Ever Peace
It was a dark and stormy night, the wind whistled through the sky and bent the tops of the evergreens close to breaking. Birds and other forest creatures were looking for shelter to survive the fierce storm. Way out in the boonies, far from any town, neighbor, or contact. An old man is sitting down for a cup of tea. "Argh," the old man groans as he slips into his Lazy-Boy rocking gently. "I love a good storm," he says to him self, "it takes away the old and makes room for the new." at the age of seventy seven, Markham Smith, was an old, beaten up, industrial electrician turned author. After 45 years working the same job, and two best sellers under his belt, Markham Smith was just waiting out existence. Living a full and happy life is all he could ever hope for. Now as he sits there rocking, sipping his tea. Markham Smith had finally done every thing he could think of. He'd climbed mt. Everest, and swam with sharks, rescued damsels in distress, and tamed lions. A life of raising boy and girl twins brought him into every adventure imaginable. Worn down to a nub like an old pencil, Markham Smith was waiting to hand his legacy over to his kids. As he sits there hypnotically rocking, he takes a look around his humble cabin, sits back deep into his grand fathers Lazy-Boy, closes his eyes and glides into ever peace. At 9:47pm October 30th , exactly seventy eight years from the day of his birth, Markham Smith died of natural causes. I hope he got his ever peace.