Sylvester Pilgrim's Blog
October 25, 2024
The Harbingers
For a limited time, book two of my Dark Earth novella series is available free on Amazon. You don't need kindle reader, you can read it on your smartphone, tablet, Ipad, laptop or desktop:
https://www.amazon.com/s?k=sylvester+...
https://www.amazon.com/s?k=sylvester+...
June 14, 2024
THE TYKEN CHRONICLES: THE NEEDS OF THE MANY
A deafening crack reverberated through the air, resembling a bolt of lightning striking nearby. ‘Vvwhump.’ Accompanying the sound was a blinding flash of light, leaving behind a lingering afterimage and a fading memory of a train station or platform. Unsure of which it was, Kevin Melfry tried to grasp the vanishing recollection. In that fleeting moment, he saw a young girl standing amidst a crowd, her long black hair slightly tousled by an uncertain breeze. Her big, innocent brown eyes pleaded with him, while the platform and its occupants stretched out before abruptly being whisked away, propelled back to unknown destinations.
As he regained his senses, Kevin found himself walking in what seemed to be an expanse of undulating grey clouds. Darker wisps, akin to bruises, interspersed within the vaporous waves. The billowing mist enveloped him on all sides, creating the illusion of being inside a room made of suspended water droplets. However, the boundless distance in every direction contradicted this enclosed sensation.
“Shall we begin?” a feminine voice filled the emptiness around him.
The voice didn’t boom; instead, it floated like a boat on a gentle current. There was a strange familiarity to it, triggering a long-lost memory which eluded Kevin’s grasp. Had he heard it before? He was simultaneously certain and uncertain, as remnants of conversations from a time and place he may have never experienced flitted through his mind.
Along with the faint recognition of the voice came a similar familiarity with his surroundings. It was no longer peculiar, though he couldn’t comprehend why. The persistent feeling of never having been there before gnawed at his memory, but Kevin resisted. He knew he had been there before, if not in a physical sense.
“Shall we begin?”
The words reverberated through the mist, coaxing Kevin to search for their source or a path to follow to it, but all he found was the endless expanse of swirling vapor. Was she waiting for something? Recognition perhaps? Acknowledgement to continue speaking?
Could he even speak in this eerie realm, and if so, what words should he choose? The peculiarity of the situation made him hesitate, but mustering his courage, he responded, “Yes.”
His reply echoed, starkly contrasting the melodic quality of hers.
To his surprise, the undulations in front of him halted, and a female stood before him; materializing from the fog. She stood slightly shorter than him, her brown hair, braided around her temples, cascaded over her shoulders. Her athletic build was evident even in her loose green tunic and light brown trousers. The well-worn knee-high boots she wore exuded ruggedness. A medallion reminiscent of a dream catcher hung from her neck. It emanated a palpable aura of power. Kevin knew the gem at its center was the source of their presence in this place.
No, he suddenly realized. It wasn’t just reminiscent of a dream catcher; it was the dream catcher he had received from that peculiar man. In fact he had to further correct himself because neither were actually dream catchers, he simply couldn’t think of any other way of referring to it—or them. He also couldn’t quite explain why he had accepted it. The man had seemed familiar, like encountering someone at a costume party whom you hadn’t seen in ages. Their disguise could hide their face, but not their distinctive traits.
“Do you remember?” she interrupted his thoughts.
Confusion persisted to nag at Kevin. He sensed he should know her and this place. They had both been here before, but he couldn’t recall when or how many times.
With a smile on her face, she approached. She bore a resemblance to his girlfriend, Trishia. Not that it was her; there was just something in the way she gazed at him which evoked the comparison. When she drew close enough, she raised her right hand, index finger extended. Her movements exuded the grace of a warrior, and he thought he detected magic—a potent, arcane energy—emanating from her finger.
“Remember,” she whispered, pressing her finger against his forehead.
At first, there was a subtle tingling where she’d touched him, but then a torrent of memories flooded his mind. Her touch had unlocked a treasure trove within his brain, and he remembered being here countless times, meeting her, training together. He, too, possessed magic—a power he had forgotten. And most importantly, Kevin Melfry remembered her name: it was Keilana.
“Do you remember?” Keilana asked once again.
“Yes,” he replied, newfound determination filling his voice.
“Show me.”
Kevin extended his hand, palm up, and focused his concentration. A pinprick of light materialized, swiftly growing into a vibrant yellow ball of energy. It hovered in his outstretched hand, sporadic arcs of electricity danced across its surface. The radiance from his creation illuminated Keilana’s eyes; accentuated the contours of her face.
“Good,” she smiled. “What else?”
He lowered his hand and the ball remained suspended in the air where his palm had been. As he channeled his will, the ball split into two equal-sized orbs of identical brilliance. In a mesmerizing display, the two spheres multiplied, giving birth to four.
Keilana observed with an ever-widening smile, emanating an aura of satisfaction similar to a proud parent admiring their child’s accomplishments. With a wave of her hand, four creatures stepped out of the fog. They looked like quadrupedal gorillas, and each possessed a large upturned curved horn at the center of its forehead. Their brown fur bore sickly patches of matted grey, and they clutched clubs. They also seemed disoriented by their unfamiliar surroundings, much like he had been initially.
Kevin heard low grunts coming from the creatures as they surveyed their surroundings, seemingly searching for an escape from this ethereal realm. One of them closed its eyes, raised its head and sniffed the air while swaying from side to side. Catching their scent, it turned in their direction, raised its arms high and let out a resounding roar. The remaining three beasts followed suit, fixating their attention on Kevin and Keilana, and began to advance. Awkward yet swift, they sought to encircle the duo.
Reacting quickly, Kevin unleashed his magic, dispatching two of the creatures. They convulsed on the ground, engulfed in yellow electric energy before succumbing to the encompassing mist. The other two had been able to counter, wielding their clubs to deflect his energy projectiles. The impact of his magic seemed to inflict pain upon them, evident from their roars and the smoke curling from their weapons and bodies. They quickly regained their composure and resumed their approach, one flanking from each side.
Kevin raised his hands, conjuring two translucent yellow barriers between them and their adversaries. The beasts collided with the shields and stumbled back before launching a ferocious assault; battering the barricades with their clubs. Each blow gave rise to trails of smoke and showers of sparks.
Keilana nodded approvingly. “Very good.”
Kevin glanced at her and smiled, before refocusing his attention on the creatures relentlessly pounding against his shields. He began to clench his fists and twist his wrists, causing the barriers to coil around the beasts, ensnaring them and restricting their movements. With each tightening grip of his hands, their prisons constricted further. The creatures howled a mixture of pain and anger. In a single swift motion, Kevin threw his arms down to his sides and the shields and creatures vanished with an implosion of light.
“You have learned well,” Keilana acknowledged.
“Yes, indeed he has,” another voice agreed. Unlike Keilana’s soft and warm tone, this voice carried a high-pitched, cold demeanor, tainted with malevolence.
Startled, Keilana swiftly turned, positioning herself protectively in front of Kevin, as if guarding a child. Her gesture unsettled him, for in all their training sessions within this realm, they had always been alone. He had never questioned their location, or at least, he couldn’t recall ever doing so. However, an instinctual sense whispered to him they were meant to be alone; it was a deep intuition hinting at the secrets of this place.
“You have done well with his training, but now he is ours,” the voice declared, followed by maniacal cackling.
As he regained his senses, Kevin found himself walking in what seemed to be an expanse of undulating grey clouds. Darker wisps, akin to bruises, interspersed within the vaporous waves. The billowing mist enveloped him on all sides, creating the illusion of being inside a room made of suspended water droplets. However, the boundless distance in every direction contradicted this enclosed sensation.
“Shall we begin?” a feminine voice filled the emptiness around him.
The voice didn’t boom; instead, it floated like a boat on a gentle current. There was a strange familiarity to it, triggering a long-lost memory which eluded Kevin’s grasp. Had he heard it before? He was simultaneously certain and uncertain, as remnants of conversations from a time and place he may have never experienced flitted through his mind.
Along with the faint recognition of the voice came a similar familiarity with his surroundings. It was no longer peculiar, though he couldn’t comprehend why. The persistent feeling of never having been there before gnawed at his memory, but Kevin resisted. He knew he had been there before, if not in a physical sense.
“Shall we begin?”
The words reverberated through the mist, coaxing Kevin to search for their source or a path to follow to it, but all he found was the endless expanse of swirling vapor. Was she waiting for something? Recognition perhaps? Acknowledgement to continue speaking?
Could he even speak in this eerie realm, and if so, what words should he choose? The peculiarity of the situation made him hesitate, but mustering his courage, he responded, “Yes.”
His reply echoed, starkly contrasting the melodic quality of hers.
To his surprise, the undulations in front of him halted, and a female stood before him; materializing from the fog. She stood slightly shorter than him, her brown hair, braided around her temples, cascaded over her shoulders. Her athletic build was evident even in her loose green tunic and light brown trousers. The well-worn knee-high boots she wore exuded ruggedness. A medallion reminiscent of a dream catcher hung from her neck. It emanated a palpable aura of power. Kevin knew the gem at its center was the source of their presence in this place.
No, he suddenly realized. It wasn’t just reminiscent of a dream catcher; it was the dream catcher he had received from that peculiar man. In fact he had to further correct himself because neither were actually dream catchers, he simply couldn’t think of any other way of referring to it—or them. He also couldn’t quite explain why he had accepted it. The man had seemed familiar, like encountering someone at a costume party whom you hadn’t seen in ages. Their disguise could hide their face, but not their distinctive traits.
“Do you remember?” she interrupted his thoughts.
Confusion persisted to nag at Kevin. He sensed he should know her and this place. They had both been here before, but he couldn’t recall when or how many times.
With a smile on her face, she approached. She bore a resemblance to his girlfriend, Trishia. Not that it was her; there was just something in the way she gazed at him which evoked the comparison. When she drew close enough, she raised her right hand, index finger extended. Her movements exuded the grace of a warrior, and he thought he detected magic—a potent, arcane energy—emanating from her finger.
“Remember,” she whispered, pressing her finger against his forehead.
At first, there was a subtle tingling where she’d touched him, but then a torrent of memories flooded his mind. Her touch had unlocked a treasure trove within his brain, and he remembered being here countless times, meeting her, training together. He, too, possessed magic—a power he had forgotten. And most importantly, Kevin Melfry remembered her name: it was Keilana.
“Do you remember?” Keilana asked once again.
“Yes,” he replied, newfound determination filling his voice.
“Show me.”
Kevin extended his hand, palm up, and focused his concentration. A pinprick of light materialized, swiftly growing into a vibrant yellow ball of energy. It hovered in his outstretched hand, sporadic arcs of electricity danced across its surface. The radiance from his creation illuminated Keilana’s eyes; accentuated the contours of her face.
“Good,” she smiled. “What else?”
He lowered his hand and the ball remained suspended in the air where his palm had been. As he channeled his will, the ball split into two equal-sized orbs of identical brilliance. In a mesmerizing display, the two spheres multiplied, giving birth to four.
Keilana observed with an ever-widening smile, emanating an aura of satisfaction similar to a proud parent admiring their child’s accomplishments. With a wave of her hand, four creatures stepped out of the fog. They looked like quadrupedal gorillas, and each possessed a large upturned curved horn at the center of its forehead. Their brown fur bore sickly patches of matted grey, and they clutched clubs. They also seemed disoriented by their unfamiliar surroundings, much like he had been initially.
Kevin heard low grunts coming from the creatures as they surveyed their surroundings, seemingly searching for an escape from this ethereal realm. One of them closed its eyes, raised its head and sniffed the air while swaying from side to side. Catching their scent, it turned in their direction, raised its arms high and let out a resounding roar. The remaining three beasts followed suit, fixating their attention on Kevin and Keilana, and began to advance. Awkward yet swift, they sought to encircle the duo.
Reacting quickly, Kevin unleashed his magic, dispatching two of the creatures. They convulsed on the ground, engulfed in yellow electric energy before succumbing to the encompassing mist. The other two had been able to counter, wielding their clubs to deflect his energy projectiles. The impact of his magic seemed to inflict pain upon them, evident from their roars and the smoke curling from their weapons and bodies. They quickly regained their composure and resumed their approach, one flanking from each side.
Kevin raised his hands, conjuring two translucent yellow barriers between them and their adversaries. The beasts collided with the shields and stumbled back before launching a ferocious assault; battering the barricades with their clubs. Each blow gave rise to trails of smoke and showers of sparks.
Keilana nodded approvingly. “Very good.”
Kevin glanced at her and smiled, before refocusing his attention on the creatures relentlessly pounding against his shields. He began to clench his fists and twist his wrists, causing the barriers to coil around the beasts, ensnaring them and restricting their movements. With each tightening grip of his hands, their prisons constricted further. The creatures howled a mixture of pain and anger. In a single swift motion, Kevin threw his arms down to his sides and the shields and creatures vanished with an implosion of light.
“You have learned well,” Keilana acknowledged.
“Yes, indeed he has,” another voice agreed. Unlike Keilana’s soft and warm tone, this voice carried a high-pitched, cold demeanor, tainted with malevolence.
Startled, Keilana swiftly turned, positioning herself protectively in front of Kevin, as if guarding a child. Her gesture unsettled him, for in all their training sessions within this realm, they had always been alone. He had never questioned their location, or at least, he couldn’t recall ever doing so. However, an instinctual sense whispered to him they were meant to be alone; it was a deep intuition hinting at the secrets of this place.
“You have done well with his training, but now he is ours,” the voice declared, followed by maniacal cackling.
February 23, 2023
Dark Earth - Book Two: The Harbingers
The parking lot he was approaching was a shortcut to the bridge over the Tiber River. Anyone walking to or from the clubs would take the same route, so it was a good place to possibly meet someone.
A figure stepped out as he was passing under the lot’s sign. He was shocked at first, but this quickly changed to disgust at the sight of the shabbily clothed man standing in front of him. His hair and beard were matted, and his clothing had seen better days. He smelled like a mixture of urine and sweat. Paolo nearly gagged. With effort, he resisted the urge to hold his breath, though he tried not to breathe too deeply.
Thoughts of the mysterious mummified bodies which had been turning up around Rome suddenly crossed his mind. He nearly laughed out loud at his overactive imagination. It was highly unlikely the derelict in front of him could be responsible. He was ready to dismiss the vagrant and walk around him when he noticed the man’s eyes. The hobo was blind but didn’t have the normal look of a sightless person. Initially, Paolo thought it was a trick of the light, but soon realized it wasn’t. His eyes were milky; but while one was white, the other was yellow.
A shiver inched down Paolo’s spine, and he started to walk past. The vagabond moved and blocked his way. He tried to sidestep him, but the man moved again.
“Look, I don’t have any spare change,” he said.
Those sightless eyes seemed to stare through him.
“It is not money we seek.”
Paolo shook his head due to the combination of the bum’s bad breath and his strange remark. “Then what the hell do you want?”
The vagrant stepped closer, leaned in and audibly sniffed at his neck.
“Get the fuck away from me!”
He shoved him back, but the fellow simply smiled. His teeth were caked with plaque. Paolo looked around. He’d said we. Maybe some of his homeless friends were lurking in the darkness between the parked cars. His fear eased when he saw that the shadows hid no one. At the same time, his pride was wounded at realizing that he was afraid of vagabonds. He’d never feared a street person before, but something about this guy had him on edge. After what had happened at the club, however, he now refused to be afraid.
“Don’t fuck with me,” he warned. “I’m not in the fucking mood.”
“Oh, we’re not going to fuck with you.”
His smile increased.
“Then get the—”
Before he could finish his sentence, the vagrant closed the distance. The man’s hand shot out, seized him by the throat and lifted him from the ground. He stared horrified into those strangely coloured eyes and grabbed at the fingers around his neck to pry them loose. It was like trying to straighten bent steel rods.
The hobo held him in his outstretched arm. His shabby clothes and bony frame hid massive strength.
His attacker suddenly pulled him closer and Paolo Marconi’s feet hit the ground with such force that his knees buckled. The man now towered over him and increased the pressure on his neck. He brought his face close again. His breath was overpowering.
To his continuing terror, those eyes shifted colours. First, the left was milky white and the right milky yellow, then the right became white and the left yellow. It was as though a lantern was moving behind them. The change made no sense and at that moment, he didn’t care. All he wanted was to be as far from the terrifying hobo as possible,
The bum opened his mouth wider, and the stench of his halitosis intensified. Marconi continued to struggle in his grasp. He tried to call for help but felt his trachea being crushed, cutting off all sound save a strangled gurgle.
“No, we are not going to fuck with you,” the vagrant growled.
He then flung him away like an oversized rag doll. Paolo flew through the air and landed painfully on his side, banging his right knee and elbow before rolling heavily onto his back. The impact left him winded, and he struggled to regain his breath. He pushed himself to focus through his agony.
Closing his eyes tightly, he willed the pain to stop. When he opened them, he saw his attacker stalking toward him. The man strode with the determination of an angry titan. Though his knee and elbow throbbed, he managed to push himself to his feet. Paolo admitted the man had gotten the drop on him. It wouldn’t happen again. He refused to be beaten by a smelly, penniless hobo.
His knee throbbed, but he continued to put weight on it. He couldn’t let his opponent know he was injured; he had to make him think he could still be a threat. It was unfortunate he didn’t think of himself the same way. He’d never met anyone with the strength this vagrant possessed, and he did his best to quell his fear.
Thoughts of the mummified bodies briefly flashed through his mind again, but he didn’t have time to dwell on them; his attacker was almost on him. Like a cobra strike, the derelict’s right hand lashed out and caught the left side of Paolo’s face. The force knocked him back, and stars exploded before his eyes. His head swam and his world tilted like a funhouse ride. Had it not been for the car he stumbled into, he would have fallen heavily back onto his back.
He managed to stay on his feet, but this was no blessing because his assailant gripped his throat again and dragged his face inches from his own. The vagabond then forced him to his knees before flinging him away once more.
A figure stepped out as he was passing under the lot’s sign. He was shocked at first, but this quickly changed to disgust at the sight of the shabbily clothed man standing in front of him. His hair and beard were matted, and his clothing had seen better days. He smelled like a mixture of urine and sweat. Paolo nearly gagged. With effort, he resisted the urge to hold his breath, though he tried not to breathe too deeply.
Thoughts of the mysterious mummified bodies which had been turning up around Rome suddenly crossed his mind. He nearly laughed out loud at his overactive imagination. It was highly unlikely the derelict in front of him could be responsible. He was ready to dismiss the vagrant and walk around him when he noticed the man’s eyes. The hobo was blind but didn’t have the normal look of a sightless person. Initially, Paolo thought it was a trick of the light, but soon realized it wasn’t. His eyes were milky; but while one was white, the other was yellow.
A shiver inched down Paolo’s spine, and he started to walk past. The vagabond moved and blocked his way. He tried to sidestep him, but the man moved again.
“Look, I don’t have any spare change,” he said.
Those sightless eyes seemed to stare through him.
“It is not money we seek.”
Paolo shook his head due to the combination of the bum’s bad breath and his strange remark. “Then what the hell do you want?”
The vagrant stepped closer, leaned in and audibly sniffed at his neck.
“Get the fuck away from me!”
He shoved him back, but the fellow simply smiled. His teeth were caked with plaque. Paolo looked around. He’d said we. Maybe some of his homeless friends were lurking in the darkness between the parked cars. His fear eased when he saw that the shadows hid no one. At the same time, his pride was wounded at realizing that he was afraid of vagabonds. He’d never feared a street person before, but something about this guy had him on edge. After what had happened at the club, however, he now refused to be afraid.
“Don’t fuck with me,” he warned. “I’m not in the fucking mood.”
“Oh, we’re not going to fuck with you.”
His smile increased.
“Then get the—”
Before he could finish his sentence, the vagrant closed the distance. The man’s hand shot out, seized him by the throat and lifted him from the ground. He stared horrified into those strangely coloured eyes and grabbed at the fingers around his neck to pry them loose. It was like trying to straighten bent steel rods.
The hobo held him in his outstretched arm. His shabby clothes and bony frame hid massive strength.
His attacker suddenly pulled him closer and Paolo Marconi’s feet hit the ground with such force that his knees buckled. The man now towered over him and increased the pressure on his neck. He brought his face close again. His breath was overpowering.
To his continuing terror, those eyes shifted colours. First, the left was milky white and the right milky yellow, then the right became white and the left yellow. It was as though a lantern was moving behind them. The change made no sense and at that moment, he didn’t care. All he wanted was to be as far from the terrifying hobo as possible,
The bum opened his mouth wider, and the stench of his halitosis intensified. Marconi continued to struggle in his grasp. He tried to call for help but felt his trachea being crushed, cutting off all sound save a strangled gurgle.
“No, we are not going to fuck with you,” the vagrant growled.
He then flung him away like an oversized rag doll. Paolo flew through the air and landed painfully on his side, banging his right knee and elbow before rolling heavily onto his back. The impact left him winded, and he struggled to regain his breath. He pushed himself to focus through his agony.
Closing his eyes tightly, he willed the pain to stop. When he opened them, he saw his attacker stalking toward him. The man strode with the determination of an angry titan. Though his knee and elbow throbbed, he managed to push himself to his feet. Paolo admitted the man had gotten the drop on him. It wouldn’t happen again. He refused to be beaten by a smelly, penniless hobo.
His knee throbbed, but he continued to put weight on it. He couldn’t let his opponent know he was injured; he had to make him think he could still be a threat. It was unfortunate he didn’t think of himself the same way. He’d never met anyone with the strength this vagrant possessed, and he did his best to quell his fear.
Thoughts of the mummified bodies briefly flashed through his mind again, but he didn’t have time to dwell on them; his attacker was almost on him. Like a cobra strike, the derelict’s right hand lashed out and caught the left side of Paolo’s face. The force knocked him back, and stars exploded before his eyes. His head swam and his world tilted like a funhouse ride. Had it not been for the car he stumbled into, he would have fallen heavily back onto his back.
He managed to stay on his feet, but this was no blessing because his assailant gripped his throat again and dragged his face inches from his own. The vagabond then forced him to his knees before flinging him away once more.
May 30, 2017
MOMENTS IN TIME
Gary Sandwell had been relieved that the day had finally ended. It had been busy at the computer store where he’d worked. Shoppers had flocked in droves that day to get the newest equipment and latest improvements. The entire Yorkshire Mall in fact, had been extremely busy. As a result, the store had achieved very high sales figures. Being the Assistant Manager had meant that he’d been entitled to a share of the profits if they reached their monthly quota and thanks to that day’s activities, they’d been well on their way.
John Martin—one of the full-time employees—had drawn the doors closed after the last of the customers had walked out with their purchase. The rest of the staff had exchanged looks of gratitude. They’d been happy because it had been a Friday night and they had planned a night of drinking, dancing, and womanizing. The plans had been made a week in advance and thanks to that day’s sales, they had something else to celebrate.
He’d been in the middle of closing the cash register and calculating the day’s totals when the doors had reopened and a young attractive Asian lady had walked in. He remembered it as though it had happened yesterday; her long dark hair, button nose; the playful twinkle in her brown eyes. Gary had looked up from his computer terminal and been taken aback by the sight of her.
Akiko had looked stunning, dressed in a white button-down blouse, black leather overcoat with matching gloves and formfitting skirt. Her ebony knee-high boots and matching purse had added a striking elegance. She’d smiled at him as their eyes met, then sauntered to counter, leaned in and kissed him lovingly on the lips. He’d returned the affection but had been a little surprised because she had not been factored into his plans for the evening. His plans had often not included her, though he was ashamed say why.
She must have recognized the look on his face because she’d taken a step back and with that same playful smile had asked, “Did you forget what today is?”
“What’s today?” he remembered asking hesitantly.
“It’s our six month anniversary,” she’d informed him.
“Six month anniversary?”
“Yes, we started dating six months ago so I thought we would do something special tonight.”
“Six month anniversary,” he’d repeated. “People don’t celebrate six month anniversaries. People celebrate anniversaries in years, not months.”
Noticing that she’d been about to speak, he’d continued quickly. “Plus, I was going out with the guys tonight.”
A single tear had started down her cheek and she’d quickly wiped it away with one gloved hand before turning aside to hide the river that had started to flow. He remember that it had tugged at his heart, but foolishly he’d thought that they would have other nights together.
“Akiko,” he remembered pleading.
She’d not reply and as he’d tried again she’d started towards the door. He’d ran from behind the counter and upon reaching her, had attempted to turn her around. She’d resisted at first but when she’d finally relented he’d seen the tears freely flowing down her face. He remembered thinking at that moment that she was being silly and overreacting.
With her head hung low she’d said quietly. “I just thought…”
She’d not finish the sentence because fresh runnels had added to the ones that had already been there.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he’d said. “I’ve already made plans.”
“It’s okay,” she’d murmured through her sobs, and had reached up to kiss him quickly on the lips. Then she’d turned and walked away.
Gary had watched her leave before turning to the members of his staff. He’d smiled and rolled his eyes. This had drawn snickers from his team and had given him the satisfaction of showing them that she loved him; that he could do what he wanted when he wanted; a selfish bravado and callous nonchalance.
He’d not known it at the time, but the events of that night would lead to a pivotal moment in his life. Now years later, as he sat behind his desk at the precinct and reflected on it once more, he wished that he had spent the evening with her. Wish that he’d not been so selfish and afraid; wish that he’d told her how he’d felt instead of acting like he hadn’t cared, simply for the benefit of his employees.
With a sigh, he picked up the manila envelope once more. The red stenciled lettering indicating that it was a Cold Case brought an ache to his heart and he longed to hear her voice again. As he opened it, he prayed as he had so often in the past that this time something inside would lead him to the person who’d taken her life that night.
John Martin—one of the full-time employees—had drawn the doors closed after the last of the customers had walked out with their purchase. The rest of the staff had exchanged looks of gratitude. They’d been happy because it had been a Friday night and they had planned a night of drinking, dancing, and womanizing. The plans had been made a week in advance and thanks to that day’s sales, they had something else to celebrate.
He’d been in the middle of closing the cash register and calculating the day’s totals when the doors had reopened and a young attractive Asian lady had walked in. He remembered it as though it had happened yesterday; her long dark hair, button nose; the playful twinkle in her brown eyes. Gary had looked up from his computer terminal and been taken aback by the sight of her.
Akiko had looked stunning, dressed in a white button-down blouse, black leather overcoat with matching gloves and formfitting skirt. Her ebony knee-high boots and matching purse had added a striking elegance. She’d smiled at him as their eyes met, then sauntered to counter, leaned in and kissed him lovingly on the lips. He’d returned the affection but had been a little surprised because she had not been factored into his plans for the evening. His plans had often not included her, though he was ashamed say why.
She must have recognized the look on his face because she’d taken a step back and with that same playful smile had asked, “Did you forget what today is?”
“What’s today?” he remembered asking hesitantly.
“It’s our six month anniversary,” she’d informed him.
“Six month anniversary?”
“Yes, we started dating six months ago so I thought we would do something special tonight.”
“Six month anniversary,” he’d repeated. “People don’t celebrate six month anniversaries. People celebrate anniversaries in years, not months.”
Noticing that she’d been about to speak, he’d continued quickly. “Plus, I was going out with the guys tonight.”
A single tear had started down her cheek and she’d quickly wiped it away with one gloved hand before turning aside to hide the river that had started to flow. He remember that it had tugged at his heart, but foolishly he’d thought that they would have other nights together.
“Akiko,” he remembered pleading.
She’d not reply and as he’d tried again she’d started towards the door. He’d ran from behind the counter and upon reaching her, had attempted to turn her around. She’d resisted at first but when she’d finally relented he’d seen the tears freely flowing down her face. He remembered thinking at that moment that she was being silly and overreacting.
With her head hung low she’d said quietly. “I just thought…”
She’d not finish the sentence because fresh runnels had added to the ones that had already been there.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he’d said. “I’ve already made plans.”
“It’s okay,” she’d murmured through her sobs, and had reached up to kiss him quickly on the lips. Then she’d turned and walked away.
Gary had watched her leave before turning to the members of his staff. He’d smiled and rolled his eyes. This had drawn snickers from his team and had given him the satisfaction of showing them that she loved him; that he could do what he wanted when he wanted; a selfish bravado and callous nonchalance.
He’d not known it at the time, but the events of that night would lead to a pivotal moment in his life. Now years later, as he sat behind his desk at the precinct and reflected on it once more, he wished that he had spent the evening with her. Wish that he’d not been so selfish and afraid; wish that he’d told her how he’d felt instead of acting like he hadn’t cared, simply for the benefit of his employees.
With a sigh, he picked up the manila envelope once more. The red stenciled lettering indicating that it was a Cold Case brought an ache to his heart and he longed to hear her voice again. As he opened it, he prayed as he had so often in the past that this time something inside would lead him to the person who’d taken her life that night.
May 22, 2017
The Storm
The afternoon was warm but slightly overcast. On the horizon, dark clouds could be seen approaching; bringing a storm with them. School had just ended and most of us were engaged in the usual activities of young boys; playing tag, dodge ball or scampering around. I had just finished chasing my best friend Neal and we were laughing in our comradely way when from behind I heard someone say, “Get him!”
My first thought was of another game of chase until I felt the fingers close around my throat. Again I thought nothing of it until they started to apply pressure. I struggled to get free but they maintained their vice-like grip. The tips began to dig in and crush my windpipe. I gasped and sank to my knees as spots danced before my eyes.
I heard Neal say, “Leave him alone, Randolph!”
It was then that I knew who the culprit was; Randolph Archer. He was a year older than I and came from a bad family. It had been whispered that his dad was abusive and would beat him and his mother mercilessly. Around school, he was known as a bully and on more than one occasion, had been sent to the Headmaster’s office to be strapped.
I clawed at his hands, but his grip was solid; unyielding. My mind swam with fear and somewhere on the periphery I wondered if he knew what he was doing; if he knew of the harm and pain he was causing me, and I wondered why he was doing it. I had done nothing to him. My fingers continued to desperately scrap against his and unexpectedly he released me.
Though disoriented, I somehow picked myself from the ground and ran. I’d left my books behind but didn’t care. All that was present in my mind was putting as much distance between the two of us as possible. I heard Neal calling from far away; shouting for me to wait, but fear drove me. My lungs burned, my throat ached, but I ran. When I thought I could go no further, I found a reserve and continued running all the way home.
I didn’t say anything to my grandmother about the incident when I arrived out of breath. In fact I didn’t talk about it until my uncle came home. His arrivals always filled me with dread because he was frequently drunk and would often become violent. This evening was like many others. I smelled the alcohol as soon as he entered the house and once more I was gripped with angst. We all sat down to dinner—we knew better than to eat without him.
“How was school?” he asked.
The sour odor of rum accompanied his question.
“Good,” I croaked through my aching throat.
“What happened to your voice?”
“Randolph Archer choked me,” I timidly replied.
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you do after he choked you?”
“Nothing.”
“What!” his voice boomed; echoing off the walls. “You let someone choke you and you didn’t fight back?”
With each word he uttered the pungent aroma of liquor attacked me, increasing my terror. I shrank with trepidation.
“I’m coming to that school tomorrow and we’re going to see about that!” he bellowed as he turned from me with a look of disgust.
I quickly finished eating and went to my room. I knew that he would continue to drink and I did not want to be a source of aggravation for him. Lying in bed, I heard him pacing and muttering to himself. I prayed that he would not come in. The storm eventually arrived. The raindrops akin to a barrage of pebbles hurled against our tin roof. The sound drowned out my uncle and lulled me to sleep.
* * *
True to his drunken words, the following day my uncle arrived while we were in the yard for our mid-morning break. The other kids were enjoying themselves as usual, giving chase and playing other boyish games while avoiding the puddles left by the previous night’s rain. I on the other hand was filled with anxiety from both Randolph and the drunken madman. My uncle spotted me and summoned me to him; I knew better than to be defiant, so I meekly obeyed. Then he spied Randolph and called him as well—he somehow knew who he was.
Next he positioned us so that Randolph stood with his back to a large puddle and I stood in front of him. My uncle glared at me and I knew I had to act. I lunged forward and shoved Randolph with all my might. He stumbled, tripped and landed on his back in the muddy water; his face was a mixture fear and anger. My uncle glared at me again, then turned and walked away.
My first thought was of another game of chase until I felt the fingers close around my throat. Again I thought nothing of it until they started to apply pressure. I struggled to get free but they maintained their vice-like grip. The tips began to dig in and crush my windpipe. I gasped and sank to my knees as spots danced before my eyes.
I heard Neal say, “Leave him alone, Randolph!”
It was then that I knew who the culprit was; Randolph Archer. He was a year older than I and came from a bad family. It had been whispered that his dad was abusive and would beat him and his mother mercilessly. Around school, he was known as a bully and on more than one occasion, had been sent to the Headmaster’s office to be strapped.
I clawed at his hands, but his grip was solid; unyielding. My mind swam with fear and somewhere on the periphery I wondered if he knew what he was doing; if he knew of the harm and pain he was causing me, and I wondered why he was doing it. I had done nothing to him. My fingers continued to desperately scrap against his and unexpectedly he released me.
Though disoriented, I somehow picked myself from the ground and ran. I’d left my books behind but didn’t care. All that was present in my mind was putting as much distance between the two of us as possible. I heard Neal calling from far away; shouting for me to wait, but fear drove me. My lungs burned, my throat ached, but I ran. When I thought I could go no further, I found a reserve and continued running all the way home.
I didn’t say anything to my grandmother about the incident when I arrived out of breath. In fact I didn’t talk about it until my uncle came home. His arrivals always filled me with dread because he was frequently drunk and would often become violent. This evening was like many others. I smelled the alcohol as soon as he entered the house and once more I was gripped with angst. We all sat down to dinner—we knew better than to eat without him.
“How was school?” he asked.
The sour odor of rum accompanied his question.
“Good,” I croaked through my aching throat.
“What happened to your voice?”
“Randolph Archer choked me,” I timidly replied.
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you do after he choked you?”
“Nothing.”
“What!” his voice boomed; echoing off the walls. “You let someone choke you and you didn’t fight back?”
With each word he uttered the pungent aroma of liquor attacked me, increasing my terror. I shrank with trepidation.
“I’m coming to that school tomorrow and we’re going to see about that!” he bellowed as he turned from me with a look of disgust.
I quickly finished eating and went to my room. I knew that he would continue to drink and I did not want to be a source of aggravation for him. Lying in bed, I heard him pacing and muttering to himself. I prayed that he would not come in. The storm eventually arrived. The raindrops akin to a barrage of pebbles hurled against our tin roof. The sound drowned out my uncle and lulled me to sleep.
* * *
True to his drunken words, the following day my uncle arrived while we were in the yard for our mid-morning break. The other kids were enjoying themselves as usual, giving chase and playing other boyish games while avoiding the puddles left by the previous night’s rain. I on the other hand was filled with anxiety from both Randolph and the drunken madman. My uncle spotted me and summoned me to him; I knew better than to be defiant, so I meekly obeyed. Then he spied Randolph and called him as well—he somehow knew who he was.
Next he positioned us so that Randolph stood with his back to a large puddle and I stood in front of him. My uncle glared at me and I knew I had to act. I lunged forward and shoved Randolph with all my might. He stumbled, tripped and landed on his back in the muddy water; his face was a mixture fear and anger. My uncle glared at me again, then turned and walked away.
December 21, 2015
Smile
When some try to insult you and tear down what you have built, look back and smile. You are already miles ahead of them.
December 16, 2015
Destroyer
I don’t pretend to know all of the world’s problems, but I do know that the biggest and most destructive is greed. Until we can eliminate man’s desire for, and pursuit of material wealth, we shall never know peace nor achieve our full potential.
December 10, 2015
Dominoes
Today I woke up wondering how I could make a difference. How I could change the world and make it a better place for all people. The thought of it was daunting, after all, I'm just one person, nobody of real importance, in the grand scheme of things. Then I realized that I was looking at it from the wrong perspective, I might not be able to make a difference in the world, but I could make a difference in someone's day. So I held doors, gave up seats on the subway and let others go first. Did I make a difference? Time will tell. Will I stop trying? No. We only fail when we give up.
October 29, 2015
Night Songs
As I turned out the bedside lamp once more, I heard her whisper my name again. This time it came from under my bed
October 27, 2015
Last Night
As I was tucking him into bed, my eight year old son gave me a sly grin and asked me to check his closet for monsters. I turned and opened the door to find my frightened eight year old son hiding inside.
