The cold, Massachusetts winds they swept the frozen rain across my face, stinging, as it blended in with my slowing falling tears. He was gone, but the gods were crying his name in my ears. I tightened my coat against the frigid fingers trying hard to enter, as I headed into that lonely winter world that stretched ahead. Half my mind kept telling me to reach out once more, it might not be too late. But the other half, the rational part, caused me to shake my head i page are copyrightedn disbelief. I knew it was not meant to be.
    There was to be no more shared laughter, over piping hot cups of cappuccino, which warmed our hands and hearts. Never again would we caress and tenderly hold each other. The sheets that once held our unclothed bodies and helped us sate our flesh, would be nothing more now than tangled masses of fabric brought on by sleepless nights.
    We had met by accident at a party, and we both knew the minute our hands touched, we’d be more than friends. Something was destined to happen.
    "Hi," he said, extending his hand, "I’m Roger Trusdale!"
    I smiled shyly, as I took his hand and answered, "I’m Francine Willamette." Immediately electricity ran between our fingers. It was so strong I recoiled from the shock. In that instant our lives became entwined.
    He laughed. "Static electricity! It’s strong this time of year, besides, I’m really hot stuff, and I build up a charge quickly." He paused waiting for a reaction, before continuing. "Don’t think I‘ve seen you at any of these parties. If so, we’d have met long before now. Are you with anyone?"
    Feeling excited, I answered, "No, I’m not with an escort, if that’s what you are asking."
    His infectious laughter and brown eyes were like autumn colors, lighting up the whole room.
He asked me to dance and as we swayed to slow romantic music, his powerful well-muscled body
moved with grace.
    Suddenly he stopped and looked down at me, deep into my soul, and said, "Could I possibly see you again?"
    "Well, I suppose we could work it out," I replied, beaming within myself. "That is, if you really want to."
    As he held my gaze, his eyes beckoned me, "Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked. Is
there any chance I might take you home tonight?"
    "Well, I came with my friend Janna, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I got a ride home. I’ve got to go to work early tomorrow and she is having such a good time, I hate to ask her to leave early. I’ll go tell her I’ve got a ride."
     I went to talk to my friend and as I explained, she asked, "Who? What nice man asked to drive you home?"
    I told her, as I pointed to Roger. Suddenly her face turned white as snow and she looking as if shewould faint.
    "You can’t be serious?" she sputtered. "Roger Trusdale asked to take you home?"
    "Yes, is there something wrong with him?"
    "Not a thing! For years, every woman that ever came to these parties has tried to get his attention,but he’s never been interested." Her twinkling eyes betrayed that she had even tried. "What did you do to attract him?"
    "Nothing. He just came up and started talking. Then we danced a few times, and he asked if he
could drive me home."
    "Well go for it Francine, and good luck. He’s quite a catch." As I turned to find Roger, she patted me on the back.
    For weeks we were inseparable. But, I couldn’t get my mind off why he had chosen me; my
curiosity was getting the better of me and I had to ask him. If only I had not been so curious.
    "Tell, me honey," I asked, "How come you never dated any of those other women at the parties?"
    It was then the keeper of dreams and hope, the keeper of undying love, awakened me to reality.
    Roger hesitated. Then looking sadly, replied "There’s something I have to tell you, but I didn’t know how. So, I guess now is the time." He looked down at his hands as tears flooded his eyes. "I
was afraid to tell you, I’m married." He paused and went on, "I never dated because I didn’t want to be unfaithful to my wife. She’s not well but I got so very lonely, that going to parties made my world a little fuller."
    He had taken my breath away with this revelation. "How could you deceive me like this? I never would have dated you, much less fallen in love with you, if I had known."
    "Please forgive me for not telling you sooner."
    "Forgive you? How could I forgive something as serious as that. You lied to me when you said you loved me." I took a deep  breath. "I believed you."
    "Please Francine let me explain."
    "There is no way you could ever explain deceiving me like that." I screamed at him. "I never want to see you again. Not now, not ever!" I Pointed towards the door. A chill in my voice spat out the words, "Now, get out of my house, this very minute."
    He quietly got up and headed for the door saying, "I guess I don’t blame you. I should have told you sooner. But I wish you would let me clear this up"
    "Nothing you could say would clear up your lieing to me." I continued sounding like a banshee, ranting and raving until he was out the door. Then, I collapsed on the couch ---crying. My heart was broken.
    I never heard his voice again, I couldn’t. Janna called the next day to tell me she too had learned his secret, the same day his plane crashed off the coast of Rhode Island.
    Walking away from the cemetery where Roger had just been laid to rest, I knew I’d not been fair to him. His wife was in Danvers, a place for people who couldn’t cope with life The least I could have done was listened. He had been honorable but was just caught in the grips of an unfair legal system. It was too late by the time I found out about the Massachusetts law prohibiting divorce from a mentally ill person.I chided myself for not giving him a chance to explain. How selfish I had been.
    Now our dreams would never come true. I’d been the keeper of our dreams and my outburst had destroyed them all in that few short minutes.
    They were gone .... forever.

     A man came to the Paul’s house, looked over the cattle skulls that were advertised in the paper and made a nice offer of $200 for the pair of them.
      "Paul, I’m sure glad you sold those awful things!" Kelly told her boy friend.
     "Yeah, I guess you would be," Paul answered. "All you’ve done is gripe about them ever since we got home from New Mexico.
     "I didn’t figure anyone would want to buy them."
     "Yeah! I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep because of your crazy nightmares since we got back from our vacation."
     "Well, I’m sorry but you know the Pueblo Indians tried to tell us we shouldn’t bring them back to New York. They said they were haunted and should be left where we found them. But of course, you wouldn’t listen."
     Paul looked disgusted. "They looked great in front of the house. Besides, you put too much stock in all that supernatural hooey. Those Indians could have told you anything and you’d have believed them. Kelly, you’re so gullible." He smiled menacingly at her. "They wanted those skulls for themselves so they could sell them to the other tourists."
     "No, I don’t think so, I got special vibes from them and the skulls. I know they were telling the truth.
    There’s a curse on those skulls." She grimaced. "I know about things like this, you know. I’ve known about other things that deal with premonitions, ghosts and such. You know I‘ve done this for years since I was a child"
     "Yeah sure! So you won that money on the lottery because of your silly dream. That was only a fluke. If you really had psychic abilities you could have won the big money, not just $3,655.00." Paul laughed. "Sometimes, I think you need a shrink talking about all that junk."
     She frowned. "Well, if I hadn’t dreamed those numbers we couldn’t have taken that vacation in the first place. I’m not crazy and I don’t care what you think. I did have nightmares and couldn’t sleep with those things out in front. I kept getting messages about bad things that were going to happen to us." She went to the closet, pulled out a suitcase and threw it on the bed.
     "For God sake, what are you doing?" Paul asked.
     "I’m leaving. If you think I’m crazy, then we’d better call off wedding." She took the engagement ring from her finger and handed it to him. Then she began to empty the dresser drawers of her clothes, stuffing things into the suitcase as fast as she could.
     "Aw come on, Kelly. I never said you were crazy. I just don’t believe in all that hooey. I’m sorry, let’s forget it."
     She continued packing and didn’t answer him.
     "This is silly. I never called you nuts. I just don’t believe in all that psychic stuff. You know that!"
     She stomped out the front door and threw the suitcase in her car. "I’ll have someone come get my other things during the week. I’m out of here and I won’t be back. You won’t have to live with a crazy woman any longer."
     He tried to stop her but as she backed out the phone rang. He turned and went inside to answer it.
     "Hello! What do you want?"
     "Is this the couple who had the cattle skulls for sale in the paper?"
     "Yeah, but we already sold them, so you’re too damn late." He slammed down the receiver and went to fix himself a drink. He decided that he would wait a couple of days to let Kelly cool off, then he would call her and apologize. He’d ask her out for a nice dinner, smooth things out and she would come back before anyone even noticed she had left him.
     Two days later, he went out to get the morning paper before going to work. He was surprised to see the cattle skulls were back leaning against the wagon wheel out in front of his house.
     I wonder how they got back here, he thought. Guess the guy that bought them changed his mind. I’m sure glad he didn’t ask for the money back.
     He went inside and opened the newspaper. On the front page was  picture of Kelly holding a big check for $10,000,000. The caption under it read: Local girl wins big lottery after dreaming the numbers. He ran to the phone to call her.
     The answering machine came on. "I’m sorry I can’t answer your call at the present time. Please leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I’m available. If this is Paul, punch in the special number you have and there is special message for you. Thanks you for calling."
     Paul quickly punched in the numbers 266 and listened. "Paul, I regret that you don’t have faith in me and will miss you terribly but I’m moving to Sedona, Arizona, where people believe in the power of the mind. I should have listened to those skulls sooner. They tried to warn me that we’d never be happy and now I know they were right. I bought the skulls back for you, since they meant more to you than I did. My wish for you is only for happiness and peace. Good-bye. Kelly."
      He had his two cattle skulls but he had lost the woman he loved. He knew he had blown it and it was too late to fix it now, or was it?
    He got his morning coffee to take to work, went out to get in his car and looked at the skulls, wondering if they were haunted some way. Naw, he thought, that’s ridicules. As he backed out of his drive way he suddenly came to a crashing halt.
     He turned off the key and jumped out to see he had hit a moving van parked on the opposite side of the street. The name on the van, Navajo Van lines was in bold letters almost as if it was an omen. The van was not hurt but his car had a smashed fender. After exchanging information with the driver he decided to go on to work.
     He pulled in his private parking spot beside his small computer business in Jackson Heights and heard a strange noise. He got out and saw he had a flat tire. That’s all I need this morning, he thought. So he called the garage to come fix the flat.
     The man came, changed the tire and as he was getting paid Paul asked, "What caused the flat?"
     "That is the strangest flat I ever saw!" the tire man said scratching his head. "It seems like an Indian head penny was ground down on one side and made a point. This point is what punctured your tire. Never seen anything like it before."
 Paul paid the man and began to wonder if those skulls were causing the problem. After all, twice today Indians of some kind had been involved with his disasters. He was beginning to get the willies.
     After work he was very cautious driving home and glad when he was safely in his own home. He reached for a bottle to make a drink and realized it was ‘Old Crow’ another Indian tribe came to mind. He had to quit thinking about Indians. He went OT bed early and dreamed about a man riding an old Indian motorcycle coming to see him. He awoke in a sweat afraid he was about to be murdered. It was only 9:30 PM.
     The phone rang and he answered it.
     The voice on the other end was familiar. "I thought you said those cattle skulls were sold. I saw them in your front yard again. Do you want to sell em or not?"
     "Hell yes, I do want to sell them, whoever you are. Come and get them."
     "Be there in a few minutes, thanks."
     Ten minutes later he heard a roaring noise and looked out the window to see a big guy all dressed in leather riding a motorcycle. He rang the door bell and Paul froze.
     The bell rang again. Paul went to the door and hollered through it. If you want those skulls you can have them, they are free. Just take them an go." He never answered the door, never saw the man’s face, but was glad when he heard the bike leaving the street. Only then did he check to see the skulls were gone. Maybe Kelly had been right, they should never had brought those cattle skulls home.
     The phone rang again and startled him. He picked up the receiver and said "Hello,"
     "Hello Paul," a female voice responded.
     "Thanks God. Is that you Kelly?"
     "Yes, it is. What’s wrong?"
     "I’ve decided I was wrong, I believe you. If you’ll still have me, I’ll sell this place and my business move to Sedona with you."
     "I thought you’d see it my way."

    As I walked around the second hand store, I suddenly spied, an old steamer trunk. I hadn’t seen one in
many years, since I sailed on a tramp steamer. You can imagine my surprise and I wondered what it was
doing there. The shop owner was at a loss to tell me anything about it, but said it was in the store 30
years ago, when he bought the place.
    "What’s in the trunk?" I asked.
    "No idea," the proprietor replied. "There is no key and it feels empty when you shake it." He shrugged his shoulders and made a face.
    "Well, since its old and dilapidated, and you have no idea of what’s in it, can I ask, how much you want for it?" I knew it was an antique, but didn’t think the owner was aware of this.
    "It’s really sort of an eye sore and in poor shape, so I’d be happy to rid my shop of it. Why don’t you
make me an offer?" His eyes twinkled as he said this.
    I held my breath and said, "How about ten bucks?"
    He took my hand and shook it. "You’ve just bought yourself a trunk!"
    He helped me load it in the back of my truck. I could hardly contain myself on the ride home for
wondering what might be inside the strange looking trunk.
    It was the longest ride I've taken, even if it was only twelve miles. Of course, I was bubbling with
excitement and couldn’t wait to tell my wife about my find. She however, thought I had lost my mind for
buying it.
    "Don’t you dare bring that old nasty thing in my house," she spouted at me.
    So, I took it to the barn, set it on my workbench, thinking I wouldn’t have to listen to her gripe at me, out there. Once I got the trunk settled, so it wouldn't fall, I looked around for tools to open it. I jimmied and  pried, then finally, the old lock gave way. Now you might be asking me what was inside and I’d
understand that question, as I was a mite curious too.
    After all my work, at first sight the contents was nothing, totally empty, not one damn thing! But
it did have a couple of drawers, so I set about examining each of them in turn, still hoping to find
something.
    The first one contained only a golden colored dust. I wasn’t sure what it was.
    The second revealed some old forgotten letters but after examining them, I found them not at all
interesting, so my search continued. I reached down to open the largest drawer at the bottom. There I
found a surprise beyond my wildest imagination.
    A sleeping, tiny man lay inside the drawer, with a little green hat over his belly. His eyes opened, slowly. He looked as startled to see me, as I was to see him. Then he jumped up and screamed at me.
    "Faith and begora, it’s about time someone let me out of this confounded box! What kept ye so long?"
    I stood there in total shock until he reached over and pinched me.
    "Wake up you silly rascal," he shouted at me. "I just been for askin ye a question! Are you deef or
something?"
    Well, you can imagine how I felt, it surely was a dream! I glared hard at the little man and finally was able to regain the use of my tongue. "Are you a leprechaun?"
    "Are you blind, as well as deef and dumb? " He screamed back, placing his hands upon his hips in
defiance. "Of course I am. What else would I be, all dressed in green, as I am?"
    Regaining my composure, I tried to make sense of all this. "What were you doing in that trunk? How long have you been in there?"
    "The wee fairies locked me in there, man. They locked me up in me own home. Can you figure that one out?" He shook his head from side to side, in disgust. "Been there too many years to count." He paused a moment and added, "I sure-in could use a good Guinness beer right now. You wouldn’t be for having one, would you, now? Naw, I don’t suppose ya do."
    I asked him if he knew where he was and he wasn’t sure. I informed him he was in Oklahoma, a long
way from Ireland and he wasn’t happy about that from the look on his face.
    "And where would this Oklahoma be, somewhere in England?" he needed an answer as had no concept of anything outside the British Isles.
    Then, I explained to him it was the United States and he got irritated beyond belief.
    He began to dance up and down , throwing a tantrum.
    I tried to calm him down my explaining I had a longneck beer in the house but not a Guinness. I promised him if he would quiet down, I’d go get it for him. He wasn’t impressed, but agreed that it was better then nothing. So I ran up to the house and brought one back for him.
    The little fellow drank it down in a few short swigs. He was faster then any full grown man I ever saw at drinking a beer. He certainly had to be thirsty. He then wiped his mouth with his arm and spat.
    "That’s awful stuff," he sputtered, "but at least, I’m not quite so dry now." He smiled for the first time.
    "It could have been worse, I guess. You didn’t bring me water!" He stuck his tongue out, "Yuck! I just
can’t abide that stuff."
    I was curious as to his plans. "What are you going to do now you are free; try to get back to Ireland?"
    "Now that’s a stupid question!" He shook his head again. "Of course, I’ll be headin back to the old sod. You don’t think I’d be for livin HERE, do ya really?"
    It was sort of insulting the way he answered, but I tried to see it from his point of view, so would try to
help him all the same. "Maybe I can you get home, again," I remarked. "I could get you a ticket on an
airplane and fly you back to Ireland, but it would cost money."
`    "Of course!" He began to get more friendly to me now. "I’ll be needing one of those tickets then, and I’d be for payin you for your trouble." He pondered the situation a minute and made me an offer I could hardly refuse. "How’s about a pot of gold? Would that be enough?"
    "It wouldn’t take that much, my little friend." I knew how he must be feeling. It's not pleasant to be far
from home, your family and friends. I knew what homesickness felt like. "I’ll help you anyway possible and you don’t have to pay me. But I would love to go to see your home, if we could work that out." I
grinned.
    "Would ya, really?" He was genuinely impressed by my interest.
    "Yes, I would!" I put my hand out in friendship, only he didn’t take it. Instead, he twisted his nose to one side, then the other and all of a sudden, there stood two pots of gold. I was truly amazed.
    "Now, how about getting me a ticket on that there air-o-plane? What ever is left is yours to keep. Is that a fair deal?" He reached for my hand and shook it then.
    "More than fair" I assured him. The next morning bright and early before my wife even was up, the
arrangements were made for the two of us to fly to Dallas. There we caught an international flight on Aer
Lingus. The little Leprechaun was happy to be going home, and I was even happier to be going to Ireland.
I’d just disappeared as far as my wife was concerned, because she wouldn’t have believed me if I told
her, anyway.
    While in the Emerald Isle, my new friend escorted me around, just two Irishmen enjoying the sights
together and having fun. I also must tell you that I kissed the  kissed the Blarney Stone while I was there.
    Now, to make a long story short … which is a hard thing for an Irishman to do ... This accounts for why I concocted this tale, about the little man in the trunk, which is a totally fantastic, elaborately woven plot befitting the typical Irish manner.

    White centered golden daffodils and purple irises are the normal harbinger of spring in the Midwest, that is when there isn’t a drought. But today, after four years of hardly any rain, the people of the town of Darwin Gulch, Texas knew it wasn’t the flowers bringing in the spring. Disaster loomed overhead in angry black sky. Rolling, banging thunderclouds sounded like drums, as they heralded in the coming tornado season. Bright flashes of forked lightening lit up the morning sky, trying to compete with the sound effects in the distance.
    Tom Doogan woke up wishing he was still in Kansas. There, they had cellars, but here, there was no place to hide. The only advantage here on this high plains was, he had work. There was nothing for miles around, except the little trailer park, a grocery store, gas station, and the old, unused, grain mill. Odds were, a tornado would never find them as far out as they were. Still, the sound of the weather quickly changing, the wind whistling across the open fields was ominous. It brought a chill to his bones that he just couldn’t shake.
    Trailers gave Tom the willies anyway, and he hated living in one. It was his contention that God didn’t like mobile homes, either. He told his wife Madeline about it so often enough. But she just laughed it off.
    "Tom," Madeline would answer, "you know that is just plain foolishness. God has no dislike for anyplace. He created everything and he didn’t make junk. He has only has good intentions."
    "Yeah, you can believe that if you like and it might be true, but when he ran out of ideas he created this hellhole. If there was work in Kansas, we’d never have come here in the first place, and you know it," he stated emphatically.
    "Well, you better stop frettin and get goin." She handed him a paper bag.
    "Here’s your lunch; you’re gonna be late for work, honey." She kissed him and smiled broadly. "If its the money we came for, then you better be for puttin in some hours and stop standing round here jabberin with me about the weather!"
    He reached over patted her on the bottom and said, "OK, I’m going. But you take care of my two girls for me will ya?"
    "Samantha and I’ll be just fine. Get finished and hurry home, sweetheart."
    He planted another kiss on her freckled cheek, patted her blonde head and headed out to his Volkswagen bug. It was old but dependable. It would take him the fifteen miles he had to go to his job monitoring the electric pumps on 24 oil wells.
    Once there, he checked the pumps and motors on each individual well’s storage tank to make sure they worked. The pumps helped oil float to the top of the tanks while salt water sank to the bottom. He’d open a release value to let the water out and continue on to the next one, repeating the process until all were emptied. After finishing he would head for home. He did this everyday. He didn’t make a lot of money, but at least it was honest work and it helped feed his family.
    As Tom drove to the next well, the skies began to grow even blacker and soft droplets of rain began to fall. The farther he drove the heavier the rains became. Soon, it was pouring so hard he had to pull over. He could hardly see the road and it was too dangerous to keep moving because he might drive off into an arroyo. (a deep ditch) He never suspected that he was already in trouble as he waited for the storm to subside.
    "These damn Texas downpours are the worst," he spouted out loud. But it continued to come down in torrents, so finally he gave up. There was nothing he could do about the weather, so he decided to make the best of his time, and take a nap behind the wheel.
    A strange sensation woke him. He thought This car felt like it moved.He sat up and rechecked his breaks. They were definitely on, but the car was turning. There was no doubt about it, his body was being forced against the driver’s door as the vehicle swung around.
    Tom heard his heart beating wildly in his ears. He tried to steer, but to no avail. Finally, he rolled down the window and looked out to find himself surrounded by a sea of muddy water. Torrents of rain had caused him to slide into an arroyo that had quickly filled with water.
    "Oh my God," Tom mumbled under his breath. "I’m in one of those ditches!"
    The flood waters tossed the car into an eddy, a backwards whirlpool, banging it hard against the surrounding mud walls. A metallic taste filled his mouth. Fear hammered his chest, as he tried not to think of what might happen to him. So Tom let his mind run free.
    It raced back to the days when he was a child and rode the bump-de-bumper cars at the county fair. There was an element of danger, but still he knew he was fairly safe. That same feeling overwhelmed him now. The Volkswagen was water tight ... they said. But it was old, and he was not as confident as he wanted to be that it wouldn’t leak. The little car gyrated around in the    water, like a leaf being sucked down a drain. There was nothing to do but hang on. His thoughts turned to his family, and he wondered if his wife and baby were safe. what would they do without me, he asked himself.
    "God, please let me see my family again." he prayed
    Suddenly, as if his prayers were answered, the rain stopped. Lightening still flashed in the distance adding a strange miracle dimension to the ceaseing of the rain. The car continued to go turn in circles, then finally ... the wheels hit something solid.
    He quickly took advantage of it, shifting the gears into first, he began to pull out of the ditch. But the wheels slipped and the car slide back into the swirling water.
    Again, he felt the ground beneath his wheels and tried to pull out, but the force of the water was too much for the little bug. The car seemed to sink even more into the quagmire that clung to him with such force. He began to lose hope and then he felt solid earth once again under the tires of the little car. After three tries, he finally succeeded in getting enough traction to pull out of the muddy rat race.
    He sat there for a few minutes, thanking God for his life. Then he remembered there were two more tanks to empty. In spite of his terrorizing experience, he finished his work. Then he felt free to head for home.
    As he nered the little town where they were living, something seemed wrong, something was missing. Where is the old grain mill, he wondered. In the spot where the mill been, a small group of people milled around, including his wife and daughter.
    "Is everyone OK? What happened, here?" Tom asked in puzzlement.
    "We had a visitor." Madeline answered.
    "Was it a tornado?"
    "Well, a big wind of some kind did it. It was an eyesore, already falling down. But its a blessing its gone." She looked over at the mud covered Volkswagen and frowned. "What happened to old yellow? Looks like you had quite a day."
    "Yes I did, and I’ll never call this place a hellhole again. There are worse places, I found out today. Let’s just say I had a chance to think, and Honey, I’ll never again argue with you about God’s intentions. I’ll tell you all about it, one day."
    They headed home and he never doubted God’s work again.
 

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