fiction by Tomas
The lantern was placed on the oak mantel. It was the centerpiece. It
sat in a hand rubbed mahogany base. It's gold shined, simple and elegant
it took its' place in time. The bronze plaque read Morningstar 1967. Its'
value was somewhere close to eight grand.
Glen was proud to have such a trophy. He did steel it at three grand, a sound investment that swelled his chest with a great emotion similar to the kill of that great bear last year.
The story that he heard was that this lantern hung outside of Lou Gottliebs cabin on a post with a wrought iron hook.
There are many conflicting stories about the lantern, but it was believed to have warded off evil. It was told that those nights the young hippies sat around the campfires, passing smoke and having comfortable emotions. They would gaze at the lantern. Blue/lavender smoke would pass like emotions of delight to dazed eyes near the firelight. That sounds a little far fetched, but you have to remember that those were different times.
Those eyes that sparkled in the fire light, a shared emotion of well being was felt when one gazed at the glowing lantern that danced against the walls of Lous' cabin.
There is more. Another lantern exists. It is in the hands of an actor
that lives over the edges of the black and green California coast. His
lantern is steel blue and it resides in a trophy case with an assortment
of guns. A black plastic plate says Morningstar 1967 near the lantern.
This lantern is polished monthly with the rest of his armament. He knew
where the lantern had come from. He took it like a trophy from someone
running through the woods. The whereabouts of said individual is unknown,
there was so many young people moving in or out of the commune that it
is unknown whether they were there or not.
He listens to Rush, trades knives and guns, but will never trade his prize. He felt like he had won the Olympics when he had brought that lantern home.
Back in 67 Lou had practiced his piano and gone to bed. The next morning the lantern was gone. This was not the first time the lantern had disappeared. He waited a week and when the lantern had not returned he went to town and purchased another. He had misplaced at least four other lanterns. Whatever the needs of others, so be it.
Green rolling hills, a meadow and a smoking cabin. A quite place, green,
rich in organic matter, this quite place blossoms with delight. You cannot
walk near this place without feeling the comfort of others at your side.
A lantern hangs near a doorway, lighting the way on this glowing amber
How does a simple lantern become someones treasure?
If you know the whereabouts of the other two lanterns, give us a buzz.
Fantasy by Tomas