navwin » Main Forums » Passions in Prose » The Pond
Passions in Prose
Post A Reply Post New Topic The Pond Go to Previous / Newer Topic Back to Topic List Go to Next / Older Topic
shadow974
Senior Member
since 2001-06-21
Posts 636
Michigan

0 posted 2001-07-06 05:55 PM


                                           The Pond
By Dan Owens      
I remember a time when I was about ten years old; my world was the field across the street from my house. Many dreamy days were spent playing army by myself or figure skating on the pond in the winter; I’d dodge the tumbleweeds in the fall or smell the wild flowers in the spring.  The pond teamed with life in the spring.  It was full of pollywogs and tadpoles.  One day I brought a coffee can with several in it home.  I put bread in the can for them to feed on.  The next day some other dream struck me and the water creatures were left in the corner of my room.  A couple of weeks later I noticed the can, and it was empty.  I never caught all the baby frogs and toads but I heard my mom complaining about dust balls that hopped.  
I used to float small boats in the pond and dream they were ocean liners.  I’d throw boulders and sink them with tidal waves.  
Mr. Mack, my science teacher, asked me to bring in some water from the pond.  We looked at it under a microscope and it was alive with small blobs called amoebas, sarcodinas, sporozoas, and ciliates.  He said, “This is where life began millions of years ago.”  I wondered what Pastor Downs would have to say about that.  Life is so fragile; the dragonflies mate over the water and lay their eggs, and then die; yet it’s so strong that their young would blend in and become a part of this immortal soup called a pond.  The dragonflies were scary, yet beautiful, floating above the water with their iridescent wings and purple backs.
It was my pond and I seldom brought visitors to it, but that summer my cousin Kevin spent a week with us, and I brought him to the edge of my world.  He said, “Let’s make a raft and sail to Krakatoa, east of Java.”  “O.K.”, I said, “I know where a bunch of boards are.”  We made a small raft and called it The Betsy.  We set sail after breakfast the next morning.  “Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum”, I sang, “How did this scum crawled our bodies in the year one.”  We laughed and paddled out to the middle with sticks.  The sail we made out of a tea shirt wasn’t working well, and then we began to sink.  “There’s too much weight, we have to lighten the ship” said Kevin.  “For the benefit of the many, one must die. Ashes to ashes,” I said as I jumped to my knees in mud.  I never did find my shoes.  My mom wasn’t very happy and I spent the next day at home.  Kevin went home with a story to tell, and each time we saw each other after that we talked about The Betsy.  I imagined myself a navy captain for months.  I paddled that raft around the world and threw rock bombs at frogs and toads.  Then, one day in December The Betsy froze solid to the shore and I ice skated my way into fame.  The ice was shiny because I was always polishing it with the seat of my pants, but I was the best.  
The city and I had an ongoing fued over who owned the field.  Someone in city hall got the idea for getting rid of all those used Christmas trees.  They stacked thousands of them in my field.  Then older boys came into the field and made forts and tunnels in the Christmas trees.  I was told to stay out because I might get lost, but of course it was my field.  So I searched until I found a tunnel and then I explored.  The tunnels lead all over the field, all those wasted seasons greetings deposited in my field, the least I could do was explore.  
My friend Charlie lived in Texas, but his grandma lived down the street from me.  Charlie and his mom came to visit her every time his mom and dad got into a fight.  The first thing I did when he arrived at his grandmas was show him the forts.  We were miners looking for gold and sometimes we found it.  A playboy book here, an ornament or a token from a Christmas tree there.  Candy canes were popular treasures.  
We invaded the older boy’s privacy now and then; of course we were chased away.  About the middle of January, the forts were strangely empty.  One day we were in a large fort and I smelled smoke.  Charlie pushed open the trap door and yelled, “Fire, It’s all around us! There’s no way out!”  We crawled down a tunnel as the smoke got thicker.  Somehow Charlie and I were separated. I panicked, pushing and shoving my way through the trees; the thought of death crossed my mind.  The heat at one point singed my hair, then I found myself in water, and the tunnel ended in a pool of water.  There was only one way out.  I dove under the water and plunged ahead.  I was under a layer of ice; I stood up and broke through.  The fire was all around me.  I was in the middle of the pond.  When the fire died down, the water was as warm as bath water.  Standing on the other side of the charred remains of Christmas were Charlie, the police, an ambulance, fire department, and my mom and dad.  Charlie said, “ You made a wrong turn in there. I tried to find you.”  I said, “ look what I found.”  I held up a star from a Christmas tree.  Once again, life begins in my pond, I probably like amebas, or a sporaza.


© Copyright 2001 Daniel Owens - All Rights Reserved
JLR
Senior Member
since 2001-02-04
Posts 1785

1 posted 2001-07-07 12:19 PM


I really liked your story...brought back many good memories.  Thanks!
Sharon
Member
since 2001-06-04
Posts 53
Within a whisper
2 posted 2001-07-17 11:21 PM


I liked your story. It had a simple honesty that real life stories have...each segment could have been drawn out for a short story of it's own though....I really look forward to reading more from you Dan!  
Post A Reply Post New Topic ⇧ top of page ⇧ Go to Previous / Newer Topic Back to Topic List Go to Next / Older Topic
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format.
navwin » Main Forums » Passions in Prose » The Pond

Passions in Poetry | pipTalk Home Page | Main Poetry Forums | 100 Best Poems

How to Join | Member's Area / Help | Private Library | Search | Contact Us | Login
Discussion | Tech Talk | Archives | Sanctuary