“How Did You Die?”

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there-that’s disgrace.
The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts,
It’s how did you fight-and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts,
But only how did you die?

-Edmund Vance Cooke

A Selection from my Scottish Tale

You might understand this section better if you first read this one, which preceeds the selection below. Let me know what you think.

-That night it was a gloomy and discouraged bunch of Scots that assembled wearily at the Barrie McLaif croft. Barrie had opened his house to the remaining Scots, deciding it would be better to be cautious and not reside where the enemy would know where they were. This way the foe had to at least look for them. As for Captain Dunstan and his soldiers, Barrie figured they could take care of themselves.
The small croft was not quite large enough for even the few remaining Scots, 18 left of the previous 31, so the patriotic Scotsmen that were not as badly wounded as the others found places to rest outside the croft. Most of them took shelter from the drizzling rain that had just begun underneath the roof of the McLaif’s sheep shed. Ian also holed up inside the shed, but after a few minutes returned to the croft to fetch some sort of nourishment for his fellows.
He closed the door promptly behind him after entering, and paused to survey the situation inside the crowded building. Those that had been badly injured during the earlier fracas were lying, or sitting, in various locations around the room. Ian’s mother, sister and Joanne were going around the room tending to the injured men. Joanne looked up from gathering some bandages, and saw Ian standing at the door. She stood up and walked over to him.
“Your arm.” she exclaimed, pointing to his left arm.
“Eh, what about it?” questioned Ian, looking down at it. He saw then that he had received a rather small cut upon it. “Och, it’s just a small cut, nothing to worry about.”
Joanne nonetheless insisted on wrapping a bandage around it. She cut a strip of cloth from the roll she had, and carefully wrapped it around the damaged arm.
When she was finished, Ian thanked her and then inquired as to whether there was any food to be found for his fellows outside. She shrugged, but went and looked around for some nourishment. Ian’s eyes followed here as she walked across around the room. She stopped every now and then to pick up a morsel of food, until she had collected all that there was available. Returning to Ian, she handed the food to him, and he thanked her before returning to the outside air.
After rushing hastily through the rain to the cover of the rough shed, Ian passed out the small amount of food as evenly as he could.
 “Thank ye much,” exclaimed one of the men gratefully.
 Ian nodded solemnly, sorry that he couldn’t bring more to these men that had fought so hard for so much. Looking around at the tired, weary men sitting under that pathetic shed, he thanked God that only a few comrades had been killed in the fight. Sitting there, with the rain drumming rapidly on the ground and roof, Ian was inspired to pray aloud with his comrades.
 “Shall we pray?” he exclaimed, glancing around at everybody. Some nodded, some shrugged, so Ian began, bowing his head and clasping his hand together on his knees.
“Heavenly Father, we thank you for delivering us today and…and…bless those that didn’t make it…”-

Scotland Forever: Chapter 5 (a portion)

Dropping you right into the middle of the story here…..brief synopisis: Ian and Alanna are siblings, Joanne is a young French women rescued froma shipwreck, and the French are the bad guys, although Joanna is not. So….. 

-Time proceeded with out restraint, and it was more than a month after the shipwreck when Ian started his daily patrol of the hills. During the last month things had gone from bad to worse. Barrie, Todd, and their men had tried to keep it secret from their enemies that they knew anything about the French aid. But a week later the word somehow leaked out, and the fighting had been consistent. Ian had been in a few of these skirmishes, and had laid low the occasional French man. The bow was still his weapon of choice and had held up well through the clashes. His archery teacher, George Hood, had not been seen for a while.
 Apparently French dragoons had been seen patrolling the hills, decked out in a bad imitation of English dragoon uniforms. Barrie had figured that Cullen’s men and his French allies now outnumbered Todd’s friends. Especially as their casualty list had racked up to twenty dead. Already some of Todd’s friends had given up, and returned to their homes. That is, those who still had homes. The French had randomly started burning crofts around the countryside, leaving some homeless. Nonetheless, Todd had refused to give up so easily, and he was backed up by a few of the clans. The McLaifs, MacKays, Lairds, McHerits, and s were the ones that stood resolute behind the MacBrae family, they would not give up so easily.
 As Ian patrolled the hills and woods, he kept a sharp eye out for trouble. The top of a hill could conceal a French dragoon. A smattering of trees could hide a friend of Cullen. His duty was to watch out for any enemy troop movement in places where they shouldn’t be.
 Looking at the sun, he noted that he was heading west, away from his house and towards the sea. In fact, he realized that he was almost to the cliffs where he had seen the shipwreck happen a month ago. When he was less than a quarter-mile away from the cliffs, he caught site of his sister and her new friend Joanne, talking in the grass. He was surprised and worried when he saw them, he thought they knew better that to be out by themselves at this time.
 Approaching them, they looked up and Alanna started, putting her hand to her chest.
 “Och, ye scarred me!” she exclaimed, “where did ye come from?”
 Ian, looking disappointedly at her, stated, “I am patrolling the brae as I am supposed tae. Why are ye out here, alone?”
 “Well, were talking, is there a problem with that?”
 Aye,” continued Ian, ye should nae be out here at this time. Its dangerous.”
 Alanna retorted, “And what makes ye so bossy?”
 “Alanna!” exclaimed Ian authoritatively.
 She looked at her brother standing firmly in front of her, his bow and quiver slung across his back while his claymore hung from his belt that surrounded his kilt. “Alright, we shouldn’t be out here. I’m sorry.”
 Joanne had remained quiet all that time, watching the siblings talk, and no doubt trying to comprehend exactly what they were saying. She had progressed quickly in her learning of English, and could almost carry on a conversation. Now she spoke up, and said, “You walking, uh, on grass, non, hi..hill? Oui?”
 “Aye, I’ve been walking on the hills. What have ye been doing?” he smiled down at her.
 “Talk, eh… see.”
 Alanna translated, “I’ve been showing her around.”
 “Oh, I see showing her around the isl…” he paused, and listened. Then asked, “Do ye hear that?”
 “What?”
 “That drumming sound.”
 Alanna listened, then nodded, “Aye, it sounds like…”
 “Horses.” finished Ian in a whisper. “Over that hill to the east, you girls run south! I’ll distract the dragoons, because I’m sure that is who it is, French dragoons.”
He then turned and ran a little ways in a northerly direction, then stopped and looked back. Alanna had already gotten up and started running towards home, but Joanne was just standing there looking hesitantly after Alanna, then towards the sound of advancing hoof beats. Oh my gosh, thought Ian, I forgot, she’s French also! He watched with apprehension, as time seemed to stand still. But before the oncoming dragoons could top the hill, Joanne had made up her mind. And just as the dragoons did top the hill, the two young women disappeared into a clump of woods.
Then Ian realized that he was still in sight. And the dragoons saw him. Hastily he turned and ran, west. With his sword flapping at his side, Ian ran as fast as he could. Then he realized that he had trapped himself. In front of him was a small rise in the ground, which then sunk down slightly to the edge of the cliffs. He recognized this part of the cliffs to; it was the part in the shape of Italy, a peninsula of cliffs. There was no choice but to run straight, so Ian did.
The dragoons were galloping hard towards their sure prisoner, positive of his capture. They had just seen him disappear down the small rise, and know as they topped the rise they beheld their prisoner. But, much to their surprise, he was nowhere in sight. Shocked, they reigned up on their horses and scanned the small area where they had last seen him go. They even searched the area on foot, but to no avail. He was gone.

Ian breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped of the cliff side and onto the sand below. After a half hour of climbing down a cliffside, and praying not to be seen, he was exhausted. Even though the sea cliff had provided an abundance of foot and hand holds, descending had been quite a workout. He had just barely been able to disappear below the edge of the cliff before the French dragoons had arrived. As he had climbed down, he could hear them searching in frustration above him. Next time he would have to be more alert.
I hope the girls made it, Ian though worriedly. Why did Joanne nae escape tae her fellow French? She had the perfect chance. Och, it’s a good thing she did nae, she could have given away some valuable information. He pondered that as he walked down the beach, then hastily yet carefully back up to his croft. Much to his relief he didn’t see any more dragoons or foes. And when he entered the croft, he saw his family and friend sitting restlessly around the room.
But when he came through the door, his family sprang up and rushed over to see how he was doing. Barrie grabbed him by the shoulder and grinned at his son, relieved. Flora hugged him tightly, also relieved. Alanna grinned from ear to ear and hugged them all. Joanne, still sitting, just smiled and sighed thankfully.
 “Aye son, we’re bonnie glad ye’re a ‘right. We sure were anxious when the Alanna and Joanne got back and told us breathlessly what happened. What did happen?”
Ian explained, while Flora gasped occasionally in the background.
“Mother, it’s okay!” exclaimed Ian in reply to her gasps, “It’s over.”
“I ken, I ken, but its hard tae imagine ye in that danger.”
Barrie chuckled, “Aye mother, besides that is probably the most danger Ian will ever get in all at one time.”
How wrong he was.-

“Eddy”

A little while ago, I though it would be fun to write a sort of comedy about a man and a ghost that befriends him. All sorts of awkward situations would naturally arive, and I though it might be something worth writing about. As is normally the case, I never finished it. But I’ll post here the little bit that I did write, and you can let me know if you think I was onto something; who knows, maybe someday I’ll finish it.

Disclaimer: I don’t actually believe in ghosts.

–I feel that I must explain the events that led my neighborhood to be spoken of with fear and apprehension. I must explain why my neighbors go around expecting to be surprised, and why many of them have grey hair now instead of brown, black, blonde, or red hair. Why even I myself never know quite what to expect. It all started in some God-forsaken “ghost” town in Nevada.

 A desert in Nevada might seem like a strange place to be in the summer, but none the less that is where I found myself one clear Augusts evening. I had been passing through Nevada on my way north to my home, and when darkness began to fall, I was still in a wide and empty desert. I don’t know the name of this desert, but it could have been the Sahara desert for all I cared, as there was no civilized place I knew of in the next 200 miles. It had been a long and tiring day, so I had no desire to continue driving. The way I figured, I could find a decent spot on the desert road and just sleep in my car.

 As I pondered this idea, I suddenly approached a small town. I call it a town, but there were only 8 or so buildings, divided equally by the road I was on. When I entered the town, I stopped and looked around curiously. The place seemed to be deserted, and the buildings looked as if they dated back to the mid 1800’s. Along with a couple of shops, the town consisted of a saloon, hotel, and livery. All of the buildings were rotting, dusty, and in general, falling apart. I turned off my car, and stepped out of it. Not a sound could be heard but my own breathing and the quite sigh of the desert wind.

 Not being a superstitious man, I decided right off that this would be as good a place as any to stay the night. Now the question was whether to lodge in one of the buildings, or my car. It was almost completely dark now, and grabbing a flashlight, entered the sturdiest looking building, the hotel.

 The first room was obviously the lobby, with the front desk all dusty and cobwebby on the left against a wall. A short hallway went directly ahead, and I followed this. I examined each room skeptically. Most of them had holes and broken objects scattered all over the floor, but I finally came to one about halfway down the hall that was fairly decent. I turned left into the room and looked around. My back was to the door and I was standing in the middle of the musty room, when I hear a sound.

 In the hallway outside, I could distinctly hear the sound of chains dragging on the floor. I froze. The sound of chains continued for 5 more seconds, then stopped. I turned around slowly. Nothing in site. Then I heard a quick rattle of chains, a whirring sound, then a rattle of chains against floorboards again. This continued for a minute, then my curiosity got the better of me. Summoning up my courage, I approached the doorway, and peered down the hall to my left. What I saw shocked me.

 Only 3 yards or so down the hallway stood a transparent, white figure. It was dressed in a long shirt that went down to the floor. The ghost, for I had no doubt it was that, had chains around its wrists, and with these chains, oh it chills me even now, it was playing jump-rope (or rather jump-chain).
When it saw me staring speechlessly at it, the ghost let the chain fall to the ground. We stared at each other for a minute, it as speechless as I. “Oh,” exclaimed the ghost, as if suddenly remembering, ,“boo.” He smiled foolishly at me, then took a step forward and held his hand forward, saying, “Shake?”. No, I would not shake, choosing instead to flee bravely down the hallway and out the door of that dusty hotel. Springing hastily into my small SUV, I broke the sound barrier multiple times as I raced off into the sunset. Anything was better than sleeping in a building with a ghost.–