1. Demons! & Angels!
“As
the mean-ole dragon lunged its fiery head toward the knight…” droned the man in
a hushed-whisper to emphasize the terror of the tale, all the while suppressing
a clandestine smile at his young ward’s furrowed brow showing a concern-of-fear.
He continued the narrative.
“…Sir
Galahad loosed his long sword from its sheath at his side, the honed blade
shining brightly-red from the fire of the beast. In a freighting roar from the
dragon as it increased the length and ferocity of the flame, the brave knight stepped
toward the threatening beast. Dodging to his left to avoid the fiery-flame, the
knight feinted a retreat, then struck swiftly with his trusty sword, slaying
the evil dragon.” Gramps smiled. “And, the people lived happily…ever after!”
The
conclusion delighted the child; she clapped her hands and cheered.
Now
six, the girl would begin her formal schooling in the fall, only seven months
away.
“Oh!
Gramps! You tell the very best stories.” Gramps beamed. Chelsea had heard the
tale, in one version or another, myriad times previously. It didn’t matter;
each delighted in the telling.
Waiting
for her enthusiasm to abate, even if only a little, Gramps paused. In the play
of their “little-game”, Chelsea knew the man had some “serious” thought about
the tale to impart.
As
Chelsea’s blue eyes widened and she focused attention on her Gramps in
anticipation of the “moral” of the story, he said, “Revelation foretells: In
the end---the ‘good’-guys…Win!”
She
nodded to affirm “understanding” of his wisdom, as much as a 6-year old might
muster.
As
the old man had spun the tale to his granddaughter, little-Chelsea, his
attentive eyes had witnessed a young man approach a lady on a bench across the
narrow walkway from his own seat. To the observer, it was obvious that the man
verbally intimidated the elderly lady to give him some money; too far to be
definitely determined, it appeared to be a five dollar bill.
The
frail woman seemed terrified of the hoodlum; he had not touched her person; he
did not have to do so. Gramps noticed a “glint” of metal as the thug pulled his
hand part way out of the right hand pocket of the heavy black leather jacket.
The old man surmised what the object was.
Gramps
watched as the thief stuffed the cash the elderly woman had given him with a
shaky hand into his left black leather jacket pocket. Then, the “bum” eyed the
old man on the far bench with a little girl; he smiled showing rotted teeth; he
turned abruptly from the woman.
Gramps
stood up, pulled Chelsea off the bench to her feet, smiled at the child and
told her to go to the swings where Miss Kathy and Miss Mary Ellen were standing
near-by with Nanny-Jodi as the three conversed while attending their own wards.
Gramps had befriended the ladies in the months prior when his daughter had
moved in with him after her divorce. Gramps had become little Chelsea’s “Nanny” and fit right in with the other
custodians at the park. While his daughter worked at a stock brokerage, he
became “Mr. Mom” running the household and babysitting.
Mary
Ellen saw Chelsea coming to the swings; catching Gramps’ eye, she nodded and
smiled letting her friend know that she would tend the young girl and see to it
that she was safe.
Realizing
that his ward was now in good hands, he turned to face his coming tormentor.
Gramps
gauged the man to be around twenty, or so. He wore the “necessary” black
leather jacket, greasy and filthy, as was the man’s once-white tee shirt. The
denim jeans were old, ragged, torn and greasy as the stringy black hair
escaping the wool cap. Gramps stared, alert.
“Old
man,” came a guttural growl, “I need five bucks. Comply---we all go home
…safe.”
As
the hoodlum spoke, he eased his right hand from the jacket pocket just enough
to show brass-knuckles on his fist; he smiled showing the blackened , rotted
teeth. Gramps took notice of the weapon he had identified when the creep had
accosted the elderly lady on the bench.
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