Dragonfly Dreamer: November 2009

This morning I felt like reading some poetry by Emily Dickinson. I've always considered her one of my favorite poets, and when I read some of her poems this morning, I was reminded why I like her work so much. There is such charm and an almost child-like awe of life in her work, which I really admire. She celebrates the world, appreciates loss, and enjoys its many beautiful wonders. She produced a massive quantity of poetry, and I particularly enjoy the poems she wrote about nature. Here are some pieces that I wanted to share:

"TWO butterflies went out at noon
And waltzed above a stream,
Then stepped straight through the firmament
And rested on a beam;

And then together bore away
Upon a shining sea,—
Though never yet, in any port,
Their coming mentioned be.

If spoken by the distant bird,
If met in ether sea
By frigate or by merchantman,
Report was not to me."

"BESIDES the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze.

A few incisive mornings,
A few ascetic eves,—
Gone Mr. Bryant’s golden-rod,
And Mr. Thomson’s sheaves.

Still is the bustle in the brook,
Sealed are the spicy valves;
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The eyes of many elves.

Perhaps a squirrel may remain,
My sentiments to share.
Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind,
Thy windy will to bear!"

"THE MOON was but a chin of gold
A night or two ago,
And now she turns her perfect face
Upon the world below.

Her forehead is of amplest blond;
Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.

Her lips of amber never part;
But what must be the smile
Upon her friend she could bestow
Were such her silver will!

And what a privilege to be
But the remotest star!
For certainly her way might pass
Beside your twinkling door.

Her bonnet is the firmament,
The universe her shoe,

The stars the trinkets at her belt,
Her dimities of blue."

Note: Photos are courtesy of http://www.pdphoto.org/

Until I type again,
Kami

Photo courtesy of http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/

*** Author's note: "Wide Awake" is an original, previously unpublished, fictional story that I wrote. It will be told in multiple parts. If you've yet to read any of the prior parts, below are the links to do so.
For Part One go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-one-crazy-talk.html

For Part Two go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-two-haunted-house.html

For Part Three go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-three-new-believer.html

For Part Four go to:http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/10/wide-awake-part-four-education-in.html

For Part Five go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/10/wide-awake-part-five-thomas-story.html ***

WIDE AWAKE

Part Six: Curse Of The Ring

"Thomas' Story -- Continued"

My proposal to Angelique had been impulsive, so I had yet to get her a ring. After she agreed to marry me, my search for the perfect ring began. Beautiful and expensive were requirements, but Angelique and I also wanted a ring that was unique in someway. Using my connections at the art and antiquities dealership, I came across the largest and most gorgeous diamond ring I had ever seen. It had been crafted in Europe in the early 17th century for a family of French nobles. Only recently, it had come back on the market as part of an estate sale in London. It was beautiful, but it was more than that. The moment I saw it, I was transfixed, as if a spell had been caste upon me. Who knows? Maybe it had. Knowing the ring's history, and what happened to me after I bought it, I have wondered if dark magic may have been at work. I would never have believed such a thing when I was alive, but death has made me more open minded.

The executor of the estate, a pale, gloomy man named Martin Dobbs, told me the ring's history before I bought it. He said that he couldn't allow anyone to buy it without full disclosure. He'd never forgive himself otherwise. I remember thinking, at the time, that he was a superstitious old fool when he told me that he believed that the ring was cursed. Cursed! How ridiculous that sounded! Who could believe such nonsense? Certainly, not I.

Mr. Dobbs believed in it wholeheartedly. He sat at his scuffed up desk, in his small, cluttered London office, and I could see his hands tremble. Martin Dobbs was afraid of the ring. He would not touch it directly, only the outside of its box. He would hardly look at it. The entire time he told me what he knew of the ring's history, there was terror in his eyes.

He told me that the ring was crafted in the 17th century for a wealthy French noblewoman by her husband. Legend says that he had the ring made in an attempt to appease her anger after she'd learned of his latest mistress in a long line of extra-marital affairs. The story goes that he presented it to her while in an upper hallway of their large manor house, just before they were to descend the stairs for dinner. She took a long look at the ring, smiled, and, in a gesture of rejection, threw it past her husband, onto one of the steps of the staircase.

She told him, "I curse you, and I curse your ring."

Appalled, he stared at her in shock for a long moment, before he turned to retrieve the costly ring from the stair upon which it had landed. Just as he was bending over to pick it up, he lost balance. I was unexplainable. One moment, he was bending over, feet firm on the floor, the next he was falling down the steps. Down, down the remaining steps he fell. He landed headfirst at the bottom of the staircase. Shocked to witness her husband's sudden fall, the noblewoman rushed to his side, but it was already too late. He'd broken his neck, and the beautiful ring was clutched in his dead hand.

The French noblewoman had loved her husband, despite his infidelities, and his death sent her into a deep despair. She kept to her rooms after that night. Visitors would come and go, but each left disappointed in their desire to see her. Food and drink were also sent away, barely touched by the lady of the house, if they were touched at all. Only a favorite ladies' maid was allowed to keep her company, and even those occasions grew less and less often.

One day, two or three months after her husband's tragic fall, the noblewoman was discovered missing from her rooms when her favored ladies' maid went to check on her. Since she'd not left those rooms in so long, this was an immediate cause for concern. A search was begun, but it did not last long. The noblewoman was found at the bottom of a high tower, which was the oldest part of the manor house. She was quite obviously dead from having jumped from the top of the tower. It was discovered that she was wearing the same ring her husband had been trying to give to her when he died. Her fingers were so broken in her fall that it was difficult to pry the ring off her hand, but, nevertheless, someone managed to remove it and add it to the rest of her vast jewelry collection.

The diamond ring was then passed on to the couple's eldest son and heir as part of the family's estate. By this time, the ring was thought to be cursed, and this belief was furthered by the many years of misfortunes that took place. There were accidents, suicides, and even murders surrounding the family and friends of all who owned it. During the French Revolution, the ring was sold by its owner, a distant cousin, and last living heir to the original owners. This lady had no choice, except to sell the valuable family heirloom. Her escape from France to England had left her with little to support herself in her new life abroad. In fact, she felt fortunate to have made it to London at all, since the rest of her family had already lost their heads to Madame Guillotine. Some have said that it was unfortunate that she did not sell the ring sooner, perhaps then she could have escaped the curse before it had left its mark on her too. Only a day after she sold it, she drowned in a boating accident on the Thames.

I was told that all future owners of the ring were equally effected by the curse, and that this tragic pattern continued until I was the one presented with the opportunity (if you can call it that) to buy it. I found the ring's history to be a fascinating story, but not one that I believed to be true. To me, it was an impressive, valuable piece of jewelry, and I was sure Angelique would want it as her engagement ring. She would not believe it was cursed, anymore than I did. So, I bought it; bought it without hesitation, even as the estate's executor looked clearly relieved to see it go.

After buying the ring, I flew with it back to Seattle right away. I remember the day I arrived back was a Tuesday, mostly because I had a dinner reservation for Angelique and myself just three days later, on Friday night. It was then that I planned to give her the ring. In the meantime, I kept the ring in my office. I had a wall safe there, and it was common for me to use this as a temporary stash for some of the smaller valuables while they were transitioning in and out of the dealership. I was sure the ring would be secure there for a few days until I gave it to my new fiancee.

As was my habit, I was the last to leave my office on Friday evening. Before I left, I took the ring out of the safe and put it in my inner coat pocket. My plan was to hurry home to change, and then to pick up Angelique for our big dinner date. I worked in a large office building where there were several tenants leasing office space, besides the company that I worked for. Frequently, I encountered unfamiliar faces in the elevator, the lobby and the hallways. My dinner date with Angelique was scheduled late in the evening. Usually, the building was fairly empty by this time on most Fridays, and this day was no exception.

I ran into no one on my way to the elevator, which wasn't at all surprising, but something happened that I did think was strange. When I pushed the elevator button, I could see that one of the two elevators went up to the third floor, and then it stopped and stayed there, two floors below mine. I pushed the button again, could see the second elevator move up from the lobby, and then it, too, reached the third floor, and stopped. Like the other elevator, rather than continuing up to me, it seemed to be stuck. Growing impatient, thinking that I would be late getting Angelique if I didn't leave soon, I pushed the button several more times. Nothing happened. Neither elevator moved from the third floor. Frustrated, and knowing my fiancee would yell at me if I were even a few minutes late, I took one last look at my watch before deciding to take the stairs.

I headed down the stairway at a jog. It was as I turned down the second of the five flights of stairs, to the entryway to the third floor, that I saw a figure in front of me, dressed in black clothing and wearing a ski mask. Before my brain could really register what it was seeing, a gun was pointed my way, and I was hit by the first of several bullets, fired in rapid succession. I tumbled the rest of the way down the flight of steps, landing in a sprawled heap at the gunman's feet, as he stood in front of the third floor exit. In pain and shock, I tried to cry out, but I could only manage a low gurgling sound. My pockets were quickly searched by the shooter, and, although I wanted to struggle, to fight him, I couldn't seem to move. He took my wallet, my watch, and the infamous diamond ring, and, after obtaining these valuables, he shot me a final time before running off. I lay there, I don't know how long. I remember feeling the wetness of my own blood pooling around me. My vision began to fade. It didn't take long before everything sank into total blackness.

***To Be Continued***

Until I type again,
Kami

Dragonfly Dreamer

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

"Thanksgiving Turkey Blues"

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Turkey and Questionable Kebabs

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Emily Dickinson Poems

Monday, November 9, 2009

WIDE AWAKE -- Part Six: Curse Of The Ring

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