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March 2007 ETCHED
IN STONE Jake Gorman bent his six-foot frame to avoid hitting the basement ceiling. A pair of jeans and a tee shirt complimented his dirty sneakers. A granite worker his entire adult life, he had moved to Kimbertown that day. Talkin’ Dan, who had earned his nickname, maneuvered his 300-pound, five-foot-four frame to a mildewed cloth and tossed it into the damp, musty air. "Here it is." Jake jumped back, almost losing his balance. "So, why is there a tombstone here, Uncle Dan?" His hands trembled as he felt the cold granite. "Since you just came to town, I’ll give you the entire story. Everyone knows about ol' Zeke Arindale. Our story begins in the very quarry where you'll be starting to work on Monday, the very same one that I retired from. By the way, you do know how lucky you are to have a job there, don't you?" Talkin' Dan whirled toward the stone. "Shut up. Ain’t talking to you." He stroked his beard and looked at Jake again. "Ol' Zeke was in charge of moving tombstones using a machine with straps on the ceiling of the stone processing plant. He had to put the straps around the tombstones and move them to the wash area, surfacing area, artist guys in the corner, and so forth. "I said, shut up. As I was saying… This job required concentration because he had to move heavy stones over the workers' heads. He was really good at it, never lost his cool. Or so we thought." "Did he finally lose it?" "Yep. Although some of us knew he was a little off to begin with." "What do you mean?" "Well, it's hard to explain. I heard a story about an accident at birth or something. Now, he wasn't retarded or nothin' like that. He was—impressionable. Everything bothered him. Why, we used to tease him once in a while…" Talkin’ Dan aborted his sentence. "So, what happened to him?" "One day, Zeke got a stone from the conveyor belt, as usual, and put the straps on it. He inspected it and read the name on the tombstone. He yelled like a madman." "What name did he see?" "Guess." "I…don't know… His mother? His wife?" "The name on the tombstone was Zeke Arindale." Jake pointed to the stone. "But… that's the name on this tombstone. Anyway, who took his job at the quarry?" The man’s somber expression became studious, dark eyes piercing Jake's own. Rusty garden tools, a pick with a splintered handle, and a shovel caked with fresh dirt leaned against the wall. "You did. We take care of our own around here, you know." THE END Joe Sainz is a full-time college teacher of business computer applications (e.g., word processors, spreadsheets, databases, advanced applications, etc.) He has been published in various publications, including a brief article in Writer’s Digest Magazine, The Don’t Sweat Stories and others. He has also self-published a humor book and written two novels (unpublished to date). Joe can be reached at jsbooks2004@yahoo.com. |