Issue #4

(September/October 1995)

Gayle & Dad at Pearl Harbor

cover drawing by Ferrilyn Sourdiffe

Table of Contents

full or partial text is availablefor highlighted items

Stories

 

Poetry

 

(Updated July 9, 1996)


© Copyright 1997 Echoes Magazine

All stories, poems, and drawings are protected by copyright and may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form, by copying or by any electronic or mechanical means, without written permission from Echoes Magazine. Individual stories and poems are also copyright by their authors; drawings are copyright by Echoes Magazine and by the artists.


 

The Water of the Pearl
 

by Carole Bellacera
 

following is a brief excerpt from thestory:

 . . . Gayle stood on the balcony and gazed out at Diamond Head and the sprawl of Waikiki Beach. At last. Hawaii! After all these years, she'd made it here -- and under such bizarre circumstances. So Dad could say goodbye to a sunken ship and a bunch of ghosts.

She had vowed never to come to the fiftieth state. It should have held such lovely memories for her, but instead, it was a constant reminder of Chris' death.

The details had been sketchy. With the help of the MIA family support organization, Gayle had finally received a more detailed report. They had told her that his plane had gone down in enemy territory somewhere along the Demilitarized Zone. Another pilot had established contact with him moments after he'd bailed out and landed, apparently uninjured. Chris had identified himself and reported his position. Then his radio contact had been interrupted by what sounded like machine gun fire. His body was never found. Captain Christopher McFarland had been listed as an MIA, but no one had held out any hope that he was still alive.

"Gayle?"

Her father had entered through the connecting door and was standing uncertainly in the middle of her room.

Gayle stepped inside. "I was just admiring the view."

"Can we go now?" His expression was hopeful, yet cautious, as if afraid his question would set off some kind of explosion.

Gayle felt a pang in her chest. Had she really been behaving so terribly?

Yes, of course she had.

She nodded briefly and grabbed her purse. "Let's go."
 

The taxi dropped them off just in front of the Arizona Visitor Center. There was no line for tickets, but the national park representative at the gate told Gayle there would be a twenty-minute wait before the next group would board the shuttle boat to the memorial. . . .
 

Gayle & Dad at Pearl Harbor
illustrations by Ferrilyn Sourdiffe

© Copyright 1994 Carole Bellacera

Carole Bellacera is a full-time writer and a member of theNational Writers Association. She has been writing for about nineyears, and has been published in numerous magazines in the UnitedStates and abroad. Carole also has several writing prizes to hercredit, including the 1994 National Writers Association Novelcontest, and the 1993 Columbia Pacific University Prose Contest.(8/94)

If you like this story, don't miss the MemorialDay issues!

[Table of Contents]


On to Macon

by Julianne Bonnet
 

Car eating road like black licorice whips
While a burdened rain casually dumping
Reminds my tongue of a dry heat abandoned
Back in a California Summer

Georgia sweet lure
Incantation amidst vines,
Thick salads of kudzu and candy-sweet dressing:
Imagined revelries between your sheets
Between intermittent showers,
Cooling bulbs of fertile perspiration
While curdled clouds dissolve in whispers
Gliding the past in and out
Of a wanting ear

Fat tire tread kissing pavement
Engorges eager ears
With imagined, wanted words as I,
Anxiously anticipating arrival,
Conquer bridges,
Enlighten tunnels,
Trickle slightly southward
To a Georgia town
A doorstep

© Copyright 1994 Julianne Bonnet

Julianne Bonnet is twenty-four, a student in San FranciscoState University's creative writing program, and a recent winner ofthe Knebel Scholarship for Poetry. She wrote her first series ofpoems at age six, but has only been pursuing writing seriously forlittle over a year. Julianne has relied primarily on her ownexperiences as the inspiration for poetry but is now drawing from awider variety of sources. (8/94)

[Table of Contents]


The Willow

by Krissy Ryan
 

following is an excerpt from thestory:

He only caught sight of her from the corner of his eye. A glimpse of flame-bright hair, a whirl of silken skirt.

A soft thrill of laughter. And the scent of lilacs.

All around him, the sustained mumble of a dozen conversations continued. He turned, his eyes searching through the crowd of undistinguished partygoers, searching for the woman that he'd seen only for a second.

He again snared a split-second flash of her, a vision in creamy silk, crowned with coppery red hair that spilled in unrestrained waves down her back. Again the rich, soft laughter trilled in the air.

The sudden need to see her face, to capture that delightful laugh for himself, overwhelmed him. He maneuvered through the crowd, his eyes and ears straining to see her, to hear her. . . .

© Copyright 1994 Krissy Ryan

The Willow
illustration by Linda Anderson

Krissy Ryan is a Junior in high school, where she enjoysart, French, reading, and writing articles for the undergroundnewspaper. Among her many interests outside of school, Krissy enjoysbiking, swimming, role-playing games, and collecting "vast amounts"of comic books. (8/94)

[Table of Contents]


Uncertain Certainties 

by Vincent A. O'Keefe
 

Joy is a firefly in flight in the darkness.

We know it will always reappear,

but we never know just when and where.

Too bad pain has the same wings.

© Copyright 1994 Vincent A. O'Keefe

Vincent A. O'Keefe is a twenty-five-year-old teachingassistant at Loyola University of Chicago; he received his MA inEnglish from Temple University in Philadelphia. He has been writingpoetry and short fiction for about ten years and his poetry hasappeared in The Poet's Page. He is inspired by observation,reflection and "the pangs of a postmodern social conscience."(8/94)

[Table of Contents]


Junie Dee Gets Married

by Donna Walker-Nixon
 

following is a brief excerpt from thestory:

 . . . Junie Dee was down at the altar crying and saying Jesus was her all in all. Pastor Garland's wife whispered behind her fan. I knew what she was saying without even having to hear the words. She said our family has gone to the dogs since Mama passed on. She don't think too highly of how Daddy's doing by us.

I hated her more than I ever hated anyone in my whole life. The Bible says you're not supposed to hate, but in church every Sunday, you see people who go out on Monday and do whatever they please.

Pastor Garland looked down at his Bible like he wished Junie Dee would go away and leave well enough alone. Junie Dee's never been one to leave well enough alone. Not since Mama passed on two years ago this spring. Daddy lost all heart after Mama went to her final resting place. Every Sunday, he used to walk me and Junie Dee across the road to the Downs Creek Community Church. About half the time, he'd get to talking to the men and he'd stay on for Sunday school and church. That changed when Mama passed on. Daddy was gone for two weeks, and we didn't know where he was. Then he came home, but he never took much stock in anything the way he used to.

After Mama passed on, Junie Dee changed. She used to study hard -- She passed 1st grade the first time, which is good for us. After Mama passed, Junie Dee started staying weekends with December Gale. Then she took up with Elvis Don, who's twenty-three, and Junie Dee just turned fourteen last month.

Pastor Garland harrumphed real loud. I knew he was praying for God to do something. Nothing happened, so he asked Junie Dee what she wanted.

"To put on my Lord in holy baptism," she said real proud. I could see the joy that passes all understanding busting out of her. I wanted God to come into my life too.

"To put on your Lord," Pastor Garland said. His face turned beet red. Then he asked her if she renounced sin and gave up the ways of the devil. He said the words real mean like he didn't think she'd do it. But, when Junie Dee puts her mind to something, there's no stopping her. I knew she loved the Lord her God with all her mind, soul, and body -- after all, she'd given up Elvis Don. What more could God want?

Junie Dee said, "I do," like she was getting married in a big church ceremony.

Pastor Garland asked the church to pray and to think carefully, and then he said, "Raise your hands to accept Junie Dee as a full member of the body of Jesus Christ."

After he finished talking, he looked around at the congregation. He wound up looking straight at his wife, and her head was bowed in prayer. I just knew any minute the hands would begin to raise, but not a hand went up . . . .

 

© Copyright 1994 DonnaWalker-Nixon

Donna Walker-Nixon's bio.

You can find excerpts from two of Donna's other stories in ourLibrary: "Gone too Canada"(Issue 7) and "AnyOld Wind That Blows"(Issue11).

[Table of Contents]


the Algonquin

by Charles Tinkham

 

my feet touch
the dune sand
sunburn quick
and warm and brown

I dance
with poplar leaves

my feet are moccasins
that crackle through twigs
and needles
and dry leaf-gold
of autumn

I hike
toward the sunset

out on the windswept
December lake,
above my brother
the silver fish,
my feet slip across
the shivering
of snow and ice

the wind, the fish, and I
are lone companions

in the spring
my feet go quiet
across new-born spears
of wild grass --
the violet
and the eagle
watch me

I flow like sun

 

© Copyright 1994 Charles Tinkham

sunset  (
illustration by Ferrilyn Sourdiffe

Charles Tinkham is a native of Hammond, Indiana. He teachesphilosophy and creative writing at Purdue University--Calumet. He hasbeen publishing poetry for over thirty years, and his work hasappeared in Accent, Bitterroot, and The Beloit Poetry Journal,and a number of other journals. He names Anton Chekov and WallaceStevens as two of his favorite authors.(8/94)


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