Marshall Ramsey

His grandmother’s spirit visited him from time to time. It was the little things that made him aware: A fleeting memory. The cool fog that made him think of mornings on her farm.  She guided him through the hardest points in his life. Moments of great doubt.  Times of great change.

She had grown up during the hardscrabble years of the Great Depression. While her sister sat dressed up in her Sunday best, she was out in the barnyard, killing chickens. The blisters on her hands were proof she wasn’t afraid of work.  She had developed a work ethic that made a successful teacher and mother.  And grandmother.

The fog wrapped around the Standard Life Building as he walked down the busy downtown street.  Storms were crossing the Mississippi River so moisture was streaming up from the Gulf of Mexico. You could almost smell New Orleans early that morning: The humidity was at 100% and rising.

He looked at the vapor as it tickled the illuminated sign that read “Standard Life”.

A sign. How he would love a sign.

His bank had laid him off six-months ago.  It was a passionless job but a job none-the-less.  It kept the lights on, a roof over their heads and food on the table.  The Great Recession had put an end to that. An emergency surgery on his son had also put an end to what little savings they had.  He and his wife’s marriage was being torn apart by the drumbeat of crises..  He looked back up at the sign.  “Standard Life”.  The morning fog would dance in and out of the letters, hiding some of them from view.

The sign on the building now read: “Stand”

Stand. The man looked up at the word and realized it was time to stand on his own. He needed courage.  He needed strength.

A slight breeze blew across his face and made the fog swirl again.

The sign on the building now said, “Life.”

Live life.  Live it to the fullest.  His bank job had been a dead end for several years. He knew it. But it was comfortable. It paid the bills. But he wasn’t truly living.  He needed to take a stand and live his life to the fullest.  A warm feeling crept back into a stone-dead heart.

He put his hands in his pocket and pulled out his iPhone.  He started to take a picture of the building when another gust of wind blew the fog around one more time.  “Standard Life.”

He had had a pretty standard life. No more.

Up on letters, a disembodied voice said, “Good job with the fog. A very original and clever idea.”

“Sometimes a sign is a sign. That boy is as hardheaded as you were.”

The grandmother materialized next to her long-time husband’s spirit.

“But I think he’s going to be OK. I think I got him safely out of the fog he was in.”

With their grandson safely on his way, they both laughed and disappeared into the morning mist.

The alien craft hovered over the cotton field.  Three giant landing claws extended as the ship quietly landed on Earth with a thud.

Two green aliens emerged from the ship and stretched. They looked around at the lush landscape. The aliens walked down a translucent glass staircase and looked toward the lights in the distance.  The taller of the two aliens looked at the shorter one and made a series of hand signals.  He pressed a button on his purple atmospheric suit and began to talk.  “Let’s look for intelligent life.”  The shorter alien nodded and both walked across the field  toward the town.

Cottonpatch, Mississippi was a small town by most standards. Well, except for by Delta standards. By Delta standards it was a metropolis. In fact, it was so big that it even had a Wal-Mart out on the by-pass.  Yup, Cottonpatch was a happening place. Cottonpatch would throw a party just because the day ended with Y.  And tonight was Halloween. The whole town was shut down for trick-or-treating. It was a giant spooky street party.

The aliens walked into the edge of town, looking for intelligent life.  A small terrier ran up to the two aliens and started barking. The tall alien pulled out a gun, pointed at the dog and pulled the trigger.

ZAP.

The growling dog turned into a tiny fuzzy kitten.  The shorter alien laughed and said,  “This is going to be fun.”

They came to the first house. It was 101 South Magnolia Street and the home of the Widow Frances Greenback.  The two aliens came up to the door, pistols drawn and knocked on the screen door.  “Oh how cute. You must be the Smith boys.” The old lady reached into the bucket and shoved a couple Butterfingers into their three-fingered hands.  She then slammed the door, leaving the two stunned aliens on her front porch.

The short alien unwrapped the Butterfinger and popped it in his right mouth.  “Yum,” he said.  The tall alien ate one of his and also said, “Yum.”  Both looked at each other and saw two teenagers with panty hose over their heads and sacks of candy. They had been robbing younger kids and cleaning out the bowls left out by people who weren’t home.  The tall alien pointed his ray gun at the shorter teen.

“Give me your candy, brat.” the zit-faced kid demanded.

ZAP.

The kid’s left arm started whacking his own face repeatedly. The other kid, knowing when he was about to take a beating at his own hand, dropped his bag and ran off screaming.

The two aliens grabbed the bags and looked at the houses on the street.  They headed to 113 South Magnolia and stood behind a ghost and a Princess Leia.  “TRICK OR TREAT!” the two children screamed.

It was the aliens’  turn. They stepped up to the door and said, “TRIKE OR EAT.” They held out their bags while Billy Jo Smith’s Uncle Billy Bob dropped in some Hershey Kisses.  The tall alien turned around quickly and a kid in a Darth Vader costume bumped into him.  “Do I know you?” kid asked the aliens.  The aliens shrugged and the tall one said, “We’re from a long time ago from a galaxy far, far away.”

Up next was Granny Wissing’s house.  She gave the two aliens 20 Smarties. “YUM,” the tall alien rubbed his stomach as he popped the small candies into his left mouth.  They moved on to Bobby Sue Franklin’s manufactured home.  Bobby Sue was giving out the good stuff: Reese’s Pieces.

Five hours passed and the two aliens (with a major sweet tooth) hauled their sacks full of candy back to their spaceship — They had hit every house in town. With a thunderous roar, the ship lifted off into the Delta sky. And the residents of Cottonpatch, Mississippi had no idea that they had just had a close encounter of the Halloween kind.

Hope you have a blessed day.

Occasionally I’ll post links to stories you might have missed.

A Miracle on the Midway: A man, a ferris wheel and the most amazing story of his life.

The Lucky Slot Machine: A older estranged mother hits the jackpot.

The Hunter & The Buck: A man and a deer get second chances.

The List: A watcher feeds off the misery of others.

The Travelers: A man comes home to the unknown.

Deep in the Mississippi Delta off of Highway 61, a naked swirl lightbulb lit a lone hotel room.  Thick curtains kept prying eyes out. And anyone who did happen to see inside would’ve been instantly zapped to the other side of the world.

Four Fairy Godmothers were playing cards. Each had a pile of golden chips in front of them and were intensely studying their hands. It was just their skill, no magic: Wands were safely on the table across the room.  The oldest fairy, Wanda, was the dealer. She gruffly barked, “Fives are wild, my dears.”

This was their weekly poker night. It was as much of a support group as it was a card game.  It was a  chance for them to tell about their week of granting wishes and creating havoc. But real gold was on the line.  It was for real.

Wanda finished dealing the cards and looked at her peers.  She smiled a sly smile and said, “Everyone. Let’s tell our best story for the week.”

The youngest fairy, Belinda, started first. “I did something naughty.” Belinda’s eyes sparkled and her face cracked a sly smile.

Belinda continued, “I turned Michael Vick into a pit bull and created a fake Michael Vick so no one will know anything happened to him.”  The other fairies laughed.

Wanda angrily said, “Why didn’t you warn me? He’s on my fantasy football team. I wondered why he was suddenly stinking up the field.”

Belinda blushed and then asked for two more cards.

A red-headed fairy named Cheryl went next. “I don’t know how you guys can keep it up.  I’m getting requests every second of the day. People who want jobs. People who want to keep their homes.  People who want a bit of hope.”  Cheryl’s eyes teared up. “This economy is killing me.”

Wanda looked at her younger colleague: “So are your granting their wishes?”

“I did at first.  I gave them exactly what they asked for.  But in a short time, they’d be back, asking me for more. So I changed my tactics.”

A middle-aged fairy with brown hair named Rhonda asked, “to what?”

Cheryl waved her arms in the air and said, “I changed their work ethic. I granted them the energy and belief to make their own magic.  I helped them create their own hope.”

All the fairies oohed. Wanda said, “Good one my dear.  Good one.”

Rhonda blurted out, “Well, I gave Haley Barbour a New Jersey accent.”

Wanda laughed and said, “I bet he now says ‘Atlantic City Casina.” The fairies laughed to their top of their lungs.

The four Fairy Godmothers continued to laugh and play cards until the sun rose over the cotton fields nearby.  While most people think that magic comes from Fairy Godmothers, they know real magic comes from within.