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| Lamb And The Lioness |
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| Location: Smoking Chamber, Singapore Airport I notice heads turning and eyes focused behind me. I look over my shoulder and spot her. She just entered the room. She is about 27 and extremely pretty. Probably she drove to airport straight from a business meeting. She dresses formally. I start with the feet and work my way up. Her leather shoes are closed- toe type with medium heels. She wears a pinstriped black coat with cuffs over black trousers and a white shirt. A simple but stunning string of pearls surrounds her slender neck .I imagine her in an evening dress .I forget to breathe for few seconds. My head moves slowly following her graceful movements till she sits in the chair left to me. I get a noseful of Escada fragrance as she passes by. I feel disappointed that she doesn’t sit in the opposite row. I begin to watch her through corners of my eyes. She places her hand luggage, a sleek Samsonite Attaché between the chairs and lights a Virginia Slims. I look at the Attaché and notice the business card inserted into the address tag. It says Rebecca Solomon, Attorney, PA. Whew! I feel great as I’m a legal guy myself and striking the conversation would be easy. I light my second cigarette as a ruse to remain in the room and begin to think for a suitable opening dialogue but she takes just five to six puffs and starts to leave. I manage to remain seated and not follow her. I feel despondent if not devastated. In few minutes I start strolling aimlessly. Singapore airport is easily one of the finest airports I’ve seen but I feel exasperated at thought of spending six more hours before I catch my connection flight to Japan. I curse my travel agent. I notice a big hall with a brass nameplate, which says ‘eKoisks’ and go in .I check my mails and send a reply or two. Escada fragrance envelops me for second time in last few minutes. I turn to my right and see Rebecca settling in the next kiosk. I watch as long as I can before her face disappears behind the wooden separator. Like full moon behind a dark cloud. I push my chair backwards and open my briefcase keeping it in my lap not that I need something in it but now I can watch the outline of Rebecca’s face. I admire her hair for a while and then I notice that she’s chatting in yahoo chat room. A devilish idea hits me. The more I think about it the more I get tempted. I strain my eyes but figure out that her screen name is ‘SweetAngel28’ and that she is in the chat room ‘NetFriends’ under the category ‘Family and Friends’. I log on to yahoo messenger, select the screen name as ‘ChicagoBaron’ and enter the same chatroom. I send her a private message ChicagoBaron: Hi. SweetAngel28: Hi. ChicagoBaron: Long time no see. Where ya been hiding? SweetAngel28: I’m sorry I don’t remember you. Who is this? ChicagoBaron: Your amnesia is fake! I guess you are still angry with me. SweetAngel28: Why should I be? ChicagoBaron: Trust me, I regret the incident as much as ya do. So gimme a break. SweetAngel28: Sheesh.What incident? ChicagoBaron: Beach…. Slap…. Ring a bell? SweetAngel28: Nope ChicagoBaron: That night moon was radiant and breeze was gentle. We met on the beach. I looked into your large, luminous, drownable-in eyes and ya smiled. Remember now? SweetAngel28: So what is it? ChicagoBaron: what? SweetAngel28: Cocaine, morphine or brownsugar? What you high on? ChicagoBaron: Love SweetAngel28: huh. Your imagination is very fertile so I’ll let you complete your story. We had the beach part covered. What about the slap? ChicagoBaron: We talked for a while and when I tried to run my finger on your sweet, delicate and absolutely kissable lips you slapped me. SweetAngel28: I am so happy that I slapped you in that imaginary meeting of ours. I only wish the slap were real. ChicagoBaron: How can ya be so stone hearted! I shaped my love into a perfect rose and gave it to ya. You are crushing it under your feet. That’s monstrous. SweetAngel28: lol. You are a nut. ChicagoBaron: Don’t laugh. It puts me I grave danger. SweetAngel28: What? ChicagoBaron: Every time ya smile or laugh my heart skips a beat and if it skips too many I may die young. SweetAngel28: lol lol lol lol lol lol lol lol lol lol…Are you dead yet? ChicagoBaron: I am gasping for breath. Ya urgently need to give me a CPR. SweetAngel28: My uncle is an expert in mouth-to-mouth method of resuscitation. I am sending him. ChicagoBaron: Thanks but no. I am already feeling better now. Stop the uncle! SweetAngel28: ha ha. Then stop pretending as if you know me. ChicagoBaron: I know you as clearly as lines on my palm. SweetAngel28: Get a grip. You got the wrong person. ChicagoBaron: No way .We met before SweetAngel28: Online? ChicagoBaron: In real life. SweetAngel28: Really? When was that? ChicagoBaron: Six weeks back. SweetAngel28: Do you have a name? ChicagoBaron: David. SweetAngel28: I dunno any David. ChicagoBaron: Did you inspire the song – ‘Quit playing games with my heart’? SweetAngel28: Time to slap a ignore sticker on your face ChicagoBaron: Go ahead Rebecca. Make my day. This takes her by total surprise. I can feel her mind racing wildly. It takes almost half a minute for her to come back. SweetAngel28: Is that you Dale? ChicagoBaron: Nope. I don’t think you ever slapped Dale. SweetAngel28: Clue me in. How did you know my name? Who are you? Many dunno both my regular screen name and real name. ChicagoBaron: I am one of those few. SweetAngel28: Jeff? ChicagoBaron: Nope. SweetAngel28: Who? ChicagoBaron: We never met before. I just guessed. SweetAngel28: I don’t believe you. How could you choose Rebecca out of all names? ChicagoBaron: If I reveal the truth you’d think I am a big joke. SweetAngel28: No I won’t ChicagoBaron: I have been practicing ESP for last six years. SweetAngel28: ESP as in Extra Sensory Perception? ChicagoBaron: Exactly. SweetAngel28: Now are you going to say that you are telepathic? ChicagoBaron: Telepathy is more like two-way traffic. Two minds communicating with each other. I am more of what they call clairvoyant. My mind can receive information with out any external help through paranormal phenomena. SweetAngel28: Do you think I am so dumb to believe you? ChicagoBaron: See …Didn’t I say that you wouldn’t believe? SweetAngel28: Who are you? When I find out I’m gonna kill you. First let me call your bluff. What else you know? ChicagoBaron: Many things. For example I can sense that your hair is black and long. Shimmering like wild silk it flows down over your shoulders like a turbulent river easily reaching your waist. Again she is surprised but she is smart and recovers fast. SweetAngel28: Nope. I’m blonde and I crop my very short hair. ChicagoBaron: No way SweetAngel28: Take a hint. You got the wrong person. ChicagoBaron: Actually if I close my eyes and concentrate I can picture you. Why don’t you accept it? ESP is a science not a hoax. SweetAngel28: You see too many films. ChicagoBaron: Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘Liar Liar Pants on fire’? So don’t lie specially when you are wearing one. SweetAngel28: I am in a skirt. I decide to go for the kill. ChicagoBaron: You are dressed formally. The pearls you are wearing are almost as perfect as your perfect front teeth though they do not sparkle as much. I see faint outline of Virginia Slims Pack and a lighter on the armrest of the chair ya sitting in. She is now totally shocked and springs up on her feet. Something hits her but I am ready for her next move. I quickly minimize the chat window and start composing a mail, which I am never going to send. First she moves to her right and then she comes back to the left stopping at each kiosk. I feel her presence behind me. I am sure she is watching at my screen over my shoulder to see if I am typing into yahoo messenger. She walks back and slowly settles in her chair in daze. Something tells me that it is time to end this game. I restore my messenger and type in. ChicagoBaron: I think it is time to put an end to this silly game I am playing. SweetAngel28: Yes it is. ChicagoBaron: I am really scared how ya gonna react if I spill the beans. Would you be a sport and forgive me if I tell you the truth? SweetAngel28: Yes I would. Now speak out. I am going crazy. ChicagoBaron: I am sitting next to you just a couple of feet away on the left. I don’t dare to look at her. How Could I? I bend my head and study my shoes. I hear her say, “Who are you?” I manage to look at her and if looks can kill I’d be dead. “I am really sorry.” I blurt out. “First tell me who the heck are you and how you know my name”, she demands. “I saw you in the smoking area an hour back”, I pause. “And?” she asks impatiently. I show her the address tag of her Attaché “I saw you were chatting and I was bored and…”, My voice trails off. Everything becomes clear to her. “You have no right to do this to me. You are a jerk.” she says angrily. It is not lost on me that we both are legal birds. I slowly rise from my chair and say dramatically as if I am being prosecuted for a capital crime and prosecution has proved beyond doubt that I committed it, “I am ashamed of what I did .I plead guilty your honor”. “If I were a judge I would give you a five year sentence”, she says. I see that her anger has subsided and she is quite relieved to have the riddle solved. May be she is still angry but at least she wont slap me. I decide to take a terrible chance. It can go either way. Make or Break. “Your honor if you are going to imprison in me in your arms I strongly appeal to change the five-year term to a life-term”, I say still with a sad look. “Incorrigible. Aren’t you?”, she shakes her head in mock disgust but I see smile on edges of her lips which she tries to suppress. I grin for the first time and say,“ Sorry for pulling a fast one.” “Where you heading to?”, she asks me. “Narita, Japan and I have five more wretched hours to kill to catch my connection flight”, I sigh “ I don’t believe a word of you. Not anymore”. She pulls out the Thomas cook envelope from my pocket. She looks at the boarding pass and says, “ Is this coincidence?” “ You too to Narita?”, I ask delighted. “Yup” she confirms. “ It is not coincidence. Not at all” I say firmly. She looks quizzically. “Its destiny.” I say. “ Yeah? What do you think is in store?”, She asks. “ I always believed that anything is possible”, I say. “Sure… including a hard hitting slap” she says and breaks into a smile. She is just a foot away and I feel mesmerized as her smile dazzles me. I cannot help but stare. She waves her hand over my face and says” what ya gaping at? Let’s go have some dinner. We need to talk”. I wax poetic on her smile but she doesn’t blush. Instead she grins and says, “Bruce, I think Ed Wilson will find all this hilarious”. I flinch. How the hell did she know that my name and she knows Ed Wilson? “ Ed Wilson!” I gasp. “Yep, Its Mark my deputy who requested Ed for a suitable candidate to assist him”. She pauses and points to my business card inserted in the address tag of my briefcase. “I vaguely remembered your name but to be sure I came out of the smoking area to talk to Ed but when I came back you were gone. I again saw you here and before I can say something the Chicago Baron yanks me ”. She reveals with great satisfaction. Ed Wilson is my boss who dispatched me to Japan in a hurry saying that I’d work for Mark Tony. He also sang praises about Mark’s boss who he want on to say that is younger than both Mark and I but promised that I’d have a rewarding experience as she has a razor-sharp brain and is marvelous trial lawyer. That makes her my boss’s boss! My knees give away. I shatter and collapse into my chair. Like a glass pane hit by a bullet. “Why don’t we discuss the case over the dinner?” she suggests. I mumble something. She starts to walk. Like a lioness. I follow her. Like a lamb. |
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| Added On: Sat Oct 11 2003 | Hits: 1 |
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| A Room Without Walls (Chapter 1) |
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| There is a place that I always go to when the world is bothering me. It is a place of serenity. It’s like my old house. The house I used to live in, but don’t anymore due to it being torn down. It’s the place that no one knows about. My special place.At the very end is a place that is filled with mystery and fear, and I tend to stay away from it. I’m not sure what it is, or what is in it, and I don’t feel like finding out. The world right now is filled with a lot of different emotions, different lives and different hopes and dreams. Mine is the same as everyone else. To never give in to the pain of life. I have a problem remembering things. Sometimes, I have to stop and think before continuing, which makes for a difficult lifestyle. The walls of my brain have been severely damaged, taking wear and tear every time I use it. (Which would be all of the time) I also have a difficulty putting together the puzzle pieces of my past. Even though it is quite memorable, it is completely shrouded in mystery. The last twenty years has been here and gone, and have disappeared faster than any one had noticed they were there. Anyway, many people don’t know why I function the way I do. Some say I have two sides to me, a good side, that would rather do good and help people, that would rather live the life of happiness and healthiness, you know, the righteous side. On the other hand, half of me is a sick and twisted individual, a sadistic bastard who would rather watch the worm die than pull it out of it’s dirt ridden grave. An evil smile masks my guilt-free frown everywhere I go. Except lately, I have been grounded in this world of morbidity. I haven’t been able to move, think, or breathe clearly for a week. I’ve been clamped to this bed for what seems like forever, and right now I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember my name, my age, barely my gender. I woke up in this room about six days ago, and have had no contact with anyone for quite some time. I scream, but no one hears me. I try kicking, but to no avail. I try to remember who I am, or what I’m doing here, but my head keeps pounding. Whatever the case, I’m stuck here till somebody finds me. I’m not claustrophobic, but this room is really intimidating. It feels like it is actually trying to communicate with me, trying to talk to me. I attempted to talk out loud for the first time today, but my lymph nodes are irritating me, so I must be losing my voice. I never knew I sounded so whiny. I can’t help it now. I must get out of this room. As time goes on, more questions arise: Why am I here?Who would put me here? Am I going insane? These questions were going to be answered, but I wish it was soon. Suddenly, I heard voices in the hall. A first in days. “Go check on patient 09367, Jennifer.” It was a man’s voice, a masculine one, and he said I was a patient, so I must be in a hospital of some sort. “Right away, Doctor Wieland.” It was the first memory of a woman’s voice that I remembered, and how soothing it was to hear such an angelic one. I wondered what she looked like, what she smelled like, if she thought the same way I did, and for a minute, without even seeing her, I felt love flow over me. This would be the first time I came in contact with another living being since my awakening. My room was very small, very empty. Just a bed in the middle, no mattress, no sheets. Just me, strapped to a wire frame by means of leather belts. Chained down like an animal. Footsteps drawing closer. Kill the thoughts. I thought I heard someone say. Kill them all. Kill. Kill. Kill. The words repeated with every step that the nurse took. KILL THEM- Suddenly, the nurse came into the room. “Ah, so you are him.” Him who? What is my name? “Are you ready for your test?” I managed to choke out a yes, or at least I thought I did. I just laid there, looking at her, looking at her. She was my first memory. Before this, I had never seen a woman to my knowledge. “Can you-can...” I tried to say, but the words would not form correctly. I told her what I wanted. She didn’t sound surprised. Almost like she expected me to say it, or wanted me to say it. “Later, I promise.” “Wait, who am I? Where am I?” She looked at me like I was crazy. “Enough questions for today, Mr. Troublemaker.” Okay, lets look at the clues, I did something wrong, and I being punished for it. A screech as loud as the voices in my head pounded the back of my brain, my screams couldn’t even be heard by me. It was a siren-like sound, something coming from outside. Another voice called to me from within the walls. Ask the woman her name. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but I decided to see where it was going. “What is your name?” I asked with what seemed like two voices were coming out of me. “Jennifer. Jennifer McDermott. I’ll be coming back here at two.” I felt the room shifting shape, I was in a living, breathing room. Or was I dreaming? No, I can’t be dreaming, dreams are more surreal, but even now I was willing to believe it. She was gone for hours. I didn’t count the seconds, I forgot how long a second was. All I could think about was her. The beautiful nurse with the blond hair, the perfect legs wrapped divinely in white stockings, and white shoes with the little heel. Her uniform was opened to the third button down, her red undershirt down to that measure as well, giving a generous view of her breasts. Her ruby red lips gleaming off the light in the hallway. The epitome of perfection. I looked out the only window in the room, a tiny one across from me. I saw a tombstone with the name “Mitchell Cook” on it and underneath it read “died September 9th, 1967.” A small message was read under it, but I couldn’t make it out. I didn’t think it mattered for now. I made up my mind. I needed to find my way out of this room. “So, nurse, what’s wrong with him?” Doctor Wieland asked patiently. “He’s suffered from more than just mild schizophrenia, doctor. It seems he doesn’t even know where he is. In fact, he’s so lost in himself, he’s mad with lust because I’m not only the first person he remembers, I’m the first female.” “Highly unusual.” Wieland paced back and forth, trying to get a hold of this, trying to figure out how one man could be so unfunctional. “It doesn’t seem to be possible, but this man is a living mystery. I don’t even have his records. He is totally unknown. I don’t even know his name, it’s like-” A young man with blond hair came running up to the two and sounded like he was completely out of breath. “Doctor, we have an emergency in Block C.” Wieland didn’t sound surprised. “Oh, freaking great. It must be her again.” He was talking about Jessica Werrin, a woman who was known to have two faces, being bi-polar, she was a tough case to come by. She was an odd case and she had to be constricted every so often due to momentary outbursts. “Bring me some medical anesthetics, we are going to take her down faster than a drunk elephant at Mardi Gras.” The other doctors stopped and looked at the doctor at his sudden lack of seriousness. They couldn’t understand why he was making light of the situation, and not taking his job the way a normal doctor should. But then again, In this line of work, you had to have a sense of humor. “Do you remember me?” A voice seemed to call out to him enigmatically. He didn’t know where it came from, but he was sure it was talking to him. “Come on, Luke, look at me.” “Why do you want to go so badly? It’s going to be there tomorrow.” “Well,” she hugged him, and kissed his cheek. “I want this to be special. This is your birthday, and I want to make it the best you ever had.” He remembered her name was Rebecca. Rebecca...something. Her face was the only thing he could concentrate on and that was somehow enough. “Please, Rebecca, can I just sit this one out. I don’t feel too good.” He was blushing. Her hand was on his and he was very shy. Not knowing how to talk to women was one thing, he had that problem since elementary school, but not knowing what to say to her benevolence, well, that was just being absentminded. He stood up and brushed himself off. He was covered in leaves, so he guessed they had been laying in the leaf piles again. That put the time period somewhere in the fall. But why didn’t he remember this? Was this even a memory? Or was this a time somehow outside his own, like a dream or a repressed imagination, otherwise known as daydreaming. “Rebecca, why don’t we-” He looked around, but she was nowhere in sight. Instead there was a man who didn’t have a face. “They’re waiting for you.” It said. And in an instant, I woke up to alarms. It seems that I was dreaming. But did that explain why I remembered something? So there is a past. A doctor that I had never seen before came in and looked at me. “Ah, I see you’re up. Did you get some sleep?” He asked me. I didn’t say anything in fear that things might become worse than they already are. I just gave him an empty stare for what seemed like forever. He sat down on a metal seat that he brought in. It matched the walls, a blank white, but a hint of tan. I didn’t much like the look of this man, being new to these memories, I knew that things weren’t going to be easy. “Okay, I’d just like to ask you a couple of things, and I want you to answer them as honest as you can. Alright?” His tone was soft and assuring, but answering questions would be hard. I wasn’t sure what an answer was offhand. “Okay, first question: What did you do?” “I don’t know.” I answered. I was being honest. There was no memory of what I did, if I even did anything to end up here. The doctor sighed. He wasn’t going to get that answer for a while. “Second question: Do you know why you’re here?” “To be honest with you, I don’t even know where here is.” There was the understatement of the century. “Now, I don’t want to alarm you, but you were admitted here a week ago. Before that, I don’t have any knowledge of you. Which is odd, because I admit all patients myself. It seemed like you just appeared here out of nowhere. You see, this is Summerdale Mental Ward. You were placed here for some reason... I just don’t know why...” Now my heart started pounding. “Why am I being chained down?” “Maybe you pose a threat. I remember tying you down in the first place –wait. I remember now...we found you lying in a pool of your own blood, chanting something morbid, like, ‘Close the door.’ I don’t know what was going on, but you were badly hurt. You had a scratch mark as big as your arm on the left side of your chest, and one of your eyes had been nearly gouged. You had been beaten on the head severely, perhaps that is why you are lacking any memories. The reason we brought you here was because there was another body lying about two feet away from you. A gun shot wound to the head, and the gun was in your hand.” He sighed again, taking a sip of water, his throat was scratchy. “You’re trial lasted a hour and all the evidence pointed to you and you were sentenced to life in prison. But since it seemed you had a mental illness, your sentenced was reduced to twenty years in here. You’re lucky that you survived that fight, and didn’t lose more than your memory. “But I remember something else... ”The doctor stopped dead in his tracks. “Please tell me anything that you know.” “I just had this dream, and it was so real. I saw someone I knew. Her name was Rebecca. And then she disappeared and I saw this man who I shouldn’t have seen, but I feel like I know him as well.” This new information was not only essential, it meant that parts of his memory still remained intact. But why parts? “What did he look like?” “He didn’t have a face.” Before I knew it, I was back in my room, with my shackles of despair and my bed of hard, cold metal. I couldn’t move again, which meant that I couldn’t be trusted, or I never left my room. It was impossible to sleep because of all of these screams. I guess this really is a mental hospital. What was I supposed to do? I can’t move, I can barely make a sound, I really can’t do much...so how do I escape? Is that even an option? My life has been complicated ever since my reawakening, but now that the news about my sudden admittance to a mental institution has come as a complete shock. My world has suddenly been torn apart. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here? Since I was stuck, I may as well get used to this room, it was going to be my home for awhile. Looking at the alabaster walls, a new memory was implemented into my head. It was the time my cousin Ricky and I went to the water hole. We had many a good memory, but the time was when we were both seven and we went down to the stream to fish, but was slowly wondering why he picked that spot to begin with. The month was September, most of the foliage had already turned a nice golden brown, and the water was just starting to get cold. It had been raining for the past three days and that made the ground moist, and susceptible collapse under their weight. “Come on Luke,” Ricky said. “How many times do I have to tell you? We walk down here all the time. Be careful. The dirt here is like fucking quicksand.” His mouth was as bad as his attitude and it showed. He was four months older than Lucas and he used that to set an example. The thing about Ricky was that he didn’t care. Lucas would use that language around his mother. His mother was Catholic, and fuck was one of the words that she just would not tolerate. Fishing had always been one of Luke’s favorite pastimes, and always wanted to have his own lake and stock it full of fish and go everyday, but the money it would take to make such an elaborate scheme would put his single mother not only bankrupt, but where she would never see money again. They finally got down to the lake, which was perfectly still, like a mirror that hadn’t been touched since God made it at the beginning of time. Like they were the first ones to see it. Ricky fit a small worm on his hook and threw his line out a decent distance. Seconds later, his plastic bobber dunked under and he frantically reeled in a nice six pound panfish, which wasn’t trophy size, but Ricky felt the need to brag that it took him only under a minute to catch a fish. “See here, Luke?” A huge smirk on his face. “That’s how you catch a fucking fish.” “I wish you didn’t talk like that.” Luke said. “You make a bad impression on me.” When Luke looked back to scowl at his cousin, he was nowhere in sight. His pole sat there, the fish flopping like mad, trying to breathe, but Ricky was gone. Instead, all he saw was a man in black, standing on the water. “The lost search for their missing as well, Lucas.” Lucas stopped him. “Who are you? I’ve seen you before. Why are you haunting me?” The man in the black coat disappeared and materialized in front of Luke so fast that he didn’t even see him move. Was this a bad dream? Why was this man stalking him? “You are the pawn of the man who doesn’t exist, Luke. You are the one who must learn of who your aren’t. Then he can be awakened.” “Who will be awakened? Who the hell are you?” “Go now. They’re waiting for you.” Again, I woke up in my room. I must have dosed off. But who was that man? Why was he always plaguing my dreams? Is he someone I know and now just remembering him? That’s the problem, I don’t remember anything, let alone my own name. Could it be that “Luke” name that I’ve been hearing? There was a small crash outside and I directed my attention to the door. Strangely enough, I no longer had my shackles on, so I was able to move, but my legs were still tied down, and so I was still conformed to this room. There was a knock on the door, and there was enough of a pause for me to allow whoever was knocking to be let in. I did so, and watched the nurse I first met come in. Her uniform looked ragged and wondered if it had been hours since we last talked, which would mean that she had been worked to the core. Had a day gone by? No, that was impossible, there would probably be a change in shifts. By power of deduction, only three or four hours had passed. I don’t know why, but for some reason, lust set in again, and as soon as she came to my bedside, I immediately grabbed her hand. “Don’t be scared.” I assured her. “I mean no harm.” She smiled, as if she knew of my intentions. She leaned in closer, and gave me a kiss on my forehead. “Not yet, my love, but soon.” I smiled back, hopeful of a future with her. But in case that didn’t happen, I pulled her harder, until she fell on top of me. I held her tightly. “You’re all I’ve got now.” I whispered into her ear. “You will replace my fears and dreams of her.” She picked up her head and looked at me straight in the eye. “Is ‘she’ the one you keep muttering in your sleep? This ‘Rebecca’?” I nodded. “You look like her, a little.” The once quaint smile started to fade. She looked back at the door, then back at me. “I want you to know something, I never want you to lead a revolution here, if that happens. If they rebel, I want you to promise me you’ll never join.” I didn’t understand. “Why? What does this matter for me?” She smiled, and put my hand on her breast. “Promise me.” I liked where it was going, but I didn’t want to promise anything that I couldn’t uphold. She unbuttoned her uniform and again put my hand on her breast. “Promise me, please.” I did promise, but questioned it’s sincerity. “Promise?” “I promise.” Making love was not what I thought it was, it was more than I wanted, but I couldn’t complain, this is what I asked for. Somewhere in the process, I kissed her, and closed my eyes, and felt nothing. He looked around, but darkness surrounded him on every side. “Hello?” He shouted out, but no response came back. Being in pitch blackness was bad enough, but to be all alone was even worse. Again, he called out. “Hello, can anyone hear me?” This time, he heard a faint whisper, but too low to make out actual words. He shouted a little louder, maybe the person would hear him. He yelled at the top of his lungs, and tried flailing his arms, hoping to hit something, he didn’t even know that he was standing on solid ground. “Rebecca, can you hear me?” He yelled. “...can you hear me?” Someone seemed to say, but he didn’t know if it was directed towards him. “Rebecca? Rebecca, is that you?” He felt a hand on his shoulder and he jumped in shock. “Open your eyes, silly.” It was her, he knew it. He opened his eyes, and found that he was in a train station, which was deserted. “It’s ok, it’s just us.” Her smile captivated him, and her kisses were like candy. “Why are we here? Where is everyone?” “They all went home. We missed our train, and we have no transportation home, so we have to stay the night here, just you and me.” He looked around, and cracked a smile. “Do you think the night-watchman will care if we do it in the middle of the lobby?” She laughed that infectious laugh that made him feel better. Everything was going to be okay as long as she was there. A low hum could be heard from inside the toll stalls down the hall from them, but he disregarded the sound. They continued kissing as the hum got louder, and he knew that something was wrong, and he should speak up. “Do you hear that, Rebecca?” She kept her smile and looked around. She must have thought that he was crazy. “No, you must be hearing things.” However, the noise could not be ignored and again, he swore he heard a sound. “I’m telling you, I don’t think that that noise is normal.” She got up and grabbed his hand. “Come on, Mr. Troublemaker, put your hand right here.” She directed his hand inside of her shirt. “Touch me there.” But the noise got even louder, and so loud that he covered his ears to shield his eardrums from the intense noise. Suddenly the walls started to collapse, and were replaced by complete blackness. Rebecca didn’t seem to notice, but he was intent on finding out what was causing this. “What’s wrong?” She asked. “Something is happening to this place, we need to get the hell out of here, and quick. This place is falling apart!” With a smile still on her face, she looked at him and said a bone-chilling message. “Get me out of here, he’s got me trapped in here. Open the door.” “What? What are you saying?” The walls were totally down now, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the man that was haunting him. A wicked smile on his face, and he was eyeing Rebecca. “NO! YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! LEAVE US ALONE! GO AWAY!” The man appeared behind him, and whispered in his ear. “Let her go, she is mine now. You have other doors to close.” “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” All he did was point upwards, and by the time, he looked up, he saw the ceiling crash onto him, and darkness surrounded him again. When I awoke, I was all alone again. Did I imagine the nurse thing? Did I just get knocked out and imagine the train yard thing? This time, all of my shackles were loose, and I was able to get off my bed and move around. However, I found that the door was still locked, and came to the conclusion that slowly, I was getting out of this place by revelation of my dreams. One more and I might be able to leave this place. |
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| Added On: Fri Jan 7 2005 | Hits: 1 |
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| A Beautiful Tree |
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| Champo gazed through the frost-layered window into the outside world. That’s where he wished to be. Champo wished to be away from it all, away from the class, away from the school and away from society. His eyes froze into a deep stare as he observed a tree out side. It looked as grey and rough as elephant skin. The twigs and branches were as bare as the dry icy flagpole, which shivered in the wind as it stood not to far from the tree. Champo read the flag, which quivered in the early, rough, winter winds, “Ruphidius Jr. High: School of the Smart and Proud.” Champo was puzzled on how the flimsy navy blue cloth with gold stitched print could wave so proudly, nobly and gracefully while withstanding a harsh atmosphere. Although, he hated the fact that it was the school flag, he actually hated everything about his school. That was except for two things: One of them was the tree. This was because it resembled him. It had no meaning, it was just there. There was nothing special about it it was bare with no vibrant colored leaves that blanketed the treetops of all the other wooden plants in town. Even in the spring no leaves sprouted from it’s naked arms. It wasn’t pretty or ugly it wasn’t tall or short. It was a naked tree with no reason to live it was just there. The other thing Champo liked was the flag. This was because it was the complete opposite of him. It had a meaning. It stood tall and proud in any conditions. It said something to everyone who saw it. It said, “Look at me, up here on this grand enormous pole! Look at me as I wave my body in the air so you can notice my existence. I live for a reason, I posses vibrant colors which people appreciate and observe in awe as my body waves in pride with the wind. I am liked, I am popular, I am not just here...I have a purpose!” Champo sighed as he once more looked upon his “role model-flag” as it bellowed in the breeze. Champo then turned away from the window and towards Ms. Pompez, the 8th grade language arts teacher. He watched her as she spoke on and on about today’s lesson. Her quadruple chin gobbled up and down as she rambled on. Her beady, pea-like eyes beamed from student to student as if we were her dinner. Overhangs of lard mostly overlapped her puny ears, which were almost half the size of her wide, bulky nose. As she spoke, her cheeks, almost the size of pillows, covered the lower half of her eyes, and to boot, she had a caboose the size of a desk. As a result of this, students referred to her as MS. Pompis (Spanish for butt). Champo had no idea what the woman was blabbing about so he just pretended to know what was going on, and look interested. He’d stroke his chin as Pompis’ evil glare focused upon him, then nod his head as if he understood it finally. Champo was as lost as an ant in the Grand Canyon whenever it came to English class. So as he put on his act every day he thought about more exciting and important things, like how in two weeks he’d be with his family back down south enjoying a delicious Thanksgiving dinner with some “down to Earth” people. Not vain, materialistic, snotty demons from hell which surrounded him all day at school wishing he were dead, or something horrible just so they know there’s one less loser in the world. Draining that thought from his head he remembered the great time he had last thanksgiving at the family-farm. The sun was brighter than ever, disputing warmth throughout the countryside! Perfect, fluffy, white clouds made a beautiful contrast of color against the cerulean blue sky. He played with his cousins out in the field and soon came inside the enormous farmhouse for a wonderful Thanksgiving meal. He can still taste the tender bites of turkey, and soft, buttery, lip-smacking taste of mashed pota-“Owe!” Biggory Buckman launched a hard pen directly at Champo’s head. It knocked his glasses right off his face. He sat next to Champo in language arts class, and hated every minute of it. “What the hayeck buketoothe!” “Shut up reject, or I’ll ring your neck till you choke up some cows and chickens, HEH-HEH!” After that kind of a threat from a big, popular, jock, like “Biggy Bucktooth” (as Champo called him) it was his cue to shut-up, or else he was dead meat. “Yeah-WHAT-WHAT, yeah that’s what I thought stupid farm-boy” So much lard clogged Pompis’ ears, and the fat pillows on her face blocked off too much of her vision, she could neither see or hear what was going on. Anyway, Champo was used to this type of treatment at school, though the worst “tormentor” was Biggy, Biggy Bucktooth. But Champo has been dealing with it for almost four years now, so he expects it every day. As soon as he heard the bell of last period sound he shot up and speedily walked to the door trying to escape any crude remarks and insults for the end of the day. But just as his foot was making it through the doorway, someone (take a wild guess who) was holding him back. Champo felt a great JERK, and was in the air for a split second then, “WHABAMM!” He hit the ground. Champo was flat on his back. He raised his bruised head and looked directly at Bucktooth. He grinned, “ Haven’t you learned the rules by now country-crap, losers last!” Champo’s cheeks turned as red as a ripe strawberry, his blood was hotter than the grease that coats freshly cooked bacon. As Bucktooth exited the room Champo gave a very crude hand gesture to him. He collected his scattered belongings and left the classroom with hatred dwelling in his mind. At this point in the story you may be wondering why Champo McDoogle seems to be the …loser of the school. Champo is a 13-year-old boy who grew up in the south, working on a farm with his family. As a youngster, home schooling was his source of education. As he grew, his parents became to old to for teaching and constantly working on the farm. So they decided to move up north to New York where they could stay in a temporary home until they went back to the farm for the summer (as well as holidays). So while Champo attends school in New York, the McDoogle family members back down south tend to the farm. Champo attends Ruphidius Jr. High on the outskirts of New York where it’s a more rural setting. He has an accent that makes him sound like he just learned English. He wears overalls almost everyday, along with high, white, red and blue striped tube socks, and brown dress shoes. He was as thin as a twig and his hair was as brown as cow dung. Three strands stood straight up in the middle of his flat head of hair. So, as you’ve probably come to realize, his appearance definitely has a negative impact on his horrible reputation. Champo never sticks up for himself he lets people walk all over him. As the year went on for Champo things flowed normally. Until one day, something happened to Champo, something that would change his life… It was around the middle of wintertime and everyone was in the cafeteria eating lunch. The delicious smell of fried chicken swept through the air as well as crispy salted fries and mushy, mashed potatoes the scents tiptoed through the atmosphere and peeked into the childrens noses, driving them mad with hunger. Everyone was talking so all you could hear was muffled chatter in the background. A chilly breeze snuck through a minor crack in one of the windows, sending a chill down the spine and chatter to the teeth of every kid at the table closest. Champo felt like a starved, chained up, lion as he stood in the long lunch line, watching the others walk away with their meal, and the hot, tender, steamy food being prepared on plates then distributed to the next hungry kid in the line. As Champo received his prize a great smile broke upon his face. As he was walking back to his table (which only he sat at) he felt the warm tray of food resting in his hands. The anxiety building up inside of him was causing him to walk faster. Of course this became the perfect opportunity for someone to trip him, and so it happened. Some boy watching from the sidelines had held out his leg and waited for the fall. Champo’s foot stayed back at the boy’s leg as his body flew forward, fast. The tray of food flew out of his hand and disappeared over the top of his view as he flew straight down towards the ground. He new he was going to hit the ground bu he didn’t know where the tray landed-WHAM! Champo hit the ground… he-SMACK-SQUISH! “That would be the tray of gushy delicious food,” Champo thought to himself. The whole cafeteria was silent, Champo was groaning in pain with his face remaining squished into the, greasy, black, rock-solid tile floor. Suddenly, people were gasping left and right but surely it wasn’t for him, no, never in a million years. No one cared about him. Then, “clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip.” It was the sound of footsteps, and Champo could hear them getting closer to him! A pair of mashed potato covered shoes approached Champo. They weren’t just any shoes though, they were Biggory Buckman’s, brand new, $80.00, Nike Air Force 1’s. Champo was guessing that the tray that flew out of his hands, landed directly on Buckman. Champo didn’t dare look up. Because Champo thought Bucktooth was going to beat the living daylights out of him, he tightened his muscles, ready for a pounding. His body was a tense and stiff as a metal rod. He felt if he moved it was bye-bye life. He waited and waited but no punch, kick, or pain. Just dead silence, then out of no where Biggory began to talk and said something Champo McDoogle would never forget, “I’m just gonna hold back this time on the physical part, I don’t think you realize how mad I am, as well as all these other kids in this place, but there is one thing we all know, even you! It’s what you are, NOTHIN’! A big zero, no one likes you and you have no reason to live. YOUR NOTHIN’!” Buckman brushed off some food onto Champo and calmly walked away. RING! It was time to transition to class, so everyone left leaving behind a trail of hollow silence in the cold cafeteria. Champo just laid there as the words that came out of Biggory’s mouth drilled and ate away ate his head. He felt like dying, there and then. And so he laid there for an hour or two missing class and not caring about anything in the world. Then out of no where Champo heard approaching footsteps again (which brought back bad memories). But when the foot steps stopped and an old man’s raspy voice spoke, “Oh get up, you pathetic thing you, you actin’ like a big baby. Here take my hand.” Champo had never heard such nice words come from someone outside of his family. Champo turned off his stomach and rolled onto his back. He saw a black man’s hand reached out towards him. Champo didn’t know who it was but he pulled out his arm and grasped the man’s hand. He was pulled up and saw a tall black man, with grey caterpillar eyebrows he had some white hair on his partially, bald head. His overalls said, Ruphidius Jr. High : Janitor. “Why you let people walk all over you like that boy?” Champo’s Cheeks turned bright red as he slowly looked down at the floor. “Exactly, there is no reason to why you should let these people do that to you, you have got to make a stand, show them they cant treat you like this son. It’s not their decision whether you’re nothin’ or somebody. It’s your decision, you are what you say you are, not what others think or say. It’s your life kid, not theirs, you’ve got to show them that! You can have bright colors you can shine you can be a somebody! You have a purpose, all you have to do is break out of your cage these kids have built for ya an' show'em who’s boss, set’m straight. Just tell’m out plain an’ simple, ‘I ams, whos I says I ams! Back off and let me live my life, you worry bout’ you and I’ll worry bout’ me, understand!’” Champo put his chin up and smiled at the man, “Why thanks Mr., no ones ever told me that before, EEVERRR! I’ll remember this always and forever, you were my hero today.” Champo thanked the old man more than enough times and began to walk out of the room when the old man yelled out to Champo, “Oh and kid-” “Yeah,” Champo answered. “-Lose the outfit!” “Will be done, sir, will be done!” He jogged out of the cafeteria By then the school day was over and Champo smiled the whole night through knowing that someone did notice him, knowing that he can be a somebody, knowing that he isn’t a loser and a zero and he does have a purpose. He is Champo McDoogle and he is a somebody and not “just there” As time progressed people started noticing a difference in Champo. His attitude toward life had dramatically changed and was starting to have major effect onto others. They began to realize that he wasn’t the “nobody” he used to be, he wasn’t the type of person you could walk all over like before. Even Biggory Buckman slowly realized that his ways of tormenting and torturing Champo soon had no effect onto the now, strong hearted boy. People started to see Champo as a new person and not just someone who was there for no reason. That old man had really changed his life. On the last day of school that year Champo sat at his desk with a smile on his face in last period class with Ms. Pompis. He knew his life was going to be better from this year on. Champo scanned the faces in the class and not one of them gave a dirty look or evil expression. It was either a smile or a nod to the head like ”what’s up.” He was more grateful than you’ll ever know for the old man in the cafeteria that gave Champo a life. Champo heard Ms. Pompis ramble on about something, he once more, was clueless about. He turned his head towards the window to look at the outside world, he saw the weathered flag lie still in the still summer air, and as he looked down at the tree he saw a sight his eyes had never seen before, he made a huge grin and watched the no longer naked-tree shine with pride, nobility, and grace. |
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| Added On: Fri Dec 3 2004 | Hits: 1 |
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