboils [places where water assorted with sand comes up from side to side—the landward face of the levee; thus, forced up by the strain, or stress of the water contained in the levee]. It all looked like a basin now—a sunken swamp, just collecting more water as the rain poured down and the ground spit it up, spit up its watery guts. The sky, ostensibly looking like a canopy, punctured like a balloon, its drainage was toppling down upon the levee, it was day to dark; fangs dug into the clouds continued to rip at the clouds, ripping them open, their guts vomited out; unbearable for those on the levee. There was some deer in the river trying to cross it, and then they vanished. It took anesthetized nerves to bear this phenomenon, this flood of floods, storm of storms.

[Cliff steps] He gazes at the storm—it could be his doom, or hers, or both of theirs. He has measures his alertness, knows he is fallible, and his judgment against natural forces, he castoffs the fact he is just simply mortal clay to the storm—nothing more; he has weighted the event against the eventuality; the circumstance, and his ability. He is in a crucial position now—ebbing down to the levee. A solitary man, his judgment forewarned; he knows the enemy will refuse neutrality; he ebbs nevertheless, perilously, down the cliff steps to the levee.

A Child’s Voice

[poem]

You can hear the sounds
Of a loved one’s voice
A child’s voice, gradually

Breaking
...The safety
Of the child … There is no rest
Beneath one’s feet on this world
(visible or invisible)
As the earth tries to settle this dispute
No rest at all for man or ghost until the child says:
‘All is well.’

11/10/03—revised 8/24/05

Notes: Introductory Chapter to the story, original name, “Look at Me!” This chapter written 8/20/2005 (subtitle: ‘By the railing,’ 2/20/2005 ((and ‘Cliff Steps,’ 8/23/2005)) original story written earlier, see notes on the story in back section of the book. Original MS, 11/10/2003. Name of book is still in question. Book will be put together in 2006 for publication.

You can see most of Dennis' books at http://www.bn.com

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