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Thanks again for stopping by. The next chapter of Here We Are Now is actually the turning point in the book and, while I have it all mapped out in my head, I haven’t managed to sit down and write it. In the interest of moving forward, I may just post the following chapter as it is already written.
See ya next time.
Here We Are Now, Chapter Eight (Living in The Light)
by philip scott wikel
In Tarpon Springs, Florida a year before, a woman had approached Dylan and his parents so she could touch Dylan’s hair. She said he had beautiful hair and that he had a light around him that made him special. This felt a little strange to Dylan and for a long time he thought maybe he was glowing and he hoped the light really did make him special. Ten years later he wasn’t sure. What he did know ten years later was that there were many in the world who would attempt to extinguish this light for one reason or another.
The day had been filled with real sponges found by a very old sponge-diver with smile lines embedded deeply in his brown skin. He had a large nose and could’ve doubled as a clown in the circus and even though Dylan didn’t like clowns much he liked this guy who’s spirit seemed to radiate in all directions. He loved to dive for sponges and had been doing so for more than forty years. He wore one of the old Captain Nemo-esque suits with the bronze helmet and a hose attached to it and a glass faceplate with miniature window panes. His name had to be Dewey or Clarence or something like that because he looked like a Dewey or Clarence. Deweys and Clarences had warm faces and were from the old school of gentlemanly conduct and good humor.
by philip scott wikel
Then there was the Jersey Shore in the summer of his eighth year. His parents rented a cottage at Seaside. The air was always heavy with the sweetest smell of brine and his dad’s friend showed him how you could make squeaking noises with your feet on the sand. Deep, thick, sultry air.
The landlord of the cottage, which was part of a group of cottages, offered Dylan his first real paying job; other than what he did for his allowance. There was a big ashtray that everyone used that was filled with sand and it was Dylan’s job to clean it using a big spoon with holes in it. The landlord was a crusty old guy who smoked cigars but he was nice and he gave Dylan a dollar at the end of their week there.