I had just finished my lunch, when two guards came to my cell and told me that I had a visitor. I jumped right up and put my hands through the small rectangular hole in the metal door. The CO placed the handcuffs on my wrists, and then told me to step back . The security here was very tight, and the guards took no chances. After all, we were all high profile convicted murderers. He opened the door and then shackled my ankles together. Slowly I followed one guard, while the other walked behind me. A visitor I thought, who would be here to visit me. I had no family, and the public defender gave up on me before the trial even began. I admit I was guilty, but I was innocent too. Life in prison, with no chance for parole, was the last thing I heard the judge say before his gavel hit down hard on the bench.
I had been in jail for five years and never had a visitor. I was so excited to be off the cell block. It was all I have seen for a long time. As we made our way to the visitor center, my eyes scanned everything. It was exactly as it was the day I entered the jail. Nothing had changed. It was the most boring place I was ever in. We spent the entire day separated from each other in our individual cells. Six feet wide and eight foot long, with a metal toilet and sink, a cot, with a two inch thick mattress, and a blanket. That was it. We could talk however, but only during the day. When lights out was called, we were required to be quiet. I guess it was better then being in a gen pop prison. Gen pop is where all the inmates spend there time out of their cells and all together. That is where the gangs rule, and inmates get beat up, raped, and killed. Maximum security is boring, but it is safe. Plus for me being a writer, it gave me all the seclusion and peace I needed to write. Not that any of it would ever be read, no less published, now that I was a convicted killer in prison for the rest of my life.
The smaller CO, pushed me through the door and into the visitation room. It was like in most prisons. There were small booths with a glass window and a phone. My eyes were wide with anticipation as I looked to see who it was who wanted to see me. I sat in my booth watching anxiously, as the outer door opened, and a woman stepped into the room. I was stunned, there she was, it was Melissa. Melissa was the young woman I found sleeping in my chicken coop in the middle of February almost eight years ago. She is the reason I am here. It is a long story, and all I have is time, so if you are interested, here it is.
My name is Dan. I am forty years old, although I was 32 when this whole ordeal began. I had just moved out of the city and upstate into the country. I was a writer, and needed to find some peace and quiet to be able to break through the writers block I was experiencing. It was like my mind was in jail, and the words just wouldn't come. My mom and dad died when I was quite young, and I had no siblings. It was just me. I had written a couple of books, and that kept the bill collectors away. I was not wealthy by any means, but I was able to meet my obligations each month. I sold my small co- op in the city and bought a small country home in the woods, away from all the fast paced hustle and bustle of city life. It was an old tiny family owned farm, just outside of Monticello NY. Taxes were low, and it was a really desolate and quiet area. My closest neighbor lived about a half a mile away. It was my little slice of heaven. The people before me had six gardens, each about a hundred feet wide by a hundred feet long. They also had a chicken coop with chickens, and a cow. There was a small roadside stand where they used to sell their produce and eggs. When I bought it, the cow was gone, but the management company kept and maintained the chickens. I had fresh eggs all the time. Not being a country boy, and not knowing anyone here, I threw most of the eggs out into the gardens for the animals to eat. I left the chicken run open and the birds came and went as they wanted. I learned later that they call that free ranging. The birds lived off the land. I never had to feed them. I was a city boy, not a farmer. Although, the chickens quickly became my friends, and the country my home.
I found myself interacting with the birds every day. There was a heated water drip system that kept the birds watered. One day it froze and I had to figure out what was wrong. I wasn't stupid, I knew everything needed water to live. It was just a fuse in the fuse box which had blown out. I changed it and within the hour, water was again dripping into the trough. It seemed they liked me too. I bought some bags of dry corn and grain in town at the feed store. Each day I would toss a handful to them. They would come right up to me and even eat it out of my hand. One night, I heard a ruckus out in the coop. I jumped into my boots and bolted out the door. There was a bear in the run, with it's whole front arm inside the small sliding door in the coop. It was trying to get the chickens. I was scared to death as I yelled at it. It heard my voice, turned it's big head toward me, and pulled it's arm out of the hole. I was standing just outside the run by the opening. It ran toward me. I turned and jumped up onto the deck and headed for the door. As soon as it cleared the fenced in run, it turned and bolted into the woods. I went back out to the coop and open the big door. They were all okay, but visibly shaken, and so was I. I decided right then and there, that I would close the run and the coop at night. These were my friends. I loved having them around, and now I guess they were my pets. I would protect them. Little did I know, but I was learning a lot, about what kind of man I was. I had a caring heart. I even began getting the eggs each day, and I made a sign for the stand. Free fresh eggs. I would waste no more of them. It was good.
My writing began to flow freely again. I was writing about my new friends. Short stories about the chickens and bear, and then about all the nature around me. Something in my heart had changed. My earlier books had been in the genre of horror, but now love and nature were taking their place. I enjoyed writing the new stories, but more than that, I enjoyed living them. I found myself happier than I had been in a long time. One story was about this hawk, who would come every morning and try unsuccessfully to catch a chicken. I watched it each day through the window as I drank my coffee. It gave up after a week. I guess from the sky, it couldn't see the black net I had put over the top of the run. It always left after hitting the net. Then I would let the chickens out. I wasn't sure if anyone would publish them, and I didn't care. Just living in the country, and experiencing these new little adventures, was payment enough. I would post them on line for folks to read for free. Maybe they would help others to find some entertainment or comfort in their own lives, but if just for a little while, when they were engulfed in my stories. Yes, this was my little slice of heaven.
One night, while I was deeply entrenched in writing a new story, I heard the girls making a small commotion in the coop. I heard a thump, like a door closing, and decided to go have a look. I had already earlier checked on them, and closed everything up tight, but thought it was a good idea to go check again. I put my boots on and went out onto the deck. It was all quiet. They had settled back down. I felt at ease and went back into the house without looking into it further. With twenty birds, if there was a problem, they would no doubt, still be squawking away. I got back into my story and wrote for about another hour. Yes my new friends had helped me break through my writers block. I finished another chapter, and then went to sleep. I would pick back up in the morning.
I was awake and out of bed before the rooster started crowing. I put on the coffee and went out to open the little sliding chicken door, and the door to the run. I always let them out early so they would have all day to free range, and forage til their hearts content. Weird thing was, when I opened their small sliding door, none came out. I heard them inside but not one came near the tiny opening. I walked around to the big door and opened it. The chickens were all roosting on the two by four perches, that hung high in the coop like rafters. On the floor, in front on the little door was a long mound under the hay. I had just cleaned the coop two days before. I paid extra, and used two bails of hay as bedding instead of straw. It costed sixty dollars. I wanted my friends comfy and warm. It was near twenty degrees in the coop. Not knowing what kind of animal it was under the hay, but I figured it was the bear by it's size, I grabbed a long handled rake, and gently pushed off some of the hay. Whatever it was, it didn't move. As I cleared more of the hay, I began to see black and blue colors. I realized it was clothing on a human body. The clothes were dirty and scroungy looking, and it smelled like human waste. I poked it with the rake handle, but it did not move. I could see his back moving up and down breathing. I poked it again, this time a little harder. He jumped up, turned and saw me, then cowered in the corner with his hands out in front of him as if to hide, or defend himself from being hit. I immediately put the rake down. It is okay I said. I am not going to hurt you. I could see blue eyes . The rest of the face was covered with a old ragged sweater, used as a scarf, and a black watch cap pulled down over the ears and forehead. Just the eye's were showing. It was a bum. Like a dirty homeless person in the city. I thought of calling the police, but he was so afraid, cowering and whimpering like a hurt dog in the corner of the chicken coop, that my first instinct was to try to comfort him and help.
I spoke softly and repeated, it is okay, I am not going to hurt you. You are safe here. The eyes watched me intently as I moved closer to him from the door. It 's alright I said again. You are safe, I am not gonna hurt you. Do you speak English I asked. I saw a tear in one of the eyes, then the mouth began to open. Home! Was all I heard. It was a woman's voice. I began to move closer again, but she started scream and flail her arms at me. I backed right up. Okay I said, you are safe. I will not hurt you. As I backed out of the coop, I watched as she sat on her feet in the corner, and curled up like a ball leaning against the cold plywood. She looked at the eggs in the nesting box. Are you hungry I asked her? Her eye's widened, but she did not speak. I'll get you some food I said. I backed all of the way out and left the door open. I'll be right back with something for you to eat.
Being single, I didn't have much handy and ready to eat. But I did have a corn muffin left from yesterday, so I grabbed that and a glass of cold tap water, and hurried back outside to the coop. She was still in the corner, only not in such a tight ball. I moved very slowly toward her, holding the water and muffin out in front of me. As I moved, she used one hand, and pulled the make shift scarf down off her nose and mouth. When I was within reach, she grabbed the muffin and began shoving it into her mouth like a starving rat. The muffin disappeared in seconds. Then she took the water and gulped it down just as fast as she swallowed the corn muffin. I looked into her eye's, it is okay I said, you are safe here. I will not hurt you. She just looked at me not saying a word. Would you like some more food I asked. She again looked at the eggs in the nest. I don't have much I said, but what I have I will share with you. I took the eggs from the box and backed out again. Would you like to come in the house I asked? She just looked toward the eggs. Alright, I'll be back soon. I pushed the door to the coop open wide as I left to go into the house. The sun was up now, and shining brightly right inside. I figured it would help to warm her up a bit more, and maybe the light would help her to be calm also.
This time I had two plates on a tray. I made scrabbled eggs and toast, and two cups of coffee. I would eat in the chicken coop with her. As I came down off the deck, she was standing near the coop door, although still inside. I approached slow and easy, holding the tray with both hands. If it is alright I said, I would like to have breakfast with you. She just looked at me, and then at the tray of food. I set it on the edge of the deck. Come on out I said, you are safe here. Her mouth moved again, and again I heard her say, home. Yes I replied this is my home. Come out and eat, it is safe here. She then slowly stepped out of the coop. The chickens then began their march out their little door and down the ramp into their run. She watched them, and a smile formed on her face. Home, she said again. Yes, home I repeated. Come and eat. She moved closer to where I stood, and picked up the fork nearest the plate on her side of the tray. Then she set it down, and using just her hands, she inhaled her eggs just like the muffin. I thought for a moment that she was even going to eat her fingers. When the eggs were gone, she lifted the coffee cup and took a sip. She spit it out, and spilled the cup onto the ground. Don't you like coffee I asked? She shook her head side to side, I assumed saying no. I reached out to her for the cup. She cautiously handed it to me. It was the closest we had come to each other so far. I took it into the house and filled it with milk. It was fresh milk I had bought at a farm a couple of miles down the road. When I got back, she had already finished her toast, and was beginning to eat mine. She looked in my eyes. I was glad she was eating, and did not mind one bit that she was eating mine. I think she sensed I was okay with it, because I saw her take a deep breath, and her entire body heaved with what seemed a sigh of relief. She took the cup and drank the milk. Her eyes again widened as she gulped it down. Her lips formed a smile as she drank it, as if remembering the taste. She mumbled something, I think it was MMMMMMm. She liked the milk.
What is your name I asked her. Her eyes looked up and to the left, as if trying to remember something, and then her lips moved. Mel is sa. She said dragging it out. Then again a bit faster she said, Melissa. Melissa she said, fast and loud, Melissa. Hello Melissa, my name is Dan. It is nice to meet you. She just looked at me. She appeared to be a bit confused. Home she said, this is my home. No I told her. I bought this place last year. It is mine. My home Melissa repeated. Okay I laughed, your home too. I opened the door to the run, and the chickens all pranced out, and spread across the yard, pecking the hard frozen ground for whatever they could find. I am going inside where it is warm I said to Melissa, you are welcome to come in and join me. I walked up onto the deck and over to the kitchen door. Just before I opened it she said, kitchen. I looked at her in wonder. How could she know that? Kitchen, she repeated and pointed at the door. Yes I said this is the kitchen. She walked up the deck stairs, her eyes surveying the yard and property. As she neared the door, her eyes welled up with tears. Home, she said again. I began to wonder why she kept saying home. It was as if she thought it was hers. I opened the door and we both walked in. Her head spun around wildly, her eyes open wide. She looked everywhere, and at everything. She walked toward the doorway to the dining room, and stood in the middle against the door casing. I watched her in awe. She was like a child. She put her hand on her head and touched the wood as if measuring herself. She then turned around and looked down. Her hand rubbed the wooden door casing around four feet high. See, she said, HOME. I walked over to her and looked where her hand was placed. I was dumbfounded, there were small lines carved into the wood at different intervals, with dates on each line. Melissa she said. There carved on the very first line at about two feet from the floor was the name MELISSA. You used to live here I asked? Home she replied. Where is your family I asked her? Home, was all she said. End part one.
I hope you enjoyed part one of MEL IS SA. Part two will be posted next Friday. As always, feel free to share with your families and friends. May peace, love and good health be the stars in your own stories, and may you be blessed with happiness and joy always. Have a great weekend, your friend, mike.