Organization is the key to any story and one way I organize my material is by giving a story some type of title before I actually know what the title is going to be. I’m using my character’s name, Mishon, as a reference point. This means whenever I take notes, I’ll use Mishon as the story’s title, so I know how to file and retrieve it later.
Sometimes an idea for a title may come to mind as the story is taking shape. That’s when I will use the character name along with the chosen title. I have chosen “A Horse With No Name” as this story’s title. That means I’ll write: “Mishon/A Horse With No Name” whenever I take notes and refer to the piece. Understand the title may remain for the duration of the story or it may change again as the story unfolds.
“A Horse with No Name” isn’t a haphazard choice. As the story unravels, you can be the judge if it works or not.
This particular piece is written, in what I call, a visual narrative. It’s a cross between narrative and screenplay. That’s why the term “beat” is used. It’s referring to natural pauses in speech that is lost in a narrative, but in my opinion, is so necessary in telling a story.
Now on with the story…
When we arrived at the next town we decided to stop for lunch. We stopped at a place called the “Chat and Chew.”
“This place seem good to you?” I asked Mishon.
“Yeah. I suppose. Never heard of it, but you never know.”
“Yeah, I never have either, but what else is there around?”
“Seems okay enough.”
“Suppose so.”
The waitress, Honey Bee, as she said her name was, was really different. Her beehive hairdo, which was multi-colored in ‘80s fashion was all bright with purple, reds, yellows, all mixed in what looked to be a mess. I wouldn’t have known it was a beehive if she hadn’t told me. I thought that went out of style but she explained, without me asking, that the B52’s could do it, so could she. I didn’t understand why she was stuck in the ‘80s but then again why was I stuck in my life. And with that thought, that’s where I began, stuck.
“You see. I was under the heel. There was little I could do, but follow and go along with it despite my heart of disagreement. The choice was not mine, nor would it be, but if I had the responsibility of decision, I would not have chosen that.” (Beat) “And I think she knew that.”
“Then why’d you follow?” Asked Mishon.
“I had to. I was under her roof.” (Beat) “You know when you’re a child, you are at your parents’ mercy. What they decide goes. It doesn’t matter of your innocence or whether if you’re old enough to understand to disagree, you still don’t pay the bills or rule the house. You have to follow even if your heart tells you it’s wrong.”
“I’ve never looked at it that way. I mean my Momma always looked out for me. She still does.”
“Then you’re lucky. But what if she didn’t?”
“She does. I can’t imagine it any other way.”
“What if you think she does, but then found out she didn’t?”
“Are you questioning my Momma’s love for me?”
“No, nothing like that. Decisions and love are two different things. And I’m not questioning your Momma.” (Beat) “I’m asking you to step back from your life for a moment and look at it differently.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“What good is that going to do?”
“Give you a different way of looking at life.”
“But I don’t want a different way of looking at life. I’m fine the way things are.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why are you on this trip?”
“To explore new territory.”
“Then you’re not happy with the way things are. I think maybe someone has knocked you down and you’re just beginning to realize it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Something or someone has knocked you off your course.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I’m trying to give you some advice.”
“What makes you think I want it?”
“You don’t. I know that. But you need it.” (Beat) “You just don’t know it yet.”
“You must think I’m an idiot then.”
“No, not at all. Just the contrary. Otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to take you.”
“You know what I find?”
“What?”
“Older folks thinking young ones are brainless and lost. Just because what happened to you, doesn’t mean it will happen to me.” (Beat) “Tell me something, why do older people think they’re helping when, in fact, they’re hindering?”
“How do you figure?”
“Some old people stay where they are. They don’t move thinking the world revolves around them. They’re clueless what is happening in the world. Then something happens, then bam! they wake up to a hard reality.”
“I’m not a hypocrite Mishon. What I’m trying to say is to be aware.”
“I’m more aware than you give me credit for old man.”
“I guess you think I’m a hypocrite.”
“I feel your judgment. You don’t know anything about me.”
“You’re right. I don’t know anything about you.”
“So don’t judge me.”
“Okay, as long as you don’t judge me.”
“You got it.”
“Then don’t call me an old man.”
“Don’t worry about it. I won’t.”
“You sure you won’t?”
I could tell that the “Chat and Chew” seemed to be a real chatterbox alright. There would be something to think and talk about long after the fact. We sat in long silence for a moment. I don’t know why, but for whatever reason, I was bugged by his name. So I went back to my original question.
“Why are you called Mishon?”
“You know you asked me that the day I found you.”
“Yeah, I know, but I can barely remember your answer.”
(laughs) “I don’t know why you’re so curious about it.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why either, but for whatever reason, the question keeps coming back to me. Why are you called Mishon?”
“It’s a weird story that I don’t like to share too much.”
“Okay. What’s so weird about your name? Are your named after your mother?”
(laughs) “No.”
“Okay, then it can’t be that weird.”
“Maybe. My father named me.”
“That’s not weird.”
“It was how he named me. My Dad was different they say. I didn’t know him. But he had his own ways. Like the day I was born, it is said he went for a walk in the woods…”
Mishon’s Dad is walking through the woods wearing an Indian outfit with a bow and arrow in his hands. He pulls an arrow out and puts it on the bow. His eye is keen while he looks up in the sky. He sees a bird, draws the string back and shoots. He kills the bird and with that, he lets out a warbled yell: “Mee Shine!”
“And that is how I was named.”
“But your name isn’t MeeShine, it’s Mishon.”
“Yeah, my Momma’s influence.”
“Interesting story.”
“Yeah.”
“But there’s more to it.”
“You can say that.”
“Was your Dad a hunter?” I asked.
“No, not really. He was crazy. When I was born, he did that. No one knows why. He dressed up like an Indian, or what his perception was, and took to the woods.”
“With a bow and arrow in hand.”
“Yup, so I’m told.”
“Your father would have to know how to shoot to be that good.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“You don’t believe the story, do you?”
“I don’t know. I guess I do.”
“Why?”
“I’ve never known my father.”
“So that makes you believe what you’re told?”
“No.”
“Well?”
“He was placed into an insane asylum.”
“I can see why you don’t like telling people the story.”
“Yeah. People judge.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I had this young guy call me an old man today.”
“You’re funny.”
“Yeah. So what about your Dad?”
“I don’t know. I wish I knew him. I don’t have any memories. They admitted him right after my birth.”
“Now I know why your Momma means so much.”
“She’s all I got.”
“And you’re all she has.”
“Yeah. You’re right. I am all she has.”
“So why’d you leave home then?”
“I don’t like to say.”
“Why not? Your Momma in trouble?”
“No.”
“Are you in trouble and running away?”
“No.”
“Then, what’s it?”
“I’m looking for my Dad.”
“Here? In the plains? Why? What makes you think he’s here?”
“Truthfully I don’t know where he is.”
“Do you know he’s still alive?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“How do you know that?”
“They released him a long time ago.”
“And?”
“And he’s been lost ever since.”
“And you leave to find him now?”
“Yeah. I don’t have anything to lose.”
“Can you tell me something?”
“What?”
“Does your Momma know?”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What’s your deal?”
“I got into a fight with my Momma and left home.”
“You don’t have to slam me.”
“I’m not.”
“You want me to believe that you got into a fight with your mother and left home?”
“Yes, that’s what happened.”
“And how old are you? You’ve got to be at least 50 and you live with your mother?”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t judge me?”
“Yeah.” (Beat) “So I did.”
“So your saying your judging me?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Sounds to me like you are.”
“Sorry. What’d you fight about?”
“Would you believe it was something that happened when I was a child?”
“Really? When you were a kid? How old were you?”
“About 10.”
“Ten years old?”
“Yes.”
“So you got into a fight with your Mom, recently, just before coming here about something that happened 4 decades ago?”
“I didn’t say I was 50.”
“Okay, another judgment. Sorry. How long ago did this happen?”
“It really doesn’t matter. What matters is I didn’t agree with her then and I still don’t.”
“Shouldn’t you let it go?”
“Did you let go of your Dad?”
“It’s not the same.”
“How do you know?”
“Okay, I guess I don’t.”
“You don’t know any more about me than I know about you.” I said to Mishon with anger.
“Okay, you’re right.”
“It’s about being under heel.”
“What?”
“I didn’t agree with her. It’s like I said before, I was under her heel, but couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”
“So now you’re doing something about it? Is that really it? Sounds stubborn to me.”
“I suppose.” (Beat) “My mom didn’t know I disagreed with her at the time. I was a little kid. My opinion was not seriously considered. But she found out later how I felt when I got older.”
“Yeah, now decades later. That’s nuts.”
“No. She found out when I was a teenager.”
“You rebelled.”
“What you’d call a typical teenager trying to prove his smarts.”
“Did you succeed? (Beat) I guess not if you’re still fighting about it now.”
“Yes, I did succeed. Quite successfully. Enraged my mother, pushed her away without knowing it and created something I hadn’t anticipated.”
“What’s that?”
“Distance. (Beat) And from that distance, my own downfall.”
“How so? You were a teenager. You don’t have far to fall.”
“One would think. But I fell far.”
“I never had to rebel.”
“Who said I rebelled?”
“If it wasn’t rebellion, what was it?”
“Becoming an adult. Just like you’re doing by trying to find your father. It’s an adult decision with many unknowns that’s risky, but something inside of you is gnawing you from the inside out. (Beat) And I’m willing to bet your Momma doesn’t know where you are.”
“How far did you fall?”
“You see me sitting here?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s how far.”