Marchmont



His cape was heavy but Samuel must never lose it. He could only remove it at night when he thought all was safe and sound, keeping it near him just in case. His beautiful, crimson cloak must never find itself in the hands of anyone else. It wielded too much power and if used in a bad way, it could hurt many.

The Superhero’s thoughts turned to the dingy and sad town he’d been sent to save. How drab it had been when he first saw it! The people with their hopeless expressions haunted him. What a difference in their faces when he added color to their lives. They laughed and had life in their eyes! Wonderful, expressive eyes that told stories with a look. The people stood tall and gazed around them with wonder, as if they couldn’t remember that grass was green and the sky blue.

Samuel then thought of the princess, Isobel. He knew of her and where she was being held, but he hadn’t yet met the woman. He wondered about her and the startling connection he felt for someone he didn’t know. Save the princess he must, but surely he would feel that way for anyone. The wicked Mr. Falcon held her in his tower and he had a plan to save her. It would begin tomorrow and it couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t let it. Samuel had always known success.

The evil Mr. Falcon would prove to be a problem. Samuel wondered what had made the villain such a foul individual. It was hard to imagine someone being born mean but there was no indication that the man had been treated badly in life. From Samuel’s research, he learned the man had been raised by loving and caring parents who provided him his every need and want. Falcon was an only child so all of his parents’ attention was given him. He didn’t have to share anything. Perhaps that was the problem, Samuel reasoned. The man’s poor parents had been thrown in the dungeon when Falcon had taken a turn for darkness. Samuel had every intention of releasing them as soon as it was safe to do so.

He looked out his window. It was raining in the village. Something he had created with the sweep of his wonderful cape. Water was pouring from the sky and the thirsty earth was drinking it in nourishment. When the raindrops ended, he knew the air would smell fresh and clean, the dirt would be mud and a deeper color of brown. The smells would also intensify. Samuel could always smell rain before it fell. But after a good shower, the sweet scents of roses, honeysuckles and grass would permeate the air, filling the senses with intoxicating fragrance.

Samuel looked sharply. Something or someone was moving in the shadows. He held his cape tightly around his shoulders and backed into the darkness of the room. The figure skulked and darted, trying to be avoided from prying eyes. Samuel’s senses were on alert. He held his breath and waited. There was a noise outside his door and he didn’t move a muscle. Someone fumbled with the doorknob and he heard the click as the lock gave way. The door creaked slowly open, spilling in muted light from outside. The Superhero waited. Whoever this person might be, he was about to be knocked senseless.

 



A Family’s Past



Oh, I loved it. I reread it twice before I put it down. It was getting so good that I wanted Pops to go on forever with this cartoon story. I wondered who might possibly be breaking into Samuel’s room. I was certain it was the villain, Mr. Falcon, but Pops was known to surprise you with his drawings. They didn’t always turn out as you expected.

I looked around Pops’ office. On the walls were framed certificates of awards he’d won for his work. He also had copies of some of his favorite comics he had created over the years. There were about a dozen different series, all framed with dates going back decades. The rest of his published works were in binders that lined the bookshelves on three of the walls. Scattered between the binders were the occasional photographs of Pops with editors, artists, writers and other cartoonists.

A special photograph sat on Pops desk. It was of him and my grandmother. They were sitting at a table outside some restaurant in Italy. I knew it to be Italy simply because Pops had told me so. There was no indication as such. He loved telling the story of how they traveled there, visiting such historic places as Rome and Florence. But their very favorite place was the seaside in Amalfi. It was a beautiful place, Pops had said. And this was where the photograph was taken.

I stared at the picture. Pops and Nana were relaxed and laughing. It was as if whoever took the photograph, caught them in the middle of hearing a good joke. Pops had his arm draped over the back of Nana’s chair, leaning toward her. She was looking at the photographer, mouth open in laughter and eyes crinkled. She had a blue sweater wrapped around her shoulders, and her earrings sparkled in the light. I remember Nana loved wearing big earrings and her eyes were so blue that when you looked at her, all you wanted to do was get lost in her gaze. I was sure the blue sweater she wore matched the shade of her eyes.