L. M. O'NEAL

Hello reader I am glad you are here.  You may have seen some of these short stories on other sites.  L. M. O'Neal also writes under the name Larone Mckinley.  We hope you enjoy your reading experience. 

WHY DO YOU HATE ME 

A man walking through an unfamiliar part of town, found himself surrounded by a mob of angry people. 

 The mob was made up of different races and nationalities.  They were young, old, male and female.
The mob encircled him.  He then asked them a simple question.  “Why do you hate me?”
No one answered him directly.  Instead their voices ringing out in unison, screamed insults at him.

The man did not show fear.  He again asked in a normal tone.  “Why do you hate me?”
The mob only grew more angry.  They continued to move in closer around him until he could feel their spittle on his face, as they shouted, “I hate you!”

To onlookers, it would appear the stranger was soon to be torn to shreds by the mob.

The mob's temper had risen to their hottest.  The strange man lifted his voice and bellowed like thunder.  In a loud and powerful voice, showing no fear he said.  “Why do you hate me?  Is it because I am a man, or a woman.  Is it because I am a child?”
“That cannot be the reason, you are seeing me as I am.”

“Is it because I am too short?  Or am I too tall?  That is too simple.  So, I ask you, is it because I am old?  Perhaps I am too young.  Not old enough.  Not young enough.  I say no, that is not the reason, you can’t be that blind.

Is the reason you hate me because I am white or black, red or yellow.  Or because of any of those combinations?  To that I say No.  You would have to think with a brain the size of an Asp.
Maybe it is because I am missing a limb, an eye or an ear.  To that I would say, only the self centered and shallow would go to those depths.

Answer me, is it because I am Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, or one of the many different religions.  I say not a chance since we all pray to someone, or something more powerful than our own selves.”

The mob was silent now.  Some standing in the mob that encircled the stranger, had begun to question themselves and their motives.

The stranger seemed not to notice the silence, and continued to speak as he had before.
“I have pondered the questions that none of you appear to be able to answer.  Or perhaps you are not willing to answer.  The only answer that I can give you, is that you don’t hate me as much as you fear me.  Why?  It is simple.  You don’t know me, therefore, you cannot trust me.”

A young man in the crowd shouted, “I hate you, and I will kill you.”
The stranger addressed the young man.  “Kill me?  That I am sure you can do, but in doing so, will you not be killing a part of yourself.  Remember, you don’t know me, you only know of me.  I have not shown you, in actions or words, that I have desires or plans to do you harm.  What you are trying to kill, is the hate that resides within you.  You are the host to a parasite called hate.  It is feeding on your good nature.  If you let it continue, it will grow until it fills your being completely.  Then it will kill you.  So, if you kill me, without just cause, I need only wait.  In due time all of you will join me in death and consequences.’

The mob, now a large crowd, began to back away.  It seemed they had gotten more, than they had bargained for. The stranger was not finished speaking.  He spoke again, “The hate, of which you have accused me, is your hate.  What you do to me, you also do to yourselves.

The stranger looked into the faces and eyes of those who were standing close to him.  He saw confusion, shame and introspection.  Saying no more, he lowered his head and began to walk through the crowd.  As if on command, the crowd parted and let him pass.  With no further harassment from the crowd, the stranger was gone. Within seconds of his departure a breeze commenced to blow.  The breeze carried an old newspaper down the street.  The paper caught onto a woman’s leg.  When she reached down to brush it loose, something caught her eye.  She picked up the paper.  Holding it to the light, she gasped, and pushed her way toward the leader of the mob.  Upon reaching him she pointed to the newspaper, and in an excited and agitated voice she exclaimed, “This is him!  This is him! You can’t touch him.”  The leader of the now, dispersing mob, took the paper and looked at the picture.  The caption read, MAN BEATEN TO DEATH BY ANGRY MOB. All the people that saw the picture, and read the caption agreed that it was he.

From somewhere in the crowd, a loud voice yelled.  “We can't kill a dead man twice.”
From another direction a woman screamed, “We will face him at our time of death.  It is for us he waits."

 "Registered with the IP Rights Office Copyright Registration Service
      Ref: 235569577"

**************************************************************************************************

                                              I RESERVE THE RIGHT

 James Dramick sat beside his father Oscar’s bed reading to him his favorite book, The Tale of Two Cities.  As James read, his mind wandered back to his childhood when his father would read him his favorite book, until he fell asleep. Sometimes he would not be asleep, but would pretend, so his father would turn off the light and leave the room.  On those occasions, he would turn on his flashlight, and read the book himself.
 
 Oscar Dramick, once a tall, barrel chest man, now lay in his hospital bed at the Weeping Willow Retirement Home.  At seventy-one, and suffering from lung cancer, he barely resembled the man that James had always loved and respected all of his life.  The man who lay in bed now, was only a fragile shell of the man he once was. He could no longer stop a locomotive like Superman.  He wasn't faster than the Flash on his best day.  He could no longer play catch or even watched neighborhood games.  Now, he was even unable to carry on a lively debate, just for fun. 

 This man beside him was nearing his end and he knew it.  With his skin having lost its fullness, hung slack about his face and frame.  The body of this construction worker, father and husband, now lay wasting away as skin and bones.  This man once full of life and energy now clung to life through tubes that ran in and out of his body.    
 
 “Failing. Even the machines are giving up.” James thought as he noticed he had stopped reading aloud. 

 Finding his place in the chapter, James resumed reading, as he had done every evening after work, from six to 7:30 p.m., for the last 12 weeks. James, at 48 years, had worked for the same construction company his father had retired from after 45 years.   Oscar, had developed and upheld an impeccable reputation and work ethic, but, nonetheless, when he retired, given a pension, and a gold watch. What Oscar treasured most, was his old friends. All hard men like him. Rather, like he used to be.  Most of them were now gone. 

   “Jimmy Boy.” Came a soft and feeble voice from the bed. James stopped reading and looked up from the book.  His father turned his head and was speaking without opening his eyes.

 “Yeah Dad.” James said respectfully to his father.
 “Your mother…, Oscar struggled for air, which, he had to do after every few words.
 ..…Came to see me last night.”  James said nothing.  He thought his father was losing his mind.  His mother had been dead for twelve years.  Oscar continued, still struggling, he said with difficulty.  “I still talk to her …, he wheezed, but she seldom answers me.”

 .

 “Jimmy, she was standing…” another breath, “beside my bed”.  James remained silent.  He was afraid of what he would hear next.  

 “She told me my time was short and to tell you that, I was sorry.”   Having taken only two breaths through the whole sentence, he fell silent and struggled to breath. 
 
 James thought quietly for a minute then said, “Dad, you have nothing to apologize for.  You haven’t done anything wrong to me.” 

 Oscar opened his eyes and fixed them on his son. The two men stared at each other for a minute. Then Oscar spoke, “I heard you, playing the piano…. two summers ago.  I was returning some tools to your shed. When I went into your back…. yard, the sliding door… was open.  I thought you, Angie and the kids were gone…. you were there and playing so beautifully.” 
 
 It took Oscar a while to get everything out he wanted to say. James waited, kept quiet and listened.  He did not know his father was not aware he had continued to play.  His father had called him a sissy. 

 “You need to learn a trade. Something dependable.  Something you can raise a family on.  Nothing but little sissy boys sit and play pianos.  They act like girls. You're not a girl, are you?”  The scar still seeped.  That was just one of the many scars left by the comments of his father.  The only thing he ever wanted was for his father to be proud of him. 

 With the hope of gaining his fathers respect, he became a construction worker after graduating high school.  He accepted his plight, but did not love it, as his father had.  For an escape, he continued to play the piano.  James could always find a place to play, sometimes at the home of friends, other times at the empty church. Still, he played.   Looking at his father he said, “Why didn’t you tell me you liked my music?”

 Oscar lay on his back looking at the shadows as they slowly crept across the room.  His thoughts now inward and in retrospect asked himself, “If I had encouraged him to play, instead of trying to make him a master of construction, what would he be now?  Would he have been happier?  Would I be lying here uncertain about where I will go when my sun goes down?”
 
 To James he said, “How can the finished product be so strong when, I was the weak part of the foundation?”

  James was speechless.  He could not believe his ears. Was his father telling him for the first time in his life, that he was the weak link in the marriage between him and his mother?

   His Dad, until his sickness, had always played the part of being the immovable mountain.  Is he telling me that he’s proud of me?  Where is all this coming from?
 
 “Dad, you are not perfect, none of us are.  But, you are my imperfect Dad ,and…
 Oscar held up one shaky index finger,  a couple of inches off the sheet.  This was his way of saying, stop talking .back when he was in good health.  James, having learned in childhood the meaning of his fathers raised finger; fell silent.

 “I am getting weaker, shut up… and… listen.  All my life…. I insisted on being right even when I knew I was wrong….Oscar managed to inhale air into his lungs, he continued.  Everything had to go my way, I thought.  Well, I was…. Wrong ..Especially….   about you.  You are a good construction worker and you know how to run a good crew.  But, I think you would have made…. one hell of…. a piano player.  You still have time Son.  Now go play. Play for me and your mama.’’
 
 Tears  started to run from the corners of Oscars eyes; he did not notice.  James sat stone silent and speechless.  He could not believe his father just gave him permission to play.  His father just told him he was good at what he did and gave him permission to be happy. To do what he loved.  Before he could speak, Oscar spoke again.

 “Go home son and play. I will be able to hear it.  Now go.”  With nothing more to say , Oscar turned his head toward the window and closed his eyes.

 James, knowing his fathers’ ways, sat, for another few minutes.  He then stood and walked to the door.  As he opened the door, his father spoke again.

 “Jimmy.”  Said Oscar.
 James stopped and half turned.  He answered,  “Yes Dad.”

 “I love you son but, I do reserve the right… to be wrong.   I’m only… human.”

 For reasons James could not explain he said, “You are my hero Daddy, Good night.” and closed the door.  All the way to the car and then driving on the freeway, he wondered why he had called him Daddy. And why, he had never told his Dad that, he was indeed his hero.   He was a long ways from fifteen-year-old boy now.   And  he could see that he had made many mistakes.  Feeling a need to talk to his dad again, James took the next exit. At the end of the ramp, while waiting to make a left turn,  his cell phone rang.

  With an uneasy sense of knowing, James answered.

 From the phone came a female voice.  Soft and calm she said,  “Is this Mr. Dramick?
“Yes.”
“Mr. Dramick, I know you just left the Weeping Willow, however, you need to come back.

James was looking straight ahead and he didn’t see the light change, or hear the horns blow behind him.
 
 “Mr. Dramick, I’m sorry to have to tell you.   Your father just passed away.”
James looked up at the changed light; he knew he had received fatherly instructions before he left his Dad's room.

 Finally, he spoke to the woman still holding on the phone line. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.  I have to go home and apologize to my son.”
 
 When the light changed to green, James drove through the intersection and back onto the Freeway.  He knew now, that, he too, had the right to be wrong.  Yet, he also knew he had the ability to change it.  Knowing the value of his fathers advice, he knew his first stop, had to be at home.

  He knew his father understood.

****************************************************************************************************

 BIFOCALS  1

                                         KEEPER OF THE GLASSES

 “I want to come to you, but I can’t move.  Why can’t I move?  Why can’t I come to you over there?”

 “Betty, you are beautiful and the time is near when we will be together again. You are not ready yet.  You will be able to make the journey soon.Very soon.”

 “ Thomas, I hurt so bad.  I hurt all the time. Everyday and  every night.   Let me come to where you are?”
 
 “No!  Betty, the time is not now. Soon baby, very soon.” 
“Thomas please, oh please, Thomas.”
 
Betty begged  to her husband to take her away from her pain.   As the dream faded into the ether, she found herself adrift. And then, perhaps she was not adrift. She had the same recurring  dream, for the last five nights.  After the second dream, she no longer had fear of dying.  No fear of the unknown. 

 Moses Thomas Jackson Sr., Betty's husband, had come back to her.
In the dreams he calmed her fears and soothed her nerves.  Her husband's visits did more than simply calm  her.They had given her the utmost comfort, in knowing, he would be there on the other side.  After begging to Moses for the last two nights to gain permission to crossover.  Betty was denied again, and told to wait. The waiting was difficult.  Compared to the pain she was in, waiting was easy.  If only the pain would stop. 

 In the zone between asleep and awake, Betty Marie Jackson drifted and prayed.   She was hounded by the pain.
The fog  Induced by the  drugs, keep her adrift in a different world.  A   foreign world without edges.   It had no center. No end.

 Moses Thomas Jackson Jr., known as T.J. to friends and family, sat beside his mothers bed.   His brow is deeply furrowed, and his heart is aching.  There was no need to call  his siblings and report on his mother’s condition, it was clear, she was drawing near her end. 

Betty seemed to no longer know,  or show concern about who cared for her.  However, that very important matter was handled by her children.  There had been no need to setup a schedule for caregivers.  The four children of Betty and Moses Jackson, assumed full responsibility to hold vigil over their mother.

 T.J. kept a watchful eye on his mother.  Lying in her bed, Betty mumbled incoherently.  The knowledge that his mothers condition was beyond his control, offered no comfort.  T.J. knew his mother was in pain.  Occasionally, he understood a word, or a name she mumbled.  The sounds she made, was nothing more than a whimper. In the dimly lit room, T.J. cried and prayed for his Mother. 

 T.J. was not alone in his tears and prayers.  Dozens of others in the area, were also praying for Betty's release from  pain and agony.  Many who knew the family, and many, who had been touched by Betty, directed their prayers to the heavens constantly.
 
 As darkness fell, T.J.'s  two sisters and brother joined him.   One by one, they came in and sat with T.J. and their mother.  Malcolm, seated beside his mother's bed,  held her small hand as gently as a feather. He would occasionally give her hand a gentle squeeze.  Four days ago, Betty would squeeze back very lightly. But on this particular night, she did not respond.  With tears in his eyes, and a crackle in his voice, Malcolm repeated old stories she had told him as a child.  When he could speak no more, he placed his forehead on the back of his Mother's hand and cried.
 
 Alberta, the oldest daughter tried to show her mother strength. Her ability to show that strength, was no match to the reality of pain, that her mother was going through.  Alberta held Betty's other hand.   Rather than talk of  old times, she sang old Black Gospel Hymns.  In the second chorus of,"Swing Lo Sweet Chariot"  Marie entered the room.

 Hearing her sister sing, she joined in.  The two voices in harmony, traveled through the house.  Malcolm and T.J. began to harmonize with their  sisters and sang to their mother.
 
 Betty Jackson felt herself adrift in the fog caused by the drugs.  She began to hear a soft, sweet, young voice singing her favorite hymn. Then, another voice joined in. 

Soon there were many other voices,  singing her song.  Betty looked around.  In the fog she  struggled to see  below her.  She looked above. 

There  Standing right in front of her, Moses Thomas Jackson Sr.. Moses held out both hands with his palms turned up. He said, “Betty, I’ve come to take you home.  Are you ready?”

 Betty, seeing the radiance of the light, shouted, “Yes, Lord knows I want to come home.”

 “Then reach out and take my hands.  I will take you home with me to be with our Lord.” 

                 Betty placed her hands inside Moses's hands.  They  began to move.  The more they moved through and out of the fog, the less pain she felt. Soon she felt nothing but joy and freedom, apart from her earthly body.

 Moses and Betty Jackson’s  children stopped singing.  Their mother's body gave an unexpected jerk.  She then went limp. Soon, her breathing stopped.  Her children knew she was gone.

 The funeral for Betty Marie Jackson was  more impressive than that of a city politician.

                 She had no political importance that brought the people in to bid her good bye. It was because she was a genuinely beautiful and caring person.  The church she attended all her life, now hosted her funeral.  The church moderate in size quickly filled, leaving standing room only.
 
 The auto procession  to the cemetery stretched out for several blocks, causing traffic to be re-routed.  No one in the passing cars attempted to break the line.  Most knew Betty and of her passing.  At the cemetery,  the cars parked in orderly fashion, giving due respect to the dead.

 As hymns rose and tears flowed, Betty Marie Jackson was interred.  Two employees of the cemetery, stood back a respectable distance, watching.  Out of hearing range of the mourners,  one man stated rather matter-of-factly to the other.  “This is the first time, I have ever seen, the living out number the dead in this cemetery."
 
  .In a dimension far beyond the earthly, living world, Betty Marie Jackson was enjoying her heaven given name.   She had also heard a voice say,  “Well done my good and faithful servant.”  Her spirit was overjoyed with the happiness of heaven.

 On earth, time moved on.  Moses and Betty’s children adjusted to the loss.  All of them living Christian lives, they  found comfort in knowing, their parents were with the Lord. 

 As time passed Betty looked to earth.  The pain, suffering and general chaos below was more than she could bear. Approaching the Keeper,  she said, “Please let me go back and help.  Surely, some of those suffering  needs a little help.”  The keeper told her she could not return.  They have to make their own choices."  Betty did not give up.  Repeatedly, she asked.  She always  received the same answer.

 One day while walking the gardens in heaven, Betty received a prayer request. 

She listened, “Great Grandma Jackson.”  A small, delicate, clear voice of a little girl said.
“My name is Ashley Marie Watson.  Mommy and Daddy gave me your middle name because you so loved the Lord. You are my Great Grand Mother.  Anyway, I’m asking you, and Great-grandpa Moses to tell Jesus,  we need help.  Mommy and Daddy are fighting all the time.  They are blaming each other, because I am blind.   I know it’s not any ones fault.  I love my Mommy and Daddy,  I don’t want to see them break up.  Please help us. Amen.”

 Betty’s’ spirit became heavy from the weight of the little girls prayer.      The heaviness of the child's plea was so great that it began pressing on her.  “This is very serious. They are our earthly family,” Betty said to Moses.   “We have to go to the Keeper, he will decide,"

              Without delay they spoke to the Keeper.  He agreed, the prayer needed answering.  Together the three of them made their decision.
 
              After they said all they came to say,   Betty spoke up, knowing the circumstances that lay before her.  She pleaded, “Please let me go and help your children."
  
 In an instant, Betty found herself standing in the presence of Angels and Spirits of a higher power. They were all singing praises, and blessings to God.  One of the Angels approached her carrying a pair of glasses.  The glasses were the same that Betty had worn on earth.

 “With these glasses, those you are sent to help can see you.  They will fit all of Gods children.  On earth you will be a spirit and a warrior for God.  You cannot fight for the people.  You can give advice and direction.  Now go in the Lord.”
 
 In an instant, Betty was standing beside her Great Granddaughters bed.  In a whisper as soft as a butterflies wing, Betty whispered in her Great- granddaughter's ear, “Ashley, Great-grandma Betty is here. 

*****************************************************************************************************

BIFOCAL 2

 WHY CAN'T THEY SEE WHAT I SEE?

"Dear God, Great Grandma, and Great Grandpa.  I hope all of you are listening.  I think Mommy and Daddy are getting so angry with each other that they might split up.  I don't want that to happen.  I hope one of you are listening, because, we need help."

That was Ashley's prayer before she fell asleep.

Betty heard Ashley's prayer.  In response, Betty chose to speak to Ashley in her dream world.

As Ashley dreamed, she found herself running through a forest.  The forest was full of dangers and the unknown. Everything in the vast surrounding frightened her.  There was objects flying, trying to grab her.  Her dream was void of color.  It had only shapes, forms and sounds.  The color was absent from her dreams, because Ashley was born blind.  She had never seen color.  She found herself on the ground crawling.  She could feel the dirt against her palms.  The small stones with jagged edges was cutting into her hands and knees.  Groping with her hands, she came upon a pair of feet.  Not just ordinary feet.  These feet had been clothed in a soft cloth.  As Ashley reached higher, she felt a form.  To her surprise a pair of hands reached out and took her by her shoulders and helped her to stand..  These were loving, gentle hands.  The hands were not much larger than Ashley's.

As Ashley was helped to her feet, she asked, "Who are you?"

She felt no fear of the cloth covered person.   She did not jerk away when she felt the gentle hands rubbing the dirt off her face.  Her surprise came when the entity spoke.

"I am your Great Grandmother, Betty Marie Jackson.  You prayed for help and God heard your prayer.  I was allowed to come to you and help.

Feeling a sense of relief and protection, Ashley wrapped her small arms around her Great Grandmother.  She knew now, she was safe, and had no reason to be afraid.
Betty realizing the relief Ashley felt, embraced her Great Granddaughter.  Then, for only a second, Betty wished it was not a dream.  She would love to be able to hold and protect Ashley,as  well as her other children.

As she held Ashley and waited for her to talk, The Almighty gave her a thought.  A thought that she had not considered. She could hold all the children in the world.  She could hold them in their dreams.  She knew at that moment, she would be able to comfort anyone that would allow her.  Accepting the knowledge she had just received, gave her even more joy.  All around her, she could hear the singing of angels.  Betty was the only one who could hear the singing.

Still embracing her Great Grand Mother, Ashley asked, "Grandma Betty?"
"Yes baby," 
If I can touch you, and talk to you, does that mean I am dead?"
Unable to hold the laughter, Betty let out a loud and joyful laugh.  The sound of her laughter was heard far and wide.  To Ashley's ears, the sound of her Grand Mother's laughter, was the best music she had ever heard.
"No, baby, you are not dead.  I came to you in your dream because I did not want to frighten you."
"But, it is not fair, I can't see you.  I can't see anyone or anything.  I wish I could see you, just once.  That's all, just once."
Betty, feeling the pain of her granddaughter, knew she had to prepare Ashley for what was about to happen. 
"Now is the time I must tell you some things I hope you will understand."
Ashley could hear the seriousness in her Grandmother's voice.
"Grandma, did I do something wrong?  If I did I'm sorry."
"No baby, you did nothing wrong." 
Betty continued.  "This is your dream world.  This is the place you can come to when you are asleep.  In this place you can change, simply by wanting the change.  Here is where you make most all the rules.  I am going to give you something to wear while I am here.  This way, you will be able to see me.  What I am giving you will help you change your sleeping dream world, to something full of joy."

Without another word.  Betty slipped her bifocal eyeglasses onto Ashley's face.  Betty then stepped an arms length back.  Ashley gasped as her eyes focused on the beautiful, glowing lady in front of her.  She gasp again and began shouting.  "I can see, Grandma.  I can see!  Grandma Betty, I can see you and you are so beautiful.  You are more beautiful than I was told.  More beautiful than I imagined."
"While I am here, when you want to see me, simply put the glasses on.  For now, I want you to rest.  Rest my child, for tomorrow will be a busy day."

"But, Grandma, you just gave me sight and now you are leaving." 
"No Ashley, I am not leaving.  You do need rest without dreams.  And no.  I did not give you your sight.  You can see only me, when you wear the glasses.  I will try and help you to understand your world a little better.  Now, no more discussion.  You will see me tomorrow.

"But...you can't leave now.  I have so many questions."
Betty replied in a soft soothing voice, God has all the answers."  Then there was silence.  As quickly as Betty appeared in Ashley's dream, she disappeared.  Ashley's pleas to her Grandma Betty, had been to no avail.

Ashley slept in a peaceful sleep, unlike any she had ever known.

The following morning, Ashley was awakened by the sound of her parents, arguing in the kitchen.  Ashley sprang out of bed.  She grabbed her robe , and put it on.  She then made her way to the kitchen.

Having spent her entire life in this house, she could negotiate the floor plan almost as well as a sighted person.  She faced problems only when something was moved or left out of place.

Ashley hurried as quickly as she safely could toward the kitchen.  Shouting every step of the way, "Mama, Daddy, Grandma is here.  Over and over she repeated the same.  Each time she would yell it louder.  "Mama, Daddy, Grandma is here."  She continued shouting until she reached the kitchen.  Upon her arrival, the kitchen fell silent.  Vicky, Ashley's mother, and James her father, and her older brother, Amos turned and starred at her.  Ashley became silent as well.  Ashley's parents and brother noticed she was not wearing the dark glasses she usually wore inside.  Instead, she was wearing reading glasses.  Bifocals!  Being sensitive to Ashleys' feelings, no body said anything about her glasses.  Ashley became silent after entering the kitchen, because she saw Grandma Betty, leaning on what Ashley recognized as the kitchen counter.  The expression on Betty's face told Ashley, her Grandmother was not the least bit happy with what she was hearing here.

Amos could no longer refrain from asking,  "Ashley, where did you get those pop bottles?  They look like old folks glasses."  Of course the question earned him a dissatisfied look from his parents.  For his own safety, Amos closed his mouth.

Ashley began to smile.  "I'm looking at Grandma Betty.  She is looking at you.  Now, she is making a funny face at you, but you can't see her."

Betty had heard more than enough.  She already knew what the problem was and clearly understood both Vicky and James were at fault.  She also knew if they were not set straight, this marriage was sunk.

.Betty knew Ashley was the only one that could see her.  She also knew, Ashley was the only one that could hear her.  Betty had listened to the argument coming from both sides.  Vicky was frustrated with James' long hours as a store manager.  Sometimes the hours were as many as eighty to ninety per week.  With James working those long hours, most all the child rearing fell on Vicky.  With a teenage son, and a visually disabled daughter, Vicky was worn.  She had reached her wits end.  In addition to the demands of her family, her time with James was like two ships passing in the night.  Vicky was beginning to think there was another woman.  She began to believe the worse.  The accusations had started.

James looking forward to the opportunity of advancement was doing all he could to move up the corporate ladder.  To accomplish this advancement, he knew he would have to sacrifice some of his time spent with his family.  Seeing the possible advance being helpful for his families needs, he was doing his best to achieve that goal.  However, Vicky's accusations.  Accusing him of infidelity had struck a nerve.  He was not going to take those accusations quietly.  The arguments had gotten more frequent in the last two weeks.

Betty knew her intervention was necessary.  She had to cool both sides and help return peace to this home, before disaster struck.  Standing in the corner of the kitchen with her arms crossed, she spoke again to Ashley.
"Ashley, whisper to your mother.  Tell her that Amos should go see his friend Martin for awhile.  But, you need to remain here."
"Yes Mam,"  Ashley answered.

With deliberate and careful steps, Ashley walked around the kitchen table to her mother.  Ashley pulled slightly on her mothers sleeve to indicate a secret.  Vicky bent to hear the whisper, then responded.  "Who told you that?"
Ashley not liking the idea of being stuck in the middle said nervously, "Um.....Grandma Betty."
Betty said to Ashley.  "Relax and remain calm Ashley.  Tell your mother, in a whisper, that she put her coupon pouch in the freezer.  It is between the first two packs of hamburger.  She will find it on top, in the right rear corner.

Ashley did as she was instructed.

Vicky listened to Ashley's whispered message.  As if she had been slapped in the face, Vicky glanced first at James, and then at Amos.  Saying nothing, she straightened her back and stood to her feet.  She thought to herself, making her way to the freezer, that no one was here when she brought groceries yesterday.  No one ever goes in the freezer, if they don't have to, so how does Ashley know what is in there.  She opened the lid of the apartment sized freezer.  Immediately she spotted the two packs of meat.  Without hesitation, she reached in and picked up the top package.  Underneath, wrapped carefully, lay the second package.  Frowning, Vicky reached in to put the top package back in it place.  Her hand lost grip on the meat.  The package slipped and tumbled back into place, face down.  Vicky's coupon pouch was clearly visible.  It had frozen to the bottom of the package.

Vicky did not say a word.  With a shaking hand, she removed the frozen pouch from the package of meat.  Ashley had remained silent as she watched Grandma Betty move to the corner to the open freezer.  She watched Betty move her hand, and then heard a tumbling sound, as if something was falling into the freezer.

Betty looked at Ashley and smiled.  Ashley returned the smile.  Ashley knew her mother believed her now.

Vicky closed the freezer lid softly.  While still looking down at the closed lid, she said, "Amos, I think you need to go see your friend Martin for a while.  I will call you when you need to come home."

Amos, happy to be told to go visit his friend, did not delay his exit.  Before he got through the door James said, "Stay out of trouble while you are over there."
Vicky turned and gave James a hard look.  She said nothing until Amos had left.
Speaking as if Ashley was not in the room, Vicky turned on James.  "He is fourteen years old, and all you have to say to him is "stay out of trouble.?"  "You are never around here enough to know if he is in trouble or not."

Betty then spoke directly to Ashley.  "Give your father a hug.  Then put my glasses on him.  Don't worry, you will get them back."  Ashley carefully walked to the end of the table where she knew her Daddy always sat.  She captured his attention with a gentle touch to his face.  "I love you Daddy."  She then wrapped her small arms around his neck.

James was angry, but not with his daughter.  He returned the hug he received from Ashley.  To his surprise, when Ashley released him from the hug, she quickly and smoothly slipped off the glasses and placed them on his face.  They fit perfect.  He then turned his head and saw the glowing lady in the corner of the kitchen.

"What in the world?"  James said, drawing out each word.
He saw Betty clearly.  He had never seen a spirit or an angel.  The anger he had with Vicky, now took a back seat.  He stared at Betty.  It took him a few seconds to recognize her.

"Hello James.  I see you and Vicky are having a little problem.  That is not unusual for the living.  The reason I am here is, my Great Granddaughter prayed for help, and I was allowed to come to your rescue.  Now, if you want to save your marriage, get up and walk over to your wife.  Wrap your arms around her and share with her the glasses you are wearing.  Believing his eyes and his heart, James left his chair and stepped over to his wife.

Amos, a half block from his home, felt he should return.  Ashley was acting very unusual this morning.  Even though his mother had told him she would call him when it was time to come home, he felt an urgency to go now.  He turned and headed back to his house.

James, standing in front of his wife, took her by the shoulders and physically turned her around until she faced the corner of the kitchen.  Her protest and objections were ignored  James stepped behind Vicky.  He removed the glasses from his face, and holding the bifocals by the frame, he held them up to eye level so Vicky could see through the lenses.

"Grandma!"  Vicky exclaimed, at sight of her Grandmother.
"Yes, I'm here.  Ashley prayed for help, and I was allowed to come.  Now, don't get excited, I am here to help, and then I will be leaving.  Share the glasses with your husband.  You use one lens, while he uses the other.  I want to talk to both of you at the same time.

Vicky instructed James, who was still standing behind her, to place his head on her shoulder.  This would allow them to share the glasses and have one lens each.  James, being in love with his wife, took advantage of the opportunity to wrap his arms around her.  Vicky was to surprised with Betty's visit to notice his affection.

"Now that I have your attention...."  Betty was interrupted by Amos entering through the back door.  No one noticed him except Betty and Ashley.

Judging him by his foot steps, Ashley knew it was Amos.  She said, "sh-hhh"... to him.  Amos, unaware of what was taking place, froze in his tracks.

Betty continued.  "It is real clear to me, that you two are having a serious communication problem.  Vicky, you speak, but you don't say anything.  It's just one big continuous complaint.  James, when you are home, you are to preoccupied with your career to listen to what is being said.  She is telling you that the life of this family is dying.  Vicky, you have complained so much that he is no longer listening."
Vicky opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by Betty.  Holding her hand in a halt position she said, "Don't!  Just listen."  Vicky closed her mouth.  She remembered as a child, when Grandma said, Don't, it meant just that, Don't!
Betty was far from being finished.

"You two have two children to raise.  You act like you are in this world all by yourselves.  You are not teaching your children that marriage is a sacred, coming together, where two people become as one  What you are teaching them is selfishness on your part.  This wrong was not taught to either of you when you were children.  If you want to stay married, it would be wise for you to start dating again.  Vicky, if you think it is so bad awful now, how do you think it would be if James was not here.  You would have everything on your back, including the cooking, the cleaning, getting the kids where they need to go, and plus, all the bills.  James, if you trade your family for your job, will the job ever produce grand children for you.  Does that job care if you are alive or dead?  If you have no family, what then will you be working for, other than advancement?  You will, without family advance into rich poverty.  And there is such a thing, I might add.  Those who have a lot of money and power, but no one to love them, are suffering rich poverty.  They try to fill their lives with things that only rank as second best to the loved ones they let slip away.  Is that what you wan't?"

James remorsefully answered, "No Mam."

"Good.  Now, I want you to kiss and make up.  Do it not because I tell you to, but because your children is all the treasure you can make on this earth.  When your time is done, you will have to answer for everything, and I do mean everything.  I suggest very strongly, you get it right now.  The Master gives very few second chances, so don't expect it.  Now give my glasses to Amos.  He and I need to talk."

James and Vicky knew, they had just had an attitude adjustment, like none they had ever had before.

James stepped over to his son.  Holding the glasses out to Amos, he told him to put them on, somone wanted to talk to him.

Looking first at his father, then at his mother, Amos was not sure if putting the glasses on was a wise thing to do.  Everyone in the family was acting kind of strange.  Vicky seeing her son's apprehension said, "It's safe, put them on."
Trusting his mothers's word, Amos put the glasses on. James stepped to the side and Amos saw the beautiful, shining lady.  He instantly recognized her.  She was his Great Grandmother  "Grandma Betty, you are beautiful."

Ashley not wanting to be left out, said.  "I told you Grandma, you are beautiful."

Betty was not being swayed by the compliments.  She said, "I am not as beautiful as heaven"

"Now young man, it's your turn.  You can choose your own friends.  However, they will affect you for the rest of your life.  You are becoming a man.  But, you are not a man yet.  Hear me, and hear me well.  If being smart can make you one of the best.  Then ignorance can make you one of the worst.  You can do much better in school than what you are doing.  Your grades are a poor reflection on your abilities, yourself, and your family.  I know you are afraid of being looked down on by your friends if you study and get good grades.  Keep in mind also, the people that have the most to say are usually the ones that are going to do the least amount of good for anyone.  Including themselves.

Amos stood still and starring.  He was to shocked to speak.

"Don;t think everything you are doing is a secret,"  Betty continued.  "We know, your secrets.  Sooner or later you will have to join us, and then you will know how much you don't know.  What you now know is nothing compared to what you have yet to learn.  Don't ever say again, I know, because, you don't know.  Now, give my glasses to your sister.."

Amos walked over to Ashley and placed the glasses on her face.  When he removed his hands, Ashley had a clear view of her Grandma.
"Ashley, lets go to your room and have a talk."

"Ok Grandma.  Grandma Betty and I are going to my room to have a talk."  She announced to everyone present in the kitchen.  With ease and familiarity, Ashley then turned and left the room.

In her bedroom, Betty told Ashley to sit on her bed.  "Ashley, I know you are lonely and afraid.  I am going to spend the rest of the day talking with you, if that is alright?"
"Yes, Grandma Betty, that would be to cool."  Ashley responded with a large smile.

Amos went to his room.  He told his mother and father he had some heavy thinking to do.  When asked what Grandma Betty had said, he responded.  "She said I have a lot of work to do."
Once in his room, Amos wiped the tears from his eyes.  He looked in the mirror and spoke to his mirrored image.  "Do you want Grandma Betty on your case again?  If not then you better get real smart, real fast."  Without the pleading from his mother, or the threats from his father, Amos had made his decision.  He picked up his book bag from the floor, and sat it on his desk.  He knew he had a lot of work to do.  He was now ready to get started.

James poured Vicky a cup of coffee and one for himself.  Turning to face Vicky, with a cup in each hand he said, "Ive been needing to talk to my best friend for quiet awhile.  Would you join me on the patio for a cup of coffee and some conversation?"  Vicky surprised by the kind gesture, was quick to accept.  They consumed two pots of coffee by noon.  They also shed a good portion of tears.  Both had missed their best friend.  Each other.

Ashley was totally satisfied spending the rest of the day with Grandma Betty.  When she was called to dinner later, Grandma Betty instructed her to leave the glasses on her night stand.  Betty promised Ashley she would be there waiting for her to return.

After dinner, Amos returned to his studies.  James and Vicky opened a bottle of wine and sat on the sofa.  They were talking and laughing.  Ashley returned to her room.

Ashley and Betty enjoyed each others company late into the night.  When Ashley began to yawn, she was encouraged by Betty to sleep

"But Grandma, if I go to sleep, you will leave."
"Yes, I will have to leave, but you can say goodbye to me in your dreams, I will be there with you."
In minutes Ashley was asleep.

In Ashley's dream, she again saw her Great Grandmother.  They enjoyed each others company and conversation.  As the time for Betty's departure drew near, Ashley asked her Grandmother.  "Grandma Betty, how will I know when I am right or wrong.  If you are gone, and Mom is not with me.  How will I know?"

"Listen for the soft, yet firm voice, then you will know."

In Ashley's dream it became harder and harder for her to see Betty.   Knowing, she was about to lose her Grandmother, in her dream Ashley began to cry.

"Dry your eyes and calm your fears,
I will be with you always,
Down thru the years.

No matter where you go,
No matter where you are,
I will be with you,
Near or far.

"Goodnight baby Ashley.  You'll be fine."  That was her final words as she disappeared into the ether of dreamland.

Ashley knowing she would never gain her sight, spoke out in her sleep.
"Why can't they see what I see?"
She then slipped deeper into sleep, leaving her dreams behind.

  Word Count: 3999

****************************************************************************************************

BIFOCAL 3

   A DOLLAR FOR THE DISTANCE

“Die rich, then buy your way out of hell“,  was printed on the back of  the business card.  The name on the front simply read RANDALL ROBERTO ROBERTS. 
                Randall Roberts liked his name in bold, block print. In his mind, it showed power and prominence.  This was great.  He delighted in living up to the slogan on the back.  He wanted anyone he did business with to know, he was all about money, no favors, no games, no jokes; just money.  If you did'nt have enough, he didn't want you in his circle.

 “I don’t care if you have to sell your mother, get this deal closed!”            
                Randall hissed into the telephone before he slammed down the receiver. Ignoring the others in the room, Randall stood and walked to the window in his office over looking down town.
 
 In a genuine southern accent, he barked over his shoulder, “Jason.”

 Jason Artist a man of forty eight, had no need to shave his head, he was completely bald by his thirty second birthday.  Slightly over weight, he carried his two hundred seventy pounds, well on his six foot six inch frame.

 Randall R. Roberts, being a foot shorter, did not bother to turn and speak directly to Jason, as he gave his order.  Using a tone that left no doubt he was angry, Randall shouted, “I want to know who leaked this deal.  Do whatever you have to do to find out, and don’t take forever to do it. Now, all of you, get out of my office.” 

 The three people attending  the meeting stood to their feet.  They gathered their belongings and quickly left his office.  No one wanted to be in that office, in case Roberts had not finished his angry outburst of threats and accusations.

 When his office door closed,  Randall turned from the window.  Seeing the empty office, provoked even more anger.  The thought that someone inside his company had been leaking information to his competitors, caused the veins on either side of his head to ache.  Talking to no one but himself, Randall resumed the conversation he was having before the meeting. 

 “It’s impossible to run this company with this bunch I have employed.  I should never agreed to using a head hunter to staff this new operation.” 

 As he took a seat behind his desk, Randall R. Roberts did'nt notice the difference in  his glasses, laying on his desk blotter.  As he had done a million times before, Randall donned his glasses.

                  The beautiful, shining lady, seated in one of the two antique Queen Anne chairs across from his desk, was so much of a surprise, Randall R. Roberts, nearly tipped his swivel chair over. 

“Who in the… “  

 The words caught in his throat as he viewed his unexpected guest.  She was not, “a run of the mill“ person.  He couldn't help but notice, she had a beautiful glow, and was as equally beautiful in appearance. 
 
 “Who are you?  What are you?”

 Reaching up to remove his glasses, Randall became even more  confused.   With the glasses removed,  Betty completely disappeared.  As he again started to place  his glasses on his nose, Randall noticed the glasses were not his own.  Searching his desk top, he could not find his own glasses.   Deciding he had no choice, Randall again donned the strange glasses.

 Betty was slightly amused by Randall's antics, when he realized he was not wearing his own glasses.   She gave him time to ponder her presence. 

 When Randall could see her again she said, “Hello Randall. My name is Betty Marie Jackson.  Before you speak, or rather in your case, start barking orders, it would be wise to listen.  At one time, I was living on this earth.  Now, I am a spirit.  I was sent back to earth to help where and when I was needed.  The glasses you are wearing are mine.  To anyone else, the glasses will appear to be yours.  Between you and me, wearing those glasses is the only way you can see me, or hear me.”

 Randall sat on the edge of his chair and listened intently until Betty finished. Keeping his eyes fixed on the chair Betty was sitting in, he removed the glasses.

 With the glasses off, Randall viewed the floor to ceiling book cases.  He saw the rich mahogany paneling, the thick plush carpeting, the beautifully covered leather sofa and chairs.  What he did not see was Betty. He then realized he had no choice. If he wanted to communicate with the spirit, he had to wear the glasses. Randall returned the glasses to his roman nose.

 Regaining his composure, somewhat, Randall said, “ Ah, so what can I do for you? “

 Betty knew Randall's persona.  She knew of his under handed deals, and his shady accounting practices.  She knew about his illegal activities, and she also knew about his affairs with women, single or married.  She knew his first concern was how much money he could make.   Or how much power he could gain.  He had no consideration, whatsoever for his soul.

             “You’ve been a bad boy Randall.  You have accomplished a lot, usually at the expense of other people, and you've caused others a lot of pain.  The pain and trouble you caused, and the trouble you, yourself are in, is the reason I am here.”

 “The trouble I'm in?  I haven’t caused any trouble, and I'm not in any trouble either!"

 The office door opened. 

 Adrian, Randalls’ administrative assistant, cautiously stepped into his office.  She had distinctly heard her boss’s last sentence.  From the doorway she could see he was alone, and not talking on the telephone.

 “Mr. Roberts, here are the files you wanted.  I’ll just put them here on your desk.”
                Adrians’ confusion and concern mounted, when Randall did not acknowledge her presence, or make any attempt to touch her. Touching Adrian was one of his customary habits.  Instead, Randall stared at one of the chairs across from his desk. 

 “Mr. Roberts, are you alright?”

 “Yes. I heard you.  Just put them on the desk and leave.  I’m busy.”

 He had forgotten, he was the only one who could see Betty.  Betty did not remind him.

 Adrian placed the files on his desk, then returned to the door.  At the door she looked back.  Randall was still watching the chair.  Closing the door behind her, Adrian suspected another outburst.  Her boss was acting very strange.

 Betty had remained silent while Adrian was in the office.  When the door closed, she spoke again.  “You’ve been so wrapped up in yourself, you don’t know when you are mistreating people, do you? “  

 Randall, still seated behind his desk fought the desire to engage in conversation, but was unable to resist.

 “Who do you think you are?  I don’t have to answer to you.  I don’t have to answer to anyone.”

 “Oh really?  That is where you are wrong, sir.  You will answer to  someone sooner or later, and that someone is God.”

 Randall, becoming more irritated with his guest, began to raise his voice. 

 “I guess you are going to tell me all about heaven and hell now. Right?’
 
Betty showed no change in her expression, such as Randall could see.
 
 “Randall, don't make light of  things you do not believe in or understand.”

 Randall growing anger with her telling him what he may or may not  believe,again forgot he was talking to a spirit. The argument was underway.

 “Do you think you can just pop into my office and tell me how to start living my life?  Where were you and God when I was dead broke?  Where were you when I was a child and my old man was beating  me?  Where were you and God when my wife was sleeping with half the town, while I worked my fingers to the bone?   Don’t you sit there and lecture me on morality.  From where I sit, I wouldn’t give you a dollar for the distance between heaven and hell.”

 The sunshine that filled the skies suddenly disappeared. A large black cloud filled the once sunny space. As if sent for a reminder of who is in control, lightning struck the lightning rods, on top of the building. 

 “What do you want? You want some of me too? Huh?  Huh?”  Randall shouted toward the ceiling of his office. 

 Betty, now standing, moved toward the window.  Looking up to the heavens, she prayed for Randall.   Her prayers served only to buy Randall a little time.  Having received her instructions, she returned to the conversation with Randall. 

 “You have made your beliefs quiet clear. Now you listen to me.  God was with you in every situation and every difficulty you have ever experienced.  You chose to attempt to carry your burdens alone. Now you want to blame God for your bad choices.  You chose the life you live, and you will face the consequences for your choices.”  Betty relayed the message she received, while praying. 

 “I don’t need you, dead or alive.” Randall shouted.

 The office door burst open.  Two armed security men charged a few steps into the office before seeing there was no one else  with Randall.  Their charging entrance  startled and surprised Randall momentarily distracting his attention away from Betty.

 “Mr. Roberts, is every thing alright here, Sir?”

 Randall had a wild, angry look in his eyes.  One of the security people had seen that look in his eyes only once before.  He knew Randall could be extremely dangerous when he looked like this. 

 “What do you want?”  Randall screamed at his security people. Standing at the end of his desk, with his fist clinched and pressed down on top of the desk, Randall looked as though he was ready to pounce on the Queen Anne chair across the room. 
 
 “Mr.... Ah.. Mr. Roberts, your shouting was heard down the hall and we thought you might be having a problem.”  The younger of the two security men said.

 Slamming his fist down on the desk, Randall shouted, “When I need your help, I’ll tell you.  Now, get out of my office.  All of you, get out of my office.  Now!”

 Adrian, being curious, stuck her head into the office.  With the thunderous voice she had become somewhat accustomed to, Randall screamed, "All of you, get out of my office."  

Betty had already left.
 
 When Adrian and the two security men  left, Randall refocused his attention on the Queen Anne chair where Betty had been seated.  Nor was she standing by the window.   Taking a panoramic view of his office, Randall saw she was not  there.  Considering this as a victory, Randall began to laugh loudly.  “If I can win an argument with the dead, I can win any argument.”     To celebrate his victory, he wanted a lunch date. 

------------------------------

 The YMCA is a great place to get and keep yourself in shape.  No one noticed the middle aged man walk in with his gym bag.  He looked like every other middle age man fighting the signs of aging. 
 
 Walking pass the lobby, he entered into the locker room. One watching him would assume he knew where he was going. 

 Glancing over his shoulder, to insure he was not being followed, the nondescript man turned and walked quickly to locker number, 215.  In seconds he was in and out, carrying what appeared to be the same gym bag that he carried into the locker room.

 In his car, away from prying eyes, the gym bag was opened.  From the bag he removed four thick envelopes, and a scribbled note.

   "Cover your tracks," was all the note said.  He found twenty-five thousand dollars in each envelope.  Smiling, the stranger started his car and steered back into the traffic.  He was pleased with the job on hand he must accomplish.

----------------------------------

 At 2:30 p.m., Randall R. Roberts informed Adrian he was going to lunch, and would not return for the remainder of the day.  He considered not that Adrian had a family occurence that required her attention.  She had asked for the after noon off.  Instead she was handed  a to do list that would take all afternoon, and possibly her working overtime. 

 Pleased with himself, Randal left his office in a giddy mood. He was happy that he had not seen Betty before lunch.  “Argue with me.  No one argues with me, unless I want them to.”  He thought as he stepped through the back door of his office. 

 Taking the service elevator, Randall removed his cell phone.  It was time to make his call.  Pressing one number on the touch pad, brought up the name and number he wanted.  As he exited the building, the number began to ring. 

 A soft and slightly annoyed female voice answered. “Hello.”

“You busy for the next hour?” Randall asked as he turned the corner, walking down the street.

 “I  have appointments for the rest of the day.  You can’t just call me up and demand I jump at your command!”  She hated herself for what she had gotten  into with him, and she hated him.

 “I can and you will.  Be there in twenty minutes.”  No please, no thank you, no goodbye, Randall disconnected. 

 Thinking as he walked , “Another female telling me what I can’t do.  If I say jump, she better start jumping.  Who does she think she is?  I own her.  Playing her games with me, is not a good idea.  One phone call, and she’s divorced and out on the street.  I own you girley, and your husband.  I think it’s time to educate you.  Yeah, that’s what I’ll do today, educate her.”  Standing at the corner, Randall looked to his right, Betty was standing next to him.

 “You call what you are about to do, fun? You are going to finish destroying another marriage?  Which according to records, you have already destroyed fifteen directly, and another dozen or more indirectly. Change your ways, change them now.  Your time is short.”

                  Pedestrains passed in all directions as the light changed.  Some glanced at Randall as he stood, looking to his right.  The light changed three times before he looked away from Betty.

 Holding up his palms, as if to stop someone from speaking, he crossed the street.  To anyone noticing,  Randall appeared to be talking to himself.

 Using a piece of electronic equipment specially designed to intercept cell phone calls, the middle aged man listened to the cell phone call from Randall to his "special woman."  He had learned the location of the secret lovers nest.  Parked only a block away from Randall’s office, the stranger knew he had less than fifteen minutes to get to the point he needed to be, to cause the accident.  Driving his sedan into the shopping mall parking lot, he quickly spotted what was needed to complete his actions. 

 For the next two blocks, Randall stammered on,  “ I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I own this town, and my soul is doing just fine.  That's my decision, now leave me alone.”

 Betty refusing to be silenced said, “If you lose your life today, Hell may be what you have earned.  Do you want to risk that?” 

 “As I said before, ‘I wouldn’t give you a dollar for the distance between Heaven and Hell.  That is, my decision.  Now get away from me!”  Randall, across the street from the four star hotel,  could see his sex toy enter the front door of the hotel. He was determined now, more than ever, to not be bothered by Betty Marie Jackson.  He had an idea. 

 “If I can only see and hear you with these glasses on, then I do know how to shut you up.”

 As Betty said, “Don’t take ….”  Randall removed the glasses and placed them in his jacket pocket.
 
 Having what he needed, the stranger proceeded quickly toward the hotel.  He knew he only had minutes before the opportunity would pass.  Allowing nothing to delay him, his actions and reactions were skilled and precise.  In minutes, he had the hotel in sight.

 The young woman stopped in the lobby of the hotel.  She attracted no ones attention.   She appeared to be trying to make a decision.

 “I don’t care anymore. He will no longer use blackmail so he can use me for his sick sex games.  I'll reveal my true past to my husband tonight." With unsteady legs, she turned her back on the lobby and exited the door she had entered only moments earlier.  From the covered entrance, she could see the intersection.  She could also see Randall at the corner.

 “Silence. Just the sound of traffic.”  Randall spoke to the open air as he stepped off the curb at the corner.  He knew Betty could hear him, but he could not, and would not hear her. 

 Crossing the four lane intersection, Randall was accompanied by four people.  Two people three feet ahead of him, two people four feet behind him. 

 The stranger saw the other pedestrains.He also spotted Randall as he approached the intersection.  Accelerating, he ignored the light when it changed to yellow.  With his target insight, he held the accelerator to the floor. 

 Randall, without his glasses, could not clearly see, anything a hundred feet away.  He did not see the oncoming rush of the vehicle. Nor, did the others in the crosswalk.  In a split second he heard the blast of car horns and  sliding tires.

 From the covered entrance, Randall’s special victim watched as he stepped off the curb.  Her heart began to sink and her determination quickly began to melt.  “I can’t hide this for ever.  I can’t keep doing this, just because he knows my past.  I can’t keep living this lie.”

 She watched as Randall crossed the halfway point in the cross walk.   The horns blowing, and the sound of sliding tires brought her from her thoughts and startled her.  From her view she saw the four people dive in different directions to avoid the city bus, barreling through the intersection.  She watched as the city bus hit Randall, and carried him a few feet before gravity dragged him down and under the tires. 

 Initially horrified, she ran only a few steps toward the scene before  realizing her secret had just died with Randall.  Stopping, she stood on the sidewalk and looked at the carnage. Randall, was lying in the street.   With bitter sweet emotions. she turned and walked in the opposite direction.  She would not stay around for the police report. 

 The impact took him out of his shoes and off his feet.  Still conscious, Randall looked into a face with eyes full of evil.  To his surprise, the driver looked, surprisingly familiar to him.  The driver smiled as Randall slipped down and under the bus.

 Randall was not spared the impact, or the crushing weight of the bus as it rolled over him.  As he lay on his side dying, he could see  his wallet lying open in the street.  The wind caught a dollar bill, and carried it down the street. He then   saw his glasses lying open near his face.  In his fleeting moments, without the aid of the special glasses, he heard Betty praying in his behalf to the Master.

 As Randall Roberto Roberts  slipped away his final thought was, “Will  God listen?”