These dark tales are as true as they need to be. Working daily with the most brilliant minds never known, even to their own families, have forced my mind to find examples of my own excellence in order to relate. As Tom Hall sings: A man ain’t writin’ if he can’t relate to the things that he sees in his life.
Tales of darkness emerge during the search, desired or not, for the excellence of my experience and of my soul. Darkness lives everywhere you most desire NOT to look.
Careful. Don’t look inward. Stay with me. If true soul searching – and finding bothers you, this series may not be for you.
If human frailty, humility, shattered dreams, and the hope that ignorance and superstition are real bothers you, STOP. READ NO FURTHER. On this blog and most others, you will find light-hearted and hope-filled fancy.
If not one person reads this, it is OK with me. For those of you who have faced your demons or are currently exploring the labyrinth of your most true psyche, you will relate. Read at your own peril or, perhaps, a relatable link to your own salvation.
I will write these stories from first person though there is no need for you or I to claim or pretend that any of these experiences are at all my own. You will believe and relate as you will. I will write as if, as if….. these experiences are mine and mine alone.
Depending on the ages presented I will insert the geography and the people that were in my life, at that time, and in my own current timeline. The casual reality lacks drama that will haunt certian aspects of your mind to wonder if… can this much human darkness truelly live behind the sparkling eyes and bright, happy-go-lucky smile of one human being? Oh yes, and much more that will never be written, because, as an ancient man in a 9th Street dive once commented,”Don’t ever repeat that. If you do the White Coats will find you and you might never escape.”
Again, relieve yourself of the need to dredge my psyche for clues of my mental health. I am only the author writing as if, as if…. These experiences ARE most truelly my own.
One last warning: This chronological writing of a Tale of Darkness leaves out the decades of happiness, love, fornication, money-making, friendly jokes, child raising, spiritual studies, more fornication, TV watching, and sleep. If it included all that it wouldn’t be Tales of Darkness now would it.
The story begins in a farm house that Grandad rebuilt in the 30’s in South East Wyoming. But first I have to go riding dirtbikes out in the desert today. It is sunny and windy with a few clouds offering a light sprinkle. I’ll be back in a few hours.