Diamond in the Night

By John A. Richter

This is a story of a quest, a quest we all seek, a quest for spiritual
wholeness. It is also a story of friendship, a friendship of three
different soulsan old dapper Englishman named Lance,
a young Midwesterner named Ben, and an even younger Easterner
named Robthree kind souls representing a classic California mix
of breeds and backgrounds. Everyone has a story to tell, and they
have theirs. To belittle one while enhancing another only coaxes
irony to dictate surprise with truth stranger than fi ction....And then
there's a cat named Varmit and a Chihuahua named Fifi to put it
all in perspective.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465365019

John A. Richter

Has a varied background with a love for the arts and science. Received various writing awards in his youth. A graduate of Purdue University. Has lived East and West coasts for several years and traveled to Europe several times. Has a 25-year-old son from a 22-year-old marriage. Continues to work as a home improvement contractor in the New England area. Enjoys playing trumpet and primitive camping. Presently resides in Connecticut with his fiancé, Julia, who share their time in the States and England. Enjoys writing when he can about the human condition

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by John A. Richter.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011916431

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4653-6500-2

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4653-6499-9

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4653-6501-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

Dedicated to "i shall imagine life"*

If and when

the sun complains its blood-response

is below subsistence level

and the moon begins

to envy Jupiter’s twelve,

then snowflakes will surely

bargain for collision insurance

and poets

will be no more.

—John Richter

* poem by e.e.cummings

CHAPTER I

It was funny, the times he dwelled on the little things people did that bothered him. He raised his backpack to this shoulders and started off into the wilderness up the dry, dusty trail. He thought of how quick friends of quick advice said it over noon-hour coffee— "Boy, you do want to suffer, don’t you! Going into the mountains to have your Big Think ?" Lance and Rob, on the other hand, were two friends close and true and never said such things. They just gave their blessing. Besides, he was just going on a simple trek, something he had done many times before. Yet going into the mountains always made him feel mortal, even at the young age of twenty-eight. It was more a matter of escaping to reality and not from reality, at least that’s how he felt. He also knew one should never take the mountains for granted, no matter how prepared one was. One should respect them. There was always some risk, but without risk there was never really any adventure. What his quick friends of quick advice never realized was he was simply reenacting an age-old ritual that had been practiced by many cultures since the beginning of time—one goes off into the wilds to find his peace or manhood or whatever the calling. He was willing to take his chances and trouble no one. No rescue team was expected nor wanted. He walked a long time before he took his first rest.

The sky was a crystal clear blue and the early morning dew was evaporating off the clusters of lupine around him. He took his time as he climbed the steady uphill grade to get used to the fifty-five pounds on his back along with the thin air. It was always wise to pace oneself and not go out like a racehorse in the gates. The trail came to a saddle and flatten out near a small tumbling cascade and he decided to rest under some Douglas firs and Lodge Pole pines. He found a small flat boulder jutting three feet above the ground, just high enough to rest the bottom of his pack so he could strip it off his sore shoulders. Already his muscles hurt. He was carrying too much weight but he didn’t care. He sat down and ate a candy bar, followed by some trail mix of nuts, oats, raisins, and dried coconut. He drank a lot of water from his canteen to make sure he wasn’t getting dehydrated—often a cause for many foolish mishaps that could occur in the mountains.

Thoughts kept rushing in and cluttered his mind. A lean, grey squirrel began to chatter and complain of his presence a few yards away and took him out of his pensive mood. He saw the animal on a fallen tree trunk. Well, hello there, Mr. or is it Mrs.? . . . Or Miss? He then laughed at himself. Already I’m talking to the animals after two miles in! Hey there, squirrel, how ‘bout I call you Martha or George or… . Suddenly the name Antoine came out of his mouth! He said it rather automatically, Antoine! He repeated the name again, Antoine, you were my friend also, true as any. I miss you old man… .

CHAPTER II

1

The old man tried to ignore his daughter as she talked away. Now, Antoine, I don’t see why! It would be good for you to get out! You should see your family more anyway! She paused just long enough to see if he would answer. He kept silent with a scowl on his face. She opened the front door to leave then turned back to say one last thing. Well, okay then, do whatever makes you happy! I understand.

But she never did, and it was really all a farce when she suggested anything to him, whether it was going to church, a family get-together, a new restaurant to try, or a movie he should see. She had a good heart of course, but she never really gave the old man any honest consideration so he could have a clear, clean out if he wanted it. Instead, she persisted in some nonverbal image locked in her head that he would be happy, should be happy. By taking such care in what she thought he and others wanted, she usually drove them away—a result which unfortunately made her try even harder. And so with a kind heart and the best intentions, Goody-two-shoes—the name he liked to call her when she wasn’t around—never faltered from the image in her head. And it was this persistence, this stubbornness that drove the old man nuts.

Although he felt bullied, he never gave in.