"They Might Have Guns, But We Have Flowers"

For those of you who may be new to my blog, you may not be familiar with my peace-building background. To say the least, I've invested some time in trying to make the world a better place even though it is ever an uphill struggle. The current events that have been all over the news have been rather grim, but it is  videos and messages like the one below that we must turn to to keep us strong: 

The way we, the general public, can help fight cowards like ISIS is this: we must stand strong against hatred and fear and stand strong together in love and peace. Remember always, "they may have guns, but we have flowers." 

Which brings us to this week's edition of your reading escape. Enjoy!

A Book's Cover

The bell above the door rang, singing the entrance of a new potential customer. The thin, late middle-aged keeper of the corner bookshop waved her heavily ringed hand over a stack of her wares to greet the incomer.

"Hi there!" her voice rang in welcome to the person that at first she could not see. The delightful clutter of numerous books on shelves and tables obstructed her view of the door. "Let me know if I can help you find..." her moment of warmth turned tepid once her eyes saw the character that entered her world. 

Mom and pop book shops had the tendency of attracting colorful folks, but this young man took the cake. The two tattooes of hands latched on the skin of his throat were the first detail that she noticed. The silver ring in his nose like one would see on a bull was the second. His long blond hair pulled back in a pony tale, his strong build, and his blue eyes may have made him the hunk in a harlequin romance, but for the worn leather jacket and tattoos on his fingers that read: "Blood First." He was, to say the least, an intimidating figure to have enter a white walled book shop in a small, tight community.

The book keep with the glasses perched at the end of her nose figured that this man may have had more than books on his mind. 

The young man did not notice any greeting or cut-off-thereof from the book keeper behind the counter. He appeared to be on a mission of some sort and with that, he looked relieved to see that no one else was in the bookstore. The same fact left the shop keep unnerved. 

From behind her post, she watched him slowly circle the bookshelves and disappear behind the tall walls filled with colorful spines. She did everything to keep an eye out for him while keeping her cell phone's screen lit. So that she could quickly dial those extra ones and send out a message to save her shop, she pre-dialed a nine to give herself an advantage if he came at her with a knife or a gun. Anything could have been concealed in that lumpy jacket, after all. 

The book keeper cringed with every sound that was made beyond her eyesight. She cursed herself for not installing a monitor with the security camera in the back of the store. He had been back there an awful long time. The cat shaped clock on the wall behind her clicked so loudly as every second passed, that it sounded more like the sharp beat of a drum. 

The bell over the door rang again and the poor shop keep nearly jumped out of her skin from fright. 

"Hi, Sally!" a long time regular with a smile as wide as the canvas bag he carried greeted loudly. "Did you get a chance to see the most recent Weekly Read?"

Just at that moment the young man reappeared with a small stack of books tucked under his arm. 

The smile of greeting was swiped right from Mr. Drat's face as the pierced and tattooed man emerged. It was the scowl on the man's face and the mean look in his eyes that strung fear throughout the knitted-sweater-wearing regular. 

With bold, strong strides the man approached the counter. 

Sally was frozen with fear. 'Great,' she thought heavily, 'Now he has two hostages."

The man plopped the books on the counter and quickly reached inside his jacket.

Sally and Mr. Drat's faces went pallid, but before they could scream, the scowl on the young man's face turned into a light, pleasant smile.

"Afternoon," he pleasantly greeted. "This is a great little shop you've got here, ma'am." He pulled out from his jacket a humble, black pocket book.

Sally and Mr. Drat sighed dramatically. Neither had been so relieved in their lives.

"Thanks," Sally answered mechanically, "Did you find everything okay?" She reached for the books. She was so drained by this experience that she almost missed the titles of the book the man had picked up. There were three: two were about organic diets for breast-feeding mothers and the other two contained advice for parents that had children with Down Syndrome.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. A proud, bright expression erupted on his face. "I've been looking all over town for these and you had them. My wife and I are new parents and she just gave birth to the most beautiful boy." 

The man with the tattoos and gruff exterior proceeded to show Sally and Mr. Drat the hundreds of photos of his wife and new son. He explained that they had known for sometime that their boy would have challenges and that reading these types of books provided great comfort. 

"You just be sure to bring that boy in here as often as you can, Nick," Sally invited as she walked the young man to his Prius. "After all, it takes a village." She smiled motherly and patted him on the shoulder.

"That's a promise, Sally," Nick assured. With a handshake to his new friend, Nick jumped in his white Prius and was off. 

Standing out in front of her shop. Sally was glad for the cool November breeze. It helped to clear her head. With a sigh, she kicked herself. 'I'm perpetually surrounded by book covers,' she thought. 'I of all people should have known better than to judge.'

FIN

Hope you all didn't find the blog plug too hokey. And I also hope/wish you all a very wonderful, family filled Thanksgiving. Take the time to remember all of the small beautiful things in your life without which the days would be a little less bright. Take time to remember the great blessings in your life and, after the friends and the family have cleared out, the dishes cleaned, and the leftovers neatly packed away, remember to take time to yourself to find a little peace. Who knows, maybe you can find that peace by curling up with a good read.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

PS - A GREAT big thanks thanks is owed to Gwen who gave me a lovely lined notebook. That was very sweet! I can assure you, the pages will be filled. THANK YOU, GWEN!!!