Free Chimes of Passion by Joe Mudak Page A

church,
betraying a sense of revitalization that his companions hadn’t yet
experienced. “Do you know the song, ‘Chimes of Freedom,’ by Bob
Dylan?”
     
    Pete answered sarcastically, “I try
not to think of anything by Bob Dylan.”
     
    Ron scoffed. “It’s just that, well, I
can’t help but think that we just walked into that
song.”
     
    Alyssa moved closer to him. With a
genuine interest in what he had to say, she asked “How does it go,
Ron?”
     
    “The first lines of the song go
something like this:
     
    Far between sundown’s finish and midnight’s
broken toll
    We ducked inside a doorway as thunder went
crashing
    As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in
the sound
    Seeming to be the chimes of freedom
flashing.
     
    “I’ve always loved that song. He goes
on to sing about how the chimes of freedom touched everyone who
sought shelter from the storm which then reached out to the people
he admired and loathed, extending, in one way or another, to
everyone in the world. There’s a certain unity to it.”
     
    Lynda cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t it
be easier just to begin the song by saying, “It was a dark and
stormy night?”
     
    Ron laughed. “Um. No. It’s not
--”
     
    “But that’s what he said, isn’t it?
Between sundown’s finish and midnight’s broken toll is night.
Thunder went crashing, so it was stormy. It was a dark and stormy
night.”
     
    Letting out a deep sigh, Ron demurred.
“Saying ‘it was a dark and stormy night’ is just too cliche. This
way has a lot more poetry and symbolism.”
     
    Pete defended his friend. “I’ll tell
you what I’m thinking of. What’s that line by C.S. Lewis? April is
the cruelest month, or something like that?”
     
    “T.S. Eliot,” Ron corrected him. “It’s
from ‘The Wasteland’.”
     
    “Sorry. Either way, here we are, five
friends taking spring break amid less than ideal conditions, it’s
raining profusely outside, and didn’t you say you smelled lilacs
outside, Lynda? There's something in that quote about lilacs, too,
isn't there?”
     
    Lynda nodded her head yes.
     
    Ron smiled. “I guess you really did
learn something in Lit 101 two years ago, didn’t you?”
     
    “I guess so.”
     
    “Well, you’ve got a good point. I
thought of that quote, too. Eliot wasn’t the only one who waxed
poetic about April’s cruelty. Chaucer did it in the Canterbury
Tales. That’s part of why I thought of ‘Chimes of Freedom.’ That
song, believe it or not, is a modern Canterbury Tales.”
     
    Irene stood up and spoke quickly,
impatiently. “When we get back home, you can play it for us. Right
now, I’d just like to see if this place has a bathroom and maybe
change into some dry -- dryer, I should say -- clothes.”
     
    Alyssa stood up. “I’m with you.
Besides, I’m not sure we should be going anywhere in here
alone.”
     
    Lynda joined Alyssa and Irene. “Why
not all three of us go? That way, the guys can change
here.”
     
    Neither Irene or Alyssa objected to
Lynda’s suggestion. Ron started to rummage in his backpack. As the
three women started to walk away, Ron stopped Irene and handed her
a flashlight. “You might need this.”
     
    “Thanks.”
     
    Pete called out, “When you find the
bathroom, could you let us know where it is?”
     
    The three women strode
semi-confidently across the sanctuary and towards what appeared to
be a door near altar, the pounding rain accentuating each
stride.
     
    *****
     
    Once he was certain the women wouldn’t
hear, Pete looked over at Ron. “Why do you keep trying to impress
Irene, dude? She doesn’t have the patience for all of this
artsy-fartsy shit. Besides, can’t you tell how much Alyssa wants
you?”
     
    “Yeah, I know. But you know how it is.
I can’t have Irene, which is why I want her. I can have Alyssa,
which is why I don’t.” Ron rummaged around in his backpack and
found a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. Why he’d decided to wear
shorts that