Charles Pendelton
      © 2008 Marty Langdon
Chapter 32 (Gratissimum)

 

It was a warm Friday afternoon, August 21, 1970. I was getting over a mild case
of the flu and had come downstairs for a glass of Hi-C. Hearing a noise from afar,
I peered through the curtains to see a female figure bringing her belongings into
the long-abandoned house across the street. I decided it was time to investigate.
Not knowing that doing so would be the moment my life would change forever.



The day I saw Harmony.


It was a beautiful day and as the gentle wind touched her hair, I could tell
she was unequivocally the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my short
lifetime. Standing at a little over five feet, she had a Mediterranean complexion
that seemed to intensify her jet-black hair. With a red sequin blouse accentuating
every part of her amber skin, I immediately noticed she had
the most adorable
little beauty mark right below her left eye.



This is the story of Harmony and me.


A work I finished in 2008 and kept in a safe place. Of late did my lover revisit
me
in a dream, explaining the world needed to read our book. Telling me it was
the dangerous hour, and that I would understand in time. Against my
better
judgment, I acquiesced. Harmony’s request would be granted.

Now remember, the words I have used to express beauty come from another
place in time. A day and age when if compared to the world of today, can easily
be misinterpreted as stereotypical, racist, and or demeaning. By no means am
I writing to objectify or marginalize women. If you grew up in the 1970s, you
will understand what I am attempting to create. It doesn’t give me a free pass
to throw those words around today, just so we’re clear. And no matter how
you look at it, this was the 1970s, like it or not.



But still, you may come to raise that infernal question as to why our love would be
so revealing?
Selfishly, it is because the book was written for the author first and
the reader second.
It was never my intention for anyone to follow us on our journey,
neither was it my will for them to partake in the indulgence of our intimacies.


I won’t candy coat it, and I won’t pretend it’s something it’s not. It will get erotic;
of this you can be assured, but it will always remain pure. Before I even began this
endeavor, I knew I needed to develop a singular style of writing, which I would perfect
until all flaws were removed from the document. As we've already established from the
manuscript herein, there can be no direct correlation between my work and the musings
of another writer (either living or dead), for no novelist can mock the writer's form of
prose; and so, through the attentive voice of my unbiased reviewers, it has been rightly
deemed the Pendelton technique.

As far as exposing our love to an audience of people only in attendance
for the lure of a good story, we will not disappoint them.



No matter how intricately woven the words interconnect to convey
our message, people of all ages should still be able to digest the
storyline and comprehend its intended meaning.



Aside from her physical attributes, I was enthralled in the very makeup
of her
characteristics. So appealing was this lady to my senses. How a
gentle
woman with unembellished beauty could mesmerize my world
and take hold of my
very soul, was the mystery of mysteries for me.
Unbeknownst to her,
she had opened my eyes up to feelings so unique
and
real, that I would revel in the thought of waking up in the morning.


Within the context of this book, the heart of the admirer shall come forth.
Rewritten from actual pages of “The Harmony Journal(s),” it has also
been
‘reinterpreted’ from an adult viewpoint for your reading pleasure.


This was more than a carnal attraction
It was adoration in its purest form
The sentiment of all rapture


If there is anyone who wishes to understand the unfettered meaning
of true love and devotion, then they should read this book.


Yet in life, there are always two paths to choose from.
The path of right and wrong. Good and bad. Love and hate.

Sometimes the uncharted path with no arrow is the path we
are predestined to walk. Always remember, for every step taken
on life’s long journey, there is one we do not come back from.


Due to the extremely controversial nature of this book,
you may want to think twice about reading it in its entirety.

Why, you might ask? Because this book has an uncanny
ability to forever alter the lives of those chosen to read it.



She was heaven in the form of a woman.
She was everything perfect in the world.
She was my life, my love, and my best friend.

But this was not to be for something awful was coming.


“These are all the scribbled notes I have collected from those years.
Pages, once part of a journal, kept in order by the recollection of events.
Now remember, the memories I have stored away from this period are
sketchy and faded. Sadly, they are held together with only
tears, and
I am adding life to them as we go along.”



Note to reader: This is not your average tale of unrequited love and
heartfelt romance. It may be the most unconventional novel ever to be
acquired on the subject pertaining to the status of a relationship, and
the emotional state of being profoundly in love with your significant other.



A young boy desperately struggling to win the affections
of a mature teenage girl he cannot stop thinking of.


One more thing. Just because your mind may be unable to fathom it,
doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.


I drank from that cup, and I never looked back.
Therefore, I never
knew what had taken shape
in the dark region known as despair.


An ill wind brewed, and heaven help the soul left
stranded by
the river's edge. It is so cold and lonely
there, my eyes water
at the mere thought of it. There
in that wretched place of all forlornness,
the mighty
angels who circle above will not circle above it.



This book, unlike most others in our plane of time is not about getting to
the point. It's about living in the moment to properly map out and define
one’s very existence. If you are chasing time, then you don’t belong here.


Still, for the price of admission, how could anyone go wrong?


This story is the heart of the unabridged novel itself. The true title should rightfully
be called Chapter 32. Unfortunately, the other forty chapters, I will not release.
The original title was once called, The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe.

In the world of American literature, how many authors can
you count who have bared their very soul unto the world?

Many have warned me not to do this. . . I didn’t listen.


I prayed if I could somehow finish transcribing the manuscript,
I would never write again. To this day, I remain true to my word.


If you ever wondered what life in the 1970s was like, take my hand.
If you ever wanted to understand the estate of unbridled love, be my judge.
If you have ever wallowed in sorrow through a time of unbearable suffering, feel my pain.


In truth, it is not a gift I possess, but a curse.


I have warned you about coming here.
Shall we begin?



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