SUNDAY IN SUNRISE – A Short Story
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapters Ten & Eleven
Epilogue
Prologue
I am not quite sure how I ended up in Sunrise. I can tell you the steps I took to get to here, but I wouldn’t be able to show you the path. Sunrise, Oklahoma is a pretty small town, maybe about 2,000 people. Some were raised here, but most found their way here the same way I did, unexpectedly.
I don’t know all that many people in Sunrise. There’s the guy I keep running into at the post office. I don’t know what he does but he’s friendly and wears an orange vest. He always thinks he knows me from somewhere, but he doesn’t. I know the person at the counter at the Post Office as well. I know her because I have to bring mail that was put in my box by mistake back to her. I usually have to do this 3 or 4 times for the same letter before it ceases to appear again. She seems a bit hassled at times, but I get the sense that it’s because she has this need to do a really good job.
People ask me why the town is named Sunrise. There are stories that have been told; convoluted stories about colorful bank robbers in the 1910’s, an oil find in the 1920’s and even farther back, a mysterious Indian settlement in the 1890’s. They all have some explanation for why this spot was named Sunrise. But as with many great stories, they only point to the obvious, whether they are true or not. The truth is it’s named Sunrise because of the sunrise. The most beautiful, exquisite sunrises you have ever, or will ever see, come up each morning in Sunrise, Oklahoma.
Something small happens every day in Sunrise; very small things, very unimportant things. That is how most people in town view what it is they do each day. Some, the oldest and youngest adults, can, on occasion, feel a bit of regret at not having gone away to do big things, but they don’t obsess about it. If they were the type to obsess, they didn’t stay in Sunrise much longer than their 18th birthday. Those that stayed were happy with their lives, the smallness giving them comfort and security.
© 2011 Marty Coleman
