What If...?

Panic grips me as tightly as my fingers grasp the steering wheel in front of me. My car, a 2005 Ford Taurus my wife picked out, was a great car but it now makes the noises of a dying soul. I've never heard it make these sounds before. As the car slows to its final stop, I survey the landscape to make myself aware that I am nowhere. I step out of the lifeless vessel and look harder at the place that could colorfully be described as a desolate desert. The sun beats down on my shoulders making it known that it was here to make my day exceptionally uncomfortable. I already feel fatigue begin to start its evil work. I look under the hood and see nothing but a confusing mess of wires and metal. I don't know why I looked. I know nothing about cars. I sigh and slam the hood down. I turn around to look for any sign of salvation and I see it! It is in the form of a small sign one hundred feet in front of me. In point of fact, it is the only thing that breaks the monotony of this abysmal hell. I walk over to read it better. "Millie’s Diner 5 Miles" is written in bright blue letters across the otherwise plain looking sign. Hope slowly begins to fight off exhaustion. I look back at my car, and turn the direction of my salvation. Five miles in this heat does not sound like an enjoyable stroll. I take off my shirt, which is now stained with sweat, and begin to walk.

July 11^th, 2007 7:45 AM

Two years ago

A shrill scream woke me from my uneasy sleep. At first, I sensed a terrible feeling of evil inside my head. But as I got my bearings I realized it was only a dream. I leaned over to silence the wailing clock and fell back on to the bed. The most heartbreaking and adorable sigh came from the sleeping beauty next to me. My wife, Haylea had awakened despite my best efforts to silence the alarm before it disturbed her. I halfway didn’t mind though because my heart melted every time she made a single sound. I leaned over and as I kissed her precious forehead I said a silent prayer of gratitude to God for giving her to me. She sighed again and breathed an "I love you" to me.

"I love you too babe, more than anything in the world."

I got up to get ready but I couldn't shake the feeling of unease from a dream I no longer remembered, a sense that lasted the whole car ride up to the church. I pulled in to the parking lot and allowed myself to temporarily get lost in my thoughts. Why was today unlike any other? Why can I not shake this feeling of unease and dread? A loud slap on my window broke my reverie and made me jump six feet out of my skin. I turned to see Jordan; one of my favorite students stumbling back in laughter knowing his mission had been accomplished. I smiled and grabbed my "camp counselor" badge from my glove box, shoved the negative feelings to the back of my mind, and got out of the car. The only people in the world who contested my wife’s place in my heart met me with laughter, sarcasm, and hugs. This was going to be one great trip to youth camp!

After the administrative papers and release forms had been taken care of everyone exchanged goodbyes with their smiling but reluctant parents, and we climbed aboard the bus. Walking in, the bus looked as if it had warped out of the mid 60's with it’s shag carpet walls and the smell of cigarette smoke. Groovy. We pulled out of the parking lot and didn't look back.

11:14 AM

About an hour in to the trip everyone had grown tired of conversing around the bus so they secluded to their own little cliques and fell more silent. I leaned my head against the window and felt myself drift away from the world. I couldn't make out what I was seeing in my dream; a swirl of black smoke against a white background, but with more purpose and direction than random smokescreen. Then, from the midst of the swirl of confusion, erupted the face of an old man. His eyes were wide with fear and his face was ghostly pale, he screamed a scream that I could not hear as if he was behind soundproof glass. His eyes grew wider with alarm he opened his mouth to scream again when a scream from reality woke me out of my dream world. I opened my eyes and saw nothing but felt the seat around me shake violently. From somewhere a girl shrieked in terror. White faded to red and red faded to black.

11:31 AM

From somewhere, another dimension maybe, someone was screaming. Other people were shouting orders. Others were crying. I heard glass cracking and the awful grinding of metal and concrete. Something terrible had happened. Reality faded once again.

11:35 AM

11:36 AM

11:37 AM

11:38 AM

11:39 AM

11:40 AM

11:50 AM

12:04 PM

I woke up again to find that my eyes were finally working for me. I saw the serenity of the sky contrasted to the horrifying scene that was outstretched underneath it. The bus, our vessel of safety, had turned in to a weapon of destruction. It had careened off the road tearing its way through over a hundred feet of guardrail as it were an angry beast tearing its way to a sleeping victim and finally smashed into a concrete freeway pillar tearing the metal tube in half. The scene in front of hit was even more devastating: bodies, some alive, some not, were strewn out in front of the bus like a roadside holocaust. I heard someone ask for anyone who could to help out. My first instinct seized control of my body and I tried to force myself off of the ground. A searing pain shot up my right leg like a bullet train speeding through my nerves. I collapsed back to the earth and look down at my foot. The skin was ripped right off the top of my foot exposing the bone beneath. I looked up at the scene again and watched all of the people running around and trying to help with an odd sense of detachment. I was beginning to lose it. I tried to cry for help but my lungs would not allow me to breathe and my vocal chords would not allow me to speak. It was as if the parts of my brain that allowed me to move were shut down. All I could do was sit and sob incoherently. I looked past the senseless carnage to the edge of the road and that’s when I saw him. An old man stood tall at about 6' 7" and if his height wasn't intimidating, his appearance would make the color drain from your face. He was dressed from head to toe in solid black. Black boots, black pants, black shirt, black trench coat, and a black hat. All the black contrasted his pale white face and his nearly translucent white beard. He wore also a look of sorrow that would have appeared to anyone else as sincere but I detected a sense of urgency and directedness behind the look. As if he knew exactly what had happened and that was the way it was supposed to happen. There was definitely something supernatural about this man surveying our tragedy. I was perplexed and terrified by his appearance, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen him before, but where? I blinked, literally, and he was gone. I tried to stand again and help with the rescue effort but I immediately collapsed to the ground as pain shot up the side of my leg like the psychotic fury of a raging hurricane. I screamed in pain then began to black out. Oh god... I could've done more...

Two Months Later

I should have been at home. I should have been discussing my thoughts with my wife. She didn’t understand. She tried to help and I loved her for it but she just couldn’t understand what it was like to lose people who were like your own kids. I downed another shot as if this one would have been more helpful than the last one. In a sense, it was, each new shot brought me closer to oblivion and apathy than the last. It was so much easier to live in no mans land than it was to accept the fact that I had lost half of the reason I was alive. I ordered another shot and took in where I was. Two and a half months ago I would not have been caught dead in a place like this. To call this place a dive would have been a compliment. Over in the corner of the room two rough-looking bikers were about to get in a fight. In the center of the room a waitress bent over to pick something up and one of the hillbilly regulars spanked her. She tried to smile but was totally unconvincing. The sounds of glass breaking, pool balls clacking, and punches being thrown was the music that guarded my anonymity. This was the place where someone went to disappear.

My phone vibrated and I looked at the caller id. It was Haylea. I couldn’t bring myself to answer the phone so I just silenced it right as Marty, the bartender walked over with my shot. He said something. I didn’t care. I’d gotten used to ignoring his hometown bartender advice. I downed another shot and ordered one more. My phone vibrated again, this time it was a text, “Where R U? Please come home. I <3 U.” A wave of nostalgia washed over me when I read the message. I wanted to love her like I once did. I just couldn’t. Why was I here? Why wasn’t I with the only thing in the world that was not destroyed? She simply didn’t get it, that’s why. Another shot came and I downed it just as quickly as the last one. I ordered one more and paid my tab.

The next thing I knew I was in a place with no walls. It had no start and no end. Everything was bright. I blinked but could not know if I was seeing or not as there was nothing to break the monotony of my surroundings. There was a faint whistling that I couldn’t place the origin of. I swung my body around looking for something that told me I was somewhere. I may have been dead, I couldn’t be sure. I swung my body around again and there he was standing eerily still and his face was as stark white as I remembered the day of the crash. The whistling seemed to get stronger the closer I got to him. There was no wind but his long white hair seemed to be flowing around underneath his black cowboy hat. I asked him what he wanted with me. He didn’t move. I yelled. He didn’t move. He just stared at me with dead eyes. I did detect a hint of sadness in his face. I didn’t care. He knew what happened at the crash site and why. He was going to answer my questions. After what seemed like hours he finally turned to walk away. I ran up to try and stop him. In my haste I tripped and fell hard on the floor.

The jolt woke me and I went soaring out of my barstool smacking my head on the floor which was saturated with god knows what. I hear the jeers and laughter of the bar crowd. A couple of people clapped and then went back to whatever “noble” pursuit they had been engaged in. As I lay there and realized where I was and what had happened I began to cry. I hated where I was. I hated the alcohol that was making everything spin. I hated the bar crowd that laughed at me. I hated Marty for his bullshit advice. I hated Haylea for not understanding what I was going through. I hated God for what he did to me.

----

I glance around at the unforgiving desert that has become my vast prison. The long road through hell gets no easier. My breath becomes quick short gasps as if planet earth doesn’t have a big enough supply of oxygen. I look up at the relentless bully called the sun and I wish to God I could fight back. I look back down and I see it; the building that could potentially hold my salvation about one hundred yards away. A big, bright blue sign that hangs above it said simply, “Millie’s” as if that is all you need to know about the place. I walk up to the featureless white building and survey the scene. A dead garden that may have once been beautiful now only decayed in the also dead wind. It is almost as if the place had once flourished with life and was blown away by a nuclear blast that had killed everything in its path. I sigh, hoping that there will be life forms inside the place that can help me with my problem. I push the door open and am immediately greeted by a blast of cool air that rushes to aid my body like a team of paramedics. I almost collapse of relief right in the doorway but regain my composure. The place has the look of those traditional split roadway stores. You know the ones with the restaurant on the left that has the overweight but sweet waitress who always thinks you look thin and the only cure is that you eat more food – Salesmanship at its finest. And on the right it has a store that has so much junk you don’t need for sale that you’d think they were in competition with Wal-Mart.
I walk to the counter and am greeted by a pleasant looking (a.k.a. big and homely) lady in her mid-thirties. “What can we do for ya puddin’?” She says in a heavy southern accent. She shoots me a big homemade smile. I tell her I’ve just walked five miles and need some water. She gives me one of those feigned looks of horror as if she has never known people could walk distances longer than between the kitchen and the couch. She rushes me to a seat and brings me a pitcher of water. I tell her I’m ok I just need a few minutes. She tells me that I need to put some meat on my bones and suggests that I order the home-fried chicken fried steak. I smile to myself and tell her I’m ok for now. With another “puddin’” she walks off letting me know where to find her. I down another third of the pitcher of water and lean back to let the air-conditioning do its job on my sunburned body. I close my eyes and let my mind wander and there it is: that all too familiar sound that signals the entrance of that man in to my dreams. I start to hear the whistling.

November 24^th, 2008 2:04 PM

1 Year Ago

The air was stale, stagnant as if nothing that occupied the space inside it did anything of value. How ironic, the air even reflected the truth. She went to the window and flung open the curtains to reveal a vast array of sunlight that cascaded over my sleeping body. I reluctantly stirred. I already had begun feel the headache coming on, that can only mean one thing – I had sobered up. I grunted and shielded my face from the onslaught of light. She was saying something. She wasn’t happy. Something about getting on with my life and I couldn’t wallow around like this. I wasn’t really listening. I wish I would have. She sighed a sigh of giving up and headed for the door. I mumbled something that was supposed to be an “I love you.” And she shot me a look. God I should have paid attention to those pained looks! The looks that said, I’ve lost what I loved but I didn’t pay attention.

Only one thing mattered: getting another drink in me so I could go back to sleep and demand answers from this man in the black trench coat. I know he knows something I don’t. I know he knows the things that I’m desperate to find out. Every time I sleep, he’s there waiting for me, like a teacher who is there for the student that tries so hard but just doesn’t understand what is being taught to him. Or like a serial killer waiting patiently for his prey to go right where he wants him, I can’t be sure. I can’t be positive about anything about the man in the black trench coat, except he frustrated me as much as he terrified me. I just needed another drink so I could get back to sleep, back to discovering the answer to all the unsolved riddles. Why did this happen? Why to a group of innocent teenagers? Why could I not let it go? What did this man that haunted my dreams want from me? He never blinked, he never answered and he never opened his mouth. He just stood with a supernatural amount of patience as if waiting for me to figure it out on my own. I wasn’t figuring anything out and he wasn’t helping! So there I was screaming, cursing, crying. He just stood there. He didn’t move. He never moved.

----

I open my eyes and blink to remind myself where I am. The diner hasn’t gone anywhere. I sigh when I realize that I’m still stranded. I flag down my waitress and order a piece of blueberry cobbler. She smiles a satisfied smile as if she knew that I would come around. “Have it right out for ya honey.” She says. Wow! Me ordering food upgraded me to “Honey” status in her mind. A few minutes later she returned with a piece of delicious smelling cobbler. As she set it in front of me I ask her if she knows of any mechanics around the area. She says her son is an experienced mechanic and he was out back and as soon as I was finished I could go talk to him. I thank her and resume eating my delicious dessert. My head was spinning from exhaustion. I tell myself that the day is far from over. I still need to get my car fixed and make it to my destination before nightfall. I finish my plate and stand up to make my way out back.

I walk out the backdoor in to the heat and walk around to where the garage was said to be. There I find a kid, no older than twenty years old and surprisingly clean cut and sharp looking, listening to his IPod and reading a magazine. I laugh at the irony of a kid living in the middle of nowhere even knowing what an IPod was. He sees me and stands right up as if he’d been itching for something to do. “Howdy there sir, ah sure hope there is something ah can do for you. Ah been bored outta mah mind sittin’ here reading this here magazine.” The powers of perception never fail me. I tell him what had happened with the car. He asks me a few questions. He seems to know what he’s talking about. About fifteen minutes later he tells me that there is a part that my car needs and it’s about an hour each way to get it. I tell him I’ll wait in the diner. I’ve never seen someone more excited to get some work than this kid. He grins a huge grin, shakes my hand, and hops in his truck. I make my way back inside the diner, grab my familiar seat for whose table now had a fresh pitcher of water on it, and lean back again…

August 1^st, 2009

Two Weeks Ago

That day, the light didn’t cut through the dead air that occupied what was called my home. That day, seemingly nothing woke me up from my frenzied screaming at this menace that haunted my dreams. However, I woke still, the whistling fading from my ears to be replaced by eerie stillness. I let my eyes adjust through the darkness that plagued this place. The drapes were closed. She never left the drapes closed. The headache began pounding away again. God, I needed a drink! I forced myself out of bed and took a moment to marvel at the fact that I even found the strength to do that anymore. This man in the black trench coat was no longer the person that had the answers. He was no longer my only link to discovering why God allowed this to happen. As far as I was concerned God was dead to me and the man in the black trench coat was the demon sent to torment me as punishment. I led myself to the kitchen and flipped the light switch. A weak fluorescent light flickered on casting a dull gray glow across the kitchen. I walked past the refrigerator to go to the cabinet for a glass. I stopped. The room got stiller if that was possible. I slowly backed up to the refrigerator door to see the note magnetized to it. I couldn’t have even heard a pin drop.

My Dearest,

I really do love you with all of my heart. That’s why I’ve literally tried to do everything I know to get you to live in the present. But you can’t. I can’t continue to allow myself to be held back while you try to pick up the pieces of your shattered world. Oh, how I wish you would have included me in it, then maybe we could have faced it together. I’m leaving and I don’t know when or if I might be coming back. I can’t stay stuck in the past with you forever. I must move on with my life. I do hope that one day you’ll be able to join me. Please believe me when I tell you that I love you and I will be praying for you. Maybe, one day, we’ll meet again if that is what God plans to happen.

Love Always,

Haylea

I couldn’t even hear myself breathe. Maybe I wasn’t breathing. I felt a dull pain around my knees. I must have collapsed to the floor. I don’t remember anything else.

This was war. The next week and a half flew by so fast I barely even remember them existing. I poured over her address books, maps, planners, and brochures anything that would lead me back to my lost wife. I didn’t have a single drink the entire time. I was not going to let God take the only important thing I had left. This was war, me against The Almighty. I wasn’t going to let him win. The man in the black trench coat barely even made an appearance as if even he was afraid of my newfound determination. I sure as hell wasn’t allowing God to have one more ounce of control in my life and if he wanted it. He was going to have to fight me for it! I poured over everything Haylea had left behind to get some sort of clue as to where she’d be. I called everyone we knew with no luck or any leads. Exhaustion was settling in and I fought it off for as long as possible but to no avail. I ended up falling asleep face first on the desk and again I heard the whistling. There he was, standing dead still with a cold glare shooting me to a standstill. He wasn’t walking towards me but he kept getting closer. His eyes looked wary and alarmed as if he was trying to convey some urgent message of some kind. He moved closer and closer until he was right in my face. His eyes grew wider. He drew a breath and shrieked the word “GOOOOOOO!!!!!” right in to my face. My face lurched off of the desk and I banged my head on the top piece and flew back in to my seat with such force that I knocked a letter opener off of the top and it fell. Almost in slow motion it began to fall, finally piercing through its destination. I lean up to see that it had pierced through the city of Cottonwood, Arizona. I stumbled back and began to scan the room half expecting the man in the black trench coat to be lurking through the corners. I looked again at the map. The man in the black trench coat had finally given me an answer. I knew exactly where I needed to go.

----

I wake again to find myself in the, what I’ve now come to describe as quaint, diner. I grab the pitcher of water and down another few gulps. I heard the door to the front entrance open with a little jingle of the bell. But that wasn’t what grabbed my attention, for as soon as the bell was through with its chime, an infinitely colder and creepier sound took its place; whistling. The temperature seemed to drop a couple of degrees as I swung my head ever so slightly to the door and I see the shadow of a tall man entering the restaurant. I pat my face to make sure I was awake. The awful dull thud of each boot hitting the ground one after the other in slow rhythmic cycles made the hair on my body stand on end. They come to a stop at the table across from me. I dare myself to look in to his face. I look and see that wide brimmed black cowboy hat, the transparent whit beard and those dark and scary eyes. I feel the color drain from my face. He carries with him a black guitar case and he sets it on the ground in front of his chair. I remain frozen in my seat. He takes one more glance at me and he sits down. He opens the case and reaches to pull out a bright milky black beautiful guitar. The first note he strums pierces directly in to the corner of my soul. With the whistling to accompany he begins to sing in a slow forbidding tone:

There once was a man who lost his way

He hid from the light and the bright of day

They looked at him, they wished out loud

He would come back to present and there he’d stay

They reached for him they plead and still

He would not heed the call from highest hill

With outstretched hands and burning hearts

They begged of him to “Please come back Will!”

Now he starts to realize it’s getting too late

To take back the moves he made in this game

He’ll curse the high heavens but all in vain

He’ll weep, he’ll gnash but his fate remains the same

He looks back at those who plead and still

Why did he not heed the call from that highest hill?

With outstretched hands he begs of them

But it’s way too late now to go back Will.

Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm.

As the last note resonates from his guitar, the whistling ceases with it as if I’d been hearing it for the last two years only so it could be a part of the song. Everything goes dead still and silent. I could swear it was below fifty degrees in the room. I try to find my voice to say something, anything. I try to swallow but it feels as though something is stuck in the caverns of my throat. With a grace and speed that could only belong to the man in the black trench coat he stands, puts the guitar away, and makes his way to the door. I manage to mutter one question, “Why are you here?” He stops briefly, looks at me with those sad eyes and then walks out the door. I sit in a state of shock for what seems like days, and seconds. From another world these words come, “I’ve got the part.” He must’ve tried several times to get my attention because by the time I realize the kid was back with my part, he is yelling at me. A shake my head to get my bearings and try to smile a convincing smile. He isn’t convinced. He instructs me on how to put the piece in my car; I pay him, and begin to walk back out in to the unforgiving sun. As I’m about to pull the door open he calls out, “Oh boy! That trip to Cottonwood took a lot out of me!” I turn in alarm, swallow hard and try to give him another convincing smile. He remains unconvinced. I pull the door open and venture in to the heat.

Providence

The drapes are open and sunlight makes great attempts to add life to the deadness of the house. Somewhere in the house a phone rings and rings and rings. After a little while a machine clicks on and records. The machine voice chimes in, “You’ve reached 206-576-2031 on August 15th, 2009. Please leave your message after the beep.” It beeps and there is no one there at first then a woman speaks, her reluctance is heavy. “Um, Will. It’s Haylea. Listen, I’m so sorry for leaving. I just freaked out you know?” She starts crying, “I shouldn’t have left you. It was wrong and selfish of me. Anything you need to get through I’ll help you get through it. We’ll do it together okay? I love you and I’ll be home as soon as I can.” The machine beeps again and clicks off.

----

About a mile or so back to the car, I begin to feel it, a slight but sharp pain in my side. Exhaustion maybe, I shrug it off and trudge on. I begin to let my mind wander back to what happened in the diner. It was the most petrified I have ever been in my whole life. What did this man want with me? The pain in my side grows stronger. I slow my step; this is more than just exhaustion. With my free hand I clutch my right side. I begin to cough, nothing at first, but steadily more violent. I stop and collapse to the ground in my coughing fit. I pull back my hand and see blood on it. I’m in trouble. I try to push myself off of the ground to no avail. This is bad. I try harder to push myself up off the sandy gravel that lay beneath me and halfway up everything goes black. I collapse. I feel nothing but pain then I feel nothing. The last thing ever heard by Will was whistling.

What If...?

Thursday, October 6, 2011

No more posts here :(

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Gaining Perspective

Monday, September 26, 2011

Magic

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Parting Ways (New Draft)

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Nostalgiacity

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Red Balloon (A 25 Word Story)

Monday, September 12, 2011

Stained Walls (Part 1)