Lost generation. Part three. New York City.

Dream writing again.

“YELLOW RIBBON

Around her hair she wore a yellow ribbon
She wore it in the spring time, in the early month of May
And if you asked her why the heck she wore it
She’d say she wore it for her soldier who was far, far away
Far away
Far away
She wore it for her soldier who was far, far away
Around the block she pushed a baby carriage
She pushed it in the spring time, in the early month of May
And if you asked her why the heck she pushed it
She’d say she pushed it for her soldier who was far, far away
Far away
Far away
She pushed it for her soldier who was far, far away
Behind the door, her father kept a shotgun
She kept it in the spring time, in the early month of May
And if you asked her why the heck she kept it
She’d say she kept it for her soldier who was far, far away
Far away
Far away..

Unknown.”

Th lost generation. Part three. New York City. Dream writing.

He arrived in New York City with the darkness overtaking the city in December. Was colder in the city of New York than Detroit, Michigan. He didn’t have a proper jacket and he left the train station and he searched for the Central Park. Was a long walk and He found Central Park and he sat on a bench. He released his small backpack. The backpack carried socks, fresh underwear and two books. The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford and The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. He watched the busy New Yorkers. They didn’t see the lone soldiers. New York had their share of soldiers. WW1 was the first start for many of us. Many were very foolish. Damn war make the whiskey better and the women prettier. He wanted to be the quiet man. He wanted to write the great novel. Maybe travel to California? He took out his pocket flask. Filled with Michigan whiskey. His step-father gave to him as he left in Detroit. He drank some whiskey and he felt warmer.

He liked the quiet of the Central Park. He told the night. I must gather my thoughts. On the train while he slept, the army cadence danced in his head. He remembered Rick from Georgia and Red from Virginia. He remembered their laughter and their tomfoolery. The memory caused great sadness. Both were casualties of the trench warfare in France. He wished he could erase the three years. He knew he could not. He was awoken from his ugly thoughts. Two pretty girls sat with him. One of the girls asked the other. Aileen, why is this soldier sitting in Central Park at 9 pm on a cold Winter night? The other girl answered. Damn war couldn’t kill him and I believe he want to freeze to death. They laughed. He liked them already. One with Ginger hair and the darkest brown eyes and the other girl. Long black curly hair and the kindest hazel eyes. He told them. I arrived a hour ago from Detroit, Michigan. I was released from the Army two days ago. Aileen smiled and she laughed. A sad laughter. She told her friend. Pryde, this is a sad one. I believe we need to find a Blind Pig and make this soldier smile again. Pryde looked at him hard. She told Aileen. We can’t save every soldier looking for death? Look at his eyes. So damn old and so heavy with sadness. Aileen looked at the soldiers and she introduced herself. I am Eileen and my friend is Pryde. Two Scottish gals living and working in New York City for four years. Our parent send us here to escape the ugly of war. But we see in the eyes of the young soldiers. The heaviness of war. Pryde touched his face and she told her friend. I agree Eileen. Tonight this soldier will drink the bath-tub whiskey and maybe we can dance. Soldier, do you have money? He smiled and he told them. I have enough money to be drunk and lost for many years. Pryde told him. We like to dance, we like to talk and we like to drink. But we tried to stay strong. Us Scottish gals will make you smile tonight and laugh. drink enough to loosen up our feet. Aileen asked. Where are you staying in New York? He told them. I have not decided yet. I wanted the Central park to gather my mind. Pryde told Aileen. The soldier hadn’t told us his name. He told them. My name is Johnnie, from Detroit city. They took his hands and they lifted him up. Aileen told him. Off to the Speakeasy four blocks away. They held his hands and they didn’t talk till they found the noisy Speakeasy.

Aileen took him to the bar. She told Allen, the bartender. A lost soldier, a cold night. We need strong whiskey in a glass and a glass of water. We are drinking Scottish style tonight. Pryde touched his shoulders and she held him. She whispered. Johnnie, you will be okay. Scottish gals don’t like sadness, we like laughter and kisses. She kissed the back of his head like a child. The bartender saw the eyes of the soldier and he told Aileen and Pryde. First drinks are free. A gift from my brother who never came home. My brother photo on the wall. A picture of a young man in Paris. In full Army gear and a smile.

He told him. Please drink with us. We must drink for your brother memory and the many who did not return. He poured four glasses of whiskey and he brought three water glasses. He told them. Us Irish men don’t need water and the Irish women don’t either. Johnnie raised the glass high and he told the night. To new friend and old friends. We cannot forget. They drank the whiskey. Johnnie ordered another round. Aileen said. Only one more Johnnie. They released their heavy coats and they were wearing cotton blouses and short skirts. They wore black nylons on their strong legs. He told them. You are the prettiest gals I ever seen. Thank you for your kindness. Pryde smiled and she told him. Tonight we dance the Charleston, Fox Trot, Texas Tommy. I hope you can keep up with us. He smiled and he told them. I am a fast learner dear ladies. I will tried.

Aillen and Pryde held his hands and they followed the noise. They found a place filled with life. The jazz songs loud and demanding. Johnnie smiled for the first time in a long while. He remembered in Paris. the people of Paris tried to tried to regain the old ways. The city was coming alive. The women were seeking the laughter, the drink and some kindness. Pryde touched his face and she asked. Are we dancing or thinking. The door keep took his small backpack and their jackets. He followed them to the loud music. Aileen told him. Fox trot is easy.

Take 1 step forward with your left foot.

1. Take a second step forward with your right foot.
2. Use your left foot to take 1 sidestep to the left.
3. Bring your feet together to close the sidestep.
4. Do the sequence in a backward direction to perform a basic backward step.

He told her. I am willing and I will try. Was a easy night. Pryde and Aileen taught him how to dance and how to smile again. After the Cabaret closed down. They walked to Aileen and Pryde apartment. Pryde told him. We live in the New York eastside. We got lucky. We found a reasonable place to live and it is nice. The eastside had a bad reputation. But the people are nice and we are safe. He smiled and he told them. I appreciate the wonderful night and I don’t want to intrude into your life. Aileen stopped and she looked in his eyes. My brother came back from France in 1918. We didn’t know he was mess-up. Last October, he went to Central Park and he drank a bottle of whiskey. He took out a pocket pistol and he put the gun into his mouth. No note, no goodbye. Johnnie, you will come with us. No complains. Pryde shook her head in agreement.

He liked their apartment. Small and cozy. They had some books on the shelfs and a small kitchen. he saw two small bedrooms. He went to the couch. He was very tire. He took off his shoes and socks. He fell asleep laying on the long couch. Pryde brought blankets and a pillow. She lifted his head and put the pillow underneath. She covered him up and she went to Aileen room. She told Aileen. Johnnie need help. Do you see his eyes? He is barely twenty-one years old and dead inside. Aileen hugged her best friend and she told her. Pryde, we have time and we have room. Us Scottish girls can save a country. Pryde told her. I can’t take another one. I still dream of your brother before the war. His suicide broke my heart. Damn war had killed more after the war. Pryde went to her room and for a second. She stopped and she looked at the sleeping ex-soldier. She prayed. Oh lord. Please help Johnnie. We can’t do it ourselves.

In the night. He was having the same dreams. Army cadence and bombs.

“Tiny Bubbles

Tiny bubbles
in my beer
makes me happy
makes me full of cheer

Tiny bubbles
in my wine
makes me happy
happy all the time

Tiny bubbles
in my whiskey
makes me happy
makes me feel a little frisky

Tiny bubbles
in my brandy
makes me happy
makes me feel so dandy

Tiny bubbles
in my cola
makes me happy
makes me wanna go furtha”

He started to run in his dreams. He was in the trenches. He was running in circles. The gas was coming toward him. He called out to Red. Red didn’t move or talk. He went to him. He shook him and he yelled at him. Damn Red. You promised me a date with your sister and he cried. Pryde heard some noise and she saw him struggling. His arms moving and he was speaking names. She went to him. She touched his face and chest softly. She told him. You are home Johnnie, it is okay. He awoke and he saw her. His face stained with tears. She kissed his face, she kissed his lips softly. She moved him deeper into the couch and she joined him. She wrapped her arms around him. She kissed his face and she sang a song to him.

” Sleep my darling,

the night can be lonely and sad.

But I am here my sweetie.

I will keep you safe.”

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

i liked how the narrative breaks with some poetry. it really gives off the roaring twenties vibe. we are getting to know the character better and the symptoms of shell shock were represented very clearly. the plot ticks along like a foxtrot and there is little time given to indulge the reader in emotions and side-tracking thoughts which give this the feel of an old black and white movie. this style is growing on me and i can feel myself being drawn into the world of the novel.
i always say this but the setting is the most important element of a novel. and this work has very well established setting. something larger than the characters, post-ww1 america is alive, breathing and aspiring towards something. there is excitement in the air as our protagonist navigates nyc. i am looking forward to the next chapter.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Ernest. I appreciate your comment. I believe the WW1 generation were harder and stronger. Wasn't a easy world and they did well.

[Thomas W Case]

Very well crafted. Powerful work.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Thomas for reading. Was a long one. I appreciate the comment.