R M Ambrose

The Mean R M Ambrose

Beauty, as the popular proverb says, is in the eye of the beholder. But, what about ugliness? The bearded man with the dark, worried eyes asks himself that same question every time he falls to his knees in prayer. He prays with the fervor of a man who does not yet know his time is up; that weighty pressure on his chest insisting he do something. The flaxen-haired woman sits in her office surrounded by colleagues who appear, for all intents and purposes, to hang on her every word. She glances outside at the striking alignment of blue skies, clouds, and glaring steel and glass skyscrapers. She feels nearly impervious to the elements, high up in her office. As he sits inside an armored military vehicle winding its way through narrow village roads, the blue-eyed boy glances out at the villagers standing in their doorways, many of them clutching young children close to their sides. He feels excitement and terror all at once. Three people; three seemingly disparate circumstances. The intersection of their lives will leave each one grappling with life's most challenging questions, and none will leave unchanged.