Free Valley of Flowers by Chris Collins Page B

truth, of
you as an equal, forgive yourself for any transgressions or blue
mountains of error. The light that shines so bright that you before
could hardly see, shines well within you now and will do so always. Your tears too, at any
time that may flow as a
mountain stream , are in
reality unnecessary, and the sadness you feel then only lacks true understanding.
Again, forgive me. Please. Continue with what you were doing."
     
    Nicolas took in the old man’s words as cruel
punishment. He told himself, I probably had that coming.
     
    It next occurred to him to make use of this
interruption. He felt he
could excuse himself and back off the shot. Nicolas reversed that
decision, though. He said quietly, "I can’t do that." Another
thought came. Here too he readily scotched it. He told himself also, I
can't do that either.
     
    Now he felt as fragile as any bud. He looked at the valley
that had been giving him such a torrid time. He rehearsed the scene
that was already an epic by taking forever. He tried hard to
procure the green light.
     
    Nicolas blocked out all audience stares.
You're stalling! he shouted in side his head. Now he felt as nervous as any
first-timer at a major.
     
    He had
the idea to let all caution lie with the unpredictable wind.
He heard himself say a strong Yes! to it. This seemed
to be the thing he had been awaiting. It provided him true
spark.
     
    Put up a decent performance, he advised
himself. Nicolas added a
soft-spoken though choice set of words. After the swearing-in
ceremony he felt about ready.
     
    13
     
    Down from the high hills the wind
occasionally blew in. It arrived as if out of nowhere and then went away. The wind
blowing in seemed to support the theory that now was the time for
this much-awaited event.
     
    Nicolas sped through more preoccupations in
his mind. He wished to receive an Okay! message from the Approver. It felt good
knowing someone was up there thinking of him.
     
    He peered down at the one teed up. Fear set
in. Hands, he sensed, had been laid on his. Nicolas underwent
last-minute checks. This included repeated glances down the
fairway.
     
    He was next caught dead aplomb over the
ball. He looked poor as a fakir while possessing not one mind
possession.
     
    Nicolas
Kumar felt not ready to swing into action . He was surprised then to see that the club was mobile. The club he had held for
so long was indeed moving , and in earnest this time. It drew a faint line
over the grass where dew had been.
     
    The 3-wood went with extended care
rearward . It rose . The club then looked to be
scrambling up a fire ladder to save some helpless victim. It reached a peak. It was roughly at parallel. In perfect
peace the 3-wood appeared to relax by reclining.
     
    Nicolas added more stretch and the club
dipped below its zenith. As if that was the last straw, the club
sharply rose from its lie-there position. It went around and then down with a
to-heck-with-all fast motion. The unbearable coil had reacted to the terrible tension
his body made. It sent the
3-wood crashing. The iron club, curiously referred to as a
type of wood , was fast called back to
Earth. It returned to its starting point as a ny metal-worker's hammer. All could hear
the ball and 3- wood
connect, Ting! The two sounded as if they ’d been involved in an u nfortunate roadside melee.
     
    His many-armed swing had swung the 3-wood
down and through. His hands swept beyond the area where the ball
had been and turned over. His little grippers arrived behind his left ear. They
looked to have found a safe spot to hide.
     
    The ball shot out as a medium-pacer. Nicolas
had put in the brakes at the bottom before hitting. Sorely missing
in the attack then was his usual tremendous firepower.
     
    Yes! he said to himself, despite having
serious misgivings. And the good feeling that always came to him
after hitting was followed fast by an ignoble vision.
     
    Nicolas sought the skies silently. The unfit
paceman that flew lined the