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Scrap's Story
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Scrap's Story |
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Irish Rose Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263 |
This is a continuation of a book I'm attempting entitled "The Rescue" I hope everyone enjoys it! Scrap's Story... "Ah, I suspected as much, who is she?" the man grumbled under a smelly pipe, looking as if he hadn't had company in decades. Perking up, he was eager for conversation. "Have some hot coffee, tell me what I can do to help" he began coughing. "Arthritus is acting up, sonny, comes with age. Too much sea water and salty air, does something to the bones. I should be preserving them, I wish I were a young kid like you, but alas, I'm just an old seadog, ever hear of the term?" Frank already felt courage seeping back into his small frame, wishing he were younger too. Knowing he was exactly the right age for any mission needed. Some things you don't need training for. Frank walked near a small pot of coffee, and cathing a breath poured a cup "Name's Frank, what's yours?" "Folks call me Scrap Iron, don't ask why, maybe I've got a bit of metal left from diving off shore, or just rusty, the name fits" he answered. Smiling, Frank sipped the hot coffee thinking of how much Kathleen would enjoy a cup, or at least picturing her reaching for one he had poured, adding the milk and sugar she loved. He paused, knowing he'd never seen her face. There were many things he didn't know about her, except she was lost and had called for help. "Well, Scrap, I am looking for a woman, cause I'm no fool! She came out here for a little adventure, a little solitude to write her poetry, and ended up in this blasted storm! I've got to find her, have you seen a woman, blonde, no, wait red, oh hell, I don't know what her hair color is, she keeps changing it, she's 5-3, not fat, small frame, I don't know that either, we never got to meet..." Scrap leaned over "Women! By now, her hair is soaking wet along with the rest of her if she's been exposed to this onslaught. No one could survive long in a storm like this. Is she strong? Is she resilient? And what do you mean you've never seen her. Why would someone risk life and limb for someone he's never seen? Frank was impressed with this old sailor's vocabulary and noticed the number of books in the lighthouse. They were strewn around, some opened, some dogearred. This old man must read to escape from the loneliness of his life. "She's very strong, but I don't know, just don't know. This may be too much for ever her. No, I've never seen her but I've seen her, God,, I'm not making any sense. I know her better than she knows herself. She thinks she covers up a lot, but she doesn't. See, I'm the wall, ok? But she finds all the cracks in it. Guess I sound like a real fool by now." Frank sat down restless, knowing he shouldn't waste time here, but thinking he should rest. Scrap reached over and offered a sandwich. Frank thanked him and took several, and some other food and drinks in case he needed them later. The heat inside was warming him, making him relaxed and he began to tell this old man, for whatever reason, some of his thoughts. "see, Scrap, we met through correspondence, e mailing, messages back and forth you know? Maybe you wouldn't understand how words can mean so much when everything else seems empty?" Scrap immediately had a look on his face, one meloncholy and sad. "Oh, sonny I don't know about e mail, but I know correspondence, during the war, the big one WWII, I wrote to a woman. She took pity on this man. She wrote the most beautiful letters a man could ever read. Poetic, beautiful words, that kept me going. I have them all in an old box, many yellowed. That woman never gave up on me, wrote daily, through all of it." Frank become interested, finishing one sandwich, he reached for another one and asked "What happened with you and this woman, how long did you write and did you finally meet her, marry her?" Scrap settled back and began to talk. "Sonny, let me tell you something, the love I felt through those letters warmed these old bones, brought tears to my eyes, kept me warm on the coldest nights, when only the sound of the sea waves called me out from many a bad dream. I figured who would want to spend time writing to a young sailor fighting a war? Sometimes for months at a time, gone, you can't commit to anyone, can't be close to anyone, because you have to leave" "Her letters kept me going, kept me close to life, love and a human heart. Gave me something to look forward to. One day, I promsed I would find her, bring beautiful flowers, roses even, pink or red, didn't matter but she said she wanted yellow like the color of sunshine, over seawater. Have you ever listened to poetry in a message? Felt it heating you up inside and knew it came from someone's heart and soul?" Frank answered almost in a whisper "Yes, yes, I have, I believe I know what you mean, so then what ...what happened?" "Two years, Scrap continued. "Two years, we wrote she broken down barriers, tore through walls, barricaded herself so deep inside of me I knew there was no way she would ever leave. I told her to find someone close, someone who could love herr and be there, but she never stopped writing. I tried not to make promises but I wanted to. One day, the war ended, and we finally went home. There I was, year was '45 , no wait '46 hell, it's such a blur to this old man, and I washed ashore with my letters, guarding them my life. Hundreds of letters. Many nights I had pictured finding her and holding her in my arms, making love until time ceased, and sonny, I would have given it my best shot. I never stop until the job is finished, if you know what I mean" Frank smiled and knew he had to hear more of this story. "Yes, Yes, I know what you mean...the task at hand...Go on, please...." Scrap wiped a tear from his eye, unashamed and continued. Her name was Rebecca....Rebecca Lynn. She was to meet me on the dock. I had one picture but it was torn and faded and worn from sea air and kisses from these crusty old lips. She was beautiful...hair the color of crimson, like seashells.rosy cheeks, eyes brown as the earth I missed.....I knew one kiss and I'd be done for. In my dreams I had kissed her many times, held her, only waking to find empty arms and dreams evaporating. I walked up to the dock that day, searching, eyes turning to every direction, waiting and waiting, my pulse racing....for only her..Rebecca and I would finally hold her. I already held her words in my spirit. " to be continued Kathleen |
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| © Copyright 2000 Kathleen - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Okay, this is not fair! You can't just stop at that part of the story! This is torture, I swear... Great story, eagerly awaiting the next post! Abrahm Simons "...Watching fate as it flows down the path we have chose" - Trent Reznor, "We're in this Together" |
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Irish Rose Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263 |
hah hah! I love it! No, seriously, thank you and in the morning I will post the next part. I've already posted my limit for today!! you will love it (I hope) I have been writing this since October of last year and I have much....and I truly love it it's very personal to me., most is so close to home...well, it's just plain romantic what can I say?? tomorrow is "Rebecca's Roses"  Kathleen |
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