Fiction

---

Three white doves reminiscent of the Whittling Breath flew over a clear blue sky. They pierced the air as they sang to each other the Berry Gordy hit, “I’ll Be There.” In the distance below, choirs from various churches from Apollo and Greensburg Pennsylvania to Washington D.C. sang the chorus in counterpoint, “Just call my name, and I’ll be There,” "You and I must make a pact. We must bring salvation back. Where there is love, I'll be there."
As the birds looked down, they saw Liberty Avenue in Pittsburgh. They next saw the slums of Pennsylvania as they passed through West Virginia and into Virginia. Going on, they witnessed the opulence of Bethesda and Silver Springs, Maryland. They also cried as they peered down at the slums of inner city Washington D.C.
Lastly, the birds flew to the Lincoln Memorial. Each time as the female voice sang, the churches below sang with her, “Just call my name, and I’ll be there.”
Two men, Lee Stone and I, stood at the Lincoln Memorial. Lee Stone, an older man, wore a clerical collar. and read a quote from Isaiah, “Here I am, send me.”
I read the “Gettysburg Address” as the sun rose a quarter of the way through its arch. A boom box nearby sang out, “People Got to be Free,” by Aspens and Oaks filled the area, as it was cherry blossom time. One of the birds, the male, landed on Lee Stone. The second landed on Abraham Lincoln. The third landed on me.
While we were there, Lee Stone stated, “Half way across the country there is another Lincoln where some very tragic and strange things happened.”

We continued our trek as we crossed the Potomac River on Highway 1 and down Boundary Channel Drive. It had rained those heavy Virginia rains over the past three days, making the Potomac swell and rage, giving it a troubled look. On the other hand, it was rather sunny today. In the background the song, “Bridge Over Troubled Water” echoed from the river.
As we stood on that Potomac bridge, Lee Stone turned and looked at me. As he did, he looked west and saw the first evening star. It looked like a cross. A jet plane flew overhead. The song, “Bridge Troubled Water” slowly ended as Paul Simon sang, “Sail on Silver bird, sail on by.”
Lee Stone commanded, “Let’s role, Time to go see the President’s grave.”
As the sun moved another foot through the sky, we stood at an eternal flame. It was that of the last great President of the United States, John F. Kennedy. As we sat there, we meditated on the similarities between Presidents Lincoln and Kennedy. We did this as I looked across the river and saw the Lincoln Memorial.
The sun moved another foot higher in its arch as we found ourselves staring at an empty tomb at a crypt in a mausoleum, Columbia Gardens Cemetery in Arlington, Virginia. About a dozen people stood around holding roses. Near the tomb, drawn on a white stone, was the noose of a hangman, and gallows.
Lee Stone noted, “It is like the “L” shape of the gallows and it reminds us of life turned upside down.”
There was also a red rose and a note that read, “To our Dear Salvador Carpenter, wherever you are. We hope to be with you soon.”
Lee Stone reminded me, "You have a commission from the twelve to write about Salvador. Remember the outline I gave you. It must start with the story of Curtis E. John and it must proclaim the tranquility of Salvador."
I quipped, "I will write about what he did all over the great land of California and Nevada, and about how God anointed Salvador with the Whittling Breath and power to go about doing good, healing the sick and helping the oppressed."
We went to the mausoleum door. As we arrived, we noticed a sign. It read, “This is the beginning of the sweet message of Salvador.”

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE