Tag: complexity

The Blue Light

~ Richard Schulte ~ Leave a comment

At one corner of the hospital parking lot rose a twenty-foot pole. Atop it was mounted a seldom used light. When an Emergency Assistance button was pressed, an intercom activated and the blue light flashed.

A falcon liked to perch on the pole.

The falcon used the high place to watch for its prey: pigeons that gathered in the hospital parking lot. Weak or injured birds had little chance.

Every so often hospital visitors or employees crossing the parking lot would look up and notice the falcon. They’d admire its powerful form, and its dark, intense, searching eyes. “What a majestic bird.”

They weren’t wrong. The falcon was majestic. It was well fed and healthy. Its sleek beauty was perfectly suited for survival.

Whenever a pile of feathers appeared near the hospital, people complained, and the Housekeeping Department would quickly head outside to clean up the mess. They wore gloves and were careful to use a biohazard bag.

“Poor bird,” one nurse commented to another nurse, looking down at more torn feathers in the parking lot.

“Looks healthy to me,” replied the second nurse, gazing at the falcon atop the pole.

Eyes down, stepping carefully to avoid blood, the first nurse sighed.

Practically everyone at the hospital who observed the falcon fell in love with it.

One day, after another bloody mess, Hospital Mainenance rented a cherry picker and placed anti-roosting spikes on the blue Emergency Assistance light.

The falcon was not seen again.

One Rock

~ Richard Schulte ~ Leave a comment

“You can only take one rock,” explained Lydia’s mother.

As the two walked, Lydia bent down to pick up smooth stones from the beach. Each stone was a different bright color, a gift from the tumbling ocean.

Her hands moved across the wet sand to touch the scattered treasure.

One polished stone seemed to shine like an emerald, but when she looked at it very closely Lydia discovered it was mostly a colorless gray.

Another oval stone was glossy black with shining silver flecks. Where the ocean’s recent touch lingered, the silver glittered and gleamed.

One strange bluish stone contained many tiny holes, and Lydia put a hole to her eye to see if she could somehow see through it.

One crystalline, pearly white stone had already begun to dry out and lose its luster, turning dull.

Another bright reddish stone seemed perfectly round, like an agate marble, but a crack ran through it and part of one side had chipped off.

To Lydia every single stone at her feet was a precious jewel.

She wanted to fill her hands with treasure. But she knew her mother was right. Her small hands could manage just one.

She reached down and took the nearest rock.