Casting Pebbles In A Stream

The boy threw the pebble into the stream.

"Look grandpa, look!" the boy shouted, "how when I cast that
pebble into the stream, it made ripples that reached the distant
shore!".

"That's right," his grandfather smiled, "sometimes when we cast pebbles
into the stream of life, we never know where they might end up!".

What a bunch of crap! the boy now a man thought to himself as he
sipped his coffee in a Parisienne cafe.

The man had become an artist. An artist in Paris which had
long been his dream.

But was his dream to starve as well? He certainly didn't make much
money for his sketches and paintings.

It was August 1938. And there was some talk of war in Europe.

That was all he needed the embittered artist thought.

He lived in a broken down rat infested apartment.

All he could afford was bread and cheese.

And now all he needed was tanks roaming through the streets of Paris.

He James Potter the farm boy from Missouri was now an artist in Paris.

Was this really his childhood dream?

He thought as his stomach growled from hunger.

He went to his usual stretch along the River Seine. And sketched a sketch.

He then added watercolour to the sketch.

A couple from Prague were on their honeymoon in Paris.

Jake and Adela Epstein were intrigued with the young artist and
bought the sketch of the River Seine that he had just sketched
and watercoloured.

Happy in love, they shared their joy with the young artist by paying him
10 times the usual fee he received for one of his sketches.

When Jake and Adela returned to their hotel room,
Jake said, "I think I'll have a bath."

Adela said, "I think I'll go to that boutique in the lobby
and see what they have!".

"You mean you'll buy what they have!" her husband winked at
her.

"You know you love the dresses I wear!" Adela winked back at him.

And with that, the beautiful young brunette grabbed her purse
and already wearing one of her favourite dresses, a beautiful rose coloured
dress, she skipped out of the hotel room.

She returned an hour later.

"What? No new dress?" Her husband teased.

"I thought I'd save it to buy champagne," Adela laughed.

Jake looked into Adela's beautiful dark eyes, kissed her and said,
"I'm the one buying the champagne! I have a lot to celebrate.
What other man is so blessed that he actually gets to marry the
love of his life?"

When they returned to the hotel after having an exquisite and delightful
dinner (with champagne), there was a message waiting for Jake.

His mother had taken seriously ill in Prague.

They would have to leave immediately.

"I hope this isn't too disappointing for you," Jake addressed his wife.

"No, I understand," Adela smiled.

Jake looked into her eyes. He saw that she did indeed understand
but he couldn't help noticing an extreme look of disappointment as well.

June, 2007.

Eli Epstein was driving his grandfather Jacob around New York City.

He had picked his grandfather up at the cancer clinic and took him
for his daily drive.

Eli was glad to do this. For he knew that Jacob didn't have long to live.

And he knew his grandfather had had a hard life.

His homeland had been invaded.

He had been deported to the concentration camp at Auschwitz where his
first wife had died.

Grandpa didn't talk much about his first wife.

Grandma had told Eli before she died that she loved Jacob
and she knew that Jacob loved her. Jacob Epstein was a good and
kind and decent man.

But she knew that Jacob still carried around deep within him and
deep within his heart the memory of his first wife.

Eli parked the car and took his grandfather for a stroll along the avenue
in this shopping district of pawn shops and second hand stores.

"You know I don't have a photograph of her," Jacob remarked,
"all the photos of her were destroyed when our apartment in Prague
was ransacked. All these years without her and
not one photograph."

Eli knew his grandfather was talking about his first wife.

"I just wish I could see a picture of her," tears formed in the old man's eyes,
"so that I knew my memory wasn't playing tricks on me
as I recall what she looked like."


As they turned the corner, Jacob Epstein let out a loud cry.

He pointed excitedly at a painting in the window of a small antique store.

"That's her! That's her!" Jacob cried, "that's Adela."

It was a painting of a beautiful dark haired young woman with exquisitely
lovely dark and penetrating eyes. She was wearing a beautiful and lovely
rose coloured dress and smiling the most radiant smile.

They entered the store and asked to examine the painting.

The artist's signature on the painting read James Potter 1938.

On the back of the painting was this inscription,

Painted by myself James Potter on August 15th, 1938.

It was meant to be a honeymoon gift from a young bride
Adela Epstein for her husband Jacob.

Mrs. Epstein paid me ahead of time more than the usual fees I
receive for such a painting.

For some reason, Mrs. Epstein never showed up to collect it.


signed,
James Potter

They payed $10 for the painting from the shopkeeper.

Although Jacob Epstein would have gladly payed anything.

The nurses told Eli a week later that his grandfather was looking at
the painting on his bedside and smiling that morning he died.

Sometimes when we cast pebbles into the stream of life,
we never know where they might end up.



-A short story written by Dracul Van Helsing
June 25th, 2007