Some Joe, with Mr. Dickens

Mouthwatering tangs of bacon, aromas of fresh ground coffee, and the seducing scent of waffles cooking invaded my nostrils. My stomach rumbled in anticipation of its reception of the luxurious calories, fats, and sugars available at the downtown diner.

Seated by the hostess, I ordered my meal with coffee and pulled out my latest novel of choice. Breakfast with Charles Dickens and his novel Great Expectations was great company. For the past year, I had sought to reread books from my early years through a more mature and scarred adult filter. Animal Farm, The Outsiders, Tale of Two Cities, Lord of the Rings, etc.

The diner was busy as usual due to its consistent bill of fare and service. Dickens's narrative of Pip was briefly interrupted by the presentation of my two eggs over easy, bacon, grits, and raisin toast (with apple butter on the side). I smiled at the server with thanks. Onehanding the book, I shoveled the goodies and returned to Mr. Dickens's tale and the marshlands outside of London.

"My coffees cold," an elderly man two tables over yelled for all to hear. "Hey you! Black girl. You new here?"

A server came to his table and refilled his cup.

"Are you slow or something? You just poured fresh stuff on top of my cold coffee. I want to speak to the manager. Now! Move it!" the man said.

The moderate buzz of the diner quieted as the outburst broke through the invisible walls of each diner's private space. I laid my book down, forced back from London by this irate man's diatribe. The manager came to the table and sought to assuage the man's disruptive complaints. The old man had taken center stage, and everyone present was awarded tickets to a horror show involuntarily received. Racist denigrations of the server were tossed about like two-hundred-year-old epithets of the South. Threats were made to the manager if he didn't fire her. The manager ejected the customer from the diner to the applause of my fellow diners.

I watched as the belligerent old man donned his overcoat and hat and departed. Crossing the street, he entered an ancient cemetery with its moss-laden Oak trees and dilapidated tombstones.

Opening my book, my eyes fell on these words from the pen of Mr. Dickens through the character Pip,

"In a word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew to be right, as I had been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong."

I closed the book, sipped my coffee, and I swear I heard Mr. Dickens say,

"You have a story to tell. Write it."

***

I had wrestled with joining Vocal and sharing my one small voice with the world. The time had come to step out and quit being a coward. Pulling my Moleskin from my back pocket, I made notes of the altercation by the old man who kept one foot in this city’s miserable past, maybe two.

As a novice and unpublished writer, I penned the short story Some Joe and posted it on the platform. A day later, I received notification from Vocal that my story had been published. In that one stroke of pressing enter, I had moved further away from the old man's cemetery and into the present of the natural world, the diner.

Over the past three years, I have published one hundred and ninety stories, poems, and articles on Vocal. They have been read Ten thousand two hundred and ninety times. Four hundred and sixty-nine people have honored me by subscribing to my creations. Thirty-seven stories and/or poems have been deemed Top Stories. In challenge contests, the Judges awarded my work with a Second Place and two Runner-Up citations.

This is all good and a long journey from a diner in Charleston, S.C., sitting with Mr. Dickens. Most important are my dear Vocal friends, colleagues, supportive readers, and Vocal Media, which didn't exist to me three years ago. The Vocal platform has given me a voice and raised me from a shattered life after suffering the significant personal loss of my son. Because of you, I have grown and continue to grow as a writer.

To all of you, I am eternally grateful. Because of you, I am no longer too cowardly to do what I know to be right. Thank you.

Don't worry, Mr. Dickens, I still have a long way to travel and will not give up my pen. By the way, you would have loved Vocal and rocked all the challenges.

***

Some Joe, published August, 2020 on Vocal Media, Let me know what you think!