Life’s a Stage
This story was written with a good friend in mind.
No one knew Jeff as well as they thought they did. Many people saw him as a coarse man who had been through hell and back, and others didn’t see him. If anyone looked past his appearance, they would see a different man. A much different man.
Life is like a movie set. Many backgrounds, plot twists, costumes, and masks. Actors follow the directors’ orders to create memorable scenes that become life-defining. Some reels are kept in hypothetical vaults. Some become cult classics, while others are simply never forgotten.
Jeff’s life was a mystery. The most anyone knew about Jeff was that he had two loves. One was his country, and the other was the woman he dreamt of. Jeff’s deepest darkest secret is only known to him and his hypothetical director.
Jeff never claimed he was intelligent, yet he was a brilliant man. He was always alone and preferred it. Gossips believed that Jeff was the engineer of moth-man. Jeff loved that people thought he was a mad scientist because they would leave him to enjoy his fresh-pressed coffee.
One early morning there was an odd knock on his door. The knock was inconsistent with the sound and rhythm of a typical greeting. Jeff thought, “Oh, how brave you peasants are to approach my abode.” He laughed out loud while opening the door.
His quirky smile faded as he looked out into the thick fog, “Hello?”
He took a step out into the day — his toes nudged something. He looked down at a small wooden box with a black bow. Looking around again, he carefully picked up the package.
Jeff pulled the dusty curtains open for the first time in months to let light in. Gently placing the curious box next to his coffee, he ran his finger around the cup’s rim. He removed the silken ribbon and opened the box with the precision of an EOD soldier. Inside was a key, a note, and a faint lavender aroma.
“It’s been a long time, Jeffrey.” Before the signature, an address with a date was written in regal puce.
Knowing it was time for him to leave his proverbial dressing room and approach a different stage and new audience, he sighed.
Time passed quickly, and he put the key into the lock. Before turning the key, a beautiful slender woman opened the door. He couldn’t stop looking down at the black stilettos that slipped over the fishnet stockings covering her milky white legs. The thigh-highs barely peeked up her short lacy black and purple skirt. His eyes follow her tiny waist wrapped with a silken black bow. Peeking shyly from a sheer blouse were two perfectly formed breasts demanding his attention.
She cleared her throat. Through her beautifully pout red lips, she said, “Welcome home, Lieutenant General,” she passionately kissed him.
Jeffrey Johnson is now a name of the past. Forever changing his existence and location, his true identity will only ever be known to him and his stunning director, Special General Violet.
THE END
Mojha Macdowell
2022
