dborys

Everybody has their own idea of what they want heaven to look like.

One thing I used to think was that I’d like there to be a huge information database that can answer any question I ever wondered about. Except, when I pulled my smart phone out of my pocket the other day to answer a question someone asked me, it occurred to me the database already exists here on earth–sort of anyway–in the form of the world wide web. (Does anyone still call it that or am I showing my age and lack of 21st century tech talk?)

I seem to be addicted to reading or texting or surfing with my phone any time a thought or question pops into my brain. Like any addiction, it has its upsides: immediate gratification, connectivity to friends and family, and increasing my knowledge (though sometimes with false information). However, the dark side of this addiction has started to rear its ugly head more and more often: my brain is bombarded with data and rarely gets a chance to just be still and “breathe.”

I miss sitting on the back porch on a cool summer evening and just soaking it all in. Not thinking, not stressing, just watching the fireflies, listening to kids play tag in the yard next door, and letting myself simply be present in the moment.

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At the rare moments I get to do this, I think maybe this is what I really want heaven to be like. A place where I don’t have any questions and don’t care what the answers are. Where all around me is peace, contentment, joy and awe . To be still and know the presence of God.

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It’s been a while since I played the Story Start game here. That’s where I pull out an old manuscript that I began but never finished for one reason or another. Sometimes they make me laugh about how horrible they are, and sometimes I am surprised at how good the writing seems despite how inexperienced I was at the time.

Today’s excerpt has a little bit of both. I don’t know what I was thinking when I titled it, but I find myself wanting to finish Tim’s story someday. I remember this idea came to me as a dream one night and several of the scenes I’ve written so far came directly from it.

What do you think? Do you want to know more about Tim, too?

AN UNATTAINABLE PERFECTION

Everything about the party was top grade: the booze, the dope, even the pretty boys who mingled with the top-grade executives they’d been hired to entertain. Tim stopped as he entered the room, nostrils widening at the acrid smoke from tobacco and grass. A constriction in his throat made breathing difficult. His muscles tensed, his pulse raced.

“Don’t freak out, man,” said one of the boys right behind him. “Sugar won’t like it.”

“What won’t I like?”

A nerve began to jump in Tim’s cheek. He hitched his thumbs in his belt and turned to the black man behind him.

“Topper doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Everything’s cool.”

“It better be. I guarantee cool cats.”

Blue eyes met brown. Sugar’s face remained immobile, as dark as his close-cropped hair. In front of his left ear, he wore a single black braid with a gold clasp that winked in the flickering lights of the room.

Finally, Sugar looked away and Tim was able to let his eyes fall. His head swam and he suddenly needed a smoke, a drink, something.

A girl walked by with a tray of drinks. Tim avoided her curious look from behind thick lenses and grabbed a glass in either hand then headed for an empty seat in the corner.

Night had almost fallen, darkening the view of the California skyline, and a breeze had spring up, blowing the leaves of an ornamental tree against the glass of the French doors. Tim watched for a minute, wishing he could feel the force of the wind in his face.

“All alone?”

A stranger stood nearby, his head titled inquisitively, a twisted smile on his face.