Odd ends

Odd ends

  By G. Russell Peterman

  Copyright 2016 G. Russell Peterman

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  Dedication

  This one is for my grandson Kai.

  Preface

  As a carpenter works he is left with numerous little end pieces of boards and since the 1500s this collection, this pile of end pieces, has been referred to as "odd ends." Like any carpenter worth his salt I am trying to find some use for as many of my odd ends as possible before hitting the delete button.

  This expression has slipped out of the builder's trade into general use. Today, one might look at the clutter in the bottom of a desk drawer or in the garage corner or in a closet as "odds and ends." As a writer my disk box and hard drive has a collection of odd ends and during my cleaning I offer some of these to you.

  Table of Contents

  Part one: folktale and fantasy

  One: Bayamon the Great [folktale]

  Two: The letter [fantasy]

  Part two: free verse poetry

  Three: in lilac time

  Four: Memories of Old Dun [four poems]

  Five: stopping along the way

  Part three: science fiction

  Six: Dark of the Moon

  Seven: the Turver Run

  Part four: historical fiction

  Eight: Whiteout [short story]

  Nine: The arrival [novella]

  Part five: youth fiction ages 9-14

  Ten: New Glove

  Eleven: Crazy Jane

  Twelve: Joe Von

  Part six: Personal narrative

  Thirteen: Rabbit Run Road

  Part seven: Grandpa Stories

  Fourteen: Eight Grandpa Stories

  About the author

  Other books by the author

  A sample short story from Western Heart Stories

  Part one

  Folktale and fantasy

  One

  Folktale: My grandson at age five noticed the moon was a different shape than the last time he looked at it and wanted to know "Why." I wrote "Bayamon the Great" to explain the phases of the moon to him.

  Bayamon the Great

  Bayamon [Bay-a-mon], the greatest of hunters, hunted successfully all kinds of game, large and small. Brighter moonlight made hunting at night more difficult. Bayamon the Great had one real strong dislike. He hates everything about a full Moon.

  One night, years and years ago when all full moon's were extra bright, while hunting for the hundredth firefly to fill a record fourteenth glass jar, Bayamon thinks about getting rid of troublesome moonlight. The thought made him grin and Bayamon decides to hunt and capture Moonbeams.

  Chuckling Bayamon develops a clever plan. Smiling his skillful fingers happily fashion a huge heavy black sack with a strong gripping drawstring and a second smaller one. When finished before the first hint of dawn Bayamon nods his approval, grins, closes his eyes to rest, and waits for night.

  Hidden in the deepest and darkest night shadows Bayamon is as silent as a falling snow flake. Suddenly, out leaps Bayamon quicker than a lightning bolt. One fast swoop of his open small sack captures two surprised Moonbeams, frolicking twins. All night Bayamon the Great hunts, emptying many times his small sack into his large one. His first night's greatest catch was a group of seven cousins playing leap frog on the roof of a wishing well. At his hunt's end with the graying before dawn a tiny part of the full Moon overhead is dark.

  Every night his small sack empties many times. His large sack fills. The Moon shrinks to three-quarter, half, one-quarter, a thin crescent, and finally almost nothing at all.

  Looking up at his growing success Bayamon laughs. "One more night," he brags to the whispering wind and wise old Papa Owl. Claims to have captured in one quick swoop nine giggling Moonbeams playing leapfrog on a mailbox, and last night caught four brothers racing on a dewy petal of an extra large red rose.

  Great pleasure Bayamon takes from each night's hunt. He smiles at the thin curving silvery sliver of Moon remaining.

  One more night and Bayamon's hunt will be done. His large bulging black sack is so full its seams strain against a heavy load. Just before dawn on the last night his sack burst. All captured Moonbeams escape.

  The next night a round full golden Moon shines brightly again.

  A scowling Bayamon the Great sits on his favorite flat rock repairing ripped seams. While sewing on patches Bayamon promises all that will listen that he will hunt again. And, Bayamon the Great is a man of his word.

  On any clear night admirers of Bayamon the Great have only to step outside, look up at the Moon, and see how his newest hunt goes.

  Two

  Fantasy: While my grandson was learning his colors I wrote this about colors and decided to use the letter as the fictional form.