The Fuckno Wars CH 13 Engagement Is Dedication

Rocking Horse   by The Dead Weather

As of today, I have been married to a strong, full-blooded native woman who has put up with me for 19 years, through thick and thin, hardship and merriment, and also, unyielding support and commitment. 

God Help Her.   

And also, Thank You Lisa.

I have nothing pretty to offer you like poetry or songs played on your guitar.  I can only attempt to do my best to write a tale, and it is not pretty.  Yet, there is redemption at the end.

It’s all I have for you.

But,

You know me.

THE FUCKNO WARS

CHAPTER 13

ENGAGEMENT

The sounds of folks running up the stairwells echoed down the hallways.  They were going to flush us out.  We would leave in a hail of bullets.  It was a gauntlet, which is an Olde Britland term that means, “A tight sleeve of metal pieces woven into a glove.”  It also means that you will feel metal pieces upon you like you were putting on a glove.

Bullets.

The blue ones faded from the hallway.  The ghost of the dead girl beside me was my only company now.  I did not know what had happened, or why, and with their sudden departure, now I was truly alone.

Well, fuck that shit.

I ran back in the small ceremonial chamber with the altar from which I had stolen all of its talismans.  Them purple robes understood what it was that I now carried in the heavy sack over my good shoulder. 

I had hurt my other shoulder minutes before, if you recall, by wrenching it trying to get through one of those hidden doors. 

I was not going to run down the grand staircase and bow to a hail of bullets.

If only I hadn’t roared in my anger, I might have been able to escape with stealth, following the dead girl’s ghost to safety.

You know, there was never the easy way out, for us punks.

Damn.

I scrambled across to the empty chamber in the dark and smashed into a pew.  I fell on the sack, and heard the tinkle of crystal goblets and bone china as they turned into splinters.

The ghost girl, Lorelei, well, she stood above me with an angry look upon her face.

I had failed her.  I was a coward.

But, do you know, she was angry at something else.

Herself.

She had failed me.   She was not infallible.  She knew things that I did not, and never would, until I crossed over to the other side as well.

We all will, someday.

It was simply this:  The future is not chiseled in stone.  As Vern Gosdin once sang, it is indeed wise to change your path, once you get a better view of your situation.  You don’t know, baby, until you do.

She pointed at the other entrance, and it led down to the second floor.  We had come in through there.  I rolled over as the shards in the bag under my back crinkled and tinkled like a glass menagerie.  I stood back up, rubbing my thighs, and I whispered to her.

I said, “Where are the other ghosts?”

She said, “They gave their all.  They gone now.  But they fought well.  They are redeemed.”

She pointed at the way out.

I hefted that bag up on my good shoulder, and I felt the shards poking me in the back, through the purple cloth.  I said, “They coming back?”

She slowly shook her head and looked right into my eyes.

She said, “No.  They saved you. They sacrificed themselves to protect you.  They have earned their way out of this prison.  They will not be back here.”

I faltered.  I said, “I caused them to perish?”

She smiled.  She said, “No.  They are free now.  They can pass on now.  Because of you, they finally had a reason to fight.”

Huh.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

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