birthright city

Birthright city

By Eliezra Schaffzin

“Israel,” my father said.he was an oral surgeon. It was December and I was getting a Hanukkah present. My mother packed my bags: two-month supply of tampons, a pepper-spray key chain, and a family pack of Dove soap. It was 1986. It was New Jersey. I had Madonna posters on my bedroom walls. I was embarrassed by the particular way she put her hands on herself. I’d needed something to replace the Kristy McNichol. When I was in elementary school, I’d sent her a letter telling her to be careful, since I’d seen some of the kids who had to have dental work done in my dad’s office after they fell off their skateboard. It was 1986, almost 1987, and i was going on a two week winter break trip to Israel. Somebody was bound to know somebody, I didn’t recognize anyone. I found my parents in the waiting area. My parents snagged their seats, they really liked to keep them. When i got closer, I saw they were both nodding at a woman in a fur coat. She needed the space.

I got a window seat, jammed in next to an Orthodox rabbi and his wife. I don’t know why I was surprised to hear the usual announcements not just in English. I didn’t understand one word of it. I pretty much slept through the entire flight, and for most of the bus ride from Ben Gurion to Jerusalem. The brochure called it our “birthright city”. It said going there would feel like coming home. Shlomo as our guide, introduced us to Jerusalem : the new city with its glossy, modern buildings,the old city with its greasy looking white walls to the east.

At night we stayed in youth hostel rooms, girls on one hall, boys on another.

About a week into the tour, we were told to pack. I’d knowd from the brochure that we were going to mock-military boot camp. After some shouting, they gave us each a little stack army-green shirts and pants and sent us off to barracks.

I remember that moment brtter than any other, because it was the one in which I fell, as my mother had predicted, in love-permanently, devastatingly with my own distance, the thing I finally understood would be my rightful salvation, my rightfull ruin.

jail break

Jail Break

By Matt Stewart
My mom is driving me to prison. She is pretty drunk, but she’d know the way. It’s right around the age kids go bad in this town, ‘she says,veering to avoid an invisible chicken, a dog, then banking hard for the mail truck. ‘Benjamin,”She says. “Daniel, Kerri, Caitlin.
Caitlin hd her tae kwon do bluebelt, Daniel made the spelling bee once, Kerri could draw bird picture like they flew right onto the page, and Benjamin two years younger than me and a life of canned chili and video games and internet futzing and silence, “he can stay up for two days straight if we have enough Red Bull on hand.” My mon stays quiet.
I’ll be fine. My mom points the truck off the highway and we backtrack down local road for twenty minutes. Be nice and try to listen, my mom urges. The school’s done up like old Spanish mission, with a wide counteryard paved over and stocked with basketball courts, an auditorium doubling as chapel, nifty white-arched classrooms offset by grungy temporary units arranged like boot camp barracks.
I walk, fast, out, away, charged, striding beside a bashed fence laced with hot – dog wrappers and soda bottles, waiting, feeling time slip, time dripping like sweat, the hot stupid sun, pulling down my cap, creating more and distance, feet on top of miles. I step out from behind a parked van and it’s like I’m knocking off liquor stores again.
Hey, man,” I offer. Then He grunts and shuffles and snorts before risking eye contact. Good to see you, “ I say, though I haven’t actually decided yet. He unfolds his notebook, shake open a page. Running with the same bozos when he gets up to high school. Landing his first bust doing somebody else’s dirty work, selling a dime bag or fencing an iPod or riding shotgun on the wrong night. maybe he will uncover a mentor along the way, a basketball coach or English teacher who puts him to work sinking his free throws and learning to craft a bankable rhyme. Somebody who would rather be honest than awesome.
My mom jogs down the sidewalk with one of the those new Starbucks coffees, and it’s impossible not to grin at her old-lady jiggling.

Jon and Maeve

Jon and Maeve

By David Backer

At the bar the light were low and green and everyone’s faces were close together and they were laughing and talking loud so they could hear other over the music. They played at pool and others sat at tables, played dart and everyone brought up beer bottles or glass to their mouts and shipped them.
Maeve Fesnying sat with Vicki Sord who was a repoort at the Blue Ash News. Sord had thick blond hair that was curly and Maeve was thin and wore bright red lipstick ang tight purple pants.
Maeve laughed a loud laugh and the man with the tea who looked at her and his eyes rested on and her a moment. She noticed the man with the tea and beard staring at her and even in the low green light of the bar she could see his eyes were very blue.
Maeve leaned toward him and said into the noise and the music of the place.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” and he said
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t...”
“But do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have a girlfriend.”
The man took a deep breath and looked into his tea and brought his face up to Maeve and said,
“Sorry, I just couldn’t help noticing your shirt.”
“I bet I know where you bought it.”
“Really?”
“Five bucks says you can’t.”
“It’s not really new, is it?”
“You bought it at a thrift store, right?”
“Nope,” she said
“Yes. You bought it at thrift store in a town in Iowa, Ottumwa, Iowa.”
When he said this Maeves’s eyes opened wide and said,
“Get the hell out of town! How did you know that?
The man tucked his lower lip into his teeth again and said,
“I just donate all my parents clothes to the Salvation Army in Ottumwa. That’s my mom’s shirt.”
Maeve hug him and kept hugging him and he put an arm around her.
“i’m so sorry. I can’t believe it,” she said.
“It’s okay, thank you.”
The man laughed and it was the first time anyone had touched him in a long time.
“I can’t believe your parents died and I’m wearing your dead mothers’s shirt. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Keep it on...”
Then she took a notebook and a pen from Vicky. She took a paper and a pen then gave them to the man. She ordered the man to wrote his name and his address.
Then he took the paper and the pen and wrote his name and an address and a phone number and he slid them to Maeve.
“Good. I’m Maeve, by the way.”
“Nice to see you,Rubber American Jon Sowse.”
“Well nice to see you,Maeve.
“Right,”she said.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow or something?” she asked.
“Okay.”

Dark Champion

Dark Champion

Chapter 18, 19 and 20

The moon was waning and there were clouds, so it was not hard for tweleve men with Imogen and Warbrick to slip over the open around the Carrisford Castle. Imogen looked up, she looked down at her ruined skirts. Some torn tendrils had tangled her feet. Imogen need a knife to cut her skirt, Warbrick gave her a hunting knife. She trimmed her skirt neatly at the knees and passed the knife back.

After a while, she began to worry that she had missed the way that she would never find the entrace. Warbrick scowled at Imogen and said, this is the only entrance? Then Warbrick will wait, if Imogen not out with treasure by the first hint of down, Warbrick will go down t amuse his self with her husband. Imogen was not really ready yet, but she was afraid of time and havering disaster. How much time had passed? How soon till day break? She force herself to consider her real dilemmas. One arm led toward the treasure but also through out of the way passages. The other led up, closer to the hall, where Renald might have watches. She’d give Warbrick her wealth, every last coin to buy FitzRoger’s life.

Renald was there with a bunch of men, arguing worned. Imogen ran into Renald. Renald picked her up and carried her. Imogen told to Renald that FitzRoger tied to a tree and Warbrick is waiting me a the entrance to the passage ways.

Renald glaced at a window slit. “About three hours,perhaps.” Then, she led the way at the run to the best entrance to the passage ways. She led the way back into the castle. Renald hastily assembled his force of man. At last they were ready. They all moved quietly out. They stepped into the camp. There was a small, carefully shield fire. FitzRoger’s men were all around. Imogen ran forward to defend FitzRoger. She pulling out her poignant. She plunged her long knife to the unguarded side of the man’s neck. Then, Renald ran by, laughing and tossed FitzRoger a sword.

Renald gave his orders, and those for disposing of Warbrick, then escorted Imogen araound to the gate horse. Her knees were weak and her head as misty as the gray morning. Imogen managed to stay on her horse, but when she dismounted, she collapsed and the next thing she knew she was in a bed at Cleeve, sore from head to foot. Servants brought the tub the same tub she had used when she had first come to Cleeve. Imogen forced herself to relax and let the women wash her. When Imogen dressed in the clithes, the young maod was distressed at Imogen’s appearance but otherwise seemed happy and unfearfull. She had little news to add to Renald’s report. Lord FitzRoger was in his bed, recovering from wounds, Elwith told Imogen , she would have to findsome way to prevent this new disaster, to prevent FitzRoger from destroying himself in her cause.

Everyone Carrisford servant and men at arms looked up in solemn silence to stare at her as she rode by. Imogen couldn’t  decided if they were angry, horrified, concerned about her, but no one smile. She flicked a galnce at FitzRoger, but she was completely masked. Henry task in the silence, and said if lord Warbrick had been other than he proved to be, if there had been any doubt as to his guilt, i would have spoken out today. Now, we must address the other change. Lady Imogen doesn’t deny that she attacked her husband.

FitzRoger looked araound the hall. I will be happy to put the matter to the test of the sword, then Imogen looked at her husband black from her and turned, i’d enjoy beating you. Do yoi know how much trouble you’ve caused. She glanced at him, “Sorry that you’re angry with me. Tell me something, before she could comment, he added. “ But don’t ever do anything like that again. He demanded at last, “ you can at least act the part excepting life threatening situation in which you feel you have to save my life.

She flinched at the edge in his voice, but nodded. “ YES, I promise.” Imogen smiled radiantly and took no strong callused hands, his warrior’s hands. FitzRoger leaned forward and kiss her. Imogen whooped with delight and set to tickling her mighty champion to death.

*** end ***

dark champion

Dark Champion

Chapter 16 and 17

Imogen glared at Lancaster and said that he tried to kill FitzRoger. Imogen stepped back, pressing againts FitzRoger. His hands came strong about her arms, bracing her.

Lancaster was still protesting Warbrick just sneered. They were so close to Carrisford. She prayed, not about the fight in front of her. She would give up her treasure willingly that treasure  she had bargained and tussled over just to have FitzRoger safe.

Warbrick looked her over. She stepped back into the strength of FitzRoger and he put his hands strong on her shoulders. Warbrick reached out and seized Imogen’s tunic, dragging her to him. She felt FitzRoger’s grip resist for a moment, then release her. Warbrick spun her off to another man. Ride with her infront and with your knife at her face.

Warbrick inspected and choosen the cave to isolated Lady Imogen and FitzRoger. In the cave FitzRoger said, he was a coward. She put her fingers overlips. “Don’t speak of it. If we’re to die, I want it to be as your wife

As the light outside faded, Imogen lay in FitzRoger’s arm. She spoke rest fully and openly of his life, and she responded with her own simple experiences. It was a somewhat bleak definition kindness, but she understood. He said, he met his father, that convinced his heart that He never wanted to be in such a man’s power again, or leaves those in his change in such a man’s power.

fitzRoger learned to fight with a great deal of control. Arno who trained him. Arno paid for his horse, armor, weapons and then set he to fight in tourneys. Then he told, he met Henry. Henry wanted England. He has always felt very strongly, Henry has qualities hands likes tourneys.

A short while later, the guard called for then to come out. They walked out into the gloom of dusk to find Warbrick. FitzRoger had based his plan when the imvanders were within he would strike and Imogen would have to be ready to escape then, and avoid in advertert danger.

Warbrick began to arrange which men would climb the cliff, which would stay behind and grasped Imogen’s arm bruisingly. Warbrick ordered a man to tie FitzRoger to the tree.

Dark Champion

Dark Champion

Chapter 14 and 15

The porter had said Imogen was in the infirmary, but had assured him, she was not ill or injured. FitzRoger was going there to find her. His hand moved to grasp her, then stilled. He lowered it. FitzRoger saod, he would return as soon as he can. He don’t wanted her aboard in the dark with only a handful of men. He would leave his escort asa well as yours.

For the first time in her life, Imogen was awoke with a kiss, but FitzRoger was already in his armor and completely the commander. He stood aside so she could pass through, then he move.

When Imogen and FitzRoger emerged from the monastery, she found, as he had said, that twenty men had been on guard. At first there was no evidence of a problem, but then she notice that one of the man was pale, then he swayed slightly. In moments, most of the men were moaning or vomiting. FitzRoger had seen it too. He moved forward. The horse bucked wildly. FitzRoger swung brytally at his other opponed and broke his arm. The man howled and fell. He was with her, her helmet went caught by a branch that would have knocked her out. Imogen supposed all of the attack was Warbrick’s work. In that moment FitzRoger suspect Lancaster of being behind this attack. He tought the main purpose must have been to kill me, not to capture you.

Dark Champion

Dark Champion

Chapter  12 and 13

Imogen relished of the Cleeve – Carrisford holdings. For the first time appreciating how much power it represented. Imogen looked around her castle and saw it as the base for one of the great holdings of England.

Imogen descended to the hall, she wore the clothes that FitzRoger had choosen. The hall full of men fell silent. FitzRoger came forward to escort her to the high table, to sit beside the king. FitzRoger tested  the instrument. He glance around almost humorously, then  he sang for his bride. It appeared that the song might have been composed for her. Imogen was just amazed he was capable of it. Imogen had not missed that last line, however she rose in her turn and came to take the instrument and sang for her husband.

“ The treasure of Carrisford, rescued by courage,

Safe in her true home ever shall be.

Tending her people, nourishing,guiding,

Sharing the wastel and honeydew,she.

I sing of the courage of Tyron FitzRoger

I sing of his honor in coming to aid me,

My tears are of joy, my touch will be gentle

A treasure preserved just where it should be “.

Then next day, Imogen again awoke to find herself alone, but she had no fear that he had abandoned her. She ventured down to the hall. She went through the passageways purpose fully, coming to the next one closer to the treasure room. She wanted to give him something. She opened her father’s jewel had been brought down after his death. Brought by herself, Siward and Sir Gilbert, the only ones who knew the full secretly of Carrisford.

When Imogen wanted back to hall, she saw the man who bowed and smiled to her. Imogen turned with a grimace to see Lancaster striding toward her. He said that FitzRoger sent to dispose of that weakling brother and secure CleeveLand. Their next move was to acquire Carrisford. Then Imogen felt sick with his words.