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Happy Halloween!
This has been an interesting week. Saturday, I nearly went on
stage in a high school production of Romeo and Juliet, when an
actor didn't show up.
I was the sword-fight choreographer and the only one who
knew his choreography (but not his lines -- I did get one down
though "a dog of the house of Montague moves me!")
I had the tights, vests and sword strapped. Fortunately, the kid
showed up just minutes before curtain.
And fortunately, the play went off without a hitch and...
Most importantly, nobody got hurt (that's the greatest fear of
any fight choreographer.)
Other than that, it's been a busy, busy, busy week...
The stack of papers in need of correcting seems to be
never-ending.
My students say I could easily solve this problem simply by not
giving them homework.
Clever devils.
But it's not gonna happen.
That said...
Instead of my usual rants, I thought I would try something
different this week in honor of the holiday.
Follow the link below and you will find one of my unpublished
short stories.
I can't take credit for the content of this story -- just the
intricacies of its telling. This was one of the campfire stories
my father told to new Boy Scouts, eleven or so years old.
Though it may seem tame to adult readers, the yarn does sell to
youngsters.
When I became a river guide several years back, I took the story
as my own -- the bigger kids would always laugh at the story,
but just as they were falling asleep after our little
"leave-no-trace" campfire, I would always manage to get one or
two of them to leap from their sleeping bags as "Three-fingered
Willie" struck.
I play a pretty good Three-fingered Willie.
Good ghost stories are meant to be fun -- great ghost stories
impart a moral. The moral of this story is pretty simple.
Take it with you the next time you go camping.
THREE-FINGERED WILLIE
m.c. merrill
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