In the murky room, guns and knives border the wall and the floor was dusty. Other than that, there were only a desk and a bed. The room was lifeless, insipid, and dull. On the bed, there lies a man, five feet tall, sizable eyes, wearing an onyx t-shirt and tight jeans with countless scars carved on his body. In his rough hands, there holds a piece of cloth, the cloth had owls on it and it was dirty and filled with stains. He held it tautly and muttered a few swear words.
Only five years ago, Paul was a senior in HSBI and had a best friend called Steve. He knew Steve since he was first grade and they did everything together, they went to school together, went home together, and ate lunch together. No one would see one without the other.
But that year, it was a catastrophe. It was 4:10 pm and everyone has already left the chemistry lab. There were three long tables in the chemistry lab and on the shelves, there were many different chemicals. Steve was sleeping soundly at the end of the second table. The door opened and someone walked into the chemistry lab.
The person paced towards the shelf next to the first table and grabbed a chair as she couldn’t reach the top shelf. She climbed onto the chair and started organizing the chemicals. Suddenly, she leaned backwards and lost her balance. The chair toppled over, but she grabbed onto the side of the shelf. The weight of the girl was too much for the shelf, the shelf leaned towards the girl and collapsed onto the floor, crushing the girl. The chemicals from the shelf spilled all over the girl’s body and a deafening scream of pain filled the room.
Steve woke up from his dream when he heard the thunderous yell. He looked around, and saw nothing wrong and realized that it was already five o’clock, the time his mom came to pick him up. Steve, forgetting to bring his pencil box, ran out the chemistry lab and scurried over to the school gate, where his mom picked him up.
Meanwhile, Paul was waiting for his sister, Mary, at the bus stop. Already saw 6 buses gone past up, he decided to go look for her. After questioning four people, Paul hurried over to the chemistry lab. Paul saw the collapsed shelf and a skinny hand protruding from the side of the shelf. He knew who the hand belonged to right when he looked at it. His eyes watered. He saw a pencil box with owls on it on the table and he recognized it. It was the pencil box he gave to Steve for his birthday. Paul’s heart began to burn and darkness spread through his body.
The following day, the news spread around the school and community. Steve came up to Paul.
“Hey, I heard. You okay?”
“Yes, I’m alright.” Paul replied unnaturally. Steve noticed that Paul was unusually, he felt an aura of hostility.
----------
Dawn inched nearer and Paul was sitting at his wooden desk beside his bed, reviewing his plan for tonight. After five years, 9 months, and 15 days, the day finally descended upon him. He spent looked through almost all of the libraries in Alabama and recorded Steve's everyday life for 5 years. Paul followed him everywhere, and he could memorize it. Hours and hours of meticulous thought and painstaking research was all for this day. The day he could get vengeance for killing her sister.
Paul gathered all the stuff in his backpack, picking up things that were necessary for this mission. Paul put on a large leather jacket with many pockets in them. He picked up a Glock-18 and shoved it in one of his left jacket pocket. Then, he walked to his desk and opened the second drawer and took out 5 packs of ammunition for his pistol and put it in his right jacket pocket. Finally, he picked up a combat knife that he bought at 9-Thirteen and held it in his hands. He hooked the backpack on his wide shoulders and left the dark room.
Paul traveled down the stairs and locked his door shut. The sky was dark and it was raining, but he didn’t notice. Someone behind him said something, but he didn’t care who was talking or what he or she is saying. The only thing in his mind now was: revenge.
He came across Steve’s house and he knocked the door. He held the knife tightly in his hand and was prepared to stab Steve in the face and take his revenge. The door opened slowly, and halfway until it was opened, he pushed the door completely open, and threw his knife at the person. The knife poked through the person's throat and died. Paul walked over the dead body and he saw Steve.
“Why you kill my sister?” Steve exclaimed.
“You killed my sister!” Paul yelled, followed by some vulgar words.
“What? I didn’t!”
“Stop lying, you murderer!”
Steve gave up on denying, Paul wouldn’t listen to any reasons anymore. Steve moved backwards as Paul inched forward. Steve tripped and fell upon the floor. Paul leaped forward, charging at the floor like a mad man. Steve dodged and the knife was stuck on the floor. Paul pulled the knife out easily and looked around to check the presence of Steve. He saw Steve running out the door. Paul chased him and threw his knife on the floor and took out his pistol. Steve ran, Paul ran. The streets were dark, but the dim streetlights were enough for Paul to see.
Paul shortened the distance between them and he raised his gun and shot. The bullet caught Steve's leg, but he kept running. His injured leg was no match for Paul, Paul leaped forward and grabbed onto Steve’s legs. Steve collapsed. Paul sat on Steve’s stomach and started to deliver strong blow to Steve towards his face. Paul held him down and continued to deliver painful blows towards Steve. He
“Die, you heartless murderer!” Paul shouted at his face. Blood flooded the streets and Paul was stained red. Paul took out his Glock-18, and fired it at Steve’s forehead. The painful cries slowly died away and contemptuous laughs replaced it.
As he walks back to his house, it was the first time he noticed the busyness of the streets. He entered his house and he noticed a few strangers.
“Hey, you’re back?” One of them asked.
“Who are you?” Paul asked.
“Mary.” She said. Hearing that name, Paul nearly fainted.
“It… it can’t be! You’re dead!” He yelled.
“I was only in a coma. When I woke up, mom told me that you’ve gone crazy. You don’t notice anyone and you ignored everyone. Every time we spoke to you, you acted as if we weren’t there and -- “ Mary explained.
“So… so, Steve didn’t kill you?” Paul interrupted
“What? I was in a coma because a shelf fell on me and I accidentally drank some of the chemicals that fell on me.”
Paul, not believing what he just heard, knelt on the floor, as tears fell traveled down his face onto the floor.
The following day, Paul was sitting in his room, and he started to sew the owl-tiled cloth with the sewing machine he borrowed from his mom. The dark room became brighter as Paul was sewing. He looked out the window and the streets seemed different from before. He sensed the liveliness of the streets, something that he hasn’t felt for years. He heard sounds that he once heard before, and then he saw red lights.
"Vincit omnia veritas." -Latin Proverb, Truth Conquers All.
The nightingale sang, the earth seemed to sway and revolve around tune as the vicious falcon pierced through the distant moon and plucked the heavenly marvel from its perch high up in the moonlight and into the darkness of death. The old man did not believe in omens, but when smoke could be smelled from his distant hut, he knew something serious was happening, something that was going to destroy the peaceful lives they may once have dreamed of. The old man jumped out of his bed and peered across the little opening in his hut’s wall, the blaring sound of the trumpets announced only one thing; death was out riding.
The old man ran out of his little straw hut through its door and into the open darkness. “Why?” was the only thing the man muttered, for the whole village was set on fire. The fire spread as far as the eye could see, from west to east, from north to west. No earthen structure was spared, only the manor itself. The huge mass of flames could only remind him of wildfires he saw in his adolescent years-the wrath of god. Only one building remained and it was that of the Althalos’s little workshop to the west. The flames left him in awe, in some kind of terrible dazzle about whether all this could actually be happening. Nevertheless, he could not help but wonder why Althalos’s workshop still stood, unlike his own hut by the manor’s entrance, his hut was among the clusters of huts in the village…
Out of nowhere came the distant sound of horses, galloping at full speed towards the manor. The ground trembled with fear as the horses neared and the heaviness of their breathing be felt. It was a single knight, a masked knight clad in black armor on his black stallion; his ballroom mask gleamed under the moonlight. The stallion charged by at a full gallop. The knight only shifted his head enough to see Pierre from the corner of his eyes, no more, no less. The knight galloped in gleaming silver armor into the manor’s courtyard and behind towards the stables. The old man blew the whistle. Guards scrambled out of the rectangular manor and out into the open.
The manor was a rectangular building made of stone with a brown thatched roof. Now from within, poured out guards who soon ran to the back of the manor’s courtyard. Seconds later, the old man could see this thin figure be dragged out by the guards to the open. It was the baron’s son. His father ruled the village with an iron fist; no one would dare challenge his son.
When sweat rolled slowly down the old man’s cheeks, he suddenly remembered his duties and helped the villagers extinguish the fire. When he came to the site, it was already too late. The village lay in ashes, like a match that had been carelessly lighted and now gone. The smell of burnt wood could be smelt from miles away and the sky was covered with black smoke. Then the knights came. They were in iron clad armor with swords, crossbows and war hammers, something serious must have happened. They walked in a brisk pace, heading towards a small distant hut to the west. One could hear the clatter of metal and metal as the procession, lead by the chief constable walked towards Althalos’ workshop. The chief constable only shows up when a serious crime has been committed. As chill ran down the old man’s spin, for he knew the fire could not have been accidental. It was arson.
The knights hacked through the door with they battle axes without the slightest knock. From miles away one can hear the shocked scream of Althalos. “In name of the king, you are arrested for arson!” shouted the constable. From the distance, Pierre could see this poor man ruthlessly dragged from his home in his undergarments.
“Arson? You must be mistaken, I was sleeping….” Indifferent towards his pleas and excuses, the constable gagged him. From his experience as the manor’s watchman, he could tell that these two would now be suspected of arson. The old man knew Athalos was hopeless. The poor leather workman now faced trial against the town’s royalty. But for now, the town villagers gathered in the courtyard of the manor and set tents for the night. One could tell that a lot of hardship awaited them, for rebuilding the town won’t come easy. Overcome with fatigue, the old man walked back into his hut, and slept.
The lark’s songs were in the air, the room was quiet and the village was silent. It seemed so placid that passerby’s may never notice that something happened. It greatly disturbed the old man. The village was on a small grassy plain with a circular fence surrounding it, protecting its villagers from the outside. It may not be the safest place to be, but it was certainly a welcoming place. Villagers herded sheep and other livestock while some worked on farms. Everybody worked together for the baron, in exchange for protection that he offers with his knights. It was a very green place with grass strewn everywhere and oaks protruding into the sky every here and there. The huts seemed small in comparison to the oaks. The old man lived next to the baron’s manor towards the center. Rivers ran to the west while forests grew towards the east. Interrupting the man in mid-thought, an announcer with a blaring voice informed the villagers of a gathering, the trial of Althalos. Althalos was indicted, by the same knight that stole into the manor; the baron’s son.
None of the villagers truly believed that Althalos could have been the culprit. He was an honest and nice man who worked extremely hard to sell his leatherwork. He was an orphan who was taught to be honest and straightforward. He worked extremely hard as a child and finally managed to set up his own small workshop as an adult. Before the event many parents even use Althalos as an example. However, no one dared speak anything about the baron’s son; for he was immune, a source of power that did not know the difference between right and wrong.
Althalos sat alone, bound to a chair in the center of the raised wooden platform. The baron and the chief constable sat behind a table in front of him, serving as the jury. He sat silently still on the chair, awaiting justice; hope shimmered in his eyes so brightly that they were comparable to stars in the night sky.
“Althalos, you have been charged for arson, here you shall stand trial and obtain justice,” the baron announced, “Make your oath to the constable.”
“I, Althalos, swear before god and you that I was not involved with the terrible arson in any way,” he declared loudly “I call upon divine punishment if I swore falsely.” The baron’s son sneered from his own box below the stage.
“Ha! How come your house was the only one standing?” he snickered.
“Silence!” shouted the constable, “accusers were not allowed to make any comments.” Being a leatherworker all his life, Althalos had few friends. His business was good, but his stream of customers just came and went. He was a tall and firmly built with broad shoulder and a muscular body. He sat there on that distant chair, with hazel eyes and strands brown hair on his neatly combed head. Being very nervous, sweat trickled down his neck and into his peasant’s shirt. It made the old man really sad to see how unfair the situation was. Sweat trickled down his weary cheeks.
“You have three days Althalos, those who wish to become oath helpers will come to my office within these three days,” was all that the constable said. He had heard what the man said, “Three days, at least gave him a chance,” he thought. In these three days oath-helpers must voluntarily come to the constable’s office and make an oath backing Althalos’ oath. If ten or more oath-helpers came, Althalos would be a free man. Pierre was partially relieved, judging by what the villagers saw, a lot of oath helpers will sure come to help out this poor man. When Althalos get released, surely there will be villagers indicting him of arson.
On the first day, the old man slowly walked his way towards the constable’s office. He soon became an oath-helper. As time trickled by like sand escapes one’s hands, only one other oath-helper came.
“Althalos has always been a good neighbor to me, always the kind of person who’d help you out in any kind of problem. He isn’t the person who’d argue over small losses or gains when doing business either. I just don’t think he could have started this fire,” was all the man said to him near the entrance. Then he went into the constable’s office and made his oath. When the old man slowly walked back to his watchman’s hut, he noticed how no one even approached the constable’s office, and it stayed that way.
The second day came and went. From his lonely hut, the old man only saw a few villagers pass idly by the constable’s office. Only one or two citizens dared enter the old office itself. The office was an old and small stone house with a thatched wood. The fact that it stood right next to the manor and in front of the watchman’s hut left it intact from the fire. Besides the manor, it was the only official building that stood. It had a simple interior. With a few chairs and a grand table. Here and there hand shackles and weapons on the wall, ready to be used.
Wednesday was a dark day, rain poured outside. The day was damp and cold from the rain. From the inside of the hut, Althalos could see that not a single soul was outside. Everyone must have been in the manor, enjoying the warmth while the half finished huts were left to drench in the rain. The old man stared out of his window, and watched the passing of time. If there had been any observers, one would have noted the old man sitting by the window, staring out into emptiness. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
The old man ran across the rain and down the street. Rain drops trickled down his sparse gray hair and across his pointy nose. He barged into the constable’s hut. There startled sat the fat knight. He was a rather plump man with a plump face with a long brown beard. He was bold. Startled the plump man asked,
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s simply not fair, and you know it sir,” tears trickled down his face.
“Well, its standard procedure for him to get 10 oath-bearers, come on old man, you know the rules,” said the constable wearily.
“I beg you, you know Althalos is just an honest leatherworker, he was never close to anyone!” cried the old man desperately.
“I have no doubt that he is an honest man, an innocent man, but the rules are rules,” was his feeble response.
“Is there any way we could help him?” asked the old man, he was desperate.
“Well, there is one last solution, we could put him through the ordeals,” suggested the constable.
“But I’d have to ask the chief constable though” The old man shuddered at the thought of the ordeals. They were the terrible appeals to god that every mortal fears.
“If it could save an innocent man, it’d be worth it,” was all the old man could say.
“We’ll have to ask for his own consent tomorrow, in the meanwhile there’s nothing more I can do for you” stated the constable plainly, and with such, the old man slowly left the office.
The guilty verdict came the next day. The chief constable declared the poor leatherworker guilty who was bound to hang. Althalos sat quietly in his seat at the center of the stage. He seemed relaxed and ready for what was to come. The baron’s son sat amused bottom looking up at him. The leatherworker did not even once blink towards the direction of the baron’s son. It seems almost as if it did not matter who was the real culprit, who was innocent. After these days in prison, he seems to have lost a part of life. What was even more disturbing was that no one dared speak against the prince. They sat there as if they were indifferent to justice, to who the real criminal was. No one stood for Althalos. What was it that kept them from speaking against the baron’s son? What was more powerful than justice?
The room was silent and waiting when Althalos spoke.
“I’ve had enough; I’ll go through the ordeals as an appeal to the merciless angels above.” He said what he needed to say. These words seemed to sway like a feather in the air and among the crowd. Everybody was silent for the few seconds that followed. The chief constable nodded only ever so slightly, almost as if it was in approval. Althalos seemed weakened by his days in jail. He seemed frail and weak; prison must have drained the energy away from him. He looked lifelessly from one person to the other, only a slight glimmer suggested life. The old man could not help but notice all this as he walked out of the large room. As Pierre reached his watchman’s hut again, he could not help but gasp. A falcon fed on the corpse of a mouse, at his very front door.
The sun was shining high in sky when the old man woke up. They day was clear, but clouds were apparent in the sky.
“Maybe it’s going to rain…” he thought, and with that he left his hut and headed towards manor’s courtyard. There a small campfire was already set in place for the ordeal ahead. The poor man faced the Ordeal by Fire. He was required to carry a hot coal across from one end of the manor to the next. If his wounds healed within three days, he would have passed. When they brought in Althalos, he was pale and he seemed no longer so sure of his decision. There was fear in his eyes.
A single agonizing scream pierced the sky as Althalos was given the coal. Pain streaked across his face and his scream seemed almost never ending. He ran his way across the courtyard and to the opposite side. His screams filled the sky and its demonic nature ushered in fright and the old man shuddered. With tears streaking down his pale cheeks, he dropped the coal at the other end of the manor. He had survived the ordeal. Now he had to let his hand heal. His skin was so burnt that it appeared almost black and blisters arose all over it. It was a miracle that Althalos could stand the pain. After the ordeal, Athalos remained silent once again. There was not a word he spoke, only tears trickled down his face now. In his eyes was despair.
These three days passed almost as if nothing happened. The old man resumed his duties as watchman and the city almost seemed tranquil. The village had been rebuilt and citizens were humming across the street. Children were playing across the street again while their parents worked out in the fields or herded livestock. It seemed almost as if the old life was back, only it wasn’t. Althalos’ workshop remains open; its doors still open since that terrible night. No one has dared enter ever since. There spider webs gathered and mice found refuge. Falcons perched high up on trees, awaited the mice. These falcons took whichever mice they pleased, whenever they pleased. It did not care whether the mouse had offspring or whether it was just a youngster. As long as the falcon could get away with it, it did not care.
Healed, the young leatherworker passed the first ordeal. It seemed almost as if it was a relief to the old man. It was raining today. Besides the chief constable only the old man was there to witness the final ordeal. The Ordeal by Water would have Althalos bound and thrown into water. If he floated he was evil, if he sunk he was pure and innocent. Then someone would surely pull him out of the cold water the old man thought. They were by the river towards the west of the village. The ground was dampened by the rain and the gods weren’t pleased.
Here they the chief constable slowly dragged Althalos with him towards the edge of the river. The poor leatherworker was tied from hands to feet. The old man looked into his eyes. It seemed almost as if they had a heavenly connection between them where words were spoken when nothing could be heard. In his eyes were the desperate cries of a man who has lost all hope. One who had no longer had any purpose in life. The weight of going through all these tests when he was obviously innocent was too much for him. He seemed to have simply collapsed emotionally. And when the chief constable pushed him into the river, it seemed almost as if gratitude was in his eyes. When the constable was relieved to see Althalos floating, he pulled him in.
Althalos was no longer there to share their joy, for he was gone and into the next world. Tears were pouring out of the old man’s eyes. An honest man, left to die, and where were the other villagers when he survived his last ordeal? Who was there to stand out to justice when the baron’s son was present? There was simply no one who dared to stand up against injustice and against authority. No one was there to witness the last ordeal. Here the falcons stood; ready to take away what were once the hopes of a young leatherworker.
Focusing on keeping his hands on the taut line, Paul rode the wave and executed a perfect flip. As he spun, he could feel himself defying gravity as he remained suspended in the air, and for a moment he felt as if he could fly. Then his board slammed onto the clear blue water, and he prepared himself for the next wave to come in. All of a sudden, from the boat that pulled Paul and his board, his wife yelled, “Someone’s calling, Paul!”
“Alright, I’ll go get it,” was Paul’s response. Why would someone be calling me right now? I thought everyone knew I was taking a break to go outside with my family. When he got back to the boat and called back the number, a grumpy voice picked up and grunted into the receiver, “Hello?”
“You called me?”
“Yes, Paul. We have a very important meeting tomorrow, and I want you to be there. Kellogg’s may decided to sponsor our cereal, and if we do get this, it will help our popularity a lot. Since you are our main researcher, I think it is necessary that you show up.”
“But sir,-”
“No buts. You’re here. Tommorow. Ten thirty sharp. End of story.”
“Yes, sir.” Paul hung up with a dejected look on his face.
“Who was it? And why do you look so depressed?” His wife Rachel asked.
“It was my boss. And he wants me to be in the office by ten thirty tomorrow morning.”
“But I thought you already got a leave from the office for this week! He can’t expect you to leave your work! Call him back and talk to him, and convince him that we are on a family trip together.”
“But you don’t know my boss; he’s just going to ignore me and I’ll probably be demoted.”
“Is your job ALL you care about?”
“No, but it’s very important! If I didn’t work, we wouldn’t be here with Johnny right now!”
“Alright, fine, but after this weekend, I’m going to go talk to your boss if you can’t talk to him yourself.”
And so Paul, his wife Rachel, and their son Johnny packed up their bags and drove back home.
Paul lived in Los Angeles, California. He was six feet eight inches tall, and he towered above many of the common residents in L.A. He kept himself fit and worked out, which gave him an extremely muscular and fine body. He had short, dirty-blonde hair, and a handsome face. He generally wore a T-shirt and shorts wherever he went, which tended to show off his amazingly buff arms. He had been with his wife Rachel for nearly 15 years, and they had one child named Johnny. His dog, Jack, was a black lab, and he had glossy black fur and white spots on his forepaws, which set him apart from other black labs. Jack was energetic and always bouncing around the home, especially when Johnny was around. Johnny loved the dog, and would always take him for walks down a few blocks to the supermarket, where he would stay for a while playing with Jack and then come home.
Rachel was nearly six feet tall, and she had brown hair that fell down to her shoulders. She worked out along with her husband, but only did enough to keep her body fit, so she looked quite skinny. She normally went around in a tank top and jeans, underlining her perfect body. Johnny was very tall for his age, and he looked like a twin of his father when he had been small. He had the exact same dirty-blonde hair, and his growth reflected that he might grow to be taller than his father.
In financial terms, Paul and his family weren’t rich, but they were already well off and didn’t need to worry about money. Paul and Rachel had been planning to take Johnny camping for his birthday, but Paul’s work had left him without open weekends, which resulted in postponing the camping trip. Now, his wife was forcing him to at least try to get a leave from the office to spend quality time with his family because it seemed to her as if he had become a workaholic and he never spent time with her or Johnny anymore.
The next day, Paul went to work at 7:30 in the morning as usual, and he went straight to his boss’ office to ask if he could have the weekend off to go camping with his son and family.
“So you think that you can ditch this meeting just to go camping and have fun while we sit here working our asses off?”
“No, sir, but I was just asking because my wife thinks that I’ve been spending too much time working and that I should take a break every now and then.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to tell her that your work needs you, right?”
“Um, yes, sir.” And Paul went off to his desk without any surprise, as he had expected his boss to respond in exactly this manner. When his boss called him back to his office later, Paul left apprehensively, wondering what other punishment could be in store for him.
However, upon entering the office, he was surprised to see that his boss seemed to be in a fine mood. Perhaps the boss was in a good mood because he had just kept Paul away from skipping a weekend of work. Paul would never know.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes, Paul. I want you to use this weekend not to go camping but to go and research children’s cereal eating habits, such what kinds they like, what shapes, whatever. Just do the research and have it ready on Monday.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, what are you doing still here? Get to your office and start researching!”
“Yes, sir”
“Stop standing there and get to work!”
It seemed like no matter what mood his boss was in, after even the slightest moment with Paul in his office, his boss would end up with a foul temper for the next hour or so. Paul left the office in a hurry and instantly went off to begin his research. After hours of research on circles, squares, parallelograms, sweetened cereal, nonsweetened cereal, and everything else about cereal, he went home in a dejected state.
He walked into his house and put down his bags, and when Rachel came down to greet him, he told her the news a little apprehensively.
“So, yeah, my boss isn’t going to let me take my weekends off.”
“It sounds like you didn’t even try to convince him.”
“You don’t know my boss! He’s obsessed with work, and it’s his number one priority! He doesn’t let anything distract him from his work, and if he thinks anyone is slacking off, they instantly get fired!
“That sounds a lot like you.” Rachel stormed upstairs and slammed her bedroom door shut, locking the door in the process. About this time, Paul’s son Johnny came downstairs to see what the racket was all about. Jack was lying on the floor, watching the argument between Paul and Rachel with a look of disapproval. He didn’t want them to split up, because he liked being around all of his family at once.
“Were you and Mommy arguing, Daddy?”
“No, no, I just needed to tell Mommy some things that she didn’t want to hear, okay?”
“Are we going to go camping?”
“Um, yeah, about that. I can’t go this week, because I have some really important research for work. Actually, you can help me with my research a lot! What shape do you like your cereal in most?”
“Um, I like them in a square shape.”
“Okay, thanks for the help! This is going to help me so much.”
Unfortunately for Paul, it was at this time that his wife came down, and when she heard him asking Johnny what kinds of cereal he liked, Rachel flew into a rage.
“How could you ask about cereal at a time like this?”
“It’s for my work!”
“So what? Your work isn’t the most important thing, you know.”
“But this is really important!”
“You always say that. I’ve had enough. I’m leaving.” Turning to Johnny, she said, “Johnny, come on. Let’s go. I’ll take you camping. We can go to Lake Tahoe! There’s going to be a lot of snow and we can ski and snowboard and do all the fun stuff that we can’t do because Daddy is always working!” Without another word, she stalked off upstairs and so did Johnny, presumably to pack up their bags. Soon after, Rachel and Johnny came downstairs with full packed bags and loaded them onto the car. Johnny got on the car first, and Rachel had some words for Paul. “If you think I’m coming back, you can think again,” she said. “I’m not coming back unless you can change yourself, which I highly doubt.” And without waiting for a response, she walked out the door and slammed it shut behind her.
Paul’s immediate thought was to figure out what he did wrong. He thought that he was spending enough time on work already because it demanded his full attention, and he thought that was something his wife didn’t understand. After this project, I’ll call her and try to explain to her what’s wrong, he thought. Now that his wife and son were gone, his only company was his black lab Jack. Now that Johnny was gone, Jack was a lot less active and spent a lot more time just lying on the floor and watching Paul at his work. There was no one to play with him anymore, and Jack soon stopped doing anything other than eating and sleeping.
With only his dog to keep him company, Paul began to become less and less social. He had no one to talk to anymore because his wife was gone, and he had no one to care for and pamper because Johnny was gone and Jack was ignoring him at every turn. Also, he couldn’t cook to save his life, so he spent the weekend living off of heat-up foods such as frozen pizza. As this food was terrible compared to what his wife could cook, Paul began to eat less and less, and began to lose his spirit for anything in life. He also slept much earlier, and he left the lights off in his home almost all day, leaving it as a dark and dreary place. His neighbors noticed and began whispering about depression in Paul.
Within his home, Paul was in a state of deep dejection. He was thinking about why his wife had left him. She had said he was working too much, but Paul thought that the amount of work he was doing was necessary. He thought of trying to get a break from his boss, but the last try already proved what might happen, but it could be worth it if he could get his wife back. He decided to try to go a weekend without working, and if he could, he would call Rachel and tell her that he had learned that work wasn’t everything, and he would show that he had changed. However, he was barely able to go for three hours without doing any work; although he tried to relax and go outside to the park for some exercise, a small voice in the back of his head kept whispering, “Research, research, research,” over and over again. He went home, and the instant he sat down in front of his computer, instead of getting out Warcraft III and playing for an hour, his hands instantly moved the mouse towards the Internet Explorer icon, and his fingers automatically typed “cereal preferences” onto Google search. When he realized what he was doing, his body jolted upright, and he went to fetch his Warcraft CD. However, he couldn’t concentrate on the game at all, and he quit the program and went back to his Google search.
After this, he realized, I really can’t relax and enjoy any free time! My mind wants me to be working twenty-four hours a day! What have I done to myself? He was having a mental breakdown that had been fueled by his realization that his wife had been right, and he was wrong. He was thinking too much, and his mind couldn’t take the strain that he created on himself by trying to solve all his problems at once. He realized his need for his wife in the house, and he thought that he should try to solve his problem, but he had no idea how to go about it, and this made him very depressed.
He went to work the next week without much spirit after a weekend of living alone and off of his own cooking. He had lost the normal happy bounce in his step that he normally adopted while going to work, and even his radio was turned off while driving to work. He would normally listen to rap music on the way to work to get himself awake and ready for a whole day of research in his cubicle.
“What’s the matter, Paul?”
“Life isn’t going well for me at all. My wife left me, my son left me, and now I can only talk to my dog, and he’s always asleep. All because of a stupid camping trip.”
“Well, if you’re in trouble, just work harder. Work can take your mind off of distractions in the outside world, and we’re always ready to promote hard workers.”
“Yes, sir, but, you see, that’s the reason my wife left me. She thought I was placing too much value on work and not enough on my family, and she was just mad.”
“Hmm…, I think I understand now. Yes, you do need a vacation from the office. Now that I look at your schedule, you’ve been here without a long break for nearly a whole year! You didn’t even take Christmas off! You only took off last weekend to go wakeboarding. Yes, I think I’ll give you the rest of this week off and however much time you need. You’ll also have all of your weekends off from now on, so you won’t have any weekend projects anymore.” Paul, bewildered by his boss’ sudden mood swing, replied, “Yes, sir. Thank you so much!”
Right after this conversation, Paul’s boss let him out of the office, and Paul rushed home to call his wife.
“Hey, my boss let me off of work. Where are you guys staying right now?”
“You think you’ve changed enough?”
“Yes. I tried over the weekend, and I think I have my problem figured out. If you guys came back, I think I’ll be able to fix it.”
“Well, I’m not going back until we’re done touring through New York, and that’s not until Johnny says so. You could be waiting a while. Maybe if you went the rest of the time until we get back without doing any work, I’ll believe you changed.”
“Alright then, I’ll be doing anything but working until you guys come back.”
So Paul now went to the park every day to avoid sitting in front of his computer and researching cereal, and he started playing basketball again, a sport he had given up when he had reached college and began focusing all of his time on his studies. He found that he could keep up with many of the players at the park, and he still retained the skills that he had had as a high school student. He played at the park for four hours a day, and then left to work out for another couple of hours. This took up pretty much his whole afternoon, and by the time he got home, sweaty and exhausted, he was ready to take a shower and heat up a meal for dinner. After that, he would plop down on his sofa and watch a movie on HBO, and by then he would be ready to take an early sleep. After a week of this cycle, Paul felt as if the small voice in the back of his head had disappeared, and he could sit and play Warcraft without Googling cereal on the internet. When his wife called back on Sunday and said that they were taking the plane back home, Paul was beyond himself with excitement and arrived at the airport an hour early to pick them up. When he saw his wife, he began jumping up and down to catch their attention, even though he was already taller than most of the people waiting at the airport.
As they got on the car, Paul asked Johnny how the trip was. “It was really fun,” Johnny said. “We went to a lot of places that we said we would go to before, but we never got to go there.”
“Oh, well, I think we’ll be able to go on a lot more trips from now on,” Paul said with a smile.
“Why do you think that,” Rachel asked.
“Oh, well, my boss turned out to be a lot nicer than I thought he would be, so now I’ll always have weekends and holidays off.”
“YAY,” Johnny exclaimed in delight. “So now we’ll be able to go camping and swimming and go around the country!”
“Yes, we will, John. And we’ll be able to do it a lot more than before.”
When they returned home, Johnny went straight to Jack and started petting him and playing around with him, and Rachel went for a talk with Paul. “So what have you been doing for the past week then?”
“Well, I’ve been going to the park every day to play basketball, and then going to work out. I’ve also been watching movies, and there are some pretty funny ones I’d like to show Johnny.”
“Alright, but they had better be appropriate. I know what your sense of funny is,” Rachel replied.
“Of course they are,” Paul said with a smile.
The next day, Paul woke up to hear Jack barking louder than ever, but with a happy note evident in his barks. From the moment that Johnny and Rachel had stepped through the door, Jack had been extremely energetic, running around the house and barking nonstop. Paul went and brushed his teeth and washed his face, and went downstairs to find a ham and egg sandwich already prepared for him. After a week of heat up foods, this ham and egg sandwich seemed like the first candy that a child ever eats. Paul demolished the sandwich and got ready to leave for work. He said goodbye to his son, dog, and wife, and got on the car to go to work.
When he got to work, his boss noticed that his bounce in his step was back, and he asked Paul why he was so happy. “Well, my wife seems to be pretty happy with the development that I made over the week, and I’ve also learned to enjoy life without work as well. By the way, sir, what made you change your mind?”
“I used to have a son, and I was just like you. I put work in front of my family, and now my son never talks to me anymore. Your son is probably younger, but I don’t want your son to have a bad impression of you because, you know, you’re a good guy to be around.”
So Paul returned to his cubicle skipping, and many of his coworkers looked at him with looks of utter incomprehension. They couldn’t understand that Paul had just learned what he considered the most important lesson of his life, and he was incredibly happy about it.
So Paul left work that day satisfied and with everything he could ever want: he was on his boss’ good side, and both his wife and his son were back with him and he was sure that they would never leave him again, now that he had weekends open and that he had less working hours so he could spend more time at home with his family. Paul thought back to the man he was before his family left him, and reflected that he would teach his son not to be like him, and to value his family above all else when he grew up and started his own family.
Gloomy clouds dominated the sky. Terrified, the shopkeepers closed the iron gates of their groceries stories and flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed”. The windows are closed, door locked, and apprehension roamed through the streets. Gunfires bombarded the neighborhood. Scorpion and Corelon, the two ferocious rival gangs, often have skirmishes over the turf between 38th street and 40th street.
———-
“Get up, Beno! If yo keep sleepin’ till noon, our turf’s gonna get robbed man! It’s our turf, bro!” Paolo shoved Beno out of his bed. “Jeremy has something to tell you, put on your pants! Wanna try out my new omelet for lunch? It’s delicious!”
“Jeremy? Jeremy? He’s back? There’s must be something very important” Beno forced himself awake.Jeremy was Corelon’s gang leader. He retired years ago after he was accused of initiating the massacre of the 1975 New Mexico gang war. The gang war between the Corelon and the Scorpions caused one hundred fifty pedestrians to suffer and a few thousand gangsters killed. After Jeremy was released from prison, he ordered some of his gangsters to kill the witnesses that accused of him and the lawyer that indicted him for the crime.
Beno and Paolo’s heavy footsteps reverberated through the dim, vacant hallway. Two robust gangsters trotted behind them to the murky room. Knock. Knock.
“Come in, fellas”
Jeremy and his Corelon gangsters were seated on the sofa smoking cigarettes. The scent of Cuban tobacco spread throughout the room. Beno stood beside Paolo taciturnly and waited for Jeremy to speak.
“Beno, you know your father, Brock, and I used to be best partners. We both created the Corelon family, but he was murdered…”said Jeremy mournfully as he wiped his tears off his old, fragile cheeks.
“By the Scorps.” Beno replied impulsively, trying to hide his grief.
After the New Mexico massacre, the Scorpions gang pursued after Brock and Jeremy so they could retaliate on the Corelon. Beno couldn’t forget the scene when his father was shot. The painful memories whirled inside Beno’s head.
The day Beno’s father was killed is October 30th, 1985.
———-
The autumn leaves changed color, curled, and crunched by the people strolling past the streets. It was Halloween. Families crowded inside houses, dancing and singing, ready to go out trick-o-treating. Children dressed up as hotdogs, ghosts, gorillas, and also vampires stampeded through the streets. Some of the younger kids broke out into sobs when the teenage boys scared them and bullied them around. “Com’on pap. Can I go out and party? It’s Halloween,” Beno begged, “I promise I ain’t gonna provoke the Scorps!”
“No is no, you aint going anywhere tonight! You’re grounded,” Brock said, afraid that the Scorpions would kidnap Beno, or even kill him.
Beno sighed to himself as he pushed up the window and envied the people outside having fun. It was getting late and he lied on bed, looking at the blank ceiling.
At the middle of the night, he withered back and forth and his eyelids are heavy, however he couldn’t put himself back to sleep. Beno listened at the snoring sounds from another room and checked that his dad is still asleep. So, he climbed out of his bed and tiptoed lightly on the stairs. The hot air dizzied him. Sweat drenched Beno’s back and thirst tortured his dry throat.
“Dik Dik Dik” The water faucet leaks drops of water into the sink. Beno drank a cup of iced water and felt the coldness remaining within his mouth. He yawned.
Suddenly, he heard a sound.
“Thump,”
“Pap? Is that you?”
“Thump,”
“Pap?” “Pap?” he reiterated.
Silence.
Beno stood there motionless, trembling and shivering, and unsure of his next action. He watched many horror movies and all began like this. He screamed for help, but then realized that his sound is muted. The throat is tense and sore.
“Thump. Thump…Thump…. Thump…”
The thud grew louder and louder. Where is Papa? Beno was uncertain if the sound is coming from the heart or upstairs.
The living room was dim and shadowy, so Beno can barely see anything without lights. He was anxious that someone, probably a thief, had broken into their house. Beno grasped his pistol tautly and walked each step with caution. Insecurity and doubt troubled him, and now he was petrified, because the snoring halted.
Beno’s heart beat faster and faster. He started to tremble uneasily and forced his uncontrollable legs to move a step forward. Beno gingerly pushed the door open and peeked inside to see no one in bed.
“Bang, Bang! Bang Bang Bang!” The gunshots fired suddenly and every Brock’s painful shrieks stroke Beno’s heart.
He sprinted to where the gunshots are from and approached a bloody body full of scrapes, bruises, and bullet holes. Beno whimpered and suddenly infuriated,
“Did Scorps do this to you?”
Brock, lying agonizingly, choked out red, scarlet blood and said,
“Beno…Beno…Not the Scorps…please I beg you, son. Promise me you won’t join the Corelon gang.”, said Brock, hesitating between lines. “Inside every man’s heart, there lives an ogre. Do not release the ogre, you will regret it.” After he finished the last line, his final breath ended.
———-
“Beno, Beno!” Paolo nudged Beno at the arm. Beno was apparently blanking out, thinking about his glum past.
“So, to avenge for your father’s death, I’ll give you and Paolo a mission.”, Jeremy commanded. “The Scorpions are having a party down at 45th street. I want you guys to ride your bikes to the back entrance and kill Diaz, the new chief of the Scorpions.”
Paolo and Beno gulped with fear however nodded in agreement.
Jeremy added, “Also, there would be two Scorp gangsters guarding the back entrance, just say that you guys are hired as DJs to keep the party high.”
As the night arrived, Beno and Paolo rode their bikes to their destination. Just then, a group of gangsters strode haughtily on the streets, smoking. Beno saw a familiar symbol of a scorpion tattooed on their arms.
A brawny guard pointed a gun at Beno and Paolo and shouted out, “Freaks, what you guys up to?”
“We’re hired to be DJs for the party. Am I at the right place?” Beno said, acting quizzical.
“What? You little brat! Show me whatcha got! Can you rap? Are you a bboy? ” The guard laughed triumphantly as he shoved Beno to one side.
Beno couldn’t stand it anymore. Growl…Roar! He grasped his fingers vigorously and his face reddened. Irate and annoyed by the Scorpion guard, Beno clutched his neck and twisted it vigorously. Beno heard the bone fractured and was unaware of the abundant blood flowing from the broken neck. Ah, fresh blood. .
Beno and Paolo trotted to the back entrance to complete their important task, they met Diaz sitting at a seat inside the make up room, drinking red wine and surfing the channels on television. Grr, Diaz killed my father! I will rip his lungs out! Smash his head!
As Diaz encountered Paolo and Beno, he was shocked, “Who are you? Why are you in my club?”
Paolo jeered, “To kill you, smart one!” but as soon as the laughter died out, a Scorpion stabbed Paolo with a knife from behind. Furious, Beno felt that he couldn’t control the ogre living inside him, he has to release the black ogre. Let me out, Beno, be smart, I’ll give you impenetrable body and you will be invincible. Just as Paolo was down, suffering from the gunshot, Beno held out his pistol and aimed towards the Scorp. Beno’s eyes turned bloody red, savagely, and all he wants to do is to kill and enjoy the fresh blood. The Scorpion gangster, looked young, he was about twenty, and he pleaded for mercy from Beno.
“Don’t kill me! I have a family to take care of, I have two sons waiting for me to get back home!” the young father cried out.
Suddenly, Beno visualized a black-furred ogre with spikes on its back and bloodstained eyeballs. It has a gaunt and skeletal body and wide yellow teeth. Suddenly, its worn out backbone ripped and fractured. A new backbone formed immediately and its body bulged. The ogre’s scanty body was pumped up with sturdy abdominal muscles and its size enlarged at a rapid speed. “Is that me?” Beno thought, “Why am I becoming so evil, so ugly, horrible, and hideous? Is that black ogre my real identity?”
Just as he was pondering, he remembered what Brock told him. “Inside every man’s heart, there lives an ogre. Do not release the ogre, you will regret it.” Beno had fully understood the meaning. Brock was trying to tell Beno that the black ogre lives inside and becomes the inner part of evilness.
Beno was tired of killing, hating, and revenging the Scorpions, so he walked out of the door, rode his bike back to 38th streets.
————
Beno was relieved that he didn’t pull the trigger and kill the young father, because later on, that young Scorpion gangster quitted his gang and attended UCLA, he is now teaching convicts at the Los Angeles probation center. As for Beno, he fulfilled Paolo’s dream of being a chef by promoting the new recipe of omelets.
A sparrow flew in the skies of Burnaby, Vancouver, Canada. The little bird has been wandering for a few days and was desperate for a place to settle down, but there was snow everywhere. It saw a window open in an old apartment, and decided to fly in despite what dangers there might be.
George Fredrickson woke up and saw that he forgot to close the window last night. No wonder it was so chilly when he slept. The young man got up with a groan and went to close it, but just as he was about to do so, he heard something in the kitchen. George took the remote for the television crept into the kitchen holding it firmly with two hands. He opened the door slowly and jumped in.
“Aahhh!” George yelled as he swung the remote control wildly, expecting to get face to face with a thief. He then saw the little sparrow on the kitchen table, nibbling at the leftover cookies from yesterday.
“Hey! My cookies! Shoo! Shoo!” George jabbed at the poor bird, and it flew out of the kitchen. The sparrow then flew under the sofa and hid there.
Believing that the sparrow had left, George got dressed and got out of his apartment. He walked down the dusty stairway of the old apartment building that he lived in. The elevator broke down just as he approached it. Of course, bad luck was routine in his daily life, so he did not really care. He got to the dark lobby on the first floor and stopped at the large mirror placed beside the waiting chairs. George wore a brown cotton suit over a shirt that said “Janitors are boring.”
He straightened his tie, which was tan like his pants. George always wore long, dark pants that were not long enough to cover his ankles, so he wore long black socks to cover them up. The young man wiped his face with a white handkerchief as he sweated from the walk down the stairs. He looked at his somewhat goofy face and examined his large nose and ears that were really far out. George Fredrickson had large eyes that seemed to stare into space, even if he was looking at something. He thought he was a handsome man and groomed himself whenever he could. The grooming never helped, but George thought differently.
“I am so handsome.” George Fredrickson smiled while using one hand to brush through his messy hair.
George then walked over to the lobby desk to see what the security guard was watching. The security guard never did anything except sitting in his chair and watching television all day. He still received pay for doing just that.
“Watcha watchin’?” George Fredrickson asked.
“The news. There was a bank robbery yesterday at the bank a mile from here. The police have not caught the robbers yet.” The security guard said with a frown.
“I hope they catch the robbers.” George Fredrickson commented. Then he walked out of the lobby and into the snowy street.
He stood beside a lone maple tree on the side of the street. All the maple trees had shed their beautiful leaves except this one. This maple tree had one last maple leaf on there. A strong wind came by and the last red, frosty maple leaf glided down onto the ground. A taxi sped by and crushed the maple leaf to bits.
George Fredrickson jogged to work. He walked in the doors of Microsoft, looking pretentiously proud. People on the sidewalk watched him with admiration, as it was an honor to work in Microsoft. Anyone who walked in the doors of Microsoft had to be either a rich game designer or a prosperous programmer. That was what George made himself look like. He got in an elevator with a group of game designers who were talking about making an expansion title for the successful Halo 3 game. George followed the game designers, but he did not follow them to the game studio. Instead, the young man walked into the bathroom and took out his janitor clothing.
Yes, George worked in a great company named Microsoft, but he worked there as a janitor. He thought it was disgraceful in a way, and so he sighed every time he saw his dirty, blue janitor uniform. George’s best friend Freddie said hello to him, but George just nodded.
George Frederickson never helped anyone unless he was going to receive something in exchange. He thought that everyone was selfish and you would not get help in return if you helped someone.
A game designer walked past George holding three large cups of coffee that seemed to be too much for him to carry all by himself. The coffee spilled and the game designer got frustrated.
“Hey George, could you mop this up for me? I’m in a hurry.” The designer asked.
“Why should I help you?” George asked in a provocative tone.
The game designer knew George well and did not want to argue with him any further, so he cleaned up the mess by himself. George mopped the other hallway with buckets of water and an old mop. Bill Gates was visiting this branch of Microsoft today, and he saw how George mopped the floor. He was about to comment on the wetness when he slipped. Bill Gates went back home with a sore back.
George decided to go to the bank nearby to get some money. He got there by taxi. He walked towards a banking machine and waited behind an old lady for his turn. The old lady spent five minutes trying to rack up her bank pin. This made George impatient.
“Can you please hurry up, Ma’am?” George asked in an irritated way.
The old lady turned around and stared at him. She then turned back to banking. After five seconds she turned around in a swift manner almost impossible for people her age and stared at George again with eyes of suspicion as if he was going to sneak a look at her bank pin. She went back to banking once again. The third time she turned around, she fainted. George was puzzled. All the clicking and beeping sounds made by the clerks in the bank had stopped. Everything became quiet and still. George turned around to see a man with a gun about to grab him
“Everyone get down on the ground and do not move, or I will shoot this man over here!” The masked robber dressed in full black shouted while grabbing George by the arm and holding him at gunpoint. Everyone got down on the round with their hands covering their heads. The bank clerks nervously but quickly put money into the bags that a second and third robber thrust into their faces. A clerk had crawled to a desk with a red button that would alert the police when pressed. She whimpered as she reached up to press the button. One of the robbers shot her without hesitation. The robbers then went to the vault at the back of the lobby and placed a small timed bomb on the lock. The robbers stepped back and the lock was disengaged after the bomb went off. The two men in masks climbed in and loaded new bags with jewelry, diamonds, and other expensive items stored in the vault. The two robbers walked out of the vault and towards the taxi they had just stolen. The first robber fired a few shots in the air and walked out the door with George struggling to get away. He saw the Microsoft logo on George’s identification nametag and assumed that he was one of the rich game designers that worked for Microsoft.
“Hey boys…I’m taking this one home. He works at Microsoft. I bet we’ll get lots more from ransom money.” The robber holding George claimed with a smile.
The three robbers threw the heavy bags into the trunk and closed it. George was pushed into the back of the cab and the three robbers got in.
“Step on it!” The robber beside George said as he took off his mask.
That was how George Fredrickson ended up in the hands of The Notorious Nutters, the name which people knew the robbers by.
The taxi stopped at a warehouse that was about 20 miles away from town. The warehouse stood beside a frozen river, and white bushes lined up along the snowy bank. It was an old warehouse covered in faded red paint and showing rusted metal supports. The roof looked like it was going to collapse at any moment from the weight of the snow on it. The robbers got the money from the trunk and pulled out George with unnecessary force. George was scared, although he showed no apparent sign that he was. The leader, the Nutcracker, took George into the warehouse and tied him to a chair.
“I am the Nutcracker,” the robber said with assertive authority and then laughed with an air of craziness, “I am nutty, and I destroy things.” He took out from his pocket a walnut and cracked it open with his bare hands. The Nutcracker then grabbed a rocket launcher from the side and aimed for a large boulder five hundred yards outside the warehouse. The rocket travelled through the open doors of the warehouse and hit the boulder right in the middle. George concluded that The Nutcracker was a master of weapons and that he was crazy. The Nutcracker took George’s cell phone and wallet. He looked inside George’s wallet and chuckled. Then he opened George’s cell phone, and looked at the contacts section.
“Ma!? You only have your mother in your contacts?” The Nutcracker asked with a smirk.
“You wouldn’t want to call her.” George replied. From George’s expression The Nutcracker could tell the type of mother George Fredrickson had, but he did not care about trouble just as long as there was cash involved
“Is this the mother of George Fredrickson?” The Nutcracker said into George’s cell phone.
“What do you mean is this your mother?! What is wrong with you? Of course I’m your mother you crack head!” George’s mother yelled, thinking that it was George.
“This is not your son, Mrs. Fredrickson,” The Nutcracker said with a smile, “this is The Nutcracker, and we have your son as hostage. Come to the warehouse with one million dollars if you want to see your son.”
“You god forsaken…” Mrs. Fredrickson began. The Nutcracker hung up. He walked away to count how much money he had stolen today.
George surveyed his surroundings. There were a lot of weapons. There were also heavy artillery. He knew he would never get out of here.
Suddenly, George heard the chirp of a sparrow. The sparrow George drove out of his apartment earlier in the day had come to save him. It began to cut the ropes with its beak.
“Thanks little guy, I shouldn’t have kicked you out.” George said with gratitude. He moved quietly but swiftly to the boxes of weapons behind him and then to another box but on the way he tripped, hurting his foot. He made a painful face without making a sound. George stood up with a limp and turned around to see The Nutcracker staring right back at him. George jumped, or would have if he did not hurt his foot. Those eyes are as dirty and yellow as his skin, thought George as he stared back at The Nutcracker. The other two robbers came to where George and The Nutcracker stood staring into each other’s eyes. George dashed for the door but the robbers, unfortunately, were in a better shape than him. They put George in a large room this time and kept the sparrow in a bird cage that was also in the room. There was a window in the room that allowed George to see the big doors of the warehouse, and where the robbers played poker.
A few minutes later the sound of a helicopter was heard by all in the warehouse.
“Come out with your hands up! We have the area surrounded!” Someone in the helicopter spoke through a megaphone.
That was just what the robbers did, except they came out with rocket launchers and machine guns. They started wrecking up the police cars that were in sight, and the police did not react quick enough.
“Boom! Hahaha!” The Nutcracker cackled as he shot a police car with a rocket launcher and blew it up ten feet into the air. The other two robbers were also destroying police cars with rocket launchers and machine guns. Soon, there were two police cars left. Just as the robbers reloaded their rocket launchers, a dozen tanks came out of nowhere and started bombing the warehouse.
“Holy!” One of the robbers exclaimed. It was a dozen tanks to three men; Three men with rocket launchers and superior combat skills.
One of the tanks hit the room in which George was held in. George looked at the newly made hole at his right with large eyes. Nevertheless, he crawled out of it after freeing the little sparrow.
George screamed in fear and surprise when one of the boxes of ammo to the far right was hit. He limped out of the warehouse as fast as his legs would carry him. George’s mother was waiting anxiously beside a military jeep.
“Wow Ma, I never thought you would call the Canadian military. I never even thought you would come to save me.” George said with a bit of awe and surprise. His mother smiled weakly. George looked behind him. Two dozen marines came out from behind the burning tanks and got to the robbers, tackling them on the spot. The Notorious Nutters were finally caught.
“We’re going to put you evil doers into maximum security so that you’ll never escape and cause trouble again!” One of the commanding officers yelled at the robbers with contempt in his voice.
George sighed as he gazed at the burning warehouse and the scene which surrounded it. The once invincible tanks were now pieces of burning, useless metal deteriorating in the snow. Police cars that once brought justice now piled themselves up along the river bank and melted as the fire consumed them. The machines were not the only losses in this battle, but there were also countless casualties among the police and military forces. George felt guilt, as though he was the cause of the deaths of those fine men. Yet, he reminded himself that the ones guilty were the nutcracker and his followers as he saw them being pushed into a bulletproof transport truck. From the deaths of the policemen and soldiers George realized that life isn’t just about cleaning up spilled coffee. There were more people risking their lives out there to save others, and some who risk their lives to wreck other people’s lives like the nutcracker. His life may be boring, but it’s a good life. There were a lot more things to appreciate in life than just how much money one made from mopping the floor. George got in the jeep with his mother as he thought about how lucky he was.
On Monday George got back to work. He put on his janitor clothing and instead of sighing at the sight of them, he smiled. George put up warning signs to warn people that wet ground was nearby, and he would acknowledge a person if he or she passed by. The same clumsy game designer walked past George and spilled coffee once again. The game designer looked at George apologetically and was about to go off to find a mop when George smiled and mopped up the coffee on the floor for the designer. The designer looked at George with puzzled eyes for a moment and thanked him. At lunch break he sat with his fellow colleagues and laughed at their jokes.
“What has gotten into you George? You are so different today.” George’s best friend Freddie asked in a nice yet serious way.
“I realized that I should appreciate life more,” George said with a smile, “I am lucky to have a safe job that does not put my life in risk and also makes me happy because I have got so many people to work with.”
He got back to his apartment after he had finished all his cleaning duties. He went up to the lobby desk and watched some television with the security guard. The Notorious Nutters escaped from the maximum security jail on a remote island. This escape had been the first one ever recorded by the jailing facility. George was shocked, and was about to discuss how they got out when a taxi sped by. George thought he heard something about walnuts following a cackle, and then the deli across the street blew up.
Whapung! A massive stack of paper appeared in front of him. He looked up, only to see his boss’s killer eyes as he mouthed the words “Do this right now or else…” Rings echoed in the little cubical of his. Slouched over on his cluttered desk, the computer geek slowly addressed each of the problems the customer had. Computer Police badges hung from the ceiling, as if it were to help the employees be more motivated. Speaking flawless English, Jones replied one after another, problem after problem. The thirteenth floor seemed to be a high floor to work at, but many of the workers enjoyed the view. Luckily for the company, they were located in the dead center of San Francisco’s Financial District. Jones was usually teased at the office for being a weakling, mainly because of his slouched manner; he resembled much like a nerd. During office outings in the fourth of July, Jones was always picked last for any game, be it football, baseball, or basketball. Some people said that he could barely lift a textbook two centimeters from his desk. Others said that he couldn’t even do anything except type on his keyboard and play Counter Strike. But most people had to give him credit for his excellent CS skills, destroying everyone in the game.
Tap, click, tap. The keys on his laptop mimicked one of a drummer in a marching band. The day seemed normal, blue skies and horns honking 24/7, as if to address to the world that we are still alive. Reaching for his little mug, he observed as the water started to move around the cup. Jones chugged down the remaining water, thinking that this may just be an angry employee stomping his foot in frustration at the caller’s stupidity.
Standing up to slowly walk to the water dispenser, Jones felt as if his legs were wobbling, like a fawn that had just tried to stand up. Creaking could be heard, and the sound of metal scraping against metal reverberated throughout the building. The floor seemed as if it was the newest ride in Great America, for the whole room trembled and shook with might. Fragments of sharp glass flew inside of the office building, clattering all over the floor. Unfortunately for Jones, he was pelted by these projectiles in the head and body, creating terrible pain. Attempting to shield himself from anymore pain and damage, he instinctively fell to the floor where he cuddled under his desk wishing to dear God that the destruction would stop. No, the damage did not stop there, the ceiling was not only crumbling, and one can clearly see the I-beams and truss structures teetering on the brink of destruction. Chaos roamed the high seas, for the beast of the San Andreas Fault had been released. Its arms flattened old buildings and its feet crushed holes in the ground of the city. His occasional deafening roar blew pipes and released natural gas into the air, easily ignitable by the common sparks that flew from the broken circuits that once provided electricity and other necessities to the city. Soon to realize amidst the confusion was that San Francisco had been hit by an earthquake, but it was not just any earthquake. Paper flew around the floor as if there was a tornado nearby.
Soon after, the quake suddenly and swiftly left as it had come. Destruction roamed everywhere. Sparks flew across the ceiling as if they were fleeing the building in hurry. Fresh blood dripped down from desks, creating puddles of red liquid and soaking papers in the red dye. The overhead sprinklers sprayed in unconscious meaning, for the pipes had been damaged. The ability to see the fourteenth floor and the twelfth floor were clearly obvious, for holes had been created through the force of nature. Crumbling concrete could be seen falling from the floors above, as if having a onetime ride of Drop Zone.
Wathunk! Once the massive chuck of concrete broke into tiny fragments in a crunching sound, Jones suddenly became conscience again. The first thing he checked was if he injured. Damages were clearly seen. The sharp fragments of the glass had penetrated through his brow, missing his eye by centimeters. Blood flowed in a steady pace from his forehead, but that was the least of his worries. Checking his arms and then his legs, he found bullet sized fragments of glass dug into his skin. Luckily, small amounts of blood flowed out of these cuts. Ignoring these stinging pains, his first realization was if anybody else was hurt.
Crawling from his little hobbit’s hole, he quickly assessed the damage. His once metal and barren desk was now littered with paper and blood puddles. The floor also was covered in a carpet of human fluids. What once held a desktop and a monitor laid papers and a body that had apparently fallen from the upper floors, for the floors directly above him where just hollow holes. Instead of cubicles, what now lay was a warzone. The natural disaster left unprecedented damage.
Quickly regaining out of his wonderment stage, he yelled, “Hey! Is anyone alive?”
No response was heard.
Trying once more he shouted,” Anyone? Hello? Hello?”
This time, a slight movement was spotted. A bloody hand grasping onto a cliff of concrete shuffled some paper in hope of attention. A groan could be heard very silently. His fingers were on the brink of holding on, the blood acting as a lubricant toward death. Quickly running toward the hanging person, Jones repeatedly stumbled on the slick ground of blood, for bodies with eyes opened wide with as if he or she had died seeing a monster. Running on instinct, the nerd quickly reached the hanging soul, and recognized him as his friend, Jonathan.
Hey… Jones… quickly…” Jonathan, out of breath and in exhaustion, muttered a few words.
Panicking, Jones quickly reached out his hand to grab Jonathan when the aftershock of the earthquake came. The floor soon collapsed. Now, instead of Jones standing on the edge of the concrete floor, he was hanging. A faint scream could be heard.
His leg felt as if someone was hanging on him. Jonathan grasped his leg and continuously muttered a few words as if saying a prayer,” Please let me live, please let me live.”
Screaming at the top of his voice, Jones said,” Damn it why in God’s name am I in this.”
Jonathan, regained his sensed and replied,” Jones, we need to get out of this alive.”
“No duh we need too” replied Jones.
A slight crack began to form in the ledge that Jones was hanging onto. Adrenaline pumped into the weakling’s shoulder, the path toward life seemed every closer to this man. Pumping and gasping, he tried to pull himself and his best friend up, but to no avail.
“Try harder man! You have to do this…” Jonathan screamed at the top of his voice.
Not replying, the once weakling tried again with even more determination. Veins bulged from his once fragile and typing hands. His heartbeat once again pumped at abnormal levels, being fueled by adrenaline. His biceps looked like a world class muscle trainer, straining to pull a 200-pound truck. His inner nerd like self continued to scream that he could not do this, not in a million years. Veins popped out on his face, a tiger like determination gripped his expression.
“No, I will do this!” yelled Jones.
Sweat poured out like as if the Hoover Dam had been destroyed. Even with his verbal aggression, his muscles still continued to invite failure, and let this pain all end. The heart thumped with inhuman like determination. The angel, the heart, yelled in screaming voice to never let go, to never say die. The devil, his brain told him that this was impossible for a nerd like him could never do such a thing. Screaming out into the open he gave a last hope of determination. Face red, he had pulled himself and his friend up a full chin up. Sharp searing pain ached in his arm, like an Iron Curtain in the way of achieving his goal, life. Slowly but surely, Jones pulled himself up, his chest flat against the concrete floor, lying upon the shards of glass. Ignoring the pain of glass stabbing into his chest, he slithered toward more ground, feeling safer with each inch of the way. Crunching glass could be heard, but Jones just bit his teeth with determination and continued to reach toward his goal of getting his friend and him toward safety. After a few more agonizing minutes, Jones and Jonathan, half unconscious, and half blacked out, laughed in glee, for their life had been saved. But their luck did not end there. Soon rescuers arrived in Black Hawk helicopters, crying for any survivors.
“Man, today was a day” Jones said, in gleeful delight. He grinned weakly.
Jonathan with a bloody face replied with much pain, “mmf.”
“Sigh. Glad the rescue workers are coming.”
“Yea.”
Both, after crying and getting the worker’s attention, they laid their head down and stared into the damaged ceiling, with one thinking how lucky he was, and the other thinking what he was capable of. Sweat flowed down his face in tiny currents down his brow, pooling onto the floor. For that fateful day, he had not only proven to himself that man has no limits, but proven to the whole world that just about any man can be a hero himself with determination.
On New Years Eve at about 7 PM, a girl in white clothing got off her seat to get on an incoming bus. A heavy rain already begun earlier and the girl was getting wet. She quickly stepped off the curb to wave down the bus.
Later that evening Freddie George was heading back to his house after a big New Years Eve party at his boss’ house. He stumbled across the city drunk and tired. When he finally reached his house and went inside, he collapsed onto his bed immediately.
Freddie woke up to a stormy scene outside. It was raining very hard and the pitter patter of the rain was as loud as a drum. The smell of his morning coffee filled the room. He got up to do his morning routine and He went over to the mirror to flex his muscles. Freddie was a hard working man, but he never found the time to get a love life. He then strolled down to his kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. On his way to the kitchen his eye caught the clock. It showed the time as 9 AM. Realizing that he would be late for work, he jumped up and took his briefcase and grabbed his white umbrella and ran for the bus stop.
Freddie was too late though and the bus cruised by him. Freddie muttered a curse under his breath and headed over to the stop to wait for the next one. At the bus stop he saw a girl, sitting there in a white hat, white shoes, and white dress. She had no umbrella and was sitting there, being soaked by the rain. She had golden blonde hair and blue eyes that resembled that of a clear summer day.
Freddie approached the girl and joked, “You look wet.”
The girl looked up and laughed a little and replied, “You think?”
“Would you like to share an umbrella?” he offered.
“Sure.” She replied. “My name is Natasha, thank you for saving me”
“I’m Freddie,” he said, “and you’re welcome.”
The two sat at the bus stop talking for a while and Freddie began to really like her. After a while of talking, the bus finally came up.
“Would you like to go on a date sometime?” Freddie asked.
“Sure that would be nice.” Natasha said with a smile. “I live a few blocks away from here, but I’d like it if we met here. It’s easier that way.”
“Sure,” Freddie said with a smile, “so I’ll meet you tonight?”
“It’s a date,” Natasha said.
For the rest of the day, as Freddie sat around in his office, he didn’t think about anything but her.
The two met at the bus stop as they planned and they headed down the boardwalk. They went to a local seafood restaurant to eat. They got their seats and a rather small guy came to their table.
“Hello, my name is Iceman.” Freddie let out a slight laugh at hearing the waiter’s name. The waiter glanced at him but continued, “I will be serving you today. Would you like to hear our specials?”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Natasha politely.
“Our specials this evening include a very eloquent oyster dish, which includes assorted vegetables and other sea foods,” the waiter said.
“Great, I’ll have that,” said Freddie as he handed the waiter his menu.
“Our other specials include a very nicely made seafood salad with lemon,” the waiter continued.
“That sounds delightful,” Natasha said immediately as she handed the waiter her menu. “I would like that, sir.”
“As you wish, ma’am,” Iceman said as he went off with their order.
Later Iceman returned with their dishes and set them in front of them. The two chatted while they ate.
“Since I was young I had always wanted to be a doctor,” she explained, “I’ve always wanted to help the poor and sick people around the world. In fact, I’m a nurse right now, and this way, after I graduate from medical school, I hope I can go help people in Africa.”
“That sounds like it would be an amazing job,” Freddie replied. “I hope one day you do get to help all those people.”
“Could I perhaps try out an oyster,” Natasha asked in a pleasant voice.
“Of course,” he replied feeding her an oyster. As Natasha ate, she noticed something inside her mouth that didn’t seem quite right. She reached in her mouth and pulled out a rather sizeable white pearl. They both looked at it in surprise and began laughing. She gave him the pearl and he stuffed it in his pocket.
The two then left the restaurant and took a stroll down the boardwalk. They talked and eventually took off their shoes and went down to the beach. They walked together with the sand between their toes and watched the tide come up and go back down. They sat and talked until the sun began setting.
“This is so nice,” Natasha said. “I wish I could just sit at this beach forever.”
“Yeah,” Freddie sighed. The two looked at each other. They both smiled at each other and Freddie reached closer. Natasha giggled a little and went closer to Freddie. Freddie placed his hand on Natasha’s cheek and kissed her. They sat there and kissed until the sun had finally set on their day.
They both had so much fun after their first date, so they decided to set up another date. Eventually the two found themselves meeting at the bus stop every day and going out for dinner. Freddie spent less time around his work and started spending more time around Natasha.
After about six months Freddie decided to do something nice for Natasha. So he headed down to the local jeweler to get a necklace made. He remembered the pearl that they had found and he brought it over to get it attached to a chain. He sat there and waited and the jeweler came back with the beautiful white pearl connected to a white gold chain. He thanked the jeweler and rushed out of the store.
Freddie quickly hurried off to the bus stop and saw Natasha already there waiting for him. He put the necklace back in his pocket and kissed her hello. They then took the bus to the restaurant “Le Petit Fromage” where they sat down and ate their food. After the meal was over Freddie took hold of Natasha’s hands.
“Never before have I felt this way about a girl before.” Freddie started. He then took the necklace out of his pocket and showed it to Natasha. Her eyes grew wide and she smiled.
“You’re so sweet.” Natasha said. Freddie couldn’t help but blush a little. He got out of his seat and went across the table and slowly placed the necklace around her neck. They looked at each other for a minute, but the peace was interrupted with the beeping of her pager. She looked down and she frowned.
“I have to go. My boss needs me.” She said sadly, “Could we meet again tomorrow after work?”
Freddie agreed and bid her farewell. Then he slowly took a stroll down the road.
The next day, it was raining very hard. Freddie hurried through work and went to the bus stop to wait for Natasha. He sat at the bus stop waiting for her, but she never did appear. He sat there for two hours and still Natasha did not come. He was puzzled and decided to walk to her house to see what was going on. When he got to her house, he rang the doorbell, but the door was answered by an older woman, who Freddie assumed was her mother.
“Hello, I’m Freddie George,” Freddie introduced himself. “Is Natasha here by any chance?”
The woman looked at him as if he had said something odd.
“I’m Natasha’s mother,” she said slowly.
Freddie gleamed into the house. The inside of the house was very gloomy, gloomier than what Freddie would’ve imagined Natasha’s house to be like.
“I had a date with your daughter,” Freddie said. “Perhaps Natasha has mentioned me before?”
The woman looked at him with surprise, and she slowly began, “How exactly did you and my daughter meet?”
“We met at a bus stop six months ago,” he replied. “We’ve been dating ever since.”
A look of shock came across the old woman’s face. She didn’t seem like she could say anything.
“Natasha…” she slowly began, “died six months ago on New Years Eve.”
The young man’s face changed immediately.
“She wasn’t supposed to be working but her boss paged her. On her way to work and it was raining hard, but she forgot her umbrella,” the woman continued. “When she waved down the bus, however, it didn’t see her and hit her.”
Upon hearing this Freddie, looked down in shock. He couldn’t comprehend the words the woman had just said.
“Where is she buried,” Freddie asked.
“In the cemetery across town,” the woman said.
Freddie quickly grabbed his coat and white umbrella and rushed towards the bus stop. He got on and went all the way across town, until he finally came across the cemetery. He searched for her name as the rain began pouring harder and harder. He finally found it and stood there for a moment. On the tombstone, was her name and hung across it was the white gold necklace with the pearl attached to it.
RSS Feed (xml)
