|
[Moiromma; part I]
“I think I will be dead next week if the nurse is correct on her examination.” That said it brings to light a man I met once at a joint called, ‘The Due Drop Inn,’ a harmless dive full of harmless people, madly packed with drunks. The owner lived above the bar, had quite the library for a barkeep—. Thus, that was all he ever wanted out of life was to
Every time he opened his mouth, closed his eyes, concentrated, putting both his hands tightly against his head, and then moving them down to his heart, he could hear things and see things way beyond the normal. But what I remember most, now that I’m dying here in the hospital is for some odd reason, he never smiled, a most trivial observation I assure you, but when a man is dying, and this comes to mind, it is worth an once of thought; is it not?
(Remember the nurse ((the nurse being: Ellyn)); she’s at Johannes’ side now.)
“Do you want me to see if I can find this person for you?” (Johannes being a talker of sorts, loving the art, got to know the nurses quite well).
“Yes, yes,” I told Ellyn that would work quite well. Now that I think about it, and she’s thinking there was something peculiar about him. She is ready to start her search.
(Two days later.)
(Ellyn) “Johannes, I went looking for your mysterious person, and guess what?”
“What,” I said, not expecting anything of value to appear.
“I even went to the bar, you mentioned, and guess what…I found him!”
“At the bar?” I asked, thinking, she looked cute with her little beady eyes, and …well lets leave that alone. As I was about to say, I asked Ellyn if she’d ask him to come and see me tomorrow, if I lived to see tomorrow that is. For the life of me I couldn’t remember his name, but Ellyn knew, as I searched high and low for it she said, “Amaru,” now who could remember that I told myself, so I didn’t feel so bad after she muttered it out.
“Ay yes, that was his name,” I said with delight, to Ellyn.
“Johannes,” she said in a voice that said she had pulled the rabbit out of the hat, “Believe it or not, he just happens to be in this very hospital, actually in critical care like you, next door.” To my astonishing glimpse at her, my eyes opened up as wide as owls.
“Next door,” I spited out, stuttering even.
“Yes, yes, yes…” she said as if she was Sherlock Holms.
“Take me to him,” I asked Ellyn, and there within the moment we found ourselves peeking around the door of his room, into his room.
(Whispered Ellyn.) “The old man wants to die.”
Said I, “He doesn’t look frustrated, does he?”
He was now speaking in a low tone a foreign
“Johannes, come over here!” he said in a semi-loud rustic dying voice. I was astounded he remembered me, a memory like an elephant.
“You are a stranger friend,” he commented, “Come with me, be a Moirommalite.” He than grabbed my hand, as if I was shackled to him, his blood being socked into my skin, and when I woke up, I was on Moiromma. He could not tell me what exactly took place, how Ellyn was feeling, but did say, “As we both died there on the spot, she looked in wonderment, as our souls vanished in her sight hand to hand, on our way to Moiromma.”
[Part II “Moiromma: lazrak“]
Author Dennis Siluk, web stie http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Digg this article.