Here's the next entry to the story I started way back when. I had plenty of time to write while flying from Chicago to LA, so this entry is a bit longer. I'll get you caught up by reposting the first entry. Enjoy.
A Grim Reaping
The universe has been around for a long time. Millions of stories have been lived, told and read. This is just one of those.
Sara Finley felt great. Whenever she left from a visit with her father, she felt like she just woke up from ten hours of deep sleep on a Saturday morning with no responsibilities to fulfill and nothing on her schedule. Her mind was free of distractions and almost felt like a little girl again, knowing that everything in her life would be taken care of by her daddy, leaving her to care-free fun and play. She thought about how lucky she was...every one of her friends had some sort of problem with their parents. They all were so quick to dismiss their relationships as "dysfunctional" and equating that to "normal". But she knew that any and every one of them would trade places with her in an instant if they knew the joy of a true, loving parent.
Eventually she started to sober away from her emotionally induced high, expedited by the occasional siren or pump of brakes by the car in front of her. She lazily rode the dreamy state as long as she could, not wanting to arrive back in the real world just yet.
Scot Finley felt proud. The time he spent with his daughter was always better than any trip he could imagine to a Floridian well discovered by de Leon. He felt as young and energetic as the moment he looked through a hospital window and saw his hazel eyes staring back at him from a tiny angel swaddled in a nurse's arms. He would never forget how instantaneously his overwhelming fatigue evaporated that night when he saw Sara for the very first time.
His pride did not last long on this night. Like a feeling of someone walking in the room then right up behind him, an almost tangible feeling a dread crept through his body leaving a river of goose bumps in its wake. Something had happened to Sara.
ENTRY 2 How he knew, why he knew, he wasn’t sure. But he did and that’s all that mattered. He reached over to his end table and unplugged his connection to his daughter and peered at it. His cell phone displayed the hour and the minute, not taking any notice of his color quickly draining and a slight sheen forming on his forehead. Scot could only wait.
Sara awoke for a moment, overwhelmed by her senses. People talking, loud noises, lights flashing, traffic, a taste of metal in her mouth, her entire body throbbing, exhaust and burnt rubber crawling up her nostrils…she tried to focus on one…any one, but could only succumb to a deep sleep holding her by the ankles. It would not let her up, would not let her focus or breath, much less open her eyes again. Sara clearly heard a man’s voice, “It’ll be ok, you’re gonna be O.K.!” She knew that was the last thing she wanted to hear. She released an internal sigh and gave up. She drifted away.
Scot almost stood up before the sharp rap at the door sounded. He was waiting, knowing that it would come. He quickly strode across his dark living room and approached the front door. He watched himself in the bronze handle reflecting his image upside down as he got closer. He figured that his life was about to change and wanted to postpone this moment in anyway he could. But he could not. As his hand touched the metal that was as cold as his heart, he saw the peephole in front his face. He closed his grip on the doorknob and considered what he would see through the small tube if he looked, whether a medic or police officer, a badge wearing official for certain. He felt like he was in a movie. Wasn’t this always how people were informed of bad news in the movies? What year was this, he thought. Shouldn’t they call me? Sara would definitely have him listed as an emergency contact somewhere in her purse. After all of this flashed through his mind, Scot swallowed the knot that was forming in his throat. He squeezed round knob and turned.
As Scot pulled the door open, he had his eyes closed slightly and downcast. He pursed his lips, let his eyelids rise and searched for the spit shined work boots of the caller at the door. Only, he did not see highly polished black leather boots planted in front of him. He saw the boots of a Halloween costume. There were two, light brown, suede leather boots, spaced a shoulder lengths apart. Scot’s mind went blank. He started his confused gaze upward, higher, until he reached a sun-baked face with some of the most handsome features he had ever seen on a man in person. The complete man could only be described as a human, but not one of this world or time. Or a joke. However, when Scot looked into the eyes of this man, he knew this was no joke. The man’s dirty blond hair was mussed, most of it resting just beyond his shoulders. There appeared to be a day or two’s growth of a beard around the chiseled jaw and mouth. As Scot looked back down to the man’s chest, he saw a very lean and athletically built torso covered by some sort of light shirt that appeared to be handmade, with only openings for the head and arms, like a poncho. It had numerous stains that had be set, but the shirt was obviously washed and cleaned carefully. The man’s pants looked to be made from a heavy fabric, but they also had no signs of being made by production or machine. There was a belt wrapped around the man’s waist, with a satchel attached. Scot looked back into the man’s eyes, and saw many things explained to him by the man’s gaze. Scot knew this was no joke. Scot knew this man was ready to pounce at any second, Scot saw the look of a panther in the grass counting down the seconds until it exploded forth onto an unsuspecting gazelle. Scot knew this man had information about Sara. Scot knew this man had killed. After Scot stared into the man’s eyes, frozen for another second, the man’s lips parted and he spoke.
“I must apologize for my appearance, but there hasn’t been much time. My name is Pane and I must talk to you about Sara.”
1 comment:
More, more!!!!
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