Sunday, October 31, 2010

Oak Tree

Ringalingalingariiiiiing! The phone rang. The called I.D. disclosed the identification of the caller: Scam T. Sistema.
"What's up, Scam?" Beller took a bite of the orange. "What's rollin my friend?"
"Beller! How are you, Man?"
"Doin' good...doin' real good." Beller paused for a moment.
"Stop by at my house, Scam. We need to talk."
"Ah, sure thing, Beller. I'll be there in a few."
"And Scam, bring the rifle." Beller hung up and finished his apple sauce.
Twenty minutes later a car pulled up to the house. Ten seconds after that, the door bell rang.
"Come in!" Beller hollared." Get your face in here!"
Scam walked in, rifle and all.
"Have a seat my friend." Scam chose the couch next to the window and sat down.
"We need to talk." Beller Spoke in monotone.
"So, let's talk." Scam smoked a cig.
Beller spit out his dip. " A heist is goin down..." he started, " a very big heist. Twenty eight hundred dollars big!" Beller looked Scam squarely in the eyes.
"I'm in." Scam looked up." I - AM - IN..."
" Good. We'll start immediately. Meet me at 22 N. Shepard Ln. in a month and a half." Beller stood up and walked into the kitchen.
"Beller..." Scam followed a few feet behind. "It's not over yet. " Scam raised the rifle , aimed it closely and pulled the trigger. KABOOM!!!!!! the sound of bloodshed rang through the neighborhood. KABOOM!!!! Two short shots and Scam jumped out the window, jumped into his car, turned on the ignition, put on his seat belt, set the AC, engaged the clutch, put the car in gear, and sped off, leaving a fog of smoke and doubt hovering over the disaster.
"Woooohoooo!!!!!!" Scam yelled out the window. I'm FREEEEE!!!!" Scam took his attention off the road for a single moment and lost control when a bird flew by, sending Scam's car into a whirlwind of controversy. The car slid off the road into a ravene. CRASH! Slamming into a lamp post it came to a halt near the coffee shop.
"Spit, splat!" Scam spat out blood..."cough...spit," Scam took off his seat belt and rolled out of the scene just as the ambulance pulled up. Scam continued rolling until he came to a solid oak tree. "Oak Tree," Scam struggled to breathe. "Oak Tree, what did I do wrong? Where did I go bad?" Scam's left vertebrae had shattered in the accident. A small piece pertuded out of his back.
"Believe," Oak Tree whispered, "Believe, my friend.." The tree toppled over,"believe..." Oak Tree took its last breathe and died in all sadness.
"OAK TREE!!!!!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!!" Scam held closely to the tree,"Oak Tree...." Scam burst into a tearful syndrome. " I won't let you down." Scam took his last breathe and went the way of the soul. The words echoed through the canyon...Believe.
Stenson walked outside. "Cough...cough..." he coughed. " What a beautiful day it is, I would say." Stenson said. Looking at his watch, Stenson realized he was late. "SON!" Stenson broke into a sprint. He ran and ran and ran some more. Still running, always running. Stenson was a runner by heart and and artist by soul. "I will run the fears away. I'll run and run to another day." Stenson chanted in unison and did not notice his down fall. A fallen oak tree lay in the road. He clipped his left leg slightly on a branch and his momentum sent him flying through the midnight dreary in a cluster of feary, so calm but so fearce. Stenson hit the ground running, knocked his face, broke his heart, and fell into a deep sleep. SMASH! The wind blew through the trees. The sun shined brightly. So chilling, yet, so real. A bird flew over, perching on fallen Oak Tree. Laying there in disaster. Scam in his silent death, oak Tree in a fire of hardship, and Stenson in a quiet moment. Two miles away, a lost soul with nothing to lose lay alone in a silent hospice, finally getting what he always wanted: silence. Beller awoke from the dream. Silence. Beller passed on. Death. The Oak Tree whispered, "Believe..." and the street post lingered: 22 N. Shepard Lane.

Post Note: About the author.

Born and raised in rural town with parents, family and girls around Stanter Hampton was found writing his first book at the age of two when his mother heard a sound of the writer's pen closing down. She recounts a story of fond memory, " Stanter was a good lad, a stout son, but not too bad. One day, I noticed he did not come down for tea time at the normal time for drinking tea which was about 4:00 in that time, central standard time. I was very worried about my boy and decided to put out a shout to the people that roamed the country to find my child and kindle our family once again. A search party went out without hesitating even to pout. Soon, the phone rang, Sheriff Hawnes was on the line tellin me, You'll never believe what I just find... Ya'll's boy been spotted selling ryhmes, and get this madam, he already made himself a pretty dime." Turns out my ol' son been out in the town walkin around sellin story time to the local children from ages six to nine." Close quote. That was only the beginning of Stanter's long held career as a professional story teller, rhyming feller, flower smeller, and author of "Me and Beller"(also known as 'Oak Tree').

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