A Fond Memory
I sit here typing on the keyboard of my computer as my mind goes back to when I was twelve and typing on the keyboard of my typewriter. I see inside my bed a story called "The Headless Ghostman." My mind keeps moving my hands over the keys.
"I have to get it right. I have to get it right," my mind keeps repeating. My mind obsesses with each detail dealing with the main character, Harvey.
Inside the story, Harvey rode his 350 Honda when he lost control as he crossed a bridge. As he fell from the bridge, his neck struck an electrical wire and sliced his head off. Harvey was a drug dealer, so he when returned as a ghostman he was sentenced to fight crime along with his 350 Honda.
"Larry, come down and get something to eat."
As I eat a cheeseburger and fries, my mother said, "You must do your other homework not just your writing."
"I will. The story that I'm working on is almost done."
I sit and watch my mother take a long swallow of her beer.
I am craving for it as I watch the level of her glass go down. I walk to the refrigerator and pulled one of her can of beers. I turned and pulled the lever and popped and poured the liquid down my throat.
My mother turns toward the noise and sees me drinking one of her beers. Her mouth opens wide as if a car could drive through it. Her eyes glares at me like semi-truck light beams coming straight at me.
I smile and belch, "Good beer, mom. May I have another?
My mother points her answer, a set the empty can of beer on the table, and went back to my room.
I continue to type and edit "The Headless Ghostman with the lovely taste of beer on my breathe. I started to crave that taste, and the feel of it going down my throat.
I am sitting home holding my book called The Headless Ghostman. This is the Lulu version, some it will be in the Create Space version. It highlights my struggle from a short story to its book form. Even though, it is not a novel, but a novella. I see it as an achievement, because today I am sober.