To The Bone

Writing darkness in a different frame of mind is something else. It’s like walking in the winter versus walking in the summer... and not minding either. One of my favorites of the darker series’ was the Bones so I thought I’d focus on writing on a few. Here’s a new Bones with the flavor of the old darkness.

Do you like to take walks?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

To The Bone
 
“Chilled to the Bone!” Tommy yells from up the hill.
 
It’s an early dusk and an unprecedented snow has descended upon our sleepy parts. It’s quite rare that a snowstorm will land in these parts but it’s not unheard of. The fair Adelaide Lafont has graced us with her company on a stroll back through the woods home. She was letting out from her Mama’s knitting circle as we were exiting from the local watering hole, so Tommy offered up our services as escorts. Much to my dismay, sweet Addie has taken a shine to me and wants to hold my hand while we cross through the dead parts of the woods. It doesn’t bother me much because the dead don’t mind the cold and I’m fair certain they’re out playing in this ice storm.
 
With his typical tomfoolery, Tommy is falling behind whooping and carrying on about his distaste for the cold weather. Addie hollers at him, teasing his antics, “Don’t you love being outside? I thought that’s why you’re always playing with the bones, Tommy Lee.” 
 

“This wind chills me to the bone! Whose idea was it to walk home in the snow? Them bones are liable to jump out and try to confis-sss-cate my skin in this state,” Tommy backtalks with a hint of chattering teeth that give him a stutter. Addie giggles at his nonsense, but deep in the back of my head, I know he isn’t wrong. Quickening my pace, I pull Addie a little closer to me. 

 
Walking through the snow blanketed woods as night creeps in might sound like a romantic moment, but round these parts, the dead rarely rest and the bones take every opportunity to pull one over on the living. You see the dead tend to crawl out when the temperature drops. Something about life being frozen still all around makes most folks stay indoors. The living don’t much care for the icy weather and this shift to freezing temperatures almost guarantees you’ll come face to face with a pair of bones walking around midday. Being close to nightfall in this wintery playground doubles our likelihood of meeting a pair of bones. Now the dead normally abide by the rules of the living but when the dead come out in the cold, they come looking for the bones of those that have wronged them. They don’t much care what they take but they’ll take yours if you ever crossed them. 
 
It wouldn’t have been Addie’s fault, why I’m nervous. God rest her Daddy’s soul, he was a gambling man that never did know when to quit. And as we make our way down the trail to her house, all I can think of is how her Daddy used to cheat them bones at cards. Now some men are good at talking or persuading others to do what they want, but Addie’s old man, Remy Lafont, was a damn good cheat. I’d never seen a skeleton come unglued over losing to anyone before I played cards with Remy. He’s probably the only man I’d seen walk away with an entire set of bones minus the skull and an arm and not give it back. It’s a shame Addie couldn’t see him play, but its good fortune she doesn’t know this evening or she might worry too.
 
“THE BONES!” hollers Tommy and I can hear him coming up quick. “I CAN HEAR SOMETHING COMING!”
 
Addie’s laughter grows louder this time, but I give her a yank closer as Tommy runs past us. Tommy has much to be afraid of. He’s crossed the bones on more than one occasion and despite losing his skull once he hasn’t much changed trying to get the best of the dead. Much to my dismay, I know the dead aren’t after Tommy in the twilight hour. In the back of my mind, it’s quite clear that there’s a dead man coming to call on Addie to answer for her Daddy’s sins.
 
Just as I think it, a boney hand latches on to Addie’s free arm. No quicker than I reach over and rip it away, a skull bites down on her leg. She winces and lets out a loud belly laugh before kicking it off with the heel of the boot on her free leg. 
 
“You ok?” I half laugh at her reaction wondering why she isn’t scared.
 
“You know that sneaky fella always tries to hitch a ride home with me every time it gets real cold out. My Daddy, God rest his soul, told me to never let him near the rest of his bones. You ok?”
 
“I’m chilled to the bone.” With a giggle and wide smile, she pulls me closer.

Making Bones

Bones to pick or picking bones. Sometimes people make their own problems and karma has a funny way of sorting it out. Best to live your life right and don't worry so much about what others might think. In Buddhism there is no perfect and the only fear or conflict that exists is what you bring into anything in life. 

Here's a new one from the Bones series. I do love me some skeletons. 

Ever lose your head over something? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 

Making Bones

“Making Bones” Frankie says real calm and folds her hands.

It’s a moonless night and there’s something in the swamp air that smells of death. It’s followed us into the company of Francis Eliette Boudreau, a witch of the backwoods who counsels the good & bad hearted alike without prejudice. She beckons Johnny and myself off to the side of a grave and points to Tommy to move forward so she can assess his dilemma. Our weekly poker game had gotten a little out of hand the last week and Tommy lost more than he bargained for, his head. Frankie is sticking to the rules and letting us have an audience with her on this dark evening.

There’s nothing like playing cards with a dead man, because for the most part he ain’t got nothing to lose... except his bones. And make no mistake a dead man will hunt you across this world if you take his bones unless you win them fair and square. While losing to a skeleton might sound grim it ain’t so bad. You may have the very thing you value so much, your life, but fortunately a dead man hardly wants your life. They rarely will take it, but he will take something you need as Tommy came to realize last week.

“Damn right, I’ve got bones to make,” hollers Tommy as he throws everything off the tombstone table.  The sound of his voice escapes the misshapen skin resembling a deflated football resting above his shoulders.

“Ahhh see your desperate my son, but what can Frankie do for you?” she lifts her hands and removes a small satchel from around her neck. Before Tommy can reply she’s emptied the small bag filled with teeth and bones and sent them shuffling across the tombstone.  “So you came to play?”

While the dead won’t take your life, they’ll make your life hard to live. And if a dead man were cross enough at you, he’d trade his winning bounty in to Frankie to settle up a debt or make a bargain.  One could call Frankie a repo man except the dead had plenty of time to settle up before losing their bones to her collection.

On this particular occasion, Tommy insulted his opponent after losing and the damn skeleton thought it would be funny to give his skull to good ol Frankie for a bigger grave to rest his bones in. The rules give Tommy a chance to win it back in a game of the old witch’s choosing.  And from where we stand she’s chosen dice.

Same as I’ve known for the last ten years, no one has beaten Frankie at a game. As a matter of fact a great deal of men and women, living and dead lose to her. Losing to Frankie more than guarantees you’ve doubled down. My pal Birdie came for her voice after her husband gambled it off, and Frankie ended up with her tongue as well. And once you lose to the witch you never get yours back.

With a wide broken tooth grin, examining her damn near perfect roll of the set of bones, the witch motions for Tommy to gather them and take a whirl. With a twisted nod and a shuffle of his feet, Tommy throws the bones. Back and forth the game continues, until there’s clearly a winner.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he moves his hands to shift his misshapen face. Without a doubt there’s an inkling of a smile as he looks over his perfect roll of the bones.

Tommy looks uneasy but calls the witch on her end of the bargain anyway, “Ma’am, I don’t mean any disrespect, but give me back my head and don't make no bones about it.” 

Frankie walks over and extends one hand with his skull. 

-->

Best

I think when you are friends with someone or in love with someone you want the best for them. Whether they are lovers, almost lovers, guys friends or gal friends you know and you hope they want the best for you. Because you also want what's best for yourself. 

For the most part you do your best not to interfere in your friends/people you love/care for personal business unless they share it with you. Or until it affects your personal business. For me personally I will do everything to resist being dragged inbetween an intimate moment a squabble a breakup or differences. Especially when it creates tension & residual negative energy in my life. No matter how much I love or adore the person I cannot allow it. I respect myself. I will not to watch anyone be disrespected.

While I'm grateful and humbled to have such amazing, beautiful and talented people to cross my path and end up in my life as friends or people I love/care for, I don't appreciate problems. I appreciate your presence but if you appreciate me you will please refrain from allowing me to be in the middle of she said/he said issues because as you can see I will remove myself from the situation every time. Intimacy issues shouldn't be public fodder. You don't need to follow me around to find out this... And I really shouldn't have to defend myself again but I will: I have dated my guy friends in the past... But I'm not dating any one of them now. Rumors are lovely but bad for your complexion. Hush. Ladies, if you're insecure about where you stand with a guy... Talk to him. Please. Don't start to bug the people he knows in this manner. It reflects upon you, not him.

To my other friends who are perceiving my actions directed solely toward them... I've stepped back from everyone & removed myself as an inbetween with several people. I apologize if you're upset. This is my response until I can clarify situations and set boundaries with all the people I respect, love & adore. But you don't allow others to disrespect someone you value or ever valued as a lover, almost lover, acquaintance, family member, friend or colleague. Because some of you have clearly disrespected the boundaries of others, I need to step back, resolve my feelings and get their "ok" in light of present circumstances.

Please don't take it personally to you or anyone you know... If it isn't. Please take it very seriously if it is you and your personal business. I'm very uncomfortable with being dragged into seeing/reading/hearing any intimate info meant for two people, not an audience. Love yourself & each other, lovers.

Here's a story about not interfering when you hear something that's not your business...

Do you drag people into your affairs or meddle in people's affairs?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Rattlin’ Bones

(3-13-2011)

“Rattlin’ Bones,” Tommy hollers with a nod of his head.  “Can you hear ‘em?”

A shortcut through the cemetery after a night of drinking was the quickest way to get home without the good ol blue boys picking you up. Not to mention the graveyard was most often the quietest way to find yourself home in a pinch. Dead men ain’t got much to say even when there’s company in their backyard. Unlike your nosy neighbor they don’t much give a damn what you’re up to as long as it don’t interfere with their business. Cause a dead man, sure enough always has a bit of unfinished business. Don’t get me wrong, it ain’t at all as pressing as the business of living but sure enough it matters quite a bit to that dead bastard. Almost so much he might interfere with the business of your living.

Understand that a dead man hardly wants your life. He’s already had one of those. And since he’s been dead there ain’t a damn bit of good your life will do him. Not in his current condition. But he certainly won’t think twice about following you home if you disturb his peace. And unless you like waking up to a pair bones in your bed I suggest you leave that dead man alone. His sense of humor is a bit different than yours or mine.

What exactly will he do? That dead man will set up shop in your house, piss off your old lady and make a fine mess.

Don't believe me? Just ask my pal Bobby. He couldn’t help himself one night out in the graves. Dancing and whooping through the bones’ business. The following week his old lady left him. She left on account of their house being haunted and blamed him for losing her wedding ring in a bet. Bobby don’t gamble and the house wasn’t much haunted after his old lady left. Where's the lesson in that? Don’t cross a dead man. While he can’t change his fate, but damned if he don’t affect yours.

Tonight wasn’t any different from any other. Same old shortcut since we were kids. Same old Tommy had himself too many and extended himself to walking good ol’ Frankie home. You might say we were loud enough to wake the dead as we made our way across the better part of the 1800s. Somewhere near the cusp of 1882 there wasn’t anything like the sound of it.

“Rattlin’ Bones” The bones were moving about and hear them you could. Much like the coyotes cry you can sure as hell hear the bones when they rattle. There isn’t another sound much like it. I know what Tommy means by it, but there’s Frankie that ain’t been around much so he has a look of wonder about him.

“Oh my child do you know about the bones?” Not much did I ever really know when my grandmother used to ask me that question but I’m thinking it the same tonight. For what can a man know about the dead? The bones ain’t exactly like you or me. They spend their time much more leisurely than the living. Their business is theirs. Our business is ours. But unlike the living like to believe some of their business is a lot more like ours.

For instance, Love. Passion. A dead man remembers what that was like in his bones. That don’t ever truly change. And on a night much like this you can hear them dead lovers in their graves rolling like they never lost a beat.

What do the dead do in the dark? Can’t tell you personally but good ol’ Frankie found out for himself about three steps into the 1920s. With a loose piece of gravel and shift of his foot Frankie landed himself amid a dead lover’s coupling. With a scream and the sound of wallop the noisy bones fall to a dead still all around us. I’m not sure what Frankie saw but he was much paler when we reached the 1930s.

Around 1942 Frankie looks nervously at Tommy who can’t quite wipe the grin off his face. Like they didn’t miss a beat the bones’ resume their noise much louder than usual but that don’t stop Tommy from saying it again with a laugh. “Rattlin’ Bones.”

Walking

walking towards it (triptych) 2013.

Them bones. Them bones. They’ll come & go walking to & fro like they’re supposed to. Best believe they will. Your bones go where you take them. My bones go where I take mine. Walking towards something new means you have to walk away from something else. It's a tough call to make but worth it. I'm always proud of my friends & family who are able to accomplish great things by working hard, following through & taking risks on opportunities not knowing the outcome. I'm truly proud of their hustle cause it's a lot like mine. Much love & much respect!! And understand my support is not something I easily give to people... you have to earn my admiration & friendship. Loyalty goes farther than money, promises, or fake hugs/handshakes.

Well here's another old one about the Bones. It's about a set of bones walking toward collecting what's his... 

Do you walk away from things in order to walk toward things? 

Want to read a new story about the Bones?

Enjoy your bones you only get one set in this life! 

Kisses, m.

Them Bones

(5-3-2011)

“Them Bones. Them Bones.” Good ol Johnny Boy says with a click of his tongue. “Coming ‘round. Soon.”

Sure enough Johnny knows what he means by it when he says it and opens another beer before walking around the table. Tommy looks guilty and stays quiet while he looks over across the pile of bones at me. 

The bones only come around on occasion. Something you have to understand about the bones is that they don’t interfere too much with the living if they can help it. And tonight as sure as there are bones in my body they’re coming around. 

Now there are very few things that will make a dead man come up to see you. Disturbing his peace will send him spinning through your house like nothing else. Walk out on a bet and he’ll call collecting. But to steal his bones is the first thing on the list that will have him paying you a visit. And that’s plain and simple what happened here.  Only at the time Tommy swears he didn’t know that’s what he was up to.

“Damn it all if I ain’t telling the truth!” Tommy says with a stomp of his foot. 

Tommy begins the story like he’s pleading his case before the court. Johnny Boy looks me over before getting up and starting in on the piano. I shake my head in disbelief when he gets to the part about his old bloodhound sniffing up in the azaleas by the Randall’s barn. Sure enough, according to Tommy that old rotten hound of his dug up a set a bones that didn’t much belong. 

“Damn it if you ain’t.” I tell him with my head still shaking.

It’s funny but he cracks a grin wider than I’ve ever seen when I don’t stop shaking my head. You see, I’ve known Tommy long enough to know when he’s full of shit. And that story smells like a pile. With a nod, I look over at the clock at back at Tommy who ain’t much convinced himself about them bones. 

One thing I know, sure enough they’ll come and make no difference if it’s here or there, the bones will show up wherever they find what they’re looking for. Something most folks don’t know about the dead is how damn determined they are. You can run and hide but that won’t change what’s coming.  Cause that dead man don’t want much more than what’s his. 

Tommy knows ‘bout them bones as much as me and Johnny. Tonight same as the last three nights before it, Tommy’s been missing his pinky finger. Lost it fair and square to a dead man in a game of cards. Tommy swore the bones were cheating him wrong that last game. And they might have been. However once that crack of dawn rolls up across the horizon there’s little to be done about that wrong. As any dead man will attest that he dies with the dawn. So does the game. Winner takes all. And they did. Including Tommy’s pinky finger. 

Sure enough as Johnny tickles the ivories on my piano he tells the story a hell of a lot different than Tommy. He says that our boy got the bright idea in his head that he’d get a little of his own back by extracting a few pieces of his opponent while the sun was still up. The guilty grin across Tommy’s face tells me that the arm bone and jaw sitting on my table don’t belong to something unknown. 

Hard to say what it was when he did it. Couldn’t say at all what he was thinking. Nonetheless he did it. Maybe it was simple revenge. A cheat for a cheat. That’s how Tommy is about people doing him wrong. Funny part of it all is that it’ll probably cost him the other pinky and more when this dead man catches up with this thief.

Now there’s something about getting even when someone’s done you wrong, but you also have to understand that’s a whole level of different when you’re dealing with a dead man. Not only will that dead man roll up to your door at the break of dusk, but he’ll come in uninvited if you don’t answer his call to take what’s his, even if that means he takes it from you.

With that last tick of the 5 o’clock hour Tommy ain’t so sure that he’s a man of conviction anymore. I can see the nervousness sitting in his eye as we wait on early minutes of twilight to take a hold of the night. There’s no telling when the bones will show. The only certainty is that he’ll show all right. 

With both my hands crossed in front of me on the weight of my elbows, I shake my head at him one more time before I hear it. A knock. Johnny stops dead at the keys and before another sound can make itself known, another knock. 

“Them bones, them bones. Coming ‘round.”

Those Nice Black & Blue Bones

“Them is some nice bones... How'd you get them black & blue bones?” - Black & Blue Bones  

So I wrote a new skeleton story! I used to write them often. It's inspired by a saying... Ever hear the saying: Your bones show & tell the stories of where you've been & who you are on your journey. That's it!

Well, my bones can't tell you that I started posting stories online for my friends to read on their work breaks about 6 yrs back. (NOPE it's not 10 yrs!) Writing super short back then kept me busy in a good way. So what are friends for if not to inspire you? Often the things they might say paint a pretty mental picture and as an artist/writer/photographer, I will take from all of my experiences including people. I don't blame others for doing the same but I always return in kind. ;) 

Anyhoo, back to friends & the journey... a friend recalls that I used to write darkness & murder fiction and he was wondering: “Will you ever again? Write the darker pieces?” 

Well, I've been toying with the notion of darkness since finishing the D-Women but not thinking about individual pieces or murder. Actually been working on something else entirely... Hmm?

Here's a piece from those earlier posts that's on the tamer side of darkness. From my Bones series this is about gambling with skeletons.

Do you gamble or take risks? 

Are you inspired by the things people say? 

Do you want to read more from the Bones series?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Show Yer Bones

(5-13-2009)

“Show yer bones,” Tommy says as he calls. Playing cards in a cemetery provides a great deal of privacy not to mention an eerie ambiance. The skeletons provide us with excellent substitutes for chips. Finger and toe bones prove to be the best and quickest to clear away in a pinch. Tombstones supply a makeshift table. This was our weekly haunt and only way to keep the game private. See we didn’t gamble for money, booze, or even women. The rules of this game were quite different. Winner rarely took all and loser didn’t walk away empty handed either. One could call us grave robbers. But we didn’t steal from the dead. The dead had ample opportunity to win it back fair and square. Playing poker with a dead man was a different experience. See the dead have nothing to lose. The living, well that’s the catch, you have your life to gamble with among other things the dead may take in trade. So if you won, a grave might sound like a wasted investment. But to that dead bastard you’ve just confiscated his home and his bones lay out for anyone to claim. If you don’t know about stealing a dead man’s bones, let me explain... To take a man’s bones calls his soul from beyond and tethers his spirit to those disrupted artifacts. You can most certainly expect him to come calling one evening and take up in your home until you return his bones. Now to lose to a dead man, see that’s quite another thing. See not all the dead envy the living. It’s quite the occasion if a skeleton wants your life. They rarely ask for it. But you may have to give up your eyes, ears, or tongue. Sometimes even fingers or toes. Tommy lost his pinky one time and won it back in the next game. Let’s just say he had an interesting week without it. The dead are quite the comedians. Once I saw a man lose both legs in a poker game and had to be carried home. What do the dead want with our pieces? Nothing really. It amuses them I think. It’s quite a funny thing to look at a skeleton with a set of eyes to look back out at you. The tongue has no purpose. They don’t need it to talk, but to the lawyer who has just gambled it away it has an immeasurable value. See they don’t need these organs, but they do understand how very dear such things are to the living.

Tonight, same as the last 10 years, we’re out here playing in the cemetery. It’s witching hour. The town clock sounds three distinct times as we are coming down the wire. Unlike my other games, all those years, many, many times, I’m losing tonight. My heart is thumping, like it knows it will never beat again. Pulse racing like a engine. I’ve bet quite a bit on this game. This skeleton isn’t bluffing either. He will collect my debt without hesitation. “I shouldn’t have come tonight,” are my thoughts. I look over to my eager opponent who will relish knowing that he at long last triumphs and my winning streak, just like my life, has finally come to a close. What kind of man plays cards with the dead? The kind that has nothing left to lose. This game is different though. I came in, not looking to walk away. The love of my life walked out the door five hours ago and my heart won’t do me a damn bit of good anymore. My heart is up for ante on the table and the bones love that I’m playing dangerous tonight. Tommy looks nervous. But he calls anyway. “Show yer bones.” And the bets are out. Cards are down. Bones walks over, reaches into my chest and rips out my heart.

Rattlin' Bones

I always wondered what a pair of bones would do in the dark... So I wrote a little ol story about it. How about you ever wonder about something that doesn't really matter? Enjoy the story. And definitely... Check out the artist behind photograph. This image happens to be one of my favorites. kisses, m. 

photo credit: tyler shields c/o tylershields.com

       

Rattlin’ Bones.

(3-13-2011)

“Rattlin’ Bones,” Tommy hollers with a nod of his head.  “Can you hear ‘em?”

A shortcut through the cemetery after a night of drinking was the quickest way to get home without the good ol blue boys picking you up. Not to mention the graveyard was most often the quietest way to find yourself home in a pinch. Dead men ain’t got much to say even when there’s company in their backyard. Unlike your nosy neighbor they don’t much give a damn what you’re up to as long as it don’t interfere with their business. Cause a dead man, sure enough always has a bit of unfinished business. Don’t get me wrong, it ain’t at all as pressing as the business of living but sure enough it matters quite a bit to that dead bastard. Almost so much he might interfere with the business of your living.

Understand that a dead man hardly wants your life. He’s already had one of those. And since he’s been dead there ain’t a damn bit of good your life will do him. Not in his current condition. But he certainly won’t think twice about following you home if you disturb his peace. And unless you like waking up to a pair bones in your bed I suggest you leave that dead man alone. His sense of humor is a bit different than yours or mine. 

What exactly will he do? That dead man will set up shop in your house, piss off your old lady and make a fine mess.

Don't believe me? Just ask my pal Bobby. He couldn’t help himself one night out in the graves. Dancing and whooping through the bones’ business. The following week his old lady left him. She left on account of their house being haunted and blamed him for losing her wedding ring in a bet. Bobby don’t gamble and the house wasn’t much haunted after his old lady left. Where's the lesson in that? Don’t cross a dead man. While he can’t change his fate, but damned if he don’t affect yours.

Tonight wasn’t any different from any other. Same old shortcut since we were kids. Same old Tommy had himself too many and extended himself to walking good ol’ Frankie home. You might say we were loud enough to wake the dead as we made our way across the better part of the 1800s. Somewhere near the cusp of 1882 there wasn’t anything like the sound of it.

“Rattlin’ Bones” The bones were moving about and hear them you could. Much like the coyotes cry you can sure as hell hear the bones when they rattle. There isn’t another sound much like it. I know what Tommy means by it, but there’s Frankie that ain’t been around much so he has a look of wonder about him.

“Oh my child do you know about the bones?” Not much did I ever really know when my grandmother used to ask me that question but I’m thinking it the same tonight. For what can a man know about the dead? The bones ain’t exactly like you or me. They spend their time much more leisurely than the living. Their business is theirs. Our business is ours. But unlike the living like to believe some of their business is a lot more like ours.

For instance, Love. Passion. A dead man remembers what that was like in his bones. That don’t ever truly change. And on a night much like this you can hear them dead lovers in their graves rolling like they never lost a beat.

What do the dead do in the dark? Can’t tell you personally but good ol’ Frankie found out for himself about three steps into the 1920s. With a loose piece of gravel and shift of his foot Frankie landed himself amid a dead lover’s coupling. With a scream and the sound of wallop the noisy bones fall to a dead still all around us. I’m not sure what Frankie saw but he was much paler when we reached the 1930s.

Around 1942 Frankie looks nervously at Tommy who can’t quite wipe the grin off his face. Like they didn’t miss a beat the bones’ resume their noise much louder than usual but that don’t stop Tommy from saying it again with a laugh. “Rattlin’ Bones.”

Them Bones.

Them Bones.

“Them Bones. Them Bones.” Good ol Johnny Boy says with a click of his tongue. “Coming ‘round. Soon.”

Sure enough Johnny knows what he means by it when he says it and opens another beer before walking around the table. Tommy looks guilty and stays quiet while he looks over across the pile of bones at me.

The bones only come around on occasion. Something you have to understand about the bones is that they don’t interfere too much with the living if they can help it. And tonight as sure as there are bones in my body they’re coming around.

Now there are very few things that will make a dead man come up to see you. Disturbing his peace will send him spinning through your house like nothing else. Walk out on a bet and he’ll call collecting. But to steal his bones is the first thing on the list that will have him paying you a visit. And that’s plain and simple what happened here.  Only at the time Tommy swears he didn’t know that’s what he was up to.

“Damn it all if I ain’t telling the truth!” Tommy says with a stomp of his foot.

Tommy begins the story like he’s pleading his case before the court. Johnny Boy looks me over before getting up and starting in on the piano. I shake my head in disbelief when he gets to the part about his old bloodhound sniffing up in the azaleas by the Randall’s barn. Sure enough, according to Tommy that old rotten hound of his dug up a set a bones that didn’t much belong.

“Damn it if you ain’t.” I tell him with my head still shaking.

It’s funny but he cracks a grin wider than I’ve ever seen when I don’t stop shaking my head. You see, I’ve known Tommy long enough to know when he’s full of shit. And that story smells like a pile. With a nod, I look over at the clock at back at Tommy who ain’t much convinced himself about them bones.

One thing I know, sure enough they’ll come and make no difference if it’s here or there, the bones will show up wherever they find what they’re looking for. Something most folks don’t know about the dead is how damn determined they are. You can run and hide but that won’t change what’s coming.  Cause that dead man don’t want much more than what’s his.

Tommy knows ‘bout them bones as much as me and Johnny. Tonight same as the last three nights before it, Tommy’s been missing his pinky finger. Lost it fair and square to a dead man in a game of cards. Tommy swore the bones were cheating him wrong that last game. And they might have been. However once that crack of dawn rolls up across the horizon there’s little to be done about that wrong. As any dead man will attest that he dies with the dawn. So does the game. Winner takes all. And they did. Including Tommy’s pinky finger.

Sure enough as Johnny tickles the ivories on my piano he tells the story a hell of a lot different than Tommy. He says that our boy got the bright idea in his head that he’d get a little of his own back by extracting a few pieces of his opponent while the sun was still up. The guilty grin across Tommy’s face tells me that the arm bone and jaw sitting on my table don’t belong to something unknown.

Hard to say what it was when he did it. Couldn’t say at all what he was thinking. Nonetheless he did it. Maybe it was simple revenge. A cheat for a cheat. That’s how Tommy is about people doing him wrong. Funny part of it all is that it’ll probably cost him the other pinky and more when this dead man catches up with this thief.

Now there’s something about getting even when someone’s done you wrong, but you also have to understand that’s a whole level of different when you’re dealing with a dead man. Not only will that dead man roll up to your door at the break of dusk, but he’ll come in uninvited if you don’t answer his call to take what’s his, even if that means he takes it from you.

With that last tick of the 5 o’clock hour Tommy ain’t so sure that he’s a man of conviction anymore. I can see the nervousness sitting in his eye as we wait on early minutes of twilight to take a hold of the night. There’s no telling when the bones will show. The only certainty is that he’ll show all right.

With both my hands crossed in front of me on the weight of my elbows, I shake my head at him one more time before I hear it. A knock. Johnny stops dead at the keys and before another sound can make itself known, another knock.

“Them bones, them bones. Coming ‘round.”

Them bones. Them bones. They’ll come like they’re supposed to. Best believe they will. Although the “here’s”, “there’s”, “where’s” and “when’s” are in question, sometimes you have to just make the impossible possible and believe it will work out. Enjoy them bones of yours. Kisses. m.

Rattlin’ Bones.

Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon

Rattlin’ Bones.

“Rattlin’ Bones,” Tommy hollers with a nod of his head.  “Can you hear ‘em?”

A shortcut through the cemetery after a night of drinking was the quickest way to get home without the good ol blue boys picking you up. Not to mention the graveyard was most often the quietest way to find yourself home in a pinch. Dead men ain’t got much to say even when there’s company in their backyard. Unlike your nosy neighbor they don’t much give a damn what you’re up to as long as it don’t interfere with their business. Cause a dead man, sure enough always has a bit of unfinished business. Don’t get me wrong, it ain’t at all as pressing as the business of living but sure enough it matters quite a bit to that dead bastard. Almost so much he might interfere with the business of your living.

Understand that a dead man hardly wants your life. He’s already had one of those. And since he’s been dead there ain’t a damn bit of good your life will do him. Not in his current condition. But he certainly won’t think twice about following you home if you disturb his peace. And unless you like waking up to a pair bones in your bed I suggest you leave that dead man alone. His sense of humor is a bit different than yours or mine. 


What exactly will he do? That dead man will set up shop in your house, piss off your old lady and make a fine mess.

Don't believe me? Just ask my pal Bobby. He couldn’t help himself one night out in the graves. Dancing and whooping through the bones’ business. The following week his old lady left him. She left on account of their house being haunted and blamed him for losing her wedding ring in a bet. Bobby don’t gamble and the house wasn’t much haunted after his old lady left. Where's the lesson in that? Don’t cross a dead man. While he can’t change his fate, but damned if he don’t affect yours.

Tonight wasn’t any different from any other. Same old shortcut since we were kids. Same old Tommy had himself too many and extended himself to walking good ol’ Frankie home. You might say we were loud enough to wake the dead as we made our way across the better part of the 1800s. Somewhere near the cusp of 1882 there wasn’t anything like the sound of it.

“Rattlin’ Bones” The bones were moving about and hear them you could. Much like the coyotes cry you can sure as hell hear the bones when they rattle. There isn’t another sound much like it. I know what Tommy means by it, but there’s Frankie that ain’t been around much so he has a look of wonder about him.

“Oh my child do you know about the bones?” Not much did I ever really know when my grandmother used to ask me that question but I’m thinking it the same tonight. For what can a man know about the dead? The bones ain’t exactly like you or me. They spend their time much more leisurely than the living. Their business is theirs. Our business is ours. But unlike the living like to believe some of their business is a lot more like ours.

For instance, Love. Passion. A dead man remembers what that was like in his bones. That don’t ever truly change. And on a night much like this you can hear them dead lovers in their graves rolling like they never lost a beat.

What do the dead do in the dark? Can’t tell you personally but good ol’ Frankie found out for himself about three steps into the 1920s. With a loose piece of gravel and shift of his foot Frankie landed himself amid a dead lover’s coupling. With a scream and the sound of wallop the noisy bones fall to a dead still all around us. I’m not sure what Frankie saw but he was much paler when we reached the 1930s.

Around 1942 Frankie looks nervously at Tommy who can’t quite wipe the grin off his face. Like they didn’t miss a beat the bones’ resume their noise much louder than usual but that don’t stop Tommy from saying it again with a laugh. “Rattlin’ Bones.”

Rattlin’ Bones. Them bones. Them bones. I was reminded a short while back about “the bones.” The first time I wrote about the bones I’d found myself in the middle of a 30+ day headache.  Interesting. I still get the headaches on occasion, but much like fight club. You don’t talk about it.  Well,  I’ve been trying to revisit the bones for a while now and finally did. A little KOL kicked this one spinning. Anyhow... Want more? Rock n’ Roll. Enjoy. kisses. m.