The Night Visitor


Every night, after the late church-goers had gone and all was silent, he came. Too embarrassed by his soiled and stained clothing, lice infested hair, and infected sores to come when it was light. He would stand by the candles and read names scratched on scraps of paper, napkins, or the occasional match book.

Father Labre watched this man with a breaking heart every night, but said nothing to him. They would exchange nods and Father Labre would smile warmly. He understood. This man sought no help or mercy for his position. He was there by his own action. The decisions he made, drove him to the streets many years earlier and there he stayed.

One night, the man did not show up to the church. Father Labre stepped out on the steps and looked into the night sky and smiled. He returned inside and crossed over the the candles where he lit one for his nighttime visitor.


Personal Black Hole

Everyone has a personal black hole. You know the one. Sometimes its a pen or pencil, or a sock or forgotten birthday card. If personal black holes were the same, that would be so much easier. I could live with a missing pen or pencil, after all that’s probably why they come in packs of ten or twelve. Collect enough odd socks and eventually you have a pair. I just wish my personal black hole would stop spitting dirty dishes into my sink! They’re not even mine. So, if you are missing any dirty dishes, please come pick them up.

Like The Tide

What I thought I once had is now long forgotten. Like the rise and fall of the tide, each dawn renews. A new chance to laugh; a new chance to play. A new chance to love; a new chance to lose. That is the way it must be. Happiness and joy replaced by longing and regret. Yet, no tears are shed. Why should there be? What was once taken, shall be returned. Oh, it may be a day, a week, a year, or perhaps a whole lifetime, but the gift of first received is never forgotten by the unwavering soul.

Page 97, Line 4

I have been racking my brain for the past three days trying to figure out what post theme I’ve been missing and it was this one. These are fun! Go to page 97 of a book – any book – and use line 4 as a prompt for a post. It must use the line as it is written, but see where that line takes you, then share it with the world 🙂

“…the feeling of falling. Of being so far up you felt protective of the …” (Riders by Veronica Rossi)

Gerard loved his job as a Hollywood stuntman. The lights, the camera, the action, the thought that any moment could be your last as you fill in for the real stars so that they don’t get hurt. Some days the job was as mundane as ramming his foot into the false leg of the coffee table because the A-list actor might actually stub his toe, but other days, like today, was much more exciting.

There was a different feeling standing on the edge of the world’s tallest building and looking down, knowing that your life depended on the thin cord wrapped around your waist.

A lot ran through Gerard’s mind … the feeling of falling. Of being so far up you felt protective of the people below you in case the wire slipped and you plummeted to your death. He pushed that thought from his mind just as he had the other thousand times he had performed stunts like this. Sure, the director on this film liked to cut corners, but he trusted the guys he worked with. He trusted him with his life.

Thirteen takes! The director was not happy with any of them. Move your right arm up, now down. As Gerard listened to his directions over the headphone, he couldn’t help but think this guy had lost his marbles. Still, he wanted to be famous. One day he was going to be an A-list actor in his own right. Like Harrison Ford, who started out as a carpenter. He was going to be the actor who started out in stunts. One day he was going to be famous.

“Take fourteen!” the director yelled. “And action!”

People all over Hollywood and beyond heard Gerard’s name every day for more than three months as the trial against the director, producer, and movie studio played out in court and television. Eventually, it was settled out of court and the media found a new flavor of the month. Even in death, fame is fleeting.