ENGL200AM—Professor Sharfeddin Written by: Jim Harger Spring 2017
Enchanted Ru✏es
There’s a yellow rose gently placed center stage on a gray-brick mantel. The two–story house it lives in was built in the 1950s in the middle of a prairie. At 15 miles to the nearest neighbor, there isn’t much activity but the commotion on the grass as winds and storms work its way through the field. Days and nights go by, seasons shift and change as the sun meets its summer and winter solstice every year. Since its heyday, its seen only one family and their time here was short-lived. The couple moved in in their sixties looking to retire in their dream house. They got to live there for a few years and had a nice garden outback. One night as old Bob was making his way back from grocery shopping, a lunatic was speeding and drove him o↵ the road. His wife was grief-stricken and jumped o↵ the roof. She didn’t die instantly but sure got bruised up and broke some bones on the way down. It took her a couple days to move on, until then she was enjoying the skies as it shifted around and wishing more than her then-current state that the clouds would come and block the sun from glaring at her bruised eye—as they the cloud came and went and fulfilled her wish, so did she with a smile to finally see her hubby while not blinded by the darnedest sun. Since those days, the house has been frozen in time as nature started to move in after them. Their children didn’t get the news till a few years later, being dependent on snail-mail and all. At this point in their lives, they’re rather disinterested in their parents’ lives and sent an agent, me, to go through their things. The car rolls into the driveway and the engine shuts o↵. The sun is in the sky and clouds glide across it. The serene feel of nature, ambiance, and white noise is quite calming and soothing. The house has been left untouched for over 20 years now. The vines have grown significantly and moss are generously spread around the exterior. No signs of damage—just a house lost and frozen in time. The door, placed front and center above the landing with 13 steps in between the roundabout driveway. A nice half glass and single panel door, sidelights are a complimenting full glass. Great decor, very admirable. The door lever style is a nice brass colored “flair.” The knob turns and its mechanisms explode with settled dust. “I have a feeling this house might need a hazmat suit for all the dust.” “Here I go!” he says as he takes his shirt, covers his face, and dives in. The door swings open—creaking as it moves. A plume of dust is pushed o↵ and settles within the surrounding radius engulfing our agent. The first step meets a creak and a few more every so often thereafter. The age and time of this house echoes throughout its antique, covered, and dust-laden furniture, as if untouched for
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Spring 2017
Peer Review 1: Enchanted Ru✏es
Jim Harger
many decades. We peruse the furniture, the tables, and flowers that have wilted from long ago. The yellow rose is there, on the mantel as it has been, a sparkle in time. Not long, I glance my eye at their library a long wall of books. The books aren’t all covered in dust. Just a few books glisten like the rose. Let’s start from this book: Amidst falling time by there sure is plenty of dust. “Pfuuu” as I blow and ”tbvvv tbvvv” to brush the dust o↵. I locate a chair and take its cover o↵ creating another mushroom cloud of dust. However, this seating arrangement is not comfortable enough to begin reading. I might as well get cozy. In a house of about 1535 sq. ft with two similar floors above and below, this is gonna be some work. “Bluetooth connected.” says the speaker as it’s placed by the yellow rose on the mantel. The music starts playing on shu✏e. First song hits a nice Disney ring to it and the cleaning begins as each sweep, swoop, and push unsettles and collects more dust. The crackling of plastic furniture covers o↵ is like having a squid’s ink squirt push o↵ the surrounding dust into a cloud it makes in fleeing from danger. The dust settles, the large mantel sneaks through all the clutter as cleaning continues. The glassed yellow rose—a single speck of perfection in this sea of flying dust. Air in its dome is seemingly frozen in time. My hands start shaking to grab it as I fall. I’m falling and it goes dark.
“We are here with you. I’m glad you’re here with us. I would like to wish you well for the rest of your fall. . . ” whispers an ominous voice as we fade out.
Leaves begin to ru✏e from the blowing breeze it echoes in the wind. The wisps form each tree branch, the angle of gliding—the pitch—the yaw—its all so exciting! I can feel the bark on the tree, the cellulose on each leaf, the texture of the mulch, the green that it feels whole, the snow-blue that expresses the balance of warmth and the refreshing cool wisps sparks an enlivened face and grows to caress my deepest remorse. I begin to feel a touch as smooth as silk and a flow like a stream eroding its dammed stones. The smooth touch of a river stone and s dream that runs over me. My head is braced for maximum breathability. Arms stretched. Legs curbed*. Soothed like mama’s womb but refreshing like a soothing breeze. I spy a dear! Why. . . she’s a doe and her fawn. The gentle nurture of a mother to her child. Birds are chirping in soulful tunes. To believe. . . these songs can be sung as courting rituals and woo the other to their womb. The melodies whirl and dance us through the air. Oh, who’s this? A goose appears in the foreground, soon more geese appear and transports me into a flock of geese in mid-flight. Me? Soaring with the majestic creatures of the wind. Streamlined beak—the finest of nature’s beaks, is followed by the up-and downward-curves, therefore producing the aerodynamic glide through the wind stream. As the blue skies turn to red a transition on hues describes the perfect 2 of 5
Spring 2017
Peer Review 1: Enchanted Ru✏es
Jim Harger
moments a color-matched emotion describes at its sight. From blue, indigo, wisteria, lilac, purple, fuchsia, violet, mulberry, magenta, razzmatazz, blush, eggplant, hop bush, old rose, red: are but to name few. As each color is seen an emotion is imbued on to its seer and its meaning on understood by the seer’s life’s experience. Then, it all goes dark as the sun passes the horizon and the shades of blue fade into darkness from blue, to midnight, to klein, to navy, to sapphire, to prussian, then darkness descends completely until the stars find themselves to shine past our local star. The day begins again and the bunnies are playing by the roots of a tree. A skunk moseys by looking for a meal to feed her hungry family. O↵ in the corner, Simone and Pumbaa stays a few meters away, knowing “where one looks for grub, any can follow for more of grub.” As skunks feed o↵ seas of buzzing bugs, beetles, and weevils that catch their eye. Good think Simone is on-it and introduces the bountiful supply easily accessed under stumps and dirt-filled rocks. Only a feast await where Simone and Pumbaa lurk (not to mention a high chance in singing.) The trio dive from the tallest branch into the sea of juicy grub: squirming and whirling juices of delight—fly away from a volcanic eruption of Pumbaa’s final dive spreading these delectables throughout the jungle forest. Everything is at pause as unfamiliar ru✏es nearby stumble the party. Step. . . step. . . step. . . left, right, left, right. A pace as unknown as the ru✏es it makes. The leaves are squished with each step. . . the bushes are brushed and the semi-critical dampening caused by the cellular sti↵ness of the branches. All eyes as bodies sti↵ened scanned the area for the potential to activate. First, an arm, then a breast, a face and the whole is but exposed. All eyes look below as the potential formed with two long legs, an upright figure, and sparse fur mostly on top and below, but as naked as a mole rat. With a blink, the brave and stupid souls—Timone and Pumbaa—presently in cartoon character form while a guest in our reality—dares the divine and swhooshes behind a tree for a peck at this bipedal naked mole rat. An arm swings forward as the other holding a sack on its back. “Is it a little biped, like the kangaroos?” asks Pumbaa. “Why. . . it’s a basket of tree bounty. This naked mole rat bares with it such juicy nectars of the kind far up in the tree tops.” noticed Simone. “This feast just got a whole lot better! Let’s invite it to our feast!” exclaimed Pumbaa. The daring duo rush o↵ to greet this barer of bounty of rare goods. As they approach they begin singing their well-practiced and choreographed “Hak¨ una Matatta” song and sequence, featuring Sinba—the future king of Afrika!. Ru✏es is awed and amused as his intention is diverted from the goal. The bounty is sampled and the duo has gained another comrade. As they introduce Ru✏es to the wildlife here as they remain frozen like taxidermy animals. . . Ah! This area is so serene. . . The birds are chirping, clouds gliding across the sky, avians flying freely, 3 of 5
Spring 2017
Peer Review 1: Enchanted Ru✏es
Jim Harger
while in play, dancing in the sky. The winds are blowing swiftly across the skies, and weaving through the trees. A gush of wind caught me by surprise. An eyebrow is raised. As another creature ru✏es by those bushes. And plenty eyebrows were raised. Cartoons! stumbled upon my path and greets. . . Am I dreaming? How can cartoons be here? Are they Simone and Pumbaa? Will I get to join the Hak¨ una Matatta choreography bit? How is this possible? Are they talking to me? Is Sinba here too? Nawa, Zirra, and Skar? “Hello, stranger!” says Simone. “Salutations!” followed Pumbaa. “Want some grub?” in unison while two juicy handfuls of bugs, beetles and weevils reaches out for consumption. How can I say no? Bugs are packed with nutrition. Must be better than the food I’ve cooked myself lately.
A juicy picnic ensues. As our heroes have their picnic, they recount their endless stories together through laughter, song, stories as bugs and fruits fly into bellies of these beasts. Wild life continue to thaw as night draws near and Ru✏es seems like a reasonable animal. Each animal joins the feast as they become alive again in celebration of their new friendship and member of their forest family.
Night time has come for our furry creatures and naked one. We all make our way. The deer sleep together in their oval under an evergreen. Birds nestle high up on tree branches. Geese return the tree tops en masse. Mrs. Skunk return to her hungry family nestled well in their litter. Just behind the nearby mountain near its base, is placed a humble abode that houses this naked one. Ru✏es describes it, “It’s a luscious, plump, vivid sight. Small but compact. Filled from ground to head and further.” His description spark interest in our adventurous duo and the trio forms to wander the way back to this abode. So many new life forms I’ve never seen before arranged so invitingly, like a dance of life amidst our own. As our sight meets his homestead as Ru✏es brushed the banana leaf for us to see, Ru✏es exclaimed...
“Welcome to Nyumbani Yangu!”
So it goes...
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Spring 2017
Peer Review 1: Enchanted Ru✏es
Jim Harger
Glossary Curbed, verb + past tense = adjective, the exact stretch an individual needs to stretch the necessary parts. Synonym: relaxed, active-relaxation, mindful-of-no-mind. Example: “restrain or keep in check: she promised she would curb her temper.” (Apple Dictionary, verb with object) represents conclusion. Nyumbani Yangu , description, Swahili, “my home”
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