SUSAN CLEVELAND - SHORT-STORIES

Susan Cleveland lives in Atlantic Canada. She is the author of "The Early Edition", which was short-listed for the "Memories In The Fog" anthology. Some of her poetry has been previously published in the Scarlet Leaf Review. Ms. Cleveland enjoys photography, and going for long walks with her dog.

​TERRA & NICK

​Nick looked up with hope. Even though he was alone in the emergency area, he tried his best to stay positive, remembering the way life used to be. He became worried when the face that appeared before him gave the news. The clock was ticking, and Nick's wife was not doing well. He realized it will take a miracle for her to get well. He needed answers, but all he received at first, were questions.
"What is your wife's name?"
"Terra." He replied.
"How old is she?"
"Neither of us know for sure. We met when we were young, which seems like long ago. We each raised ourselves, not really knowing where we came from."
"Does your wife have any medical insurance?"
"No. Some of our children will arrive soon to pay the expense for us. We've worked hard all of our lives, but there's not much left for us to give."
"How long has she been feeling under the weather?"
"For a while. She's been saying she's getting warm too quickly, and it's effecting her breathing, like someone is choking the life out of her."
"Has she been able to work as much as she used to?"
"No. She shakes sometimes, like an internal earthquake. Once in a while, my wife gets dizzy, like a tornado spinning out-of-control. She cries a lot. Those tears fall like rain, which causes a flood. When she is overwhelmed with emotion, she can fall like a landslide, slipping on most anything."
"Is she under a lot of stress?"
"Yes. Sometimes, our children make a huge mess and then leave it all for her to clean up by herself. They throw a lot of garbage at her, and she's not handling it well. It's trash-talk, which is not fair, because she does not communicate the same way they do. She speaks in the language of signs instead of actual speech. We know some of the kids have been stealing from her, too. They've taken her diamonds and sold them to the highest bidder. Important papers have gone missing; documents made from trees which leaves her with less to work with. Many of them fight amongst themselves; calling each other nasty names and causing serious injuries. We know they need a time-out, but some of them just ignore us and do as they please."
"She needs to rest. Poking, prodding, and drilling are not good for her, especially at her age. Your wife's heart is our biggest concern right now. It is recommended that your children become more gentle towards both of you and to each other. She needs a break from the behavior that is hurting her."
"That's not going to be easy. Many of our kids won't give us or themselves enough time to figure things out. Some are so busy working that they barely think of anything other than making money. They're taking and hating and causing destruction. I don't think they realize that the Cost-of-Living is Paying Attention, to each other and to us; their parents. Many have stopped listening. That comes with a price no-one can afford."
"We need to monitor her carefully. Being over-heated is starting to give her some weakness, confusion, and pain."
"What are you saying?"
"What I mean is, I believe there is an infection being spread, and it's characteristics look like it's coming from multiple causes, like many poisons from many minds. The confusion is from not being able to understand why her children are hurting her over and over again, despite the fact that she wants the best for them and gives them all she has. Her pain is being reflected in the same way the sun works on a window, meaning the more panes of glass she has, the hotter she will become."
"Oh, this is not good. What can we do?"
"She needs more shade and time to recover: critical care in a team-based environment. What we suggest is: stopping all the invasive tests and reducing as much of her stress as possible. Ask your children to watch the signs she is giving, and encourage them to clean up after themselves. Minimize the amount of energy being taken from her, and try to get everyone in the family to see what is right with each other instead of what is wrong with each other."
"I'm glad you mentioned asking everyone for help. My beloved is starting to go bald in places, her hair is being torn from its roots. Her crowning glory is being stripped away, like the trees and flowers pulled from nature. She needs those things to feel good about herself, to breathe, to feed, and to care for everyone. The sad thing is that if everything keeps going in the same harmful direction, all will be lost. We are a package deal: if she dies, I will cease to exist, as will everything and everyone else. It's a threat to all of humanity; Cause and Effect. A Will made out to our children is not possible, for there would be nothing left for them to survive upon. There would be no place for everyone to go once our home is gone. We have no relatives who could meet their basic needs of water, air, food, and love. No-one can afford to adopt billions of children, many of whom have become unruly. Every other planet is too far away and unsuitable, so mankind could not survive a permanent move. For you see, I am Father Time, and my wife is Mother Earth. She is the Mom in my every Moment. There is still some hope, but if she dies, we are all doomed for eternity."

​DaKneeSores

​ 
It was so dark that God stumbled in his living room and tripped over the coffee table. The incredible noise created a big bang, which echoed through space. Thinking that a guide-dog might prevent future mishaps, God gathered a few items he had laying around. He molded and shaped as best he could, ending up with some oddly shaped creatures with questionable hearing. Upon waking, the beasts staggered around, wondering what they were. Immediately, they began punching, kicking, and squealing at each other. At first, their little voices made them sound like new-born kittens, full of mews and purrs.
 
One of them knocked over the aquarium, while the two others slid into the record player, accidentally turning it on. As music blared in the background, they dined on the fish that were flopping about. Rainbow trout and small sharks flew through the air, as they attacked their food to the beat of 80's disco music.
 
When their bumps and grinds got out of control, one of them ended up smashing into God, causing him to fall over again. As He was trying to stand up, the hooligans asked God what people would call them. The throbbing pain from his injured leg made him holler: "Da knee sore! Oh, da knee sore!"
 
And that's how Dinosaurs got their name.
 
The "Kid's" nastiness grew as quickly as they did. God tried sending them to the corner (on Earth) for a time-out. He said "Let there be light!", but kept it dim because the reptiles didn't seem too bright anyway.
 
Public school was a disaster. The newly enrolled "Students" were sent to the Principal's office almost every day for biting their teacher's heads off. There were claims of dogs eating their homework, when in fact they were using the sheets as toilet paper. On the playground, they would break the swings and use the chains to lasso the other students, and once in a while they'd oil the slide or the posts on the monkey bars, then laugh hysterically as the smaller children collided in mid-air.
 
Gym class was another nightmare. Instead of playing sports, they would try to trample whomever had the ball, often punching holes in the floors when they missed their targets. Bleachers were jumped on and torn to smithereens. Toxic fumes from their bad breath and sweat could peel paint, put classmates into a coma, and set off smoke detectors. The downpours from the sprinkler system created huge pools of water. Firemen would arrive, carrying powerful suction hoses and life jackets for the little ones. It got so bad that the school board decided to hire a full-time lifeguard as part of the phys.ed staff.
 
Shortly before the holidays, the "Family" decided to have their portrait done. The plan was to include this picture with the Christmas cards they mailed. The result was an awful sight to see.
 
Father Time looked presentable in the photograph. Mother Nature showed her sunny side. Their uncle, the "Sainted" Nick, appeared quite jolly, with his rosy cheeks and a stylish beard. God beamed, adorned in a white so bright that he cast a golden sheen.
 
The problem was with the T-Rex, Brontosaurus, and Velociraptor, who were seated in the middle, propped in place like bad weeds. They looked nothing like their "Parents".
 
The image showed a front row of glistening sharp teeth, huge glassy red eyes, and gray/green bodies covered in cuts and bruises. The picture came out looking like a gang of thugs had photo-bombed a church choir.
 
The photographer was getting impatient as the "Youngin's" began giggling, acting up, and telling corny jokes.
 
"What do you call Dino-droppings during an Ice Age?
Poop-cicles!"
 
"What do you call a baby reptile that messed in his diaper?
A TURDle! Get it? It's a Turtle. A TURDle..."
 
Father Time stepped in and warned them to stop, declaring; "Lest you Meteor Doom!" Instead of listening, the "Kids" began snapping each other in the neck with the elastics on the bow-ties they were wearing. The parental figures decided then and there that enough was enough.
 
The "Children" were shipped off to boarding school on a far-away planet and they became Martians.
 
With a sigh of relief, the rest of the family went out for a drink to celebrate. They filled themselves with some powerful spirits, swore they'd never tell a living soul where, or when, the Dinosaurs came from, and that they would wait a long, long time before making any more life forms on planet Earth.