There

The beaming sunlight burned as he opened his eyes and inadvertently looked in its path. He rolled over on his side and spied a scrawny blonde woman laying a few feet away, eyes open and looking into his.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

As he laid his palms flat to the pavement, he pulled himself up and stood on his feet. Grumbling a deep sigh, he looked around and saw that the scenery had been destroyed. Smoke pillared above mountains, the sky was biblically dark and park benches lay flat on their back, tipped over and without limbs. The woman remained on her side, taking in the destruction in her peripheral. She told him that it wasn’t supposed to be like this, they let it get to this point.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m thinking.”

She followed suit and rose to her feet, standing by his side. As he paced back and forth, kicking the bench he passed by, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her through the forest with a paved pathway for them to follow.

“Have you been here before? You seem to know what you’re doing.”

He looked at her, studied her features and snapped back. “No, I’ve never been to this place. Have you? You seem to know a lot about it, saying that we did this. How could we have done it? One minute I’m shooting up with you, the next I wake up in this… place.”

“You have been here before, Darren. I remember it. I swear I do. I was by that tree back there, and you were fighting to get answers out of me. Answers that I didn’t have, and then a giant came and took you with him. I never saw you again after that.”

“Show me the tree.”

She took the lead and he followed in her wake as she walked the path they had already stepped. Again they were at the scene of the flipped benches and dismantled scenery. As she stood by the tree that she had mentioned previously, he noticed the ground was burnt. The once exceedingly bright grass was now a rough shade of brown. Some patches remained a lesser shade of green, but it was evident that somebody intended to burn it to the ground.

Loud booms were heard in the distance, he assumed they were the product of bombs or missiles being dumped across the mountains beyond them. The ground rattled, almost causing him to lose his balance as Darren approached the tree. He extended his hand hesitated before kissing the bark with his fingertips. He felt a spark enter his being and he stepped back, relinquishing the grasp of the tree.

“It’s ok,” she said as she took hold of his forearm, “you have to trust yourself. You have to know that this is right, Darren. Everything we’ve been through then and now, has led up to this. That tree will tell you everything you need to know. Please. Trust yourself.”

He shook his head to agree with her sentiment and stepped forward and rested his hand upon the tree once more. The rush of energy shot into his body again and he did not let go. He witnessed visions of being a struggling writer penning his suicide note, a woman sitting dead inside of a vehicle, purposely overdosing on heroin and getting his skull bashed in with a brick. Memories of being a hitch hiker and murdering a man in cold blood, slitting his throat with no regard for the family he may have left behind. The final part of his ecstasy was all about he and Sophie, the fact that he’d waited for her time and time again, that he would always enter her world just a bit too late.

As tears streaked down his face and down to the decaying pasture at his feet, he felt the need to let go. He did. He stepped back and wiped the tears away, initiating a sentimental embrace between the both of them. All had become clear, everything he went through in this life and past ones were in the name of her. He recognized that she had previous names and purposes in the past, but here and now she was Sophie and would remain the focus of his life for the rest of his days.

He grabbed her head and titled it back in order to make eye contact with her deep, swirling brown eyes.

“I’ll always find you. I promise you that.”

She nodded and they hugged again before Darren grabbed her hand and they went back on the path that they had originally walked. He held up a branch that would have otherwise been troublesome for a woman of her height to safely stroll past. He let her walk ahead and she asked him what the tree had shown him.

“Everything there was to see. Do you know it all, too?”

“I always have,” she said with a smirk, “I was just waiting for you. It’s against the rules to interfere.” With a sheepish tone she questioned whether he was upset that she caused him to overdose the night before.

“Absolutely not, it needed to be done. If you didn’t, I’d have found you too late again. Thank you.”

They continued on until they arrived at a monstrous stone castle like structure.

“We’re here,” he said as she stood in awe of the castle. “Wait here, you don’t need to go inside.”

She put up a fight, citing that if it were not for her they would not even be here to begin with. He laughed at the familiarity of this argument and eventually agreed with her fool proof logic. “Fine, you can come with me, but you do as I tell you under any circumstances. Got it?”

“Got it,” Sophie said as she walked up the steps to the stone entrance. It was not as he remembered it once he climbed up the stairs. The markings in the door resembled stab wounds, sliced across the body of rock, as if a group of knights in shining armor were attempting to rescue a citizen in need.

“He had keys, a set of keys. Samuel had a set of keys to open it. There’s no way we’re getting in without it.” He winced at the prospect of being unsuccessful in whatever purpose he was out to fulfill.

She pressed against the opening and it nudged a bit. “Not if it’s not locked. Help me push it open.”

They struggled to extend the door ajar and worked up a sweat by doing so. They took a break for a moment and Darren asked Sophie if she was alright to continue. She nodded yes while catching her breath, bending down with her hands on her knees.

“Alright, come on. The last time I seen him he was in this room over here.”

They walked into a dimly lit room and saw Samuel sitting with his back against the wall. His long, grey locks that once hung down to his waist was now gone. Whoever was at the door shaved his head down as a sign of disrespect.

Darren knelt down beside him and asked if he was okay, which resulted in sobbing and Samuel pushing him away.

“Leave me alone, I am not who I used to be. I cannot help you.”

“I know,” Darren said, “we are here to help you. What happened? Why is this place in ruins? Who did this?”

Before he could finish his question, the ground shook once more. Stone began to crumble and shake down from the top of this behemoth creation. All three of them watched in amazement as the stone crumbled and fell to the ground below.

With his back still against the wall, he told them of the destruction and the reason behind it.

“Not everyone is welcome here. You and her are because you’re special. You were born with a way in. Your soul, both of you, your souls are precious. When you find each other, you’re too powerful. You can overcome any hardship, any evil in the world… and they know that. They know. They searched this place up and down for you two, knowing that you’d come here in death. They’re still here searching.”

They looked at each other in disbelief, then fixed their attention on Samuel.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said with a sniffle, “I want you to. I will show you how to defeat them, even if it does cost me my life. Please. End this.”

Moving On

Raindrops clouded the vision through his glasses before stepping into the doorway and up the spiral staircase that led to his apartment.  The open window beside his kitchen countertop welcomed a soothing breeze, and the scent of rain was comforting. He placed his phone and car keys on the table and ventured his way over to the refrigerator. Looking over the contents on the side panel of the door, then next to the top shelf, he decided that nothing really caught his eye. With an indecisive look on his face, he pulled open the hydrator and pulled out a pack of deli meat and a slice of cheese.

His phone gyrated where it rested before he could open the bread box. He let out a deep rooted, “shit!” and grabbed the cell phone from the table. It was a call from a publishing company that he never really expected to hear back from.  He put the phone to his ear and the voice on the other end relayed that they were more than interested in publishing a collection of his works. Once thanking them and promising to stay in touch, he received a text message from Phil that he was sending over a woman to score some heroin from him.

The news of his impending publication meant that he could leave this lifestyle behind him at last. Coupled with the knowledge that this would be one of his final sales, he was oozing at the prospect of living a legit life. A knock was heard at the door before he could dial his father’s number. He yelled that he’d be down in a minute and slapped together a quick sandwich and hasted his way down the staircase.

He opened the door while chewing his food and offered to let the blonde addict into his home. She would never forget the first look. She felt a comfort level that was previously unmatched throughout her life, his hazel eyes deeper than any black hole. They spoke valiant speeches of courage and promises kept. She followed him to the lavish apartment decided against remarking about the crumbs that rested within his bristly beard.

It was obvious to her that his hair was dyed jet black to mask the incoming grey hairs, his face run ragged from the stress of life itself. Despite that, she found solace in the mark that living left upon him. He stood proud and chipper, but she knew that he was beaten and battered mentally. After taking the last bite of his mid-day snack, he spoke to her.

“So what do you need, miss?”

The bags under her eyes meshed into the upper part of her cheekbones. It was evident that she was riding the white horse more often than not. She was in need of the drug and it showed by the way she trembled in the face of a 90 degree day. Her hair was ravaged, almost resembling a rat’s nest. The look in her eyes screamed hopelessness. She had given up in every aspect of her life.

“I only have thirty dollars, so whatever that’ll get me. I’m not sure how you do things, everybody is different.”

“Yes, you said a mouthful. Everybody is different. Often times for reasons we’ll never understand, or even try to.” He opened the closet door and reached for a shoebox on a shelf up above. She laughed to herself and looked to the floor, twisting her body in a clockwise motion as she awaited her fix.

“What’s so funny?”

“You keep your work in a shoe box? What is this, the 80’s?”

“Ha. Whatever works, right? Here, have a seat.”

He patted the brown leather sofa cushion that grazed his right leg so she could sit beside him. He pulled out two bags that held a black tar substance within from the box resting on his knee. As she sat down next to him, he pulled both bags out and handed one to her.

“This is for you. Keep your money. I got some good news today, this is the last bag you’ll get from me. I hope you enjoy it. Tell your boy Phil that Darren is out of the game.”

“Your name is Darren, huh? Mine is Sophie. It’s nice to meet you, regardless of the circumstances.” She extended her hand for a shake but he rose up from the sofa, dismissing her advance. He told her to wait there as he went to the fridge and grabbed the jug of Tropicana orange juice. Darren lifted the container to his lips and tipped it back and down his throat.

The urge hit him to finally try some of the stuff he was pushing. The old adage of ‘don’t get high on your own supply’ no longer applied to him. He wanted to be rid of it all and move on to the next chapter of his life. Darren pulled the drawer out on the far end of the kitchen sink and pulled out a spoon. He shouted from the kitchen, “hey, come here for a second!”

She stepped into the kitchen a few seconds after he called for her.

“What’s your name again?”

“Sophie, my name is Sophie.”

“Right, right, Sophie. Come here, Sophie. Do you know how to shoot up?”

The look on her face was one of elation. He didn’t have to say no more. She snatched the spoon from his possession and turned on the hot water. Letting it run for a moment, she placed her fingers below the stream and smiled at him. The proper temperature had been reached and she turned the pressure down a bit before letting a splash of hot water rest inside the spoon.

“Go out in the living room and sit down. Grab me a shoelace, or something like it, tie it around your arm like you’re about to get blood taken and I’ll take care of the rest.”

He followed her instructions and waited for her in the other room. Sophie entered the area and held the spoon up at shoulder length, her left hand resting below to prevent the water from dripping on the carpet. As she approached him, Darren had a smile on his face and a shoelace wrapped around his right arm.

“I’ve always wanted to give this a try. What should I expect?”

With an ice cold stare, she told him to anticipate coming back for more. She asked him if he was ready for his first taste and he nodded his head yes. His smile turned to a face riddled with uncertainty as she found the vein to release the substance into. As it entered, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slouched back on the furniture, slipping off of it until his back leaned against the front end of the couch.

She stood over him and whispered, “It had to be you.” She kicked his body around a couple of times but was unsure if he was dead or just in a comatose state from the lethal dose. She dug through her satchel and pulled out a bottle of prescription medication. The medication was xanex and the name on the bottle read Billy Reinhart.

Sophie removed the shoelace from his arm and lay down beside him. She clutched his hand with her left and dumped a dozen or so pills into her mouth. She felt that this was right, and deep down she knew it. She knew that they would awake in that place once more.

It was just a matter of time.

Dreamscape

She sat on a bench surrounded by headstones with blue skies up above. While there was not a cloud in the sky, a metaphorical one hung over her head as she carved away at the Zippo lighter. The rustling of trees in the vicinity alerted her of the presence of something or someone coming to greet her. The brief thought of walking to the sound itself was beginning to fill her mind, but she decided against it. The grass throughout the cemetery was brighter than usual, a shade of green so bright that coupled with the beaming sunlight, it was almost too painful to admire.

As the trees continued to babble their wind inspired song, a deer stepped out from the brush and pranced towards her. She laid the sharp instrument and lighter down beside her and reached into her purse and pulled out a sandwich baggie filled with animal crackers. She tossed a couple on the grass in front of her feet, which were extended and crossed. The animal bent his head down to test out his treats before slightly turning his head to left, as if to thank the woman for her kindness.

“Not a problem, my friend. Would you like some more?” The deer stepped closer once she fingered through the bag and extended her hand to offer three more pieces. His mouth graced her hand in a ticklish manner which led her to giggle like a child. She was startled by a voice behind her, the consequential movement caused the deer to run back into the shrubbery from where he came.

“Oops, sorry about that, didn’t know you were having a moment with him.”

She turned her eyes in his direction and could not believe how tall he was. At least 6’8, nearly a mammoth figure, his face was smooth and featured both dimples and a cleft chin. His extended grey hair was wispy and barely touched his shoulders. He took a seat next to her and asked if he too could snack on the crackers. She nodded her head yes and he crunched away while she sparked up a conversation.

“So do you work here or?...”

He held up a finger to tell her that he needed a second to stop chewing before he could answer the question.

“No, no, nothing like that. I was here visiting my father’s grave right over there.” He pointed to the left and folded his right left on top of his left, showing her that he was comfortable in her company. She looked down at her watch and remarked that she was late for a non-existent doctor’s appointment.  As she packed up her belongings and went on her way, the man called her back.

“You forgot your lighter, ma’am.” Before giving it back to her, he twirled it around within the grasp of his fingertips and asked what the initials meant.

“I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. It came to me in a dream. Thank you, though. It’s important to me.”

She turned to make her way back to her car and waved to the man before she got inside. Upon slamming the door shut, she noticed the deer less than a mile ahead. Pressing her foot down on the gas, she rolled the driver’s side window down to scatter the rest of the crackers to the pavement directly outside.

The deer looked up at her as she pulled off and made a right turn into oncoming traffic. She rolled down the passenger side window as well so she could enjoy the beautiful day as she sped along the cracked roadways of Alabama’s suburban section.  She pulled the visor down in an attempt to block the glaring sun when she reached the stop light. She was behind a blue Oldsmobile, third in the traffic line. The light turned green but there was no motion which led to the car ahead of hers to blare their horn to get the leader’s attention. She chuckled when she saw that he stuck his middle finger out of his window in a rebellious manner.

As she started back on her drive, a dizzy spell overcame her. She pulled over to the shoulder lane and turned the car off. Her head rested against the leather headrest and she closed her eyes. Once closed, a figure immediately appeared in front of her. A chill entered the car as this dark feeling filled the air.

“Do not open your eyes; I am not here to hurt you. I am here to make everything clear. Do you trust me?”

With each passing word, his appearance became more distinguishable. As he continued to lay words on her, his face, or lack thereof appeared in front of hers. He was wearing a mask made up of human flesh, concealing what lay underneath.

“Show me your face or I’ll open my eyes.”
He struggled with the proposition but ultimately turned his back to remove the mask. He turned around His eyes were woven shut, his eyesight only allowed to peer through small slits in between.  He was without a nose completely, and his mouth was without lips, cut open a few inches below his nose and above his chin.

“Nobody has ever asked me to see my face. I’ve always felt it was a convincing mask… how could you tell?”

“The piece below your jawline has dangling off. It was very convincing, I applaud your effort.”

“Do you know why I’m here?”

“You’re a dream, a figment of my imagination. I’ve seen you more than once. Do you know me?”

“I do, I know you very well, and I assure you that I am no dream.”

“If you’re not a dream, and you are real, why do I always see you when I close my eyes? You haunt me every night.”

“Open your eyes for a second and tell me if it is still day time.”

She opened her eyes and realized that he was telling the truth. She closed them again and saw the deformed man sitting in a chair with his arms folded, leaning forward in a room of nothing but black. There was a light fixture directly above where he sat.

“Is it against the rules to ask what you are?”

“What I am is a man, a man that brokered a deal with the man who controls all of it. I just want you to know that I am remorseful. I am sorry, and I mean that from the bottom of my cold, black heart. This was before I knew who you really were. I am forced to witness it every time without fail. Just know that it pains me to live this time and time again.”

His monologue confused her.

“Witness what? Live through what? I don’t understand.”

“No you don’t, and how could I expect you to?  You don’t know what it’s like to responsible for someone’s death three times over. The next time you’ll die is 37 minutes from now. “

She took his warning with suspicion.

“How would you even know that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Do you remember him?”

“Who is him?”

“The man who keeps trying to find you, he dies trying to find you with every life. He will do it again tonight. You’ll see him if you get back in time. Please, no more of this. Just go on, open your eyes.”

“Why should I believe any of this?”

He began to get angry by the barrage of questions.

“Have I not been in your dreams since you were 15? I’ve always been here. You drew pictures of me in class when you were younger. I’ve seen it all, Meredith. I place thoughts in your head, I am your motive. Whether you believe me or not, you will follow through with everything I have just told you. Free will is a lie, a fallacy. I am in everyone. Murderers, rapists, do-gooders and church goers, they are all an extension of me. No matter what you choose, or think you choose, I’m making you go into that gas station over there to buy a Diet Coke. Test me.”

“Wait. Before I do, what does the carving in the lighter mean?”

“Oh, that? That was your first name. Your parents loved you very much and showed it by giving you the most beautiful name I’ve ever encountered. Scarlett Clarissa-Barbara Henson. Now go, open your eyes and go.”

She opened her eyes and turned on the ignition with a dry throat. She pulled away and eventually into the gas station parking lot. She parked next to a man in a green Subaru who was looking for something in his glove compartment. As she entered the door and grabbed a Diet Coke, she glanced at her watch and felt like she was late for something.

Placing the two dollar bills on the counter top and rushed out of the door. As she was fiddling through her purse to find her keys, the lighter dropped to the cement. Keys in hand, she jumped into the car and sped off without a second to spare. She approached the driveway to her home that was hidden behind a legion of trees and wildlife.

Three minutes remained in this life, and she lay on the couch with a blanket with a pen and paper sitting on the table next to her. She grasped the DVD remote and turned the device on. She laid down and the words “defy, defy” were ringing in between her ears. She grabbed the scalpel that she used previously to carve her first initials into the lighter.

It appeared that the man in the dream was a liar; no man would come for her. They never did. She felt foolish to have believed a monster from a dream. It was decided that she would show him who owned free will. The paper was on her lap and the pen in her hand, she wrote the words, “I waited for you.” The scalpel scraped across her left wrist first, then her right. She covered up and felt the coldness of death embrace her very being.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and she began to sob. He had come for her… and he was too late.

Underpass

The engine roared as he turned the key that rested in the ignition of his 2003 green Subaru. Before backing out of his driveway he adjusted the fedora on his head to fit accordingly. As he maneuvered his way into traffic, he could hear the light scratching and pounding from the man inside the trunk. He was too experienced to let a sense of worry overtake him.  

Knowing that it was just a matter of time before it stopped, there was no room for panic. The thought briefly entered his mind to pull over and put him out of his misery. It bothered him that he let the man suffer, that was never his intention. In fact, this had never happened to him before, and it became clear that he would have to be more careful the next time around.

After reaching a stop light, he turned his body around with his safety belt still buckled and tossed the towel covering his arsenal of tools aside, deciding which to use for the next victim. In his mind he had already made the decision and covered them back up with the towel. The blue Oldsmobile that was behind him in line honked their horn at him for taking his time at the light. He waved his hand out the window with his middle finger stuck proudly in the air before slamming on the gas, screeching away.

He made a left turn and drove towards a bridge underpass. The gravel popped beneath his tires as he crept forward and eventually came to a stop. After turning the car off, he left the power on and turned to the local oldies station. Rock On by David Essex was playing when he noticed that the struggle in the back of his vehicle had come to an end, so he unlatched the seatbelt before rising from the seat. After pulling the trunk button, he walked over to check on the state of the man inside. Upon opening it, he saw that the drifter was no longer breathing and immediately slammed his coffin closed.

The green underpass was breathtaking in its own way. The desolate area was very peaceful, almost serene in nature. He gazed at the sign up above that condemned any vehicle over fourteen feet, six inches.

In the distance he saw another man picking up bottles and cans and dumping them into a shopping cart. With a devious smile painted on his face, he gripped the back door handle and again fiddled with the tools of his trade. He reached for the pickaxe and placed it behind his back, resting in the back of his jeans and up his shirt.

He was careful in his motion, stepping with light grace as he made the man’s acquaintance during his search of the items he’d return for a nickel a piece. He shouted to him to get his attention once within ear shot.

“Hey! I got a whole bag of cans here if you want ‘em!”

The homeless man strolled over to him while pushing the shopping cart.

“Come on, leave the cart there! It’s a bag, you can carry it!”

Leaning against the car, awaiting the homeless man’s arrival, he nodded his head along to the sounds of One Toke Over The Line.

“You like this song, bud?” he asked as the can collector finally greeted his presence.

“Never heard it.”

“What? You can’t possibly be serious. Well, now you have. Come here, the cans are in the trunk, I’ll pop it now so you can grab them.”

As the sounds of the music blared throughout the open area, the homeless man did not verbally acknowledge his instruction, but instinctively waited for the trunk to thrust open. Once it did, he let out a gasp and stepped backwards and received a blow to the back by the man wielding the pickaxe. He dropped to his knees and the man swung back again, this time with the force of a professional ball player. The axe stuck in his back to a point where he had to lay him down on the rocky road below and step an inch or two from his wound and rip it back to remove it.

He was gargling blood, spitting up, trying to crawl away from the scene. He only made it to the front end of the car before losing his battle with the inevitable. His last words were why, in which the killer replied, “Because I had to.”

He bent down to check his pulse and it was confirmed that he was dead. Without hesitation, he lifted him up and placed him next to the man that he would ultimately spend eternity with. After slamming the hood shut, he again opened the back door but this time he fetched a new shirt to change into after the one he had on was plastered with blood stains. The chilling breeze forced him to grab his sports jacket that he hadn’t worn in months. He tossed the old one into the river that was a few feet away from the underpass and drove off, trembling.

For reasons that were unclear to him, this one really unnerved him. Perhaps it was the idea that he led an innocent man to his death with a promise of financial gain, no matter how minuscule it may have been. He was back on the open road and pulled into a gas station that was less than a mile, give or take, from the murder scene.

In order to settle himself down some, he went into shop and asked for a pack of Newport 100’s, but when the cashier asked for his ID he realized that he had left it resting in his glove compartment. The glass door swung open as he exited the store and walked to the car. A woman passed him by and dropped her lighter as she going through her purse for what he assumed to be her cell phone.

He waited for her to pull out of the lot before stepping over to the dropped Zippo. Picking it up and examining it closely, he read the initials ‘SCBH.’

“What kind of inscription is this?” he asked, under his breath. He placed it in his pocket and retrieved the ID card. As he stepped back into the store and handed the cashier the card, the worker looked at him and chuckled.

“Your name is David Ducketts? What kind of name is that?”

A disgruntled look came over his face and he snatched the card from his fingers. David placed a twenty dollar bill on the counter and said to keep the change before storming out of the establishment. Night fall came quick in what seemed to be a slow paced afternoon. The street lights turned on as soon as he turned into oncoming traffic yet again.

He lit a cigarette and drove onward, eventually coming across a man with his thumb sticking out, begging for a lift. Before stopping aside him, he chucked the butt out the window.

The driver pressed down on the button to roll the window down and speak to him. He was bearded, looked like a drifter, and would be an ideal candidate for his third victim of the night.

“Where ya headed?”

“Wherever you wanna take me, I’ve been walking since last night without rest.”

The Dark Path

The dark path I walk is illuminated by the brightness of your soul. The angelic features of your face inspire me to keep pushing on. I step forward with fear in my heart and hopes in my eyes. Your name will be my contract; I’ve sworn to uphold it. The callouses on my feet tingle as I trek on towards an uncertain fate. I can only see a few feet ahead of me, the darkness has sprawled over the open road in front of me.

A pair of headlights approach and the car slows to a crawl as it passes me by. I thought to myself that they had every intention of stopping to help a fellow person in need, but my appearance gave them other ideas. I continued on my journey and hummed a tune in my head to occupy my time. The wind swooshed around me, almost thrusting me into the roadside trees I walked alongside. The weight of the backpack I carried around my shoulders was beginning to become too much. If help didn’t arrive soon I’d have to dump it.

In the distance I could hear an engine rumbling. I stuck my hand out, thumb poking in their direction as I pleaded for them to pick to me up. As they sped past me, I witnessed their brake lights turn red and stop right beside me. As I stepped toward the car and bent down to get a look at the driver, I witnessed my reflection in the passenger side window. What I saw startled me, have I really been walking for this long? When I left the bar and decided that I needed to go on this journey of self-enlightenment I had nothing more but a bit of stubble on my mangled face.

The driver pressed down on the button to roll the window down and speak to me. He was clean cut, dressed to impress, donning a sports coat and a fedora over his seemingly balding scalp.

“Where ya headed?”

“Wherever you wanna take me, I’ve been walking since last night without rest.”

The cold breeze picked up its haste as I gripped the handle and pulled it back to enter the green Subaru. He offered me a cigarette, which I declined. He asked for my name and I responded by saying that it wasn’t necessary to exchange handles because we’d be on our way in a matter of minutes.

“So can I ask about that scar on your face?”

He was referring to the six inch laceration which had covered my entire right cheek. Talking about it made me uncomfortable but I couldn’t refuse both of this man’s questions. I took a deep breath and requested the cigarette he had previously offered me. As he fiddled his inner pocket in search of the pack, I realized this was the perfect opportunity to grab my blade from the backpack that rested in between my legs on the floor. Once finding the cigarette he asked me what I was looking for, to which I replied that I was looking for the lighter that didn’t exist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t need to go through all of that. Here, use this.” He handed me a Zippo that has initials inscribed on it. It read SCBH. I flipped open the top and used the flame to light the stick.

“What’s SCBH mean?”

“Ha. Hell if I know. Found it a couple miles back at a gas station, picked it up because I really like Zippo’s.”

I nodded my head and said, “ah” before handing it back to him. I took a deep drag of the cigarette and opened the window a crack for the smoke to billow out. Before ashing the cigarette, a deer ran into the street and stopped to stare at the lights approaching it. Luckily, the unnamed driver was alert enough to see the deer and slowed down to a stop before we were both either killed or severely injured.

The deer scampered away and began to chew on vegetation on the side of the road. As the driver was about to put his foot on the gas once more, I reached into my open bag and slit his throat. Blood poured from the wound like a crimson waterfall. As he gasped for air, fighting for his final breath to not be a struggle, I unbuckled my safety belt and got out of the car. As I walked over to his side, I opened it and forced him onto the asphalt just outside of his door.

I bent down with my upper half of my body in the car, searching for the button that would pop the trunk. I found it, and pulled back on it. As I heard the lock release I slammed the door shut so hard the car rattled. Picking up his body and carrying him to the back of the car, I lifted the trunk open and saw two other dead bodies already residing within. They resembled drifters, long beards and unkempt hair. The smell of decomposition hit me like a slap in the face, causing me to stumble backwards with this man still in my arms.

I found a way to fight through and dump him inside with the other two men. Upon slamming the top closed, I noticed the deer staring at me from a distance. I walked towards and it drifted away, but stopped and stared at me again. I thought it may have been leading me to something, someone. I kept following the animal; he took me through the woods and to a house deep inside of it.

The deer ran off to continue on his own destiny after bringing me to mine. Mustering up the courage to walk up the steps was somewhat of a challenge. Fuck, I should have grabbed the pack of smokes off of the driver. Too late now, I had to do this without the help of nicotine. I walked up the wooden steps; they creaked at the prospect of holding my weight.

As I got to the door and pushed it open, I could hear a TV on in a nearby room. I shut the door and followed my instincts to the room with the sound echoing throughout. I entered the room and saw a woman lying on a couch, draped in a blanket. The light from the TV lit up the room and I motioned towards her.

Blood dripped from the cuts on her wrists and onto the hard wood floor beneath my feet. There was a note beside her that simply read, “I waited for you.”

Chapter 2: A Different Path

Don Conklin sprawled out on the couch with a blanket over him watch the morning news before his wife entered with his cup of coffee. He thanked her for bringing it to him as she sat across from him in the recliner, donning her fuzzy pink housecoat. The report on the television detailed the search for a serial killer who still reigned over surrounding states. He shook his head and turned to his wife after sipping from his steaming hot cup.

His features told the story of his painful existence. Wrinkles filled his face from his eyes to his chin; he had been through hell and back two times over. His blue eyes were studying the newscaster; it was obvious to him that Mr. Zimmerman was reading from a teleprompter. As he spilled the details about the latest gruesome murder to occur in Yonkers, Don picked up on his condescending attitude about the situation. After entering a period of deep thought, he finally spoke.

“What is wrong with the world today? Things didn’t use to be this way.”

Reaching for her pack of cigarettes that rested on the table to the left of her, she disagreed with his sentiment. “Don’t be so nostalgic. You make it seem like we weren’t afraid for our lives when we were growing up. How quickly we forget the past, huh? Do you not remember changing plans on our first date because the Night Stalker was still on the loose?”

“He doesn’t deserve to be remembered and neither does this guy.”

With her typical snarky attitude, she quipped back, “now who ever said this killer is a man?” She flipped the pack open and fingered a cigarette from the pack, placing it to her lips before sparking it.

“You know, I’m growing tired of that shit.”

“What shit? We’ve been married for twenty three years next week and you still complain over my attitude. Get over it, Don.”

Tossing the blanket off of him, he sat up on the couch with his hands covering his kneecaps below the blue sweatpants he awoke in; he shot over a look of disgust before continuing the verbal battle. “You know what I mean, it’s the smoking. Don’t you have any respect for me?”

She was appalled at his sentiment and ended the stick in a glass ashtray before taking a seat next to him. Before asking how he could ever feel that way, she remembered the promises that she’d made in the past while he laid in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

He chastised her again, “not only are you killing yourself, but you’re killing me, too. Not to mention the money you waste on the fucking things. Ten dollars a pack, are you insane?” After taking a deep breath, he rested his head on her shoulder and apologized, attributing this episode to stress and his fear of death.

She shifted her eye sight towards him but was cut off before she could mouth the words that she intended to. “Now I know what you’re gonna say, Andrea. You’re gonna go on and tell me that it’s no big deal, and that you’re obligated as my wife. .  . but the fact of the matter is, no you’re not obligated to this. I know plenty of women that would have up and left in this very same situation, so spare me the bullshit.”

Andrea kissed his check and laid back on the couch with him following suit. Once wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, she told him that she loved him.

“You changed my life, Donald Conklin. I tell you this as much as I can, but I don’t think you’d ever really understand what you mean to me.” Don smiled and looked her in the eyes, reaffirming his feelings for her.

“I knew I made the right choice when I took your hand. I couldn’t do better if I had the world by the balls.”

They shared a laugh together, she patted him on the chest as she stood up and began her morning routine of cleaning up from the night before. As the newscast took a commercial break, she heard him chuckle at the ad for a local law firm.

If you’ve been injured seriously

Don’t bother searching curiously

We fight for your rights, furiously

Just take a look in the mirror and see

Call the firm that has your back

Gwendolyn, Hofstra and Mac

She knew her husband was on borrowed time. She peered from the kitchen and noticed the smile on his face. This could go on no longer. Andrea unfolded yesterdays paper and circled and article before grabbing a skillet from the pantry.

"Do you want some breakfast?"

It All Ends The Same (Poem)

The blood stained walls are closing in around me...
I look in your eyes and say I'm glad that you found me...
I remember when all of my dreams were of you...
Now I'll have nightmares of your face turning blue...
From the stranglehold beneath my fists..
You're gasping for air, the light is dim and the pipe drips..
You've resided in my cellar for more than a week..
You make my heart ache, you once were the reason it beat..
Never did I think it would come to this...
I professed my love daily, but you didn't give a shit..
So now you lay the same way I found you..
A blank stare in your eyes, the walls closing around you..
You drive me to rage, I wish I knew where to start..
As much as I hate you, you'll always have my heart..
And I know for a fact that I'll always have yours..
Because I'll keep it forever under the floor..
The look in your eyes will always remain..
No matter what I do, it all ends the same.