Excerpt from unpublished book

The stars danced in the blackness. They seemed like fireflies with one fluid, orchestrated movement. Colors surrounded the pinpricks of light with a phosphorescent hue. He started to wonder how this was all possible. Just then images moved across the dark landscape, but they weren't shadows or hazy figures. They were clear and distinct and up in the sky. He looked at the images and realized that he knew them. His wife, his kids, his house, all swam through his vision.

Just then he realized that he was asleep and his eyes were closed. All he saw were memories playing from his mind on the eyelids. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked. He tried orienting himself to where he was, but in his freshly awoken state, up seemed down and familiar shapes had no meaning. It took him a few moments before he was able to recognize that the tall, slender person in front of him with multiple arms raised high above was really a palm tree.

"Are you okay?" came a voice from somewhere above him. He tried moving his head to find the sound, but as soon as he did the stars came back into his vision. Only this time they were visible even in the daylight. He closed his eyes, hoping that it would help, but the throbbing only continued. "Just take it easy," the voice said. "We've called 911 and someone will be here to help you." Then the voice seemed to be talking to someone else because it didn't seem as loud or as close to him, but he heard them say, "He's awake, but obviously hurting. I don't know. I'll ask. What's your name?"

It took him a second to understand that the person was asking him the question. It required a lot of effort, but he was able to mutter, "Ben."

"Ok, Ben. Just lay still. The paramedics are on their way." Then, to the someone else, "Should we try and move him? But he's in the middle of the street. Ok, ok. I'll leave him. Should we check for bleeding?" The conversation seemed one-sided to Ben because he could only hear the person talking in front of him.

There was something familiar about that voice, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He opened his eyes again to see who was tending to him. His vision still a little hazy, he couldn't quite distinguish the features of the person, but the long flowing hair that surrounded the face gave it away that it was a woman. Ben blinked a couple of times hoping that that would help clarify what he saw. Little by little different features became more distinct until he was able to see her face clearly enough.

He inhaled slightly, and as he did his ribs shot a searing pain through his body. He knew this person. Not only knew her, but loved her. This was his wife. Why did she ask him for his name?

"Charlotte," he whispered. The lady's face turned back towards Ben's with a bewildered look. She was about to say something when a team of paramedics arrived and rushed in. Charlotte stood up and backed away, still staring at the man lying in front of her.

The paramedics quickly checked over Ben, looking for any bleeding or injuries that would prevent them from moving him. They tended to his wounds and lifted him onto the stretcher to wheel him into the vehicle. Ben tried looking around for his wife, but could not see her.

Charlotte watched the paramedics as they worked, and then dashed over to the truck to get one last look at this man that knew her name before they loaded him up. Ben turned his head at the last moment and caught her stare.

"Charlotte," he whispered again with a pleading look in his eyes. This wasn't just a man that knew her name. This was a man that depended on her, that needed her to be with him. She quickly stepped up into the van with the paramedics before they could stop her.

"Do you know this man?" the paramedic asked.

"His name is Ben," Charlotte said.

"Do you know what happened?"

Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, but for some reason completely forgot what she was about to say. Did she know what happened? She thought she did, but it wasn't coming out. She felt like those times in college when she had the answer on the tip of her tongue but for the life of her could not get her mouth to produce the words.

"Ma'am? Do you know what happened?"

"I'm not sure," was all she could say.

Ben lay on the stretcher, listening to the conversation between his wife and the paramedic. Why was she not telling them what happened. She had been with him on the street before the car had pulled up next to them. He could remember that they had tried to take her and he had fought against them. Then he had blacked out.

"Charlotte," he eked out again.

She leaned closer to this man whom she did not know, madly curious as to how he knew her. His mouth moved with the intention to talk, but the I.V. from the paramedics had already taken its effect and he fell back into painless unconsciousness.

The steady beeping woke him up. It was dark in the room except for the lights from the monitors and the brilliance coming from the nurse's station outside. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark, but all seemed like hazy silhouettes. Suddenly a figure moved toward him from the dark side of the room and placed his hand over Ben's mouth.

"It's over, Ben," the man said. "We could have killed you, but that wouldn't have proven anything. Now you have to live your life with what you weren't willing to give to us."

Ben's mind raced with the implications of what the man was saying. He instantly thought about his wife and family.

"Are you thinking about her?" the man asked with a sneer in his voice. "She doesn't remember you. None of them do. You are now an anomaly, a figment of people's imagination. They'll talk to you and forget you the next moment. Your life is over. All because you weren't willing to work with us."

"Go to hell," Ben whispered.

The man smiled in the darkness. "I think you'll find you're already there."

Life

A single light shined down on the alley. The shadows sat motionless on the ground like painted stencils. A black cat moved among the strewn debris, her silhouette mimicking her every move. A sharp bark erupted from a nearby window and the cat sprang forward, distancing herself from the perceived threat. After a few bounds she realized that the dog was not following her and she slowed down to her previous saunter. Reaching the end of the street, she stopped. Looking around, she paused, not wanting to leave the alley. She took a few moments to groom her fur, her ears moving slightly to every sound.

After feeling content with her appearance, she decided to leave the comfort of the dark alley. She quickly maneuvered underneath a parked vehicle and crouched in her new secure place. Cars rushed passed her on the street, but she took no notice. A loud slam was heard above her and the engine started. She darted out from under the car that had quickly turned from a safety blanket to a death trap only to find herself running straight toward a pair of moving legs. Like a fly avoiding a swatting hand, the cat jumped to the side and into an open door.

“Mom! There’s a cat!” came a high pitched voice from the room that the cat had just escaped into. The cat tried to exit quickly again, but a pair of agile hands wrapped themselves around her body and hoisted her up. She wriggled in the arms of her new assailant to no avail. Resorting to self defense, she extracted her claws and scratched. The little girl screamed and dropped the cat, who immediately ran out into the night again, this time running down the street and not entering any more doorways.

As she ran, she noticed a park with a solitary tree in the middle. Making her way to the tree, she climbed up to a solid branch, which became her new safe house. She paused to groom the recently accumulated dirt out of her fur. Unfortunately, she didn't find solace for long. A barrage of chattering was produced by an overprotective mother squirrel. Though the animal posed no immediate threat to the cat, she nevertheless felt it better to leave it be and move on. She scrambled down the tree and left the defensive squirrel to its nest.

It felt good to walk on the soft grass as she made her way across the park. However, the dew had started to settle in and her paws being wet was not a welcome feature. Finding a bench, she hopped up and flicked the water off her feet. Taking time to groom once more, she looked around her in the dark, her eyes easily adjusting to the limited light. Looking at her, it would seem she noticed nothing and everything all at once. She would have stayed on that bench, since she didn't want to walk on the wet grass anymore, but spending a night on a hard park bench was not ideal. She moved to the edge of the bench and shimmied in place, as if waiting any longer would make the grass less wet. Finally deciding to leave, she leapt onto the moist ground and bounded over to the dry sidewalk. Flicking her paws again, she walked down the street.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar sound and a guttural meow instinctively came from her throat. She started off toward the sound, dodging the few cars and people that were still out. The sound stopped and so did she. She stood motionless with her ears twitching, trying desperately to pick up the noise again. Once it started back up, she wasted no time in sprinting to it. Turning a corner, she saw an elderly gentleman on the back porch of a house shaking a can of cat treats. Meowing loudly now, she walked up to the man with eager anticipation.

“Hey, there. You came home,” the man feebly said. “Can’t resist these things, can you?” She meowed in response, still waiting for her morsel. His hands shook as he opened the lid. One would have thought that it took nearly all his effort just to do that. He tried to shake out one treat, but three came instead. He tried as carefully as he could to put the other two back, but one fell on the ground. Seizing the opportunity, she quickly ate the treat and then looked up to him for more, meowing once again. “Oh, why not,” he lovingly replied to her begging, dropping the second treat at the same time. She snatched it up and licked her face, which caused her to start grooming once more.

“Well, I can’t have you sitting there all night,” the old man said. “Come inside.” He shooed the cat inside with his foot and closed the porch door. Once inside, she waited for him to shuffle past her and sit down before jumping up onto his warm lap. Kneading her paws lightly into his legs, she turned around and then settled down and started to purr. His hand stroked her fur and caused her tail to twitch. She could anticipate when his hand would contact her head again and her ears flattened just before. Once again the palm stroked her fur and released. She flattened her ears, waiting for the coming affection, only to be denied. She cooed softly and looked up, rubbing her head into his chest at the same time. However, there was no response. His stomach no longer moved against her with his breath. She nudged her head once again into his chest, but he was no more. She waited for a moment, taking the opportunity to groom herself again, then settled back down into the still warm lap and fell asleep.

Career Choice

14.

A new record. At least, it was for him. He knew he was nothing compared to others in history, but all that mattered was his own.

So, how to handle number 15? Because, there was no sense in stopping at 14. Why did people just barely break a record? Why not shatter it?

His goal was at least 25. That would definitely turn heads. Then they would write stories about him.

He stood up and stretched. He had to take a breather. He had been cooped up for too long on this last one. Stepping outside he took in a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. The crisp snow crunched under his boots. He always found snow amazing. Here was something that was molded high in the heavens in a dramatic fashion, only to fall down as soft as a feather. Deceptively so, for enough of these feathers could crush buildings. But here it lay, harmless, almost crying out for someone to play with it. He reached his bare hand down and grabbed a fistful. The cold felt refreshing on his overworked fingers. He squeezed the snow in his hands and watched it compress into a ball. Another marvel. Continue to apply pressure and this soft blanket becomes almost like a steel trap.

He let it fall from his hand. The red stain stood out in stark contrast to the pure white. He looked at it part in disgust for the blemish it was against the pristine background and part in awe at its uniqueness. He stepped on the ball with his boot and ground it into the snow. All that was left was a pink smudge. He shuffled some fresh powder with his shoe on top and the stain disappeared. Everything could be covered up.

He closed the door behind him and started walking off into the forest.

He hadn't always wanted to become who he was, but then again few people do. Most start off life with a fantasy notion of their ideal self only to have that dream stifled or shattered. An astronaut was his childhood dream, which he found comical since he always had a fear of drifting off into space and not being able to make it back to his ship. Maybe that's why it was his goal. We always tend to want to conquer that which frightens us the most. He still had the vision of flying among the stars in a spaceship, but he also knew that it would never come to pass. His chance had long since vanished.

He walked up to the small stream that still flowed despite the desperate attempts of the cold atmosphere to freeze it solid. Dipping his hands down into the water, he washed them clean. The crimson mixed with the crystal blue and flowed downstream until it disappeared around a few rocks in the bend. He smiled slightly. He loved it up here.

His smile quickly faded, however, as he thought back to the reason for his unique career choice. He could still feel the sting on his face from the beatings, even though it had been many years. Somehow, even though the body heals and forgets, the mind holds on. He had only been able to withstand so much before taking matters into his own hands. He thought that running away would solve the problem, but problems like lions only seem to chase harder when their prey tries to escape. The drugs, alcohol and sex that followed all blurred together in his memory. The only image that came ringing clearly back into his mind was the hand coming at him over and over and over again.

He had to conquer that which frightened him the most. That was when he started his current career. The first day on the job was brutal and he made a lot of mistakes. But who doesn't their first day? Luckily, he was able to clean up his errors and move ahead. By the time he had completed his fourth project, he was flawless.

He crouched for a moment next to the stream, then stood up and walked back to the door.

"Hello there," came a voice from behind him.

He turned around and saw a man dressed in mountain gear that looked like it had been purchased from the store that very same day. The man's cheeks were flushed as his body tried to compensate for the altitude and the cold. He could tell that this man had never been hiking in these types of conditions before.

"I said, hello there," the man repeated. "Do you live up here? I didn't think there was anyone who could live in these dastardly conditions."

He stared at the man without moving a muscle.

"Yes, well, I was hoping you might be able to help me out. You see, I was traveling with a group of people when I saw a small rock outcropping and thought I would try and summit it to get a few pictures. However, I am now hopelessly lost and was ready to give in when I saw you."

He gave no response to the man and still stood with one hand on the door handle. Though his body did not move, his mind raced. Years on the job had fine tuned his thoughts where it was now second nature. The whole project was completed in his head before he even released his hand from the door.

15.

Looks like it's going to be a long day at work.