Tuesday, March 26, 2019

"The Angry Spirit of Never Moore" by A. E. Lawrence



COMING SOON



   


The Angry Spirit of Nevermoore
by
A. E. Lawrence

Prologue

Everette Moore had lived a long and fruitful life.  But it was now his time to die.  However, before he sighed his last breath, he signed a will, giving all his worldly possessions to his good friend, Dr. William Dinston, including his beloved mansion, Ever Moore.
Dr. Dinston, a psychiatrist who operated a small insane asylum, converted Ever Moore into a state-of-the-art institution that treated its inmates with care and respect, contrary to the prevailing Draconian conditions of 1840.  His rein continued for seven years until he was thrown from his horse and killed. 
His Operations Director, Frank Little, was not a doctor and was forced to hire a psychiatrist to run the medical aspect of the asylum.  
He finally chose Dr. Henry Willison, who had worked at several state asylums.  What Frank didn’t know was that Willison had been fired from two state institutions because he promoted brutality among the staff and inmates.  And at his last position, he resigned rather than face criminal charges for embezzling state funds
From the moment Dr. Willison took over the reins of Ever Moore, the quality of the care of the patients began to deteriorate.  Within the first year of his supervision, Dr. Willison cut the institution’s operational budget by twenty-five percent.  What no one knew was that he was channeling those funds into his own bank account in New York City. 
The second year was even worse.  Dr. Willison continued to cut the budget and divert the funds to his own account.  The situation got so bad that Frank Little felt he had no choice but to confront the doctor.  What he didn’t know at the time was that the doctor was making deals with the merchants to deliver less than what was ordered and splitting the difference with him.  However, on the morning Frank was to meet with the doctor, he died under suspicious circumstances, and the authorities were never able to solve the case.    
With Little out of the way, Dr. Willison took over the financial duties, as well, and the quality of care at Ever Moore continued to decline.  Employees were fired so new staff could be brought in at lower wages.  And the new hires were usually people who had been fired from state asylums for brutality.  So not only was the quality of care degrading, the patients were subjected to abject cruelty, as well.   After a while, the staff and inmates began calling the place Never Moore because the only way an inmate ever got out was in a pine box.
The treatment at the asylum got so corrupt and brutal that the collective anguish of the inmates of Never Moore radiated out through the stone walls into the night.
As the magnitude of the despair increased, the cries of the tormented began to reverberate through the walls of the old mansion.  The vibrations of the suffering resonated outward until they reached the grave of Phillip Moore.  The agony and pain of the tortured pulsated through the ground and into his casket.  Unable to ignore the summons, the soul of Phillip Moore stirred.  Answering the supplications emanating from the asylum, his spirit rose to seek retribution against those who would defile his beloved Ever Moore.



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 Copyright © 2020 A. E. Lawrence





Saturday, January 12, 2019

"The Stairway to Never" by A. E. Lawrence



COMING SOON





The Stairway to Never\

By

A. E. Lawrence


 Josef Barrington becomes a wealthy man because he takes heed of the voice in the night.  When he obeys the command to build a special stairway in his mansion, he thinks the stairway is another step toward his destiny.  However, it soon becomes apparent that the stairs have become the device of his destruction. 
On a trip to Cleveland, Ohio, Peter White is flying his airplane over East Ridgeville when he spots an old, ill-kept mansion.  When he makes inquiries about the property, he learns that it’s known as the Barrington Haunted Castle.  Thinking he might purchase the property, he takes his girlfriend, Claire Whitley, to East Ridgeville to see the realtor.  There, they hear that Josef Barrington had killed his wife and three children almost a hundred years ago and was duly hanged.   
Peter and Claire go out to inspect the mansion and discover a strange stairway in the living room.  Although they think of the stairs as just a whim of a crazy old man, they are forced to change their minds one stormy night when the stairway becomes a gateway to the bizarre. 
They soon realize that Josef Barrington did not kill his family.  The stairway and what lay beyond were instrumental in their disappearance.  And Peter and Claire are about to meet the same fate. 



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Copyright © 2020 A. E. Lawrence


Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Fable of the Corpuscles

Fable of the Corpuscles

This story (or fable) is well known by most.
I’ve heard it repeated from coast to coast.
It involves two corpuscles, red to be sure.
Whose daily rewards had little allure.

Their home, by the way, was in the blood of a horse.
And their movement was dictated by a pulsing course.
Life didn’t seem lonely, if the thought may be interjected
‘Cause they met quite often where the vessels intersected.

Passing opposite their friend in a separate vein.
They would greet each other by the other’s first name.
“Hi, Joe.” “Hi, Moe” “Hi, Joe.” “Hi, Moe” “Hi….”
Alas, there was never much time for a proper goodbye.

But the monotony of their circuit soon became clear
It was no fun repeating it year after year.
Deciding to change streams and trading their niches.
They succeeded quite handily in making the switches.

Much happier, now, that their lives were reversed,
They went their opposite ways, the other now first.
“Hi, Moe.” “Hi, Joe.” “Hi, Moe.” “Hi, Joe.”
That’s precisely how their new schedule would go.

The new route worked goodly for quite a long while
You would see them passing and flashing a smile.
“Hi, Moe.” “Hi, Joe.” “Hi, Moe.” “Hi, Joe.”
They were immensely pleased by the opposite flow.

But then it happened quickly, without any sign.
Their health took a dive, and they were dead by nine.
You may wonder what happened to cause their demise.
I’ll tell you frankly, I don’t profess to be wise.

Well, I expect you’re waiting patiently for the end of this poem
Believe me, my dear friends, I too want to go home.
The moral of this fable is readily clear, of course
Never, NEVER, change streams in the middle of a horse.


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Copyright © 2016 Lawrence Entertainment Group

Monday, October 3, 2016

Coke Brothers Choir




Coke Brothers Choir






The Characteristics of Moonrose

The characteristics of Moonrose
by
A. E. Lawrence

There was love on her lips but levity in her eyes.

She could become your friend in three seconds flat.

Her sense of compassion, on occasion, did not preclude herself.

A surely glance gave token warning of her boredom.

She considered her newfound maturity reconciliation to its limitations.


Her mouth fell open in glorious surprise.

Flesh on her shoulders anticipated an improbable caress.

She was vexed beyond any reasonable endurance.

A disloyal cell in her brain dared refute an established opinion.

Her frown was a microsnit short of a snarl.


The reflective surface of her mind hid no illusions.

Her all-but-perceptible nod was no more than a promise.

She looked back to when she could anticipate the future.

Her compulsiveness kept sanity at bay.

The feeling of jubilation evaporated, and her smile followed suit.

She bore her chastity as she would tight-fitting shoes.

Rampant wishes held contemptuous her wonts.

Her warm, impish smile radiated like a winter hearth.

She sidestepped inelegance with exquisite aplomb and grace.

Malicious skepticism was her daily vitamin.

She dressed by a calculated formula of dishevelment.

One eye was bright with approval, the other narrow and probing.

Her transgressions were fraught with aspirations.

She was consistently inconsistent in her own opinion.

Although she thought young thoughts, she felt old feelings.

Her dry stare gave mute testimony to a premeditated indifference.

She was truly ignorant of her own beauty.

Her you-can’t-see-my-teeth smile foreclosed argument.

A wedge of fraudulent concern caught her by surprise.

Her emotions were beached on a far, gray shore.

Her dream-tattered faculties slowly accepted another day.

The corners of her mouth drifted toward approval.

Her rich, breathy voice floated on the air like a warm, tingly mist.

She learned to savor her femininity as though it were a last meal.

Her fit of indignation demanded curtain calls.

Loving two boys muddled her keen sense of ownership.

Her stiff, thin smile cut a mean swath of rebuttal.

She gazed dim and musing, contemplating her own demise.

Her lower lip twitched furtively, forecasting a smile.

She was swept up in a maelstrom of contradicting truths.

Her self-admonishment lacked an appreciative audience.

The effect of her scowl was puny compared to its intent.

Her chin was unlimbered, ready for battle.

She was still smarting from the melodrama of her ill-fated ardor.

She could be like anyone else but that it entailed change.

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Copyright © 2016 Lawrence Entertainment Group


Tuesday, June 7, 2016

The Snake in the Pot.

The Snake in the Pot   

There once was a poor snake that found an old pot in the middle of the field and made it his home.  After being homeless for so long, he reveled in being able to curl up in his pot during bad weather and at night and hiss and hiss and hiss to his heart’s delight.
Now that he had a pot to curl up in, he went about each day joyfully looking for food and frolicking whenever the mood hit him.  This went on day after day, week after week.  And the best part was that when he got home after a day out in the field, he could curl up in his pot and hiss and hiss and hiss to his heart’s delight. 
The snake had never been happier in its life.  Nothing was more satisfying than to curl up in his pot and hiss and hiss and hiss to his heart’s delight.
Then one day when he came home from looking for food and frolicking, he discovered that his pot was gone.  He looked and looked everywhere but, alas, it was nowhere to be found. 
The poor snake was beside itself with grief.  With no pot to live in, he was forced to sleep out in the open during bad weather and at night, again.  And because he didn’t have his pot to return to, his forays for food weren’t as satisfying and he never frolicked anymore.
But perhaps the worst aspect of being homeless, again, was the fact that he was so poor that he didn’t even have a pot to hiss in.



Copyright © 2016 Lawrence Entertainment Group



Friday, May 13, 2016

Legend of the Willow

Legend of the Willow

In the summer of 1957, two brothers were playing along the southern shore of Lake Erie when they came across a metal urn half-buried in the clay cliff.  Thinking the urn was made of gold, they took it home and hid it in the attic while they tried to figure out what they would do with it.  The urn had a sealed lid, and the lid had a strange writing on it that didn’t look like any language they had ever seen.  Curious yet fearful of what might be inside, they couldn’t decide what to do.  But a few days later, they finally pried the cover off.
Inside were dozens of golden plates with more of the strange characters on them.  To play it safe they took the urn to a pawn shop to see how much they could get for the gold.  However, they were disappointed to learn that the urn wasn’t make of gold.  In fact, the man at the pawn shop wasn’t able to tell them what the material was.  They figured if the urn wasn’t make of gold, then plates weren’t, either, and none of it was worth anything.  So they put the urn and plates back in the attic.  And when the house was sold several years later, the brothers had forgotten about their false treasure.
In 1986, the owner of the house was cleaning out the attic when he came across a small, wooden box with the urn inside.  He, too, thought it and the plates were made of gold.  However, when he discovered the truth, he became fascinated by the strange writing.  Doctor Antinow was an anthropologist and suspected that the characters could very well be the language of an ancient society.  To prove his premise, he took the urn and plates to a colleague who was a symbolist.  And the symbolist, in turn, solicited the help from an ethnographer.  Together, the three doctors worked on decoding the characters and finally got results when they entered the information into a high-speed computer.  However, the results were so bizarre that they didn’t publish their findings for several years, fearing that the scientific community would claim that it was all a fraud.
Finally, in 1990, Dr. Antinow submitted the findings to a select committee that reviewed the work and ultimately certified that the writings, though not absolutely proven, was most likely the language of a lost civilization that had inhabited the southern shore of Lake Erie about 17,000 years ago.
With that endorsement, Dr. Antinow published the following paper:

Approximately 17,000 years ago, an ancient civilization flourished on the southern shores of Lake Erie, somewhere between Cleveland, Ohio and the small town of Vermilion.  According to the records they left behind, their clan consisted of about 15,000 members.  The name of their chief was Ja-Nan-Pol-Seeki (which translates roughly to Grand Ruler), but for the sake of this article, we’ll call him Ruler Seeki.  His wife’s name was Doon-bon-Ril (she who lays with Ruler), but we’ll call her Queen Ril.  And their daughter’s name was Didi-Onsa-Tioo-Ra (the fairest flower of the Land), who we’ll call Fairest Flower.
Another notable name of our story is Molo-Molo-Cal-Ti (the strongest and fastest worrier of the People), who will be known as Fast Runner.
  Our story begins on the day Fast Runner was to wed Fairest Flower.  She had been courted by many men of the tribe but, when Fast Runner proclaimed that she would be his bride, no one was of a mind to challenge him.  Although she was ambivalent about marrying him, she accepted the demand of marriage to please her father, Ruler Seeki, who felt that it was time for her to move out of the palace.
The villagers had worked for days preparing for the nuptials and all was ready for the festivities.  Fast Runner was robed with garlands of flowers and furs of the man-eating carnivores that roamed the area.  And Fairest Flower was anointed with fragrant oils and strings of wild flowers.  When Ruler Seeki stepped out onto the patio of the palace and announced that the ceremony should begin, Fairest Flower came out and stood beside him.  Then, on cue, Fast Runner came out of his hut and marched to the patio, waving the fur of a white rabbit, a symbol of virility.
When he got to the patio and stood before Ruler Seeki, Fairest Flower let go of her father’s arm, walked over to her betrothed and took hold of his arm.  With that gesture, the ceremony began.
With great fanfare, Ruler Seeki began reciting the ancient words that bound a man to a woman and a woman to a man.  Just as he got to the part where Fast Runner would proclaim his love and loyalty to fairest Flower, a cry went up from some of the people near the water’s edge.
Displeased by the outburst, Ruler Seeki no less had to stop the ceremony to see what was exciting his people.  But what he saw made him forget about anything else.
A dark cloud had materialized far out over the lake.  That in itself was unusual because the rest of the sky, from horizon to horizon, was clear and sunny.  He watched as the cloud approached the land, getting darker and more menacing as it drew closer.  When it finally stopped about a quarter of a mile off-shore, it began to spin.  The rotation was slow, at first, but it quickly built up momentum and was soon a blur of water and mist.
The entire tribe stood transfixed as a dark funnel dropped down from the belly of the cloud and snaked its way to the surface to the lake.  As soon as the tip of the funnel touched the water, there was a brilliant flash of light that temporarily blinded the onlookers and a tremendous clap of thunder that shook the ground.  Then all was silent as the mist dissipated and the cloud evaporated. 
But they were shocked again when they saw a golden creature coming across the water toward them.  It wasn’t walking: it seemed to be gliding over the water.  As it neared the beach, the people began backing away, fearful that the god would claim them for a sacrifice.
When the creature reached the shore, it stepped out onto the sand and walked to within a few yards of the wedding party.  Then, with a booming voice, it said, “Fairest Flower shall be my bride.”
Ruler Seeki was shocked into silence. 
But Fast Runner stood tall and said, “She is my woman!  You have no claim on her!”
The creature took a step forward and said, “We shall see.  Step aside and let me have her or you’ll pay the price, Fool.”
Fast Runner stood firm.  “No!  You’ll have to take her from me.”
With a booming laugh, the creature waved his arm toward the sandy beach.  “As you wish, Mudman.”  He began walking back toward the lake, beckoning Fast Runner to follow.
Fast Runner didn’t hesitate.  He wasn’t going to let anyone take Fairest Flower from him, not even a god.
When the two of them were facing each other at the water’s edge, the creature put hand on the hilt of his dagger and said, “You’re a fool.  No mortal has ever beaten me in combat.  Save yourself and walk away.  Fairest Flower is destined to become my woman.”
Fast Runner tossed off the wreaths of flowers and said, “Does a god need a dagger to beat a mere mortal?”
The creature paused a moment, taking measure of Fast Runner.  Finally, he took the scabbard from his belt and threw it on the ground.  Then he began taking off the golden shell that covered his head and body.  The people stood fascinated as the god took off everything but his golden loin cloth.
Within a few minutes, the creature had turned into a handsome man with golden hair that fell to his shoulders.  He was as tall as Fast Runner but had a wider chest and thicker arms. 
When he was fully uncovered, he faced Fast Runner, again, and said, “I need nothing but my hands and my strength to defeat you, Mudman.  I give you one last chance to save yourself.  Walk away and live.”
Fast Runner didn’t bother responding.  He crouched and held his arms out, readying himself for the fight.
Golden Man did likewise, and the two of them began circling each other, looking for an opening.  Then, suddenly, the Golden Man kicked out, catching Fast Runner on his left hip.  The blow was so unexpected and powerful that Fast Runner was thrown off balance for a moment.  Golden Man pressed the attack by lunging forward with a punch that was meant for Fast Runner’s face. 
Fast Runner saw the strike coming and instinctively twisted to his right, intending to go full circle and strike out with his left foot.
Golden Man’s blow glanced off of Fast Runner’s shoulder, and his momentum put him off balance.  He saw Fast Runner’s foot coming at him, but he couldn’t recover fast enough to avoid the impact.
Fast Runner’s foot struck Golden Man’s right thigh, buckling his leg and forcing him to one knee.  But Golden Man quickly recovered and swung away in time of dodge a second kick that would have struck the side of his head.
Fast Runner let the momentum from his missed kick carry him around so that he was facing Golden Man, again.  By that time, the god had gotten up and was back in an attack position.
The two of them circled each other, looking for an opening. 
It was Fast Runner who struck out, first.  He feigned a punch with his right fist then quickly struck out with his left.  The move caught Golden Man off guard and the blow caught him squarely on his jaw.  He reeled backwards and struggled to regain his balance.  But Fast Runner continued the attack with a kick meant for Golden Man’s stomach.
Still off-balance Golden Man none-the-less saw the kick coming and jerked to one side. The kick only glanced off of his hip.  He was still dazed by the blow to his face and backed away to let his head clear. 
Seeing his opening, Fast Runner lunged at Golden Man, intent on landing another punch to his face.  But when he was halfway through his swing, Golden Man swiveled around and kicked out behind him, catching Fast Runner solidly in his stomach.  Fast Runner’s punch missed and the blow to his stomach knocked the breath out him.  He doubled over and fell to his knees.
Golden Man, still dazed, failed to follow through and Fast Runner was able to get back onto his feet. 
Then both of them began circling each other, again, looking for an opening.
The battle continued as the people watched in awe.  They had formed a large circle around the combatants and cheered whenever Fast Runner seemed to have gotten the upper hand.  And they groaned when the god got in a blow.  But they were thrilled to be witness to a battle between their best warrior and a god from the lake.  What impressed them most was the fact that Fast Runner was holding his own against a god.  They had expected the fight to be a quick one, with Fast Runner losing, and the god claiming Fairest Flower.
However, the two combatants fought on, each getting in punches, kicks and jabs.  There were several times when it looked like one or the other was winning.   But, each time, they would recover and come back, seemingly more determined than ever to win.
The fight went on into the night, and the people built bonfires to light the combat zone.   Captivated by the fight, Ruler Seeki had a chair brought out so he could watch in comfort.  Queen Ril and Fairest Flower stood beside him, supplying him with food and drink as the night wore on.
Finally, at early dawn, Golden Man feigned a kick but quickly swung around and caught Fast Runner in his throat with the side of his hand.  Fast Runner instinctively lashed out, but his windpipe had been smashed.  He fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. 
Golden Man knew that he had struck a fatal blow and stood back to let his opponent die. 
In one last effort, Fast Runner looked over at Fairest Flower with a look of apology.  Then he fell to the ground and stopped moving.
The people were stunned into silence.  The god had defeated their best warrior.  Now they waited to see what would happen, next.
Golden Man had fallen to his knees when he was sure Fast Runner was dead.  He had never gone up against such an opponent and knew that he could have been the one on the ground.  When he got his breath back, he stood up and walked over to where he had shed his outer covering.  Then he slowly and methodically fastened each part to himself.  When he was finally done, he picked up his dagger and stuck it in his belt.  Then he walked over and stood before Ruler Seeki.
Ruler Seeki was too terrified to speak.  This god had defeated his best warrior. 
But Golden Man pointed a finger at Fairest Flower.  “I claim your daughter as my woman.”  He looked around.  “Is there anyone else foolish enough to challenge me?”
No one spoke up.
Finally, Ruler Seeki said, “No one challenges you, God.  My daughter is yours to take.”
With that command, Fairest Flower stepped forward and lowered her head.  And when the god put his hand out, she reached out and took hold of it.  Then she meekly walked beside him as he led her to the water’s edge.
When Golden Man got to the water, he turned and said, “Fast Runner was a worthy opponent.  I honor his bravery, and so shall you.”  He pointed to a knoll a short distance up the shore.  “You shall bury Fast Runner on that hill.  By-and-by his spirit will cause a tree to grow in the hallowed dirt.  And this tree will lift its branches to the sky, giving honor to the memory of Fairest Flower.  And this tree shall be called Willow in my honor.  And by-and-by this mighty tree will produce seeds that will be carried far and wide by the four winds.  And these trees will grow by a water’s edge where they can continue to pay homage to a great fallen warrior and his lost love, Fairest Flower.  I decree it, and it shall come to pass.”  With that, he took hold of Fairest Flower’s hand, again, and led her out onto the water.
The people stood silent as the god and their princess glided out over the water.  As they watched, another cloud began to form where to last one had appeared.  Then the cloud began to rotate, faster and faster.  They stood in awe as the god and Fairest Flower neared the funnel that was beginning to drop out of the cloud’s belly.  Then suddenly, the funnel leapt downward and there was a brilliant flash of light and a tremendous explosion that shook the ground. 
When the people could see, again, the funnel was gone and the cloud was dissipating.   And the god and Fairest Flower were nowhere to be seen.  They stood there for a long time, trying to come to terms with what they had witnessed.
Finally, Ruler Seeki stood and addressed his people, “We have seen a miracle this day.  My daughter has gone to live with the gods.  It saddens me to lose her, but this is the way of life.  Even as your great ruler I must obey the Golden One.  We shall honor Fast Runner as we have been instructed.   He was, indeed, a worthy opponent for a god.”
The people cleaned Fast Runner and anointed him with fragrant oils.  Then they wrapped his body in animal furs and buried it in the knoll the god had pointed to. 
The people had doubts as to whether Fast Runner’s soul would produce a tree and soon lost interest in the matter.  However, a week later, a sprout appeared over the gravesite.  Not sure if a weed had sprouted there by coincidence, they kept a close eye on it.
But the spout did grow to be a tree.   And the tree’s branches did rise up to the sky.  And it seemed to them that the tree was paying homage to a lost love.  And they began called the tree “Willow,” as the god had decreed.
Willow grew with each passing day and reached further into the sky.  But as the summer season waned, its limbs began to sag.  The people became alarmed, fearing that if Willow died, the god would exact a revenge. 
However, Willow didn’t die.  But its limbs continued to sag until the tips touched the water nearby.  It seemed to the people that, rather than pay homage to the god, Willow was reaching down to touch the water that had taken Fairest Flower away.  Touched by Willow’s sad plight, the people began calling the tree “Weeping Willow.”
The season passed as did the years.  And, as the god had decree, Weeping Willow produced seeds that were scattered far and wide by the four winds.  And, of course, the trees grew only where the limbs could touch bodies of water and continue to reach out to Fairest Flower, that she might one day return.
To this day and forever more, weeping willows will grace our land to remind us that true love may be lost but not forgotten.  That is the saddest but sweetest memory a person can take to the grave.





Copyright © 2016 Lawrence Entertainment Group