The Front Porch Storytellers

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                                                            The Front Porch Storytellers

 

 

 During  reconstruction of the battle torn south, a ruthless, rugged band of northern and southern soldiers put aside their hatred for one another to come together to share their love for the art of storytelling, to form a society called “The Front Porch Storytellers”

“You southerners are nothing more than backwards sons of bitches.” Said Major Nathan Eaglecrest who is from the lower east side of New York City, with a smirk and a chuckle, he stood his ground without flinching.

Collin Isaiah Smith, a toothless private in the confederate army from Nashville, Tennessee charges him like a raging bull. “You are such a godless idiot.” Said Collin Isaiah Smith, with a single blow and a grunt, knocking the Major to the ground. Collin Isaiah Smith thrust a few punches into the Major’s abdomen. It had taken four men to pull and drag him off Major Nathan Eaglecrest who is moaning, groaning and trying to breathe as normal as he could. He stood up straight; his broad shoulders are pulled back, he smooth and hand slapped out the wrinkles on his blue uniform that he wore proudly. “I have to admit I am insensitive to the open wound of defeat that still bleeds deep. I am sorry and I beg your forgiveness Mr. Collin Isaiah Smith.” Major Nathan Eaglecrest said looking straight on at Private Collin Isaiah Smith whose facial expression was that of an angry young man who would fight anything that crosses his path. Major Eaglecrest extended his left hand as a sign of peace. Collin Isaiah Smith glared down with red blazing eyes of the devil. He turned swiftly on his heels, he walked with long strides away from the Major without voicing a word, and he waved his hands aimlessly above his head in disgust.

“Is there anyone else in this band of war misfits that share the same idiotic hatred of his northern or southern brothers as Mr. Collin Isaiah Smith? We are here to establish “The Front Porch Storytellers” where we would meet at one member’s front porch four times a month. Each member will tell stories that are uniquely original in their creation and each member will memorize it until it becomes second nature to their memory.” Robert Thomas Sheldon said who is from New Hampshire. He is one of its founding members.

“There are fourteen men in this room, seven from the south and seven from the north, evenly represented on both sides. I would like the twelve members, one at a time to approach the desk where I am sitting and each man will state his name, where he is from and why do you want to be a member of The Front Porch Storytellers?” Major Nathan Eaglecrest said. Dipping the writing implement’s nip into the inkwell, his moist blue green eyes rolled up to see the first member. “The name is Edward Edgar Warden. I am from a small town in the central New York region. I am a natural born storyteller with flair of the dramatic.” Edward Edgar Warden said with an uncanny twang in his voice.

“Welcome to the front porch storytellers Mr. Warden. Please take a seat.” Major Nathan Eaglecrest said as he wrote down Edward Edgar Warden’s name on the member’s roster. His eyes flashed up to see a tall gentleman with dead cold blue eyes that were sunken back into the sockets, his face seem war weary.

“The name is Patrick Henry Allen. I am from the state of West Virginia. I fought alongside the great Robert E. Lee against general Ulysses Grant at the battle of Gettysburg. I am also a natural born storyteller who has a knack for the humorous.” Patrick Henry Allen said snapping to attention and saluting the Major.

“Welcome to the front porch storytellers Mr. Allen and at ease soldier, the war is over, please take a seat.”

“Next please, step forward towards the desk.” Major Nathan Eaglecrest said dipping the nip into the inkwell once again.

“My name is Frederick Frances Franklin. I am from the state of Pennsylvania, the city of Philadelphia. I am natural born storyteller like everyone else in the room. I am a gambler by trade, a lover of beautiful, exotic women by instinct.” Frederick Frances Franklin said with an air of an arrogant selfish bastard.

“Welcome to the front porch storytellers. Please take a seat Mr. Franklin, by the way are you related to Benjamin Franklin?” Major Nathan Eaglecrest said with great interest in his tone of voice and body language. “Yes he is a distance cousin, that’s what I have been told by my father.” Frederick Frances Franklin said smiling proudly. The truth is told in the end Mr. Franklin.” Major Nathan Eaglecrest said smirking under his breath. His steady blue green eyes rolled up to look at Frederick Frances Franklin.

(The Present date: February _2013)

“The date of the formation of “The Front Porch Storytellers” was July 4, 1867, one hundred and forty five years ago, and that my fellow front porch storytellers, is the back story of the original front porch storytellers.” Edgar Nathan Eaglecrest said leaning back on his family’s heirloom rocking chair that creaked; his feet were firmly placed on the faded ultramarine blue painted wooden flooring of the front porch.

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Welcome To markrichardluther.wordpress.com

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Flash Fiction, Short Stories, Poems and Song Lyrics written by Mark Richard Luther.

I copy and paste a story that I am working on, I would love for everyone who is interested to read the story and give me your comments

on how to improve it if it needs improvements or what changes need to be added.

Thanks.

Mark Richard Luther

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The Distance Future

By

                                                            Mark Richard Luther

10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1 Happy New Year 2063! My name is Thomas Folds. I am a professor of American History at the legendary Indian Ridge Community College. Today is my 100th birthday. The world has changed in the last fifty one years. I have kept an online diary for the last fifty years.

 “Professor Folds can you talk to the class about the uprising of 2040 and how the world has changed at that time, twenty three years ago.” Lee Hatcher asked in a half questioning, half not sure how to ask me that question. Lee Hatcher is one of my smarter students. I have the greatest admiration of him; I also have the highest hopes for him in the future. “Mr. Hatcher what prompted you to ask a question like that to me is it because of my age? My remembrance of the incident is as clear as a glass of water. You know Mr. Hatcher it is not every day a man reaches his 100th Birthday.” I replied. The class roared in thunder like laughter. I removed my glasses from my wrinkle free tanned face. I rubbed and wiped my grayish blue that has seen the chaos that had engulf the world, those eyes have filled with water from the corners of those same eyes. I placed my glasses back on the rim of my small slender nose. I saw Mr. Hatcher move uneasy in his chair as he search for an answer to the simple question I had asked. “I asked you about the 2040 uprising because I believe it can be compared to the American Revolution which was fought in the late 1770’s and the Civil War which was fought in 1862 to 1865.” Leo Hatcher replied. His voice cracking between the words in the sentences that he had spoken to me. “Mr. Hatcher I thought the new government that came into power in America twenty three years ago outlawed the teaching of the American Revolution in public schools?” I said with distaste in my voice as if I swallowed three lemons for lunch. “Well Professor Folds, sir my grandfather had a great collections of old books about the American Revolution and Civil War on the shelves of his personal library, I would spend hours as a child during my summer visits in that library reading every book that my grandfather owned, that is how I learned about the  two conflicts.” Mr. Hatcher said giving me a big Cheshire cat smile. “I see Mr. Hatcher, that’s great, you have a scholarly curiosity. I appreciate that in a student well done.” I said taking a sip of water from the bottle that I placed back on the side table next to the podium where I stand. I paused, clearing my throat. “Several years before the uprising, a man with broad shoulders, rugged good looks and a flair for the dramatic started publishing an online magazine called The Daily Chaos. His name is Charles Chaos. “America is more about Government than about its people.”  “America once had a government that was for the people, by the people shall not perish. Well my fellow Americans it has perished.” “I read two quotes that Charles Chaos wrote in his online magazine The Daily Chaos. Charles Chaos’s messages were spreading throughout the Americas and the world like wild fires on dry grass.” I said. A student by the name of Helen Monroe cut me off before I had a chance to finish. “Professor Folds. What kind of man was Charles Chaos?” She asked rising from her chair. Helen Monroe’s attractiveness is beyond what I remember going to school in the late nineteen seventies. I don’t think the female students were built like Miss Monroe. “Well as I was saying Miss Monroe. Charles Chaos. A passionate man who tackled the issues that was important to him and his followers, the concerned citizens of the Americas. If you crossed him, you saw the Devil in his blue fire eyes. Charles Chaos would give you the shirt off his back and steal you blind in the process. He is the voice that the American people needed to end Government corruption. The people have become tired of a government who wanted more control over their citizens. The United States constitution has lost its power.” I said looking straight out at my students. “So Professor you could say that the uprising was like a second American Revolution of some sort, don’t you think.” Said a student who sat in the back row of the classroom and always sits slumped, he’s one of my lazier students. “Yes I believe you could say that Mr. Wrighter.” I said. I am a patience man. But reaching the age of one hundred, I don’t seem to have the same patience. “I think at my age I just had enough of you for one day. My students, everyone have a wonderful weekend.” I said as I closed the briefcase. “Professor Folds I have a question. How come you’re the only of a few professors who still teaches in the classroom?” Lowell Luther said pushing in the chair under the desk and walking towards me. I am walking to the door. “I do it for the nostalgia of it. Plus I believe in the interaction with my students.” I said. I walked through the door which Lowell Luther had open and held it for me. I nodded in appreciation at Mr. Luther. “I guess at your age now that’s all you have is nostalgia right Professor Folds.” Lowell said grinning. “Lowell there are things that would seem amazing to your naive young eyes. But are astounding to me at one hundred, I can say is that the science of health has come a long way in leaps and bounds in the last fifty years.” I said with a sheepish grin on my wrinkle free face. I have been told that my eyes seem to twinkle and sparkle when I smile. “I bet I would be amazed, I can honestly say that I have my prejudices about the elderly as does everyone my age.” Lowell Luther said looking down the haunted corridor that to him is strange in its’ darkness. “Lowell I can remember when theses corridors were alive with students from all walks of life, cultures, religions. First time college students that had never been away from home, for them it’s a big adjustment, some of them get homesick after the first month.” I said with melancholy. I stopped for a moment to reflex on my long life. What I have learned throughout those years, I have retained the knowledge that time does heal the wounds of heartache, disappointments, resentments and deaths of loved ones.

“Happy Birthday Dad, so how does it feel to be one hundred years old? My daughter Christine said with a robust chuckle, her face gleaming at me from my computer screen. “Thanks, you made my birthday feel more special coming from you, Christine and to tell you the truth one hundred doesn’t feel all that bad, by the way I am coming through clear on your computer screen.” I said nervously anxious and I am self-conscious about my appearance especially in HD. “Crystal clear like still waters dad.” Christine said in a cheerful bounce in her voice, that she always used growing up in the late nineteen nineties, now she’s a youthful seventy five years old. “How’s Andy the android? He hasn’t short circuit on you yet.” I said in a dry chuckle that turn into a slight cough. “Dad are you alright? You have reach one hundred and now you are starting to go downhill. No dad, Andy is working perfectly fine. Maybe I will get you a female android for Christmas. She can help around the house.” Christine said in a serious tone in her voice. “I want to think about it for a while Christine, my daughter.” I said being unsure. “Ok dad I will talk to you later, more sooner than you think, enjoy your special day I love you.” Christine said to me in her trademark cheerfulness. “Ok don’t go missing from me my daughter and I love you too.” I said clicking the arrow on the end call button on the computer screen. “The world has changed so much that I don’t recognize the familiar world I grew up in-payphones, drive-in movies, and pinball machines. You do remember Terri, my dear sweet lady.” I said staring with love in my old weary hazel eyes at the portrait of my wife; it has been three years since your passing, with all the technology and the medical advances in the last fifty years they couldn’t find a cure for cancer.

“Someone is at the front door.” Said my voice doorbell. “Who could it be, I am not expecting anyone.” I said glancing down at the security cameras. I call with deep affection Orwell’s brother. I see a figure of a man that’s outfitted in a strange gray uniform and if memory serves me correctly, the man is wearing the out of fashion suit and tie. In the year 2029 the fashion world declared “The suit and tie has become dull to the point of being stale.” Casual became the norm in the business world.

“Who are you? What is the nature of your business? Who sent you to come to my doorstop?” I said over the intercom with a voice of authority. I haven’t lifted my eyes from the security camera. My voice had startled the stranger at my front door. “My name is Sedah Thead.” The stranger said with a crackle in his weak voice. His eyes rolled slowly up and glared at the security cameras. “I am here on business that’s entirely my own. I have come here to your place of residence without any encouragement from the central government.” Sedah Thead said still glaring at the cameras. “What business is that?” I said acting like a skeptic. I stared unflinchingly at the security cameras. “It’s the kind of business I don’t like to discuss on your front door step.

I don’t want your neighbors to hear what I need to talk to you about.” Sedath Thead said calmly and glaring his face closer to the security camera to get his point across. “I have no neighbors, because I have outlived them all.” I said sarcastically. My eyes never strayed from the security cameras. Sedath Thead didn’t nod or spoke a word. I buzzed the front door open. Mr.Thead inside the door, he crossed over the threshold into the hallway. “Hello I had to make sure you weren’t one of those anti-government frantic. I believe in government, a government for the people, by the people. If you know what I mean, I am kind of old fashion that way.” I said as we