Ends and Means -- (Wednesday Writing)

So.

Once upon a time I tried to post some of my own personal writing to this blog every week. It seems like forever ago since I last did that. Really it's been about 17 months. In "Internet Time", that is almost forever.

Regardless of how long it's been, it's time to start again. I don't know if I'm going to go back to a regular weekly "Wednesday Writing" segment on the blog or not. At the very least I NEED to get back into some kind of regular writing routine. So bear with me as I try. And always feel free to comment, critique, etc.

Thanks for reading.

---

Ends and Means

"And then what?!?"

Jeremy's nostrils flared as he stared intently at Damian, willing him to answer. Damian in turn casually slipped his right hand into his jacket pocket and slowly let a smile extend across his face.

"And then, my doubting friend, we will compel her to accept."

Jeremy felt his breath escape in a huff. He began to pace, anxiously alternating his gaze between Damian and the front door. He stopped and glared at Damian then in two steps he was at the front window and peeking out through a slit in the heavy curtains.

Outside everything looked calm and peaceful. The yellow beams of streetlights cut yellow patches through the cool blue-grey air. Dawn was close. Color was starting to fight back against the darkness.

He strained his eyes through the twilight of dawn in search of any motion up or down the street. He forced his ears to focus intently, searching for even the hint of sound from outside. The sound of a car door closing. The sounds of keys jangling or sliding into the lock. Instead all he heard was the heavy sound of his own breathing and the throbbing of his blood rushing through his veins.

He focused on the serene silence outside and forced himself to slow his breathing. After a moment, when he felt more in control, he turned to face Damian.

"Alright. I'll rephrase. How will we compel her? What makes you so certain she'll accept?"

Wednesday Writings # 47 - Chosen

Welcome to my weekly "Wednesday Writing" post. These weekly exercises serve as motivation to ensure that I spend at least 30-60 minutes each week doing some creative writing.

NOTE: It's been a few weeks since I've done a "Wednesday Writing" post. Things have been crazy. These may turn into "Weekly Writing" posts. But at the very least, I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things.

These are very quick 'free write' sessions without editing, planning, etc.

I invite and love feedback - criticism, praise, whatever. Just let me know what you think.

I do this equally for myself and to share.

Enjoy.

---

Chosen

Jared groaned again as his face slammed against the wet concrete sidewalk. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees and tried to crawl forward as a foot pounded into his midsection and crumbled him to the ground once more. He closed his eyes and grimaced at the pain flooding through him. A foot kicked hard against his left hip.

Jared twisted and writhed like a worm along the rain drenched sidewalk. Once again he tried to push himself knees and once again a foot plowed into his midsection. This time he was ready for it. Jared wrapped his arms around the foot and collapsed onto it with all of his weight. At the same time, he twisted his body around and pulled on the leg of his assailant.

As he felt the leg twist and fall, Jared risked a smile and opened his eyes to watch the dark form slam into the ground, arms flailing and hands slapping into the thin sheet of water. Jared's elation was short lived as another surge of pain erupted from the middle of his back as the other assailant slammed the bottom of his boot in to Jared's back.

Jared arched his back away from the pain and twisted to roll quickly away. As he rolled, he got his hands beneath him and was able to quickly leap to his feet. He reacted to a blur of motion in front of him and hopped backwards to avoid the flying kick of his standing attacker. To his left, Jared saw his fallen attacker hop to his feet and spin back to face Jared.

For a moment it seemed as though time stood still. If not for the constant motion of raindrops falling around him, it would have seemed to Jared that everything had stopped. He half-crouched, expectantly, bracing for the next attack, trying to decide what to do. He stared at his attackers, trying to determine who they were, what they wanted. Both were dressed entirely in black with slightly oversized jeans and hoodies that made it difficult to determine their exact proportions. Their hoodies were pulled up over their heads and they had masks pulled over their face so all Jared could see were their angry eyes and their grinning mouths.

"Han ser sliten ut."

The voice was young, but strong. And definitely male. Jared figured the rain and the ringing in his ears had muddled the words a bit. He tilted his head and stared back at the speaker. But the next words came from the other attacker. The voice was similar in tone. A little more gruff, probably a little older, but still definitely male and just as difficult to understand.

"Tror du vi har gett honom nog att tänka på?"

At this, both of the boys stared at Jared and changed their stance, staring at him inquisitively. Jared straightened slightly, but still kept his feet planted and his legs tense, ready to spring away at any instant. The second speaker chuckled and mumbled something to the firts at which they both burst out laughing.

Jared watched in confusion and anxiety as his two attackers started walking, not towards him, but towards each other. They continued talking to each other in hushed tones and started patting each other on their shoulders. Jared continued to stare at them, worried about what they were planning for him. But after a few seconds of talking, Jared decided it was time to make a run for it.

In an instant, he was sprinting across the road. He didn't risk a look back until he hopped over the curb on the other side and then he glanced over his shoulder without slowing his pace as he angled towards the corner to continue running down the side street. Looking back, he saw that his attackers weren't following. He slowed slightly and finally turned and looked back at them.

The two boys were staring across the road talking to each other and motioning at Jared but not showing any intention of pursuit. As Jared watched his attackers, they took a step towards the curb on their side of the road. Jared took half a step backwards in anticipation of running but they stopped at the edge of the sidewalk.

One of the boys waved at Jared and shouted something to him, laughing as he spoke.

"Adjö Jared. Adjö."

Then he laughed harder and harder until he started coughing and doubled over with his hands on his knees as he continued to laugh. The other boy waved slowly at Jared and spoke.

"Thank you for your time. We will see you later."

Finally Jared understood the words, although he was still confused at their meaning or the meaning of anything that had happened. A moment later, the final speaker patted his laughing companion on the back. They each pulled down their hoods and turned around. As they did so, they pulled the masks off of their heads. Jason saw a mop of curly blonde hair erupt on one of the boys, the one who had been laughin. The other boy had bits of brown stubble on his mostly shaved head. Jared heard hints of voices as they walked away.

For almost a second, Jared thought about running after them. About sprinting across the road and slamming into their backs, knocking them to the ground and kicking them while they were down. As he did so, he felt surges of pain through his entire body. His stomach. His hips. His back. Everything ached. The adrenaline began to ebb away and he suddenly felt tired. Exhausted. Sore. But mostly he felt confused.

He took a step to the side and leaned against a wet tree. Across the road he watched as his recent attackers slowly walked across the distance of the school parking lot, growing smaller and smaller. Finally, they turned and continued walking behind the school and disappeared from view. Jared continued staring through the rainy air, wondering what had just happened. And why.

Eventually, he steadied himself and walked back across the road. On the ground near where this had all started, he retrieved his fallen backpack. One of his folders had slid partly out of the inside pocket and was completely soaked. Fortunately the notes and assignments in that particular folder were unimportant and could easily be discarded or replaced. With a shrug, he shook the folder to spray off the majority of the water and then shoved it back in his bag.

Looking around to make sure he hadn't missed anything else in the soggy grass, Jared noticed a small silver packet lying next to where he'd just picked up his bag. He reached down and picked it up. It was about the size and shape of an envelope, but thick in the center and wrapped in tinfoil. He turned it over in his hands, unsure what to make of it. In all likelihood it was just coincidence that he had dropped his backpack next to this envelope. Still, it felt strange.

He found an edge of the foil and started working to unwrap it when suddenly the whole thing began to buzz and vibrate. Jared dropped the small packet and jumped backwards in spite of himself. He hurriedly glanced over his shoulders, looking to see if anyone else had seen or heard what had happened. But the school grounds were empty. Not many people are usually found on the front lawn of the High School at 5 o'clock on a Tuesday.

The package stopped buzzing as soon as it hit the ground. Jared stared down at it from a few feet away, unsure what to do. Then it buzzed again. A few raindrops had settled on the tinfoil and they shook and shimmered as the package buzzed. Jared hesitantly took a step forward and crouched slightly to look closer at the package. As he did, it stopped buzzing again. He cocked his head to the side and continued his slow approach.

As the package buzzed a third time, Jared felt a sense of clarity come to his head and he made a quick connection. He scooped up the packet and peeled back the tinfoil. Inside was a small envelope and when he pulled open the flap he found, as he had recently deduced, a cell phone. The phone buzzed again and Jared pulled it out of the envelope to answer it.

"Hello."

There was no response.

"Hello?"

Again, only silence replied. Then Jared jumped slightly as a female voice spoke through the phone.

"It's about time Jared. I was begining to think you weren't going to answer."

Jared looked around again, seeking some reassurance that he wasn't part of some elaborate prank. The voice continued speaking.

"You should probably get in out of the rain. Go take a warm bath to cool the chill and to ease the pain. You must be sore after that beating they gave you."

"Who are you? Where are you?"

Jared spun in a circle now, peering through the rain for sign of someone, anyone, watching him. The voice continued as though he hadn't said anything.

"Once you're warm and rested up a bit, I will call you again. Keep the phone close. We're going to have a lot to talk about you and I."

"What do you mean? Who are you?"

"You've been chosen Jared. I meant to contact you sooner, before they found you. But in that I obviously failed. Don't worry though. I won't fail you again."

"What are you talking about? Chosen for what? Some kind of joke? What is this?"

"I'll explain it all soon enough. Just know that you are safe. For now. And if you trust me, I will keep you that way. Now go home and take care of yourself. We'll talk again in the morning."

"No! We'll talk now. Hello?"

A second later, the phone gave a soft *ding* in Jared's ear and the screen gave a standard "call ended" message. Jared pulled up the call record. An unknown anonymous number. Jared stared around him again. The light was growing dimmer. At the edges of the parking lot, a few of the street lights were flickering on, sending strange halos of light through the rain.

A shiver ran through Jared's body and he was again reminded of the pain and cold pulsing over him. He stuffed the phone into his pocket, threw his backpack over his shoulder and started walking to his car. He replayed the past few minutes in his mind, trying to make sense of them, but no sense would come. He reached his car just as confused.

He dropped his backpack on the floor of the back seat and slid into the driver's seat. As he did, the bruises and aches of his body sent shock waves of pain pulsing through him. He winced in pain and then settled back in the seat. As he started the engine and shifted into gears, he felt his body shudder involuntarily and tears began to well in his eyes. He was confused, hurt, and scared. He tried to swallow down the tears, but they slowly trickled down his cheeks.

Slowly Jared pulled out of the parking lot and drove home. Whatever was going on, he agreed with the girl on the phone. He needed warmth and rest. After that, he would work on making sense of all of this.

Wednesday Writings # 46 - The Race Is On

Welcome to my weekly "Wednesday Writing" post. These weekly exercises serve as motivation to ensure that I spend at least 30-60 minutes each week doing some creative writing. In the ideal week, I will write every day. But at the very least, I will do at least one writing segment which I will share here on my blog.

These are very quick 'free write' sessions without editing, planning, etc.

I invite and love feedback - criticism, praise, whatever. Just let me know what you think.

I do this equally for myself and to share.

Enjoy.

---

The Race Is On

Carmen had always scoffed at descriptions of muscles rippling and trembling with raw power and energy but as the animal had pressed itself to full height and let out it's ear shattering war cry the beast's muscles did just that. The few seconds she had watched at the creature had sent fear shuddering through her body. It's entire body had pulsed and flexed as it ominously lept across the ten foot chasm that jutted across the ruins of the throne room. As it landed, the entire tomb shook violently and crumbling stones fell from the walls and ceiling of the room. Beneath its huge feet crumpled the form of Dr. Samuelson, his entire body nearly completely hidden by the huge black feet that covered him. In her memory's eye she could still see Dr. Samuelson's left leg twitching from beneath the beast's foot.

Carmen remembered in horror watching as Doug stood paralyzed just a few feet into the room. She screamed for him to run. She violently shook the rope that stretched nearly twenty feet down to him from the upper corridor in which she stood watching the horrible events unfold. The animal had glanced up at her momentarily. As its steely smart eyes met hers, she felt as if the beast was somehow trying to communicate to her. As though it was calmly threatening her. Telling her to be patient. That the beast was telling her that it would be coming for her in a moment once it had disposed of the readily available prey standing near it.

Carmen's lip had quivered as the beast turned its gaze back to Doug. Carmen screamed again for him to run, frantically flapping the rope against the wall of the room. Doug turned and scrambled the few feet to the wall. He gripped the rope in his hands and pressed his feet against the wall before looking up and smiling at Carmen. She smiled back at him and for a moment the world felt almost peaceful as their eyes locked and she felt the gentle warmth of his eyes talking with hers. Then a snarl errupted from the beast and she looked up to see it scraping its claws over the remains of Dr. Samuelson before slowly taking a step forward. Its lips curled and a soft growl rumbled from between the gleaming sharpness of partially exposed teeth. Carmen looked back down just in time to see Doug wink at her and mouth the words 'I LOVE YOU'. Then he glanced back over his shoulder and Carmen could see his body grow tense with fear.

"Run Carmen! Get out of here!"

He shouted up at her without looking back up. She was about to shout back in protest. To tell him to just climb. When in a blur, the animal shot across the room and Doug disappeared beneath a flash of sleek black muscle and fur. Carmen felt her heart, stomach, and lungs all make a mad dash to the top of her throat. Meanwhile, her head spun and she felt suddenly dizzy. Without thinking any more, she turned and ran, fleeing as fast as she could from the grotesque crunches and gurgles rumbling in the throne room.

As she stooped to pick up her pack from the middle of the corridor, she heard the beast roar once more followed by a muffled crash and the scraping of claws against rock. Whipping the backpack over her shoulder, Carmen risked another glance behind her. Another crash echoed against the stone walls, accompanied by the harsh scraping sound. But what terrified her more was seeing a huge black paw with claws extended scraping along the edge of the corridor's opening into the thrown room. One claw caught the rope and started to use it for leverage for a split second before the rope strained and broke, sending the animal falling back to the floor with a howl of rage.

Not waiting for its next attempt to reach the corridor, Carmen had taken off at a sprint. She'd paid close attention to the map as Dr. Samuelson had presented it that morning, and yet she worried that she would be lost. That she would find herself at the end of a long corridor with no escape, waiting in fear for the beast to track her down. The first small passageway was easy enough to recognize and she was sure she was still on the right track because she exited right beside one of the flares they had left burning near the wall. But the second passage left her less sure.

She had to crawl through a small tunnel, pushing her backpack in front of her, for nearly ten feet before emerging in a hexagonal room with corridors branching off on the three walls in front of her. She remembered from the map that one corridor led back towards the throne room through a more circuitous route. Taking this route would eventually allow her to return to the surface, but in all likelihood it would place her back on the path with the beast somewhere between her and the exit. Another wound its way upward and connected back to the main large chamber they used to come down. This path, Dr. Samuelson had explained, was only partially excavated and had two portions where a person would have to squeeze between through and around collapsed walls and ceilings. She couldn't remember where the third corridor led.

A mistake here could mean certain freedom. She was nearly positive that the hall on the far right was the unknown pathway but she couldn't remember which door led out, the left or the center. It had taken the group nearly thirty minutes of walking to travel from the entrance to the throne room. According to Dr. Samuelson the less traveled routes would remove nearly ten minutes from their time but would involve numerous tight passageways and a few areas that may have caved in entirely. Still, in order to escape, Carmen knew she had to take the shortest possible path.

Burying her face in her backpack, she smelled the soft scent of Doug's shirt tucked inside. She had closed her eyes and willed him to help her. To guide her. No such inspiration came. Her body trembled as she heard the distant roar of the animal. The thick stone walls both muffled and echoed the noise making it impossible to determine not only how far away it was but through which corridor it was approaching. Steeling herself, she pulled the pack over her shoulders and sprinted through the central door. The uneven path meandered softly back and forth for a hundred yards like a slow moving river.

Then the hall turned tight to the right and sloped downward so suddenly that, due to her speed, Carmen scuffed and skidded nearly a dozen feet before being able to stop herself. Glancing ahead and behind she was uncertain as to what she should do. Based on the steepness of the slope, she was almost certain this path would take her deeper into the tomb. Her memory of the third tunnel provided no hope of it reaching the exit but she couldn't remember if it arrived at any other location that might provide her safety until a rescue party came for her. IF anyone came for her.

And yet if she turned around and returned to the hexagonal room to take the other corridor, she would be backtracking and giving up any time advantage she had on the beast. She had been forced to crawl through the passageway to that central room. She was nearly certain that the animal would not be able to follow her through the short tunnel. Nearly certain. Still, she'd seen other feline creatures squeeze their ways into difficult spots and she wasn't willing to risk running straight into the waiting claws of her predator. Instead, she turned and raced downward along the corridor.

The incline was so steep that she didn't dare sprint fully for fear of falling over. After nearly a minute of downward progression, the dirt floor evened off and began to circle to the left. Somewhere behind and above her, she still heard echoes of the beast working its way through the halls searching its prey. Searching for her. The noise was more quiet and distant which gave her renewed hope. Her breathing was haggard and her muscles ached so she pressed her back against the wall and leaned over, her hands on her knees for support. She breathed in deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth, focusing on steadying herself. On preparing for the rest of her escape. Images of Doug and Dr. Samuelson kept trying to form in her mind but she forced them away, pushed them down, in order to calm her mind. With one final breath she turned and started to jog along the corridor.

The path continued to turn to the left ever so gradually and Carmen was sure there was a soft upward incline as though she was working her way back to the surface. Her earlier fears began to dissipate as the incline grew steeper and curved more sharply to the left. She felt her calves strain work harder as they climbed and she reveled joyfully in the added work. She was almost certainly on the path to the exit. She was sure of it.

Somewhere ahead she heard another rumbling. Not the animal. This sound was low and constant. Suddenly she remembered the river. An underground river that ran beside the main path about a third of the way into the tomb. Exhilerated by the promise of escape, Carmen sprinted up the hill. The corridor stopped curving to the left and flattened out. She heard the sound of the river somewhere ahead of her. Her feet pounded against the uneven dirt floor, the sound of her footfalls echoing off the earthen walls. Then, somewhere to her left, she heard the explosive roar of the beast. The sound was so sudden and loud that it almost stopped her. Indeed, it slowed her down to a steady jog. Shaking her head she pressed herself back to a run and continued on.

A moment later she came to a crossroads. Two openings cut off the main path, one to the left and one to the right. She paused momentarily to look down each. Neither looked particularly unique. The one ambling to the right appeared more hazardous as part of the wall was collapsed a few feet down the path, but otherwise they were non-descriptly identical to the path she was currently on. Hearing the sound of the river somewhere ahead of her, she raced forward. She didn't remember a crossroads on the map, but Dr. Samuelson had probably just glanced over it.

Finally, the path widened and opened into a cavernous room formed of earth and rock. Rocks and a few logs lay strewn about the floor of the cavern. Carmen's heart lept when she saw, ahead and to her left, the rushing movement of the underground river. She raced forward and half giggled in joy at seeing the water rushing by. Her joy faded immediately on looking across the river and seeing a well worn earthen path twisting alongside it. And in the middle of the path glowed the reddish pink flame of the flare she had set down as they descended to the throne room. Somehow she had gotten on the wrong side of the river.

Frantically she looked left and right, scanning for some way to cross. To reach the main corridor. Far to her right she saw her own cavern shrink down and disappear into the darkness of another passageway. Despair wrapped around her heart and squoze tightly with each beating of her pulse. She tipped her head back and let out a wailing scream of frustration. As she glanced around to determine her options, she realized the mistake of her futile scream. An enormous roar erupted in the distance from somewhere in front of her. She stared in horror across the river and listened to the quick pounding footfalls of something heavy bounding through the tunnels on the other side. She shuffled a dozen steps backwards, her eyes focused on the flickering flame of the flare.

With another terrifying roar, the animal emerged from the side corridor and planted itself forcefully on the ground beside the flare. It was turned to the side such that Carmen could view the full profile of the beast. The dancing light of the flare reflected off its sleek black coat giving a shimmering shine to its fur. Carmen watched for a moment as the animal sniffed and snorted at the air then turned to look across the river. Their eyes met once again and Carmen could feel the hatred bristling through the creature as it surveyed her. The river was nearly fifty feet across and moving rapidly. On the cat's side there was nearly one hundred feet of accessible shoreline but on Carmen's side only twenty feet of her cavern opened to the river. She wondered for a moment if the beast would attempt to cross the river. Then it snarled at her and vanished into the darkness. It was gone so fast, Carmen wasn't sure which direction it had run.

She looked quickly at the two exits available to her. Returning the way she had come once again seemed more dangerous. So she turned to the right and raced through the black corridor. The darkness quickly became stifling and Carmen had to stop and pull her pack in front of her. She riffled in the front pocket and pulled out a glow stick. With a sharp crack and a quick shake, the corridor glowed an eerie green. She flung the pack back over her shoulders and tied the glow stick to one of the straps and began to run again.

The tunnel began to slope downward again. The passageway started to narrow and the ceiling inched its way lower and lower. Carmen felt her breathing grow shallow as she felt the anxiety grow. Her legs were burning from the constant running and her lungs were on fire. She paused for a moment, considering the fact that she was just running towards her own death. That regardless of which way she went, she would meet her own death. Perhaps it would be better to walk slowly and deliberately. At least then she could approach it with her head held high and her body feeling strong and confident.

In her mind flashed the final memory of Doug, staring up at her and whispering that he loved her. Courage flared in her heart again and her resolve surged. She pushed herself to a sprint and lunged through the shrinking passage. She tried to listen for sounds of the river. Or perhaps of the beast in pursuit. Instead, her blood pounded in her ears. The din in her head muffled any sound coming from the world around her. The path flattened out again and rounded softly to the right before emptying into another large cavern. This one presented a number of exists, none of which looked any more promising than the other.

She shrugged and laughed then extended her hand and pointed to each passage in turn.

"Eenie. Meenie. Miney. Moe. Catch a tiger..."

It wasn't a tiger that pursued her, but the word caught in her throat all the same and a shudder ran through her body. She cleared her throat and straightened herself against the darkness. Then, as if in defiance against her pursuer, she started towards the passage she had just labeled as "tiger."

Before she reached the entry to the passage, a rumble burst around her and the ground began to shake. She looked around in confusion. Green shadow and light danced off the jagged cavern walls. She fell to her knees and began to crawl in panic towards the side of the cavern. She'd grown up in Southern California. She'd been through so many earthquakes she'd lost count. As she neared the cavern wall she screamed back at the shaking rock around her.

"If I'm going to die today, it's not from some earthquake! I could have done that back home!"

In spite of the angry confidence in her voice she slinked to the floor, pulled her legs to her chest and waited for the shaking to stop. She heard the crashing and shifting of rocks and earth somewhere nearby and prayed that the walls around her would stay as they were. A moment later, the world was still. She stared up at the walls around her and laughed.

"That's right. You'll stop shaking if you know what's good for you."

As she pressed herself to her feet she decided she was delirious from the fear and anxiety of the past ten minutes. A cool breeze blew through the cavern and she shivered in spite of herself. Then she paused and cocked her head. A breeze meant air. And air meant an opening. She raced ecstatically through the passage and welcomed the feeling of cool air racing towards her. This was it. The way out!

The passage was short and skinny, but it continued on ahead of her as far as she could see which wasn't very far since the glow stick didn't provide much light and what it did provide had a hard time penetrating very far through this darkness. As cramped as the passage was, Carmen had to slow to a soft jog. But the feeling of the cool breeze on her cheeks reassured her that she was close enough to escape that slowing her pace was acceptable. And since she was no longer running, she decided to stop and retrieve her flashlight from the pack.

As she did so, she heard the roar of the beast behind her once again. It was still distant enough that the sound was muffled. But hearing it let Carmen know that it was still on her trail. That, for whatever purpose, it still hunted her. She flicked on her flashlight and shone it down through the passage in front of her. The passage continued to grow wider and wider until it was nearly as wide as the main passage she had come through with Doug and Dr. Samuelson. The flashlight was powerful, built for this kind of exploration. And yet its beam still died out before making contact with any wall at the far end of the passage.

With the tunnel wider now, Carmen returned to a brisk jog. She held tight to the flashlight and kept the light shining ahead of her, hoping for some signal that would indicate her proximity to an exit. At one point a small passage jutted to the right but a quick shine of the flashlight showed that it was mostly occluded by a pile of rocks barely ten feet down the passage. So she continued on.

After another minute, she heard the animal roar behind her again, louder this time. Another small burst of cold air whisked through the tunnel and turned the sweat on her arms and neck to small prickles of icy cold. She shivered and continued on.

Another roar, louder still. Carmen turned her brisk jog into a solid run, glancing briefly over her shoulder but seeing nothing through the darkness. Looking back ahead of her she saw her flashlight beam hit solid rock perhaps twenty feet ahead as the tunnel veered to the left.

Carmen spun around the corner and stumbled to her hands and knees as the uneven floor sloped upward, her backpack strap snapping as she fell. She felt a twinge of relief as she saw, far in the distance, a faint glimmer of daylight.

Her relief was quickly overcome by her urgency as she felt the tunnel walls tremble and heard a deafening roar explode somewhere behind her. The overpowering volume of the sound made it impossible to determine exactly how far the beast was behind her. Still she wondered how it had caught up with her so fast. How had it crossed over to this side of the river and still managed to catch up with her again. The animal was huge, powerful and fast. But most of all, it was determined. A flood of fear and adrenaline pulsed through her body, pushed her to her feet and sent her sprinting forward once again.

She dropped the flashlight as she ran, its beam shining blindly against a side wall. Her heart pounded against her chest as fast as her feet beat against the floor. The pinprick of light in the distance grew gradually larger with each step.

Another roar came, even louder than the last. It was very close now. Could it see her? She didn't dare look back for fear of seeing its hideous face bounding through the darkness. The backpack bounced unsteadily from one shoulder, the broken strap doing nothing for support. She let it fall behind her, sliding gently down her arm as she raced on.

Another roar errupted behind her. Carmen didn't have to look back to feel that the beast was nearly upon her. She almost felt as though its hot breath was burning against her back. The opening ahead of hear grew larger with each stride. She could see her freedom approaching. She was nearly there.

Fifty feet.

Forty.

Thirty.

She began to distinguish shapes silhouetted against the white light of the opening. A hint of a tree branch, its leaves shimmering.

The animal snarled. She heard the footfalls as it flew along the passageway. She heard the rasping and scraping and tearing as it tore into the discarded backpack.

Ten feet. She could see the exit clearly now. Not as big as the entrance she'd come through with Doug and Dr. Samuelson, but a way out.

Five feet. She heard the angry pursuit of the beast behind her. She saw the crisp brownness of the earth and sharp greenness of the leaves and grass just beyond the cave.

She pressed her chest forward and raised her chin like a sprinter ready to cross the finish line and break the tape.

She burst into the sunlight and stumbled into a rolling fall down the rock cragged hillside. As she slid she heard a whooshing of air and looked up to see an enormous black shadow of muscle and fur flying through the air a dozen feet over her head. It had burst out of the tunnel just after her and plunged itself into a full powered leap at her, not realizing the sudden slope of the hill.

She flailed her arms and legs to grab at roots and rocks and stop her from sliding further. She focused her gaze on the animal as it continued its strange arc through the air. As she stopped, Carmen took in her surroundings and felt her breath catch in her throat as she watched the enormous animal soar for another half dozen feet before disappearing over the edge of a small ridge. Just beyond the ridge, Carmen saw the rushing water of the river, snaking its way towards the edge of the mountain where it disappeared into a large cavern.

With a splash and a snarling growl, the animal was gone. Pain and exhaustion surged through Carmen's body. For the next few seconds she worried that the beast would crawl up the side of the river bank and be back for her. But after a minute had passed, her fears swam away with the river. She gave herself a couple more minutes to regain her composure and then stood and began walking upstream to find a way across the river before the beast returned.

Wednesday Writings # 45 - Evading Fault

Welcome to my weekly "Wednesday Writing" post. These weekly exercises serve as motivation to ensure that I spend at least 30-60 minutes each week doing some creative writing. In the ideal week, I will write every day. But at the very least, I will do at least one writing segment which I will share here on my blog.

These are very quick 'free write' sessions without editing, planning, etc.

I invite and love feedback - criticism, praise, whatever.  Just let me know what you think.

I do this equally for myself and to share.

This week I decided to experiment a little with form/voice/etc. Let me know what you think

Enjoy.

---

Evading Fault

Yes I can keep it secret. Can YOU keep it secret?

OK. Good. So, what do we do about it? We can't tell anyone about it. And we can't let mom or dad find out. But what do we do?

I still can't believe you opened the door. What do you mean it's my fault? If you hadn't opened the door and let him in, there wouldn't be any problem!

Fine!

You're right. We can fight about this later. Right now we have to figure out what to do. We can't leave him here. But where do we take him? Maybe we should call Ben. He'd have some ideas and he's stronger than us. He could help us lift…

Alright. ALRIGHT! Just the two of us.

Do you think you can drive dad's car? If we wrap him in a blanket or something we could carry him out to dad's car and drive him somewhere.

I don't know where. Somewhere. Anywhere!

Once we get rid of him, then we can come back and clean up the kitchen.

So what. Bring your learner's permit. If we get pulled over, the least of our problems is you not having a license.

I know dad's car is a stick.

Well, how hard could it be?

No I can't do it.

'Cause I can't reach the pedals well enough to push in the clutch. It's gotta be you.

Alright. Then what do you suggest?

You actually think they won't see him outside?

Yeah. Okay, we'll both distract them and keep them from going out back. But what about when we try to sneak him into mom's car?

They don't sleep THAT soundly. Plus then we've got Sarah to deal with. You know she won't keep quiet. I still say we do it now. Maybe we could throw him over the back fence.

There's never anybody home there. Not since she went to the hospital.

What? No!

Yeah, but breaking the window won't help.

Why would somebody smash in the window just to steal him?

Let's leave the door open instead.

Yeah, but we're going to get blamed anyway. I don't want to have to pay for the window too.

No way. You break the window and I'm out of here. You can deal with him yourself.

Good.

Fine.

So go get a blanket and let's get him out back. I'll make sure nobody's in Sam's yard.

Fine. Just hurry!

Sam's yard's empty. Come help.

Ugh. He stinks. Why does dad love him so much?

Whoa. Gross! You broke his arm off. Just keep going. Hurry.

Watch out for the door.

OK. Yeah. Probably over there by the corner. We can pull over the chair.

OK. Now you climb up and I'll push.

Ready? Well hurry. Ready?

OK. Here we go.

Yuck. That sounded gross. Hahaha. You're a mess. He totally slimed all over your shirt.

Ugh. Gross. I hate you!

Fine. Fine. Let's go clean up. But once we're done, you're dead.

You start scrubbing over there and I'll get rid of these other big pieces. We should probably vacuum too.

Fine. I'll scrub. But you're the vacuum.

**********

Finally. Yuck. I'm sticky all over.

Yeah, well shut the door next time.

OK. Let me change my shirt and then we can go.

Don't forget to leave the door open. No, just a little bit so it looks like somebody closed it maybe. Yeah. That looks good.

Come on.

**********

"David? Max? Your dad's on the phone."

I'll get it.

No I won't.

Shut up!

Hi dad.

Yeah, Max is here too. Is it time to come home?

No. I'm pretty sure we shut the door. Max was the last one out.

Ow. Stop that.

Max, did you leave the door open?

Max says he closed it. Yeah, he's sure. What's the matter?

What? Are you sure?

Well, yeah. I guess. But who would steal Chief?

OK. Yeah. Yeah. We'll be there in a few minutes.

OK. Bye.



Shut up! He could still find him. Come on. He wants us to come home.

********

Yeah dad! It's us! OK. We'll be right there.

Just shut up. It'll be fine.

Ow. Stop that Sarah! Yeah, hi dad.

Um, yeah. It does look pretty good.

Maybe. I think mom vacuumed this morning.

Oh. Well, maybe whoever stole him did it.

Shut up Max, you don't know. Maybe he did.

I don't know…whoa. Where did you find that?

Why would they take Chief and leave his arm in the garbage.

I….

Um….

No. No. I love Chief.

Yeah. I…

OK.

What? Yeow. No. I don't know! Ow ow ow. I'm going. I'm going!

******

I told you they'd find it. We should've taken him in dad's car.

Yeah, but I forgot that Sarah likes to play over there.

How were we supposed to hide him better? How do you hide a ten foot wooden indian?

Shut up. It's not my fault. No it's not.

No.

No!

NO!


Yeah. Sorry dad. OK.

Yeah. We'll be quiet.

Sorry.

Wednesday Writings # 44 - A Coming of Age Celebration

Welcome to my weekly "Wednesday Writing" post. These weekly exercises serve as motivation to ensure that I spend at least 30-60 minutes each week doing some creative writing. In the ideal week, I will write every day. But at the very least, I will do at least one writing segment which I will share here on my blog.

These are very quick 'free write' sessions without editing, planning, etc.

I invite and love feedback - criticism, praise, whatever.  Just let me know what you think.

I do this equally for myself and to share.

In honor of Edgar Allan Poe's birthday today, I thought I'd do something that had some sort of strange eerie twist...unfortunately since I was just free writing very rapidly, there are more questions and loose ends than there should be and this ended up being a little disjointed in points. Still, it was fun to write and gives me some fun ideas to work with later.

Enjoy.

---

A Coming of Age Celebration

Jane stood at the balcony and stared down at the crowd. More than a hundred people idly mingled around the ballroom, yet they made very little noise. A muffled din stretched to her ears. Muffled whispers. An occasional laugh. The clinking of glasses against metal trays as people took a drink from the roving servers.

The light in the ballroom was dim, but bright enough that Jane could make out individual faces. Near the head table, her parents smiled gracefully but with an awkward nervousness. Seated near them, Jane's grandfather held hands with her grandmother and whispered something in her ear that made her grandmother nod and smile.

Elsewhere in the room Jane noted other relatives, friends, acquaintances and near strangers. Her great-aunt Lara or Lana, June could never remember which, leaned against the piano, her fingers twitching softly, longing to play. June's older sister Nichole along with Nichole's boyfriend-of-the-month huddled in a corner and exchanged furtive passionate kisses when they thought no one was looking. Jane's recently divorced Girl Scout Leader, shuffled around the room beaming smiles at every man she came across . Her boss from Tasty Squeeze, Mr. MacMurry, slowly circled a pair of circular tables in a perfect figure-eight, like a bee circling a pair of flowers trying to decide the best one on which to land.

Jane took a deep breath and ran her hands down her dress, smoothing the soft, silky blue fabric and gently fingering the subtle pleats near her waist. She lightly patted her hair and stepped right up to the railing of the balcony and stared down. Even though the people were less than ten feet below her, the complete darkness of the upstairs kept her nearly invisible.

Besides, no one had any reason to look up to the second floor. There were no lights on. Nobody was upstairs except for Jane. There was no activity upstairs and nothing to attract anyone's gaze. Most of the guests weren't informed where to look for Jane's entrance and the rest expected her to enter through the front door. Jane could tell by the awkward looks and hesitant conversations that people were beginning to be concerned about Jane's late arrival. With each passing minute, more and more worry lines grew on her parents' faces and their reassuring smiles shrank in size and duration.

While Jane felt bad about causing concern for her parents and friends, she was honestly debating about whether or not to join the party at all. She knew that this party was all about her. This was the event every young girl anticipated from before she could talk. Preparations were started from the instant a girl was born. Special savings plans and collection efforts were put in place to help girls born into poor families. Girls in prestigious families (daughters of celebrities, politicians and the like) had elaborate, glamorous parties that always made the tabloids, occasionally made prime time news and on some rare occasions were publicized and televised for the world to see. Depending on the family, there was always plenty of media spin and censorship depending on the outcome of the Ritual. The actual details of the Ritual were always completely censored by the media and all party attendees became very tight lipped.

The thought of the Ritual sent a shiver up Jane's spine. Amid all the excitement and buildup regarding the coming of age party details about the Ritual were held in complete secrecy. Even the existence of the Ritual was denied until the girl was at least 12 years of age and entering middle school. At that point she would be enrolled in a special class each year to tell her something about the nature of the Ritual and train her, groom her, prepare her.

Even once she was told about the Ritual, the exact details of each individual Ritual was kept absolutely secret until the evening of the celebration. Only a small team of Social Workers were privy to the specific details of the Ritual and each member of the team was only given part of the details. Just enough to get the job done. The full details of each Ritual were stored and disseminated to the Workers on the evening of the celebration.

Jane had tried to press her Ritual Instructors for more information about the Ritual, but none of them were willing to go into any specifics. Last spring, the daughter of a Senator had failed her Ritual and a large report was printed in the weekend paper about the nature of the party. The food that was served. The music that played. Apparently there was even some outrageous daredevil style stunt show followed by a vaudeville style musical number. Nothing was said about the Ritual beyond the fact that the girl apparently failed the Ritual, whatever that meant.

A few weeks later, Jane read a story about the Senator and his family. The story included three pictures. In two of the pictures, the girl was generally occluded by shrubs, people or other objects. But in the third picture Jane noticed that the daughter's right leg was in a cast. This caused her to look closer at all the pictures. She noticed subtle scrapes and bruises partially covered up by makeup. She showed it to her teacher who brushed it aside as nothing. Totally unrelated to the Ritual, Jane's teacher assured her.

But this made Jane pay closer attention to reports on other Rituals. Comparing "before" and "after" photographs, she noted that even with successful Rituals, the "after" pictures showed evidence of injuries, some more minor than other. Jane once again confronted her parents. Her teacher. Some of her friends who had already had their parties. No one would say anything about the Ritual, either positive or negative.

Jane was certain that the Ritual was more than a simple Coming of Age ceremony. There was something inherently dangerous about the Ritual, whatever it was. In spite of all the celebratory excitement around the party and the many wonderful gifts and opportunities that would be available to her now that she was eighteen and officially a woman, she was dreading going through whatever Ritual was required of her to make the transition to womanhood.

She stared back over the balcony. A small crowd had gathered around her parents. Voices were still subdued, but Jane could tell from the gesticulations that the conversation was heated. She watched as her father took out his cell phone and dialed a number. A wry smile crossed her face as she quickly panned her gaze over to the corner by the piano. A rapid and noisy ringtone erupted from within the piano and made her great-aunt jump so suddenly that she actually fell onto the piano bench which subsequently tumbled over and dumped her great-aunt on her backside with her skirts flying up in the air.

Jane laughed in spite of herself but quickly brought her hand to her mouth and looked around to see if anyone had heard her. With all of the commotion, it didn't appear that anyone had heard her. Jane giggled slightly under her breath as she watched a pair of men, her distant cousins, struggle to upright their mother who swatted at them with her purse. Jane's elation quickly faded as she realized she needed to face her fate.

With a sigh, she turned and started walking for the stairway leading down to the main floor. At just that moment, the front door of the ballroom burst open and a small crowd entered. Jane strained to see who it was but didn't recognize anyone apart from her Ritual Instructor. In the middle of the group stood a young woman in a dress very similar to the one Jane wore. The same general cut and pattern. The same deep shimmering blue fabric. As the young woman wriggled in the arms of the two men beside her, Jane noticed a flash of light and recognized her own bracelet clasped around the wrist of the woman. Two men held the woman tightly. A black canvas bag was draped over the girl's head.

Jane watched in horror as her teacher stepped forward and raised her arms for silence.

"The Ritual of Jane Faramore is prepared. Bring forth the Subject."

The crowd fell silent. The only sound was the struggles of the young woman being dragged forcibly a few steps forward.

"Bring forth the Ritual."

In a loud scraping of metal and wood, a huge box was wheeled out from somewhere under the balcony where Jane stood. She looked down directly at the box, an enormous black form at least eight or ten feet high and twice as wide and deep. As the box passed beneath her, she heard mechanical sounds from within and she shuddered involuntarily. She then realized that she was directly over the box and stepped back slightly for fear of being seen. Her worry was in vain as everyone was staring intently at Jane's teacher.

"Place the Subject into her Ritual."

Jane felt her heart pounding against her rib cage as the girl was pulled forward the remaining few steps. From somewhere beside the box a man appeared dressed all in black and wearing a black hood with a pair of small eye holes that allowed him to see. He removed a large key from within the folds of his dark clothing and, with a majestic flourish, opened a door in the box. He then stepped forward and placed one hand on each of the girl's shoulders and pulled her forward step by step.

Standing behind her, he positioned her directly in front of the box. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear then removed his hands from her shoulders and raised them high in the air for the crowd to see. A mumble broke out among the crowd followed by a sporadic applause that quickly became a roar that drowned out any sound. The man held out the large key dramatically and then lowered it into the girl's hand. Her hand clasped the key and Jane noticed that the girl was trembling slightly.

The horror racing through Jane's mind was suddenly subdued by the guilt she felt as she realized that this girl was being placed into the Ritual instead of Jane. Jane screamed and shouted over the balcony, frantically waving her arms for them to stop. No one heard her. She turned and sprinted for the stairs. Once she tripped over her high heels which she hurriedly kicked off before running again. In a moment she was down the stairs. No one in the crowd noticed her. They all continued to focus on the girl and the box.

Even as Jane pushed through the crowd, begging and screaming for the people to stop, the party guests continued to shout and applaud. Their shouts almost became a chant and their clapping began to take on an eerie rhythm that seemed to match the pounding of Jane's heart. She elbowed her way to the front of the crowd just in time to see the man in black yank the hood off the young girl. In a brief instant, Jane's eyes met the eyes of the girl and she recognized the terror mirrored there. Then, the man in black gave a forceful push to the back and the girl was through the door and into the box to begin the Ritual.

Jane screamed and rushed forward. The door was slowly falling closed. For the first time, the people noticed the young girl racing frantically towards the box. Jane slid across the floor and reached out for the door. Her fingertips caught the heavy metal and stopped it from closing. A gasp and murmuring burst out all around her, but Jane ignored it. Instead, she stood and stepped to the door. As she pulled it open and peered inside, her guilt and terror jumped to a new level.

Staring through the door, Jane saw nothing. The box was empty.

Wednesday Writings # 43 - A Night Out On The Town

Welcome to my weekly "Wednesday Writing" post. These weekly exercises serve as motivation to ensure that I spend at least 30-60 minutes each week doing some creative writing. In the ideal week, I will write every day. But at the very least, I will do at least one writing segment which I will share here on my blog.

These are very quick 'free write' sessions without editing, planning, etc.

I invite and love feedback - criticism, praise, whatever.  Just let me know what you think.

I do this equally for myself and to share.

Enjoy.

---

A Night Out On The Town

Stepping into the night, Jeremy burst into a fit of coughs. The air was so cold, it burned his skin and set his lungs on fire. He pulled his coat tight around him and breathed into his hands, puffing methodically in an effort to create warmth. The taxi whisked away leaving a cloud of exhaust that seemed to hang frozen in the air in front of him.

Jeremy took a step forward and glanced up the street. Another pair of taxis rounded the corner and started towards him but were stopped at a red light at the end of the block. He glanced from side to side and saw three other men and one woman standing on the sidewalk alternating glances between the appoaching taxis and the other people on the walk.

In an instant, Jeremy decided he was NOT in the mood to share a cab with strangers and stepped closer to the curb. He held out his hand and immediately the exposed skin tingled sharply against the cold night air.

As the cars approached he felt someone else close at his side. Jeremy forced himself to ignore the presence, to stay focused on the approaching taxi. But then the person tapped Jeremy on the shoulder.

"Excuse me."

Jeremy continued to stare up the street. The fingers tapped his shoulder again.

"Excuse me. Which way are you headed?"

Repressing a sigh, or at least doing what he could to make it sound non-confrontational, Jeremy glanced over his shoulder. For as weak as the voice had been, Jeremy was shocked at the harsh appearance of the man's face.

His silvery white eyebrows were bushy and full and nearly met in the middle. His nose was a long, bulbous lump protruding from his face with some kind of scar clawing its way up the left side. Below the lumpy nose grew a haggard black mustache, uneven and long, framing the upper lip of a mouth that seemed two sizes too small for the face. From there, the head disappeared into a scarf and the hood of the winter coat.

Jeremy glanced back up to the expectant eyes of his interrogator. The eyes were dim and sunk into his face like valleys surrounding the rounded mountain range between them. His left eye, on the same side as the scar, was a pale blue, almost white, and stared slightly to the left just over Jeremy's shoulder while the other eye, a more natural, albeit still lighter, blue focussed normally on Jeremy.

"In the cab? I was wondering where you're going? I thought maybe we could share a ride."

Jeremy realized he was staring and turned back to look at the taxi which was now nearly at the curb. The man's face hung in front of Jeremy's vision in the small puffs of frozen air that he breathed out with each breath. A chill ran up Jeremy's spine at the prospect of sharing a ride with that man.

"It would just be me and my granddaughter. She's only ten and is really very well behaved. She's waiting just inside. This cold air isn't good for her asthma, you know."

Jeremy watched as the pair of cabs pulled up to the curb. The one in front stopped right next to his outstretched arm. The second car pulled up right behind the first. The other pair of men each fought one another trying to open the door gracefully for the woman between them. She giggled and stumbled off the curb, practically falling into the waiting cab. The nearest man nearly fell over himself trying to catch her. As he helped push her back fully upright, she yelped, glared at him and slapped him so hard he twisted around and found himself staring directly at Jeremy. In the instant he was staring at him, Jeremy thought the man gave a smirk and a wink before turning back to the woman who was now stomping away from the taxi.

"We won't be any trouble. I promise you. Please. If it was only me, I wouldn't pressure you like this. But she's only ten years old. And it's so late. And so cold."

Jeremy realized he was holding open the door. He looked back over his shoulder and stared into the good eye of the man. With a resigned sigh, he muttered his frozen response to the air.

"Fine. Go get the girl. I'll hold the cab for you."

A raggedy slit of a smile erupted under the unkempt mustache and the man turned and hobbled into the theater. As he did, Jeremy noticed for the first time the unwieldy cane and the large winter boots the man wore. He again started to dread having to squeeze beside the man, even if just for a few blocks.

"Hey. You comin' or what?"

"Yeah. Just a minute. The old man's getting his grand daughter."

"Well tell him to hurry up or I'm gonna start the meter anyway."

Jeremy slammed the door shut and stepped to the front of the taxi to lean against the hood. The warmth of the running car felt good against his near frozen legs. He watched the old man inside the lobby glancing from side to side and calling out. From where Jeremy reclined, he couldn't see any girl younger than her early 20s. The driver honked and Jeremy just reached around and waved at the windshield but kept his butt firmly planted on the side of the car. This ride was getting worse and worse. Not only would he be squished alongside a half crippled old man and his snot nosed grandkid, but he'd have to deal with a cranky driver.

As the warmth grew in his backside, he began to consider walking. As if to reiterate his options, an icy wind blew down the street and bit harshly into his exposed cheeks. He turned up his collar and breathed into his hands again then rubbed them against his exposed face.

He craned his neck to try and see into the lobby of the theater. Through the main windows and doors he could no longer see the old man. Ignoring the second honk from the driver, Jeremy glanced at his watch and decided to give the man just two more minutes.

As he turned to tell the driver of the new plan, he noticed a woman running towards him. The same woman he'd seen slap a man a moment ago. The man stood next to the second cab with the door open and his arms out in a pleading gesture. The woman tripped along in her high heels, her feet skidding and slipping slightly on the cold sidewalk, her deep burgandy coat half open and flapping as she hopped towards him.

Her face was smooth and creamy but was traced with shiny streaks from her soft brown eyes down her cheeks to her chin. Each of her perfectly rounded eyes was smattered at the edges with patches of makeup. A small smudge of lipstick, burgundy to match her coat, hung at the right corner of her quivering lips. Her shimmering face was perfectly framed by curly brown hair that had lost its bounce hours ago and was starting to friz as it trailed off beyond her shoulders.

"Please. Can I share your cab? I don't even care where you're going. Please. I can't let him take me home."

Her voice was as blotchy as her makeup, a patchwork set of sounds that were as painfully beautiful and sad as she was. Jeremy reached for the door handle, suddenly feeling better about the ride home. Consoling a distraught beautiful woman sounded like a much better way to spend thirty blocks than to be crunched alongside a crothety older man and his overtired granddaughter.

Jeremy looked over the woman's shoulder at the man standing by the taxi staring back at her. He was tall, well dressed and well groomed. His cheek was red from where she'd slapped him but otherwise he was fairly good looking, not that Jeremy thought much about how other men looked. As Jeremy watched, the man leaned down into the car and said something to the driver, likely convincing him to wait a little longer. The conversation looked to get a little heated and the man started fumbling in his pockets, likely looking for his wallet to give the driver something to make him wait a little longer.

Jeremy looked back at the woman next to him. She gave a little half smile and sniffled. She was about to say something more but then the man at the other taxi started shouting.

"Hey! Don't let her leave. Stop her!"

Jeremy glanced up and saw the man lean down to say something else to the driver then stood and started running towards Jeremy and the woman. Instinctively, Jeremy stepped around the woman and placed himself between her and the charging man. Then he shifted his stance and waited for the approaching man. When he was only a yard or two away, Jeremy shifted again and swung out his arms in a whirlwind of motion. His fist connected with the man's face and sent him reeling back towards the theater entrance. He spun around and fell to his knees, coughing and groaning softly.

Jeremy quickly stepped back to the cab and put his fingers on the door handle. As he pulled open the door he heard a clattering of footsteps on the sidewalk. He looked up and saw a small girl in a full length pink coat rushing towards the cab. Shining blond ringlets bounced around her smiling little face. Jeremy heard her giggle as she lept from the curb into the taxi, slid across the seat and pressed her nose and fingers against the window on the other side to stare out into the night. A few steps behind her, the old man hobbled along, smiling and waving gently at Jeremy.

Jeremy looked up to the woman standing beside him. Her concern and anxiety radiated from her tear filled eyes. Jeremy's own face filled with incredulity and confusion as he tried to determine exactly what was happening. He noticed the woman's mouth move and heard sounds but he wasn't sure what she'd said. He nodded absently and she threw her arms around him and pressed her lips hard against his cheek.

Her lips were warm and wet against his frozen skin. The contrast stung, but also sent a shudder of warmth pulsing through his body. He heard a jingling sound near his ear, something between a laugh and a cry. Then the woman pulled away and stared at Jeremy, her face so close he could feel her warm breath mingling with his own as it froze in small clouds between them.

"You truly are my saving angel tonight. Thank you. Thank you."

She gave him another soft hug and then slid into the taxi alongside the girl. Jeremy looked into the car and watched as the woman gently patted the girl's back and smiled then complimented the girl on her hair and her coat. A moment later they started giggling like old friends.

Looking back to the sidewalk, Jeremy watched as the old man finally reached him. The old man planted a frail hand on Jeremy's shoulder and gave a toothy smile.

"I thank you my boy. Thank you for waiting on us."

The man started to stoop to get in the car then halted and looked back to Jeremy.

"Did you want to sit by your lady friend? I can sit up front and let you too love birds cuddle."

"Oh, we're not..."

The woman started to answer but was interrupted by the gruff shout from the driver.

"Ain't nobody sittin' up front but me. And y'all ain't gonna be sittin' anywheres unless y'all get in an' we get goin'. So either you get in and tell me where to drop ya. Or I'm gonna leave ya here and go find me a fare what's actually lookin' for a ride."

The old man gave Jeremy a concerned look then looked into the car. His granddaughter smiled back at him and bounced softly on the seat. When the old man looked back, Jeremy just nodded and stepped away from the car.

He watched in cold resignation as the man climbed into the taxi. Jeremy watched the man mumble something to the woman and she leaned against him, wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned down on his shoulder.

Jeremy felt his icy cold blood start to burn as the taxi pulled away from the cab and drove away. He turned to walk back into the theater and suddenly saw a fist plunging forward and slamming into his face. Before he understood what was happening, Jeremy stumbled back and fell to the ground. The frozen sidewalk slammed hard against his back, butt and legs.

Looking up into the crystal clear black and starry sky, Jeremy tried to figure out what had happened. Then a face leaned over him and stared down. It was the man who'd argued with the woman at the cab.

"Think you're some kind of Casanova or something? Saving the damsel in distress? Well, in case you didn't notice, she was the one who slapped me. Just before she stole my wallet."

Jeremy felt a lunging pain in his side as the man kicked him.

"And you just smile and nod and let her wander away free as a bird. You deserve more than I have time to give you. Karma will give you the rest later."

Another shot of pain exploded into Jeremy's right side. He rolled over and clutched his midsection. The icy air burned down his throat and exploded into coughs that set his body convulsing and pain radiating from where he'd been punched and kicked. He twisted onto his side and watched as the man casually walked to the waiting taxi and climbed inside.

Jeremy continued coughing for nearly a full minute. Then he laid himself flat on his back and stared up into the night. The theater marquee had been turned off, letting him see the crystal clear blackness above him and the amazing brightness of the stars. He tried to focus on the stars, to pick out constellations. But his mind wouldn't focus.

A minute later, he realized his back was numb. He rolled onto his knees and pushed himself to his feet. He glanced at the mostly darkened theater and looked at the oversized poster advertising the evening's production.

"When you made me promise to come to the theater, is this what you had in mind?"

He shook his head grimly, remembering the promise he'd made to Ann. A promise he'd thought foolish and silly and hadn't intended to keep. Now, part of him wished he hadn't kept it.

But as he turned back to the empty sidewalk and started walking up the road, he realized that the larger part of him was glad that he had kept the promise.

And he began to whistle as he walked away.

Wednesday Writings # 42 - Recurrent Storms

Welcome to my weekly "Wednesday Writing" post. These weekly exercises serve as motivation to ensure that I spend at least 30-60 minutes each week doing some creative writing. In the ideal week, I will write every day. But at the very least, I will do at least one writing segment which I will share here on my blog.

These are very quick 'free write' sessions without editing, planning, etc.

I invite and love feedback - criticism, praise, whatever.  Just let me know what you think.

I do this equally for myself and to share.

Enjoy.

---

Recurrent Storms

Luke pushed his way through the open doors with three other people scrambling for dryness. The storm had started unexpectedly and with such force that nearly everyone on the sidewalk had darted for the nearest building. And yet, nearly everyone was drenched through at least the first layer of clothing. Most of the crowd had stopped just inside the door and was idly looking around at one another. Luke grunted in soft exasperation and gently shoved his way between the damp shoulders and bodies of those around him.

High above him, fluorescent lights flickered and shone a dull blue-white glow over the moistened jackets and sweaters of the people around him. It was at times like these Luke wished he were taller. The ceiling was practically all he could see beyond the throng of bodies around him. Above the head of those to his right, a large clock hung on the wall, one hand pointing towards the 9 and the other, it seemed, pointing down at Luke.

After a few moments, the crowd dissipated slightly, though Luke was still amazed at just how many people were still ahead of him. As the crowd continued to thin, he was able to make out more details of the building. He'd walked past this mega store dozens of times on his way to his train stop, and yet he'd never stepped inside. Never even had a desire to linger at the windows and steal a glance at the products on display. With a shudder, he remembered why.

On the floor directly in front of him stood a small vinyl dome tent erected near a model tree with two hiking backpacks leaning prominently against the highly unauthentic bark. Nearby sat a small fire pit with blazing plastic fire and cooking pot. A kerosene lantern sat on top of a green Coleman cooler on top of a very solid looking cedar picnic table. Behind and to the left of the tent, a 2-point deer stood half hidden by some rubbery looking bushes.

But what really disturbed Luke about the display and about the store in general were the pair of rifles lying on the picnic table. Ever since his experience with Charlie and Sandra, Luke had a hard time with guns of any kind. His brother gave him grief for his recent aversion to guns since his whole family had been avid hunters when he was a kid. But now, when he looked at a firearm, particularly a rifle like those on display, he found it hard to maintain any sense of calm.

Someone pushed against Luke's back and he stumbled forward towards the display. He glared over his shoulder but only a random throbbing mass of storm soaked customers stared back at him, barely even recognizing the troubled looking man staring at them. Turning back around, Luke was startled to find himself standing almost in the fire pit. The shock set him off balance and he stumbled to his left to avoid falling into the orange and yellow pieces of lighted plastic. Instead, he tripped and fell towards the picnic table.

His hands flew out to catch himself and he suddenly found his fingers resting on the cold steel barrel of the rifle. A soft gasp escaped his lips as he twisted his hand away from the gun, still bracing himself on the table and pressing away to stand. He stared down at the two rifles. They were nice. Much nicer than what he'd used when he went hunting with his dad all those years ago. Slowly, longingly, he reached out his hand and lightly slid his fingers over the polished wood and metal of the nearest rifle.

His heart began to race. He took a half step forward and stared down at the gun. His brother had mocked Luke when he'd told his family about his new anxiety towards guns. Now as he looked at them, he wondered if he was overreacting. That whole thing with Charlie and Sandra had been a crazy and unpredictable turn of events. There was no way anything like that would happen again, was there? He certainly wasn't taking newlyweds shooting ever again, no matter what happened.

The sound of the crowd behind him broke through Luke's thoughts. He turned to stare at the mumbling crowd. Half of the bodies were turned away from him, craning their necks and stretching onto their tiptoes to try and see out the large windows at the front of the store. A torrent of rain still poured down in sheets. Now and then a large truck passed along the road, but otherwise the only motion outside the window was the silvery-white rushing of rain. The rest of the crowd was milling about, slowly walking along the main path of the store. Some spoke to each other. Some casually looked at the objects around them. No one appeared to actually be in the store to do any shopping.

Luke's eyes calmly panned over the crowd. Women fiddled with their hair. Men brushed away water that had beaded up on their expensive Italian suits. A mother crouched down over her whimpering child in a stroller, trying to console him and keep the small cry from erupting into a wail. And then, in the middle of the crowd, Luke noticed a stillness. Directly in the center of the crowd, a man in a pale blue jacket and a red baseball cap was standing perfectly still and staring at the floor.

The rest of the crowd moved around the man as if avoiding him, leaving a small circle of space all around him. Luke watched as one woman swerved just before reaching the man in the blue jacket. She slammed into another man and knocked him stumbling into a third person. Not only did the crowd seem to avoid the man, they didn't look at him. Luke noticed that anytime someone's gaze turned towards the man in blue, they quickly averted their eyes a few feet to either side.

Luke's thoughts blurred his vision and for a moment he envisioned a protruding rock in the middle of a stream or that science experiment he'd done as a kid. The one where he poured pepper into a bowl of water and then lightly placed a small piece of soap in the middle of the bowl to watch the pepper rush away. This man was somehow repelling the crowd. Pushing them away from him.

And there he stood. Still as a statue. Staring down at the floor, the top of his plain red ball cap pointed towards Luke. His light blue jacket covered his arms, dangling at his sides. His hands disappeared into the jacket pockets. Even with the crowd avoid the man, Luke found it hard to get a full complete image of him. Men and women continually walked between Luke and the man, interrupting his line of sight.

Light suddenly flashed outside the building and Luke looked up in time to catch the disappearing remnant of a flash of lightning through the windows. A heartbeat later, a muffled boom rumbled and the glass in the windows rattled. The crowd of people turned rapidly and stared at the storm. No one spoke. No one moved. They all just stared out the windows at the falling rain.

All of them, except for the man in the blue jacket and the red hat. He continued staring down at the floor. Luke stared at the man. Now that the crowd had stopped moving, he had a clearer view of him and yet Luke still had a hard time making out distinct features. The edges of the man seemed blurred somehow. A large yellow logo was embroidered on the right breast of the jacket but Luke couldn't make out its shape or even its size. The yellow form seemed to shift slightly around, growing larger then smaller then shorter or longer, stretching and shrinking but always remaining in the same basic area.

Luke glanced from side to side then back at the man before taking a step forward. As Luke stepped forward, so did the man. Luke stopped and stared again. The man was motionless once more. Had it just been Luke's imagination? Had the man actually moved? The crowd around the man hadn't seemed to move and yet the people between Luke and the man seemed the same distance from both of them as before.

Luke took another step forward. The man stepped forward as well. Luke lifted his foot to step again then set it down, not moving. The man stayed still. Luke kept his eyes focused on the man and took a step backwards. The man moved backwards as well. Luke blinked, trying to be sure of what he'd seen. The man's motion had been fluid. As if he'd slid along the floor rather than stepping. His head and shoulders hadn't bobbed at all.

As Luke focused on the man, he noticed something else that unnerved him. The noises around him had stopped. He glanced around and saw people to his sides and behind him milling about, walking the store. Some even looked as if they were speaking to one another. But there was no sound.

Looking back towards the man and the crowd near the door, Luke saw that the crowd around the man was now completely still as well. Not only were they still, but they appeared surreal. They looked almost like silhouettes or cardboard cutouts. They still maintained their three-dimensional appearance and solidity, but something about them felt ethereal and false. Luke stared closer at the face of one woman, he noticed that her mouth was open in an awkwardly rounded position, like halfway through speaking the word "YOU". As he watched, her face didn't move. Her mouth didn't change position to either open or close. Furthermore, her eyes stayed still. They didn't move from side to side. They didn't blink.

Luke quickly looked at all the people between him and the door. The same stillness of the man in the blue jacket had now extended to a circular area of eight or ten feet all around him. Beyond that strange sphere, people walked into the store or towards the windows without noticing the abnormal motionless by them. As Luke watched, one woman approached the edge of the stillness and kept walking straight towards the man in blue. When she reached the invisible peripheral of his apparent influence, she suddenly vanished, leaving nothing but a soft shimmer in the air.

Luke gasped and brought his hand to his mouth. He stumbled backwards a few steps until his legs banged against the picnic table behind him. As he ambled backwards, he saw the man in the blue jacket glide backwards as well. The strange circle of stillness moved with him. After a couple of feet, the woman Luke had seen vanish, suddenly reappeared with another shimmer, still walking towards the door of the store. She once again reached the edge of the man's influence and whisked away in a ripple of light and air.

Luke felt himself start to hyperventilate. He'd had severe asthma as a child and his shallow breathing and light-headedness reminded him vaguely of the attacks he'd had during recess in elementary school. He closed his eyes to clear his head.

Think rationally, he told himself. This isn't real. You're hallucinating. You're sick. Something's not right. This isn't real.

As his breathing slowed, Luke opened his eyes, hoping to see the crowd of morning commuters and shoppers milling about like normal. At first, he was comforted by a view of normalcy. Bodies moved back and forth in front of him as normally as he would have expected. He even chuckled in relief as he heard the sound of a whining baby somewhere in the distance.

Then, at the corner of his gaze, Luke caught a glimpse of pale blue topped with bright red. Turning slightly, he saw the man in blue standing, staring at the ground in the middle of the footwear section. Seated in a chair next to the man in blue, a boy in his teens with shaggy brown hair and a green jacket was leaning over slightly and holding a hiking boot. The boy's left foot was raised off the ground a few inches in preparation to try on the boot. But the boy was as motionless as the strange man standing beside him.

Luke shook his head, unsure what to think. What to do. He was obviously having some sort of mental episode. Imagining things. Envisioning things. Was it the storm? His paltry breakfast of a scrambled egg and a piece of dry toast? Was it seeing the guns on the table?

As if expecting the answer, Luke turned and looked back at the picnic table. Instead of seeing two new pristine rifles staring back at him, he saw his own .22 lying there alone. Instead of the polished and gleaming stock and barrel of the guns for sale, he saw the pale and faded black barrel and a dark brown stock with grease smudges from frequent use and infrequent maintenance. He even saw the two-inch gash pointing from the bottom corner of the butt up towards the bolt. The gash from when he'd slipped on the muddy trail and fallen with his gun between him and a mess of rocks.

Luke stared intently at the gun. His fingers traced the scratch on the stock. They slide along the barrel and noted the rough patches where he'd dinged and banged it while hiding in bushes waiting for a deer. As he touched the gun, he felt light headed again. His hearing grew muffled and the sounds of the people around him blurred into a strange murmuring. A few times it sounded like a muffled voice was speaking his name.

A flash of light, motion and sound erupt to Luke's right. In an instant he whipped around to face it. The man in the blue jacket now stood just beyond the dome less than a dozen feet away. His face still pointed downward, showing Luke the top of the red hat. The man's build and stature seemed more familiar up close, though his presence still seemed hazy and blurred around the edges.

Luke's vision blurred all around the man. Only the man in blue was in focus, and even then, his edges remained blurred. On the edges of his peripheral vision, hints of motion spun around him, but Luke remained focused on the man.

Luke's hearing was damped. Like his ears were full of cotton. Or he was underwater. Somewhere distant, Luke thought he heard the sounds of screams. Of frantic shouts. But then all sounds faded away into the rushing sound of a breeze.

The man in blue stayed completely still and yet slid forward around the edge of the tent. Luke remained focused on the man, still unsure what was going on.

Luke felt his forearm flex and realized he was holding the rifle at waist level but elevated and pointed directly at the man in blue.

The man in blue glided forward another foot and stopped. Luke instinctively raised the rifle to his shoulder. The world around him became a dark tunnel through which he stared at the man in blue. Nothing existed but the straight path from Luke, along the barrel of the gun, and into the motionless form of the man in blue.

A strange cacophony of sound began to build. It seemed to be coming from the man in blue. A soft low-frequency rumble that slowly began to build in volume and intensity. As the sound increased, Luke noticed that the man in blue began to wriggle and tremor. Then, his head started to twitch.

Slowly. Very slowly, the head raised.

Luke's breath caught in his throat. Staring through motionless eyes in an equally still face was his friend Charlie. The same Charlie as in Charlie and Sandra. The same ones Luke had let go to his grandfather's ranch for their honeymoon. The same ones who had asked Luke to stick around for a few hours and teach them how to shoot. To help them launch the clay pigeons for target practice. The same Charlie who, when Luke had returned to the ranch a few days later, was still there, hunkered down in Luke's grandfather's cabin like some crazed hermit. The same Charlie who wouldn't tell Luke where Sandra was. The same Charlie who punched Luke to the floor and pointed a rifle at him. The same Charlie who…. The Charlie who….

Luke's vision narrowed even more. Everything was dark except for the small oval of Charlie's face and the quivering end of the rifle in Luke's hand.

Charlie's face began to shimmer and glow. Light seemed to emanate from the stillness of the face. Then, Charlie began to glide forward, towards Luke.

Luke held the gun in front of him, his hands shaking. His eyes tearing up. A scream of anguish started to grumble out of his throat. He tried to step backwards away from the approaching form but he ran into the picnic table.

"I didn't know Charlie. I didn't know! I'm sorry Charlie. I'm so sorry!"

Charlie continued to slide slowly towards Luke. Luke pressed his legs backwards against the table and sidled around, feeling his way around the table. He wouldn't take his eyes away from the approaching figure, but he tried to back away more and more quickly. He felt something solid against his legs and back. A wall? A cabinet?

Charlie continued to slide slowly forward. His hands slipped out of the jacket pocket. The arms in the pale blue jacket rose slowly, the palms of the hands turned forward towards Luke. Luke could see stains of red along the palms and the fingers. He fought down another scream.

Then, the hands pulled back slightly and disappeared within the folds of the blue jacket. A moment later, they reappeared, holding a gun of their own. Luke recognized it as the shotgun he'd used to teach Charlie and Sandra how to shoot. He watched in horror as Charlie raised the gun to position, tucking the butt against his shoulder and leaning his cheek against the side of the stock.

Luke shook his head and tried to speak, but he brought up his own rifle in response and took aim at Charlie.

"Don't do this Charlie. Please. Just let me go. Just let me be. Please Charlie."

Charlie slide forward another foot and Luke could see his finger release the safety on the gun and hover next to the trigger.

"Please Charlie. Please. Charlie. Charlie! Charlie!"

Luke was shouting. Screaming. Begging.

A sudden explosion of light and noise erupted. Luke fell to the floor instinctively. Luke's vision blurred completely as though he was looking through unfocussed binoculars. He felt cold wind sweeping by all around him. Shouts and screams burst from all sides accompanied by the sounds of people rushing about. He brought his hand up to rub his eyes, to try and clear the vision. He realized he no longer held the rifle. As he rubbed his eyes, he felt around on the ground for the gun. He felt the rough texture of carpet and the edge of a small stone fire pit.

Lowering his hand, his vision cleared and he saw people running frantically past him. A few people stood nearby staring back towards the entrance to the store. He pressed himself to his feet, looking around at the fifty or more people shuffling around him. Staring back at the entrance, he saw shattered windows. Rain poured through the gashes of glass in sheets. A pale blue pickup truck with a red passenger side door sat half inside and half outside the glass entryway, the hood of the truck crunched up against the metal frame of the building.

He heard scattered conversations about the storm, lightning, something about a dog. People muttered questions and accusations about the driver. Some wondering if he was alright. Others wondering if he was drunk. Luke pivoted where he stood and scanned the crowd. Apart from the frenzied look of any crowd that just witnessed an out of control truck smashing through a building, everything seemed normal. Then, his gaze landed on the picnic table. There, sitting on the smooth cedar table sat a plain red baseball cap and an old .22 rifle with a two-inch gash in the stock.