The Mirror Prologue

PROLOGUE

                I stepped out into the welcome autumn sunrise. Today I woke early for it was a special day and this morning for some reason the sun seemed to further accent the cloudless sky and the trees auburn mosaics as shadows like minutes began their lift. It was October again and the mood was if seasons had changed overnight. The winds were slow as they cooled my face more like a whispering breeze. I could’ve swore I heard a voice in them confiding a secret to me. Almost as if they said “this may be the day you’ll never forget for the rest of your life”.

                 Fall, in the small town of Piedmont, Maine was when the townsfolk anticipated celebration of the holidays. Today would start the year’s first decorations, baking cinnamon pumpkin pies, hay rides and the Annual fall Flea market festival.

                “Hey Tom, good to see you out so early” half hollered Fred Whinsly proprietor of the flea market.

                “Oh, hi Fred, I thought I’d get an early start this year. Last year I missed out on most of the interesting antiquities.”

                “Well good luck to ya, cuz there sure is a lot of beauts on display this morning.

                “Thanks Fred, and be sure and say hello to Mable for me.” He was right. Many vendors had arrived before the crack of dawn lining up rows and rows of beautiful antiques. People here knew that Piedmont citizens were a finicky bunch. They didn’t tolerate old junk. If you tried to peddle useless old pieces word would spread quickly and soon people wouldn’t give your table a second look as they moved on to the troves of other wealth. And Fred never exaggerated making him one of reasons he was Tom’s best friend. People came from all around to buy and sell their merchandise here. Over the years many folks had acquired several valuable pieces. Some of the lucky treasure hunters had even appeared in the local paper with small write ups and pictures of them next to their prize.

                Tom noticed two neighborhood boys across the street look up at him in the middle of fixing their bicycles. They both pointed in his direction. Tom had become used to such things. You see Tom had somewhat of a reputation around town.

                “Look over there that is Mr. Tom Everly”. Nine year old Billy informed his visiting cousin Jeffery.

                “So what, what is so special about him” was Jeffery’s reply?

                “His kind of like a celebrity. Everybody knows who he is. They call him “Tell No Tale Tom”.

                Jeffery asked “…and what is that supposed to mean”?

                Billy preceded to tell him about the funny stories that by now had become part of Piedmont’s history.

“Tell No Tale Tom”, this was how the whole town and surrounding county folk had so named Thomas Lee Everly and he assuredly could imagine the conversation going on between the two boys. Tom prided himself on the fact that he never told a lie in all his life. His strict motto was that honesty was not only the best policy, but it was the sole policy and he didn’t understand why folks thought he took it to the extreme. To him even the smallest of white lies were sure to cause further catastrophe somewhere down the line in one’s life.

                Now you can imagine that he often found himself in situations of offense, including those with his wife Anna when it came to topics of; Politics, religion or even some of life’s smallest trivia’s. Although, because she loved him so much she learned to love even his quirky trait. She also tried to live her life in the same manner, but not quite to the degree that Tom had.

                After a while most people learned to let “bygones be bygones”, and even secretly wished they could be more like him. Although this might be the year that Tom would possibly gain a whole other perspective on the aspects of his life.

                Tom was now thinking back to Anna and how she had rolled over in bed this morning brushed his cheek with her lips as she whispered into his ear.

“I love you my sweet Tom, could you forgive an old gal if she chose to sleep in late this glorious morning”? She asked

Of course he could, “is everything all right” he said with a tinge of concern.

She assured him with her subtle charm “Oh, I don’t know, perhaps I shouldn’t have had that third piece of blueberry pie after dinner”. She followed up with a laugh that was completely sincere.

Tom had felt a small chill and thought it odd that she would want to skip out on their favorite pastime being that it was the first day of the annual flea market. Also, the fact that this year she chose to bake blueberry pies instead of the pumpkin which had been her tradition since the first year they were wed.

Standing in front of the first booth without her he couldn’t help reflecting back. He realized that over the last few weeks both he and Anna had strangely and it seemed unconsciously deviated from annual and set routines. “No” he was over thinking the situation and pushed those thoughts further back into his mind. The coldness on the palm of his hand were Anna’s warmth should have been kept them from going too far off his radar. The crisp morning air blew at him like a slap in the face as if to say “hey! Remember what I told you this morning as you stepped out the front door? Today is going to be a day you’ll never forget for the rest of your life”.

Author's Note

Please, please point out all the mistakes you can find.

Reviews

[Bright Ocean Star]

Oops...sorry Michael. I thought I wrote Michael, but I just reviewed Chris's poem a moment ago, and my brain must be tired... Great writing, though!

[Bright Ocean Star]

Chris, I can't find any mistakes. It flows really well, and you've set the scene nicely. It is a pleasure to read and it has such a nice easy rolling quality about it that it makes you want to keep reading. That is not an easy thing to do. Bravo, my friend!

[Lydia Shutter]

I am intrigued....to say the least. Has some force taken over Tom and Anna's life? Why are they deviating from routine so much? Why does her behavior this morning give Tom reason to feel queasy? You have set the scene of a rural country town perfectly. I could see the sites and smell the pie! I liked this a lot...and I have not found one mistake in it. Good work, Michael. I look forward to reading more about "no tale Tom." Lydi**

[Michael G. Smith]

Thanks, it seems it hit the mark I wanted to. The book is finished I just have to now edit each chapter. So hold on for the ride, lol.