Sunday

“Let’s do something fun today.”

“Like what, Avaline? We don’t have the most exciting life… or the means to really have one,” Oliver snapped back, lying on his back, legs resting on the black leather sofa that lay in front of him. He tossed a tennis ball up in the air and caught it on the way down, one handed.

“I thought you were dying your hair blonde today.”

Avaline let out a disgruntled sigh, proving that she was growing tired of answering the same question.
“I swear to Christ, you ask me that one more time, Ollie…”

Oliver rolled to his feet, tennis ball still in hand and a smirk painted on his face. “Well, you’ve been talking about it for weeks. What’s the hold up?”

“Why do you care so much, anyways? You act like you’re my boyfriend or something.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.” Avaline sucked her teeth and turned her back on him, heading down the hardwood corridor and into her bedroom. Oliver followed her to the door, and just as he began to speak, was met with a door slamming inches from his face.

While they fought like dogs at times, Oliver knew that his sister depended on him to be himself. Ever since she had gotten out of the psychiatric unit at SUNY Upstate, all responsibility fell on Oliver’s shoulders. He had to be the strong one, and he embraced this new role that he would have to take on following the untimely death of their parents. They had died in a car accident while on the way to pick up Avaline after discovering she had snuck out to attend an underage rave party last winter.

It didn’t take a psychiatrist, or anybody with any kind of certification to draw the conclusion that she blamed herself for the tragedy. Money wasn’t an issue, as their father had left behind a trust fund that could only be opened upon the event of their untimely death, or Avaline’s 22^nd birthday, with the former obviously coming first.

As much as he hated to be the one to challenge her crippling depression, he knew that he had to be the brother that she had always known. Her doctor made it clear that her environment needed to be as familiar and comfortable as possible, and he made every attempt to do that.

Oliver bounced the tennis ball off of her bedroom door, over and over again, until the door swung open and his sister was looking him in the eyes.

“You ever think of shaving it all off? Britney pulled it off.”

Avaline showed a forced smile before returning to her twin sized bed, complete with velvet comforter and pillow cases. She picked up her day planner and lime green iPod and leaned back against the pillows. Oliver joined her at the edge of the bed.

“Look, I know today is tough for you. I know every day is. It’ll be ok. Let’s do something to take our mind off of it. I have my shaving kit…”

She succumbed to his persistence and let out a genuine giggle that made him light up inside. Avaline looked over at him, and asked a question that had never crossed her mind up until this point.

“What if we aren’t twins, and were like, switched at birth?”

Despite being opposite genders, there was no denying that they were identical twins. If Oliver grabbed a brown wig and threw it on, and he’d pass for Avaline, and vice versa. Their hair was a perfect match, a dark brown that complimented their eyes.

Bewilderment overcame his face, “huh?”

“Like that movie we watched on Lifetime last week. The babies were switched at birth by accident, and nobody knew for like, twenty years.”

“You know I don’t pay attention to those things right? Whenever you put that crappy channel on, I grab my headphones and tune it out.”

“Who are you trying to impress? You were totally into that movie.”

Oliver began to blush, realizing yet again that he couldn’t get anything by his sister.

“Yeah, whatever, if you say so,” rising up from the bed, he paced around the room, playing catch with the tennis ball. “Let’s go to the zoo.”

“The zoo? What are we, 12?”

“No, I’m serious,” Oliver remarked, “when’s the last time we’ve been to the zoo?”

“…Probably when I was 12,” Avalina responded with deadpan delivery.

“Go get ready, we’re going. It’s free in the winter.”

Oliver hustled out of the room to grab his denim colored winter hat and to spray on his cologne. Avalina grabbed her and Oliver’s jacket, meeting him at the front door before putting on her own violet wool hat.

Oliver had the car keys in hand, but Avalina objected and suggested that they just walk instead. Oliver agreed, seeing that as a rare opportunity to pick his typically reserved sister’s brain as they walked through the wintery surroundings, complete with whistling wing and light snow fall.

“It looks like a snow globe,” said Avalina.

“Yeah, it kinda does it, doesn’t it? Hey so, how are you holding up? With me finishing up school and all, we don’t really get the time to connect anymore.”

They came to a stop at the crosswalk, allowing for all traffic to drive by before crossing the street and entering the gates leading to the zoo.

“Well, I killed mom and dad, so.”

She saw the look of despair overtake her younger brother, and knew that he didn’t read her sarcasm.

“Oh, no, Ollie, it was a joke. It’s a part of healing. I have to find humor in the darkest things. It helps me, it really does,” she told him as she put her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him forward and into her chest for a much needed hug.

“Ollie, I love you. You’re the strongest person I know, and I couldn’t ask for a better brother. You’re the only reason that I’m still around today, and I mean that.” Avalina took her brother by the back of his head, and gently turned his head to hers to be certain that he fully comprehended the praise that she had just lended to him. “Now come on, let’s see some animals.”

As they walked up to the entrance, they encountered a sign on the sprawling green steel gate that read, “SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED!”

“Ollie, did you really not know that it was Sunday?”

He smiled and looked down at the ground, then back up at her.

“I knew it was Sunday, I just really needed to hear that from you.” He pulled the tennis ball out of his pocket, and sat down with his back against the gate.

“Let’s talk.”

Episode 3

The bald Asian man returned with two chairs, placing them at the table before departing the room.

“Now you may sit,” the elderly women said.

John walked toward the chair that was obviously his, as it had a special resting place for his tail carved out of the back of the chair. The blonde woman followed suit and sat in the chair adjacent to him.

“Jennifer, we were not expecting you, excuse our manners.” The salt white haired woman placed her hand under the table and pressed a green button, which told the Asian butler to answer his Bluetooth earpiece.

“One more chalice mixed the same as the other three.”

The older gentleman who escorted John into the building chuckled and took his fisherman hat off of his head, placing it on the table. He took a quick look at Jennifer, the blonde, before staring John dead in the eyes.

“So, John… do you know why you’re here yet?”

“Am I supposed to?” John retorted.

“Heh, well you did ask about those –“

“SILENCE!”

The elderly woman stood up, kicking the chair behind her.

“Charles,” she said, gesturing to the man who seemed to be her equal in age, “you don’t get to treat guests of our estate in this fashion! Leave me be, just me and them. Take your drink and I will see you in an hour or two. Plug in my electric blanket.”

Charles walked off, goblet in hand; walking through the hand carved mahogany doors. The Asian butler saw him out, shutting the doors behind him.

“Thank you, Suzuki.”

She slightly lowered her head to him, and he did the same back. As she lifted her decorated cup to her lips, she eyed them both, hoping for them to do the same.

“What’s the matter? Is it not good enough for you? I’ll have you know that this is from my personal collection, you see? My great ancestors have been involved in the fine wine industry for generations, and I take this as a blatant display of disrespect. Be careful how you respond.”

John pulled up his chair, still naked, still with his tail hanging out of the back of the chair.

“What is this for? Why am I – why are we here? What do you want with us, Mrs…?”

“Margot,” she said, “Mrs. Margot. Charles is my husband and we’ve been helping people like you realize their true potential for the past two hundred years.”

John was taking a sip of wine as she said this, and almost spit it out when she threw the year figure out there.

“Okay, you people are fucked,” John remarked. Jennifer smiled and laughed under her breath. “No, I’m fucking serious. I’m supposed to believe that you guys have been… I don’t even know… helping… freaks? Fucking stop it.”

Mrs. Margot reached into her housecoat and pulled out a pack of Newport Red 100’s, and a brown lighter. As she lit the cigarette, she began speaking as soon as she let out her first cloud of smoke. Kicking her chair back, she placed her legs on top of the table.

“You have three wishes, think of me as a genie,” she said, “you each get one question each, and one to split. I will give you thirty seconds to decide it is what you want to know.”

John and Jennifer huddled up and began to discuss their options.

“Okay, well I’m definitely asking why I have a fucking tail,” John said.

“Well, I’m definitely asking why the fuck I’m here, ‘cause I’ve never met you in my life, but feel obligated to you.”

“TIME IS UP!”

“Fuck, what’s the joint question gonna be?”

John looked back at Jennifer and shrugged his shoulders. They stepped back into the room in unison, and faced her as one.

“Why do I have a tail?”

The elderly woman, Mrs. Margot, looked John right in the face.

“Child, you’ve always had a deeper purpose, more meaning to your life than you could have ever dreamed. You are helping us reach that potential and we are forever grateful.”

“And you?”

Jennifer looked at the silver tiled floor, then back up at Mrs. Margot.

“Why am I here, and why do I feel fucking obligated to him?”

“Child, you’ve always had a deeper purpose, more meaning to your life than you could have ever dreamed. You are helping us reach that potential and we are forever grateful.”

Mrs. Margot approached them both with their goblets, and they both took a sip, while smiling at each other.

“So, for your joint question?”

Mere seconds after they downed their drink, Jennifer began convulsing on the floor. John held her in his arms, screaming at Mrs. Margot.

“What the fuck did you do?!”

Episode 2

Episode 2

JOURNEY

Written by Andy Mascola

John cautiously entered the warehouse, never taking his eyes off his host. The man looked to be in his late sixties, maybe even his seventies. He was thin and tall and was most likely considered handsome in his younger days. The old man wore a floppy fishing hat with homemade lures attached to it.

“Who’s we?” John asked.

“Pardon?” said the old timer.

“You said we’ve been waiting for you,” John said.

“Oh,” the old man laughed. “Let me help you with your pack,” the old man reached behind John to take his backpack off his shoulders. John stepped away.

“You’re not helping me with anything until I start to get some answers!” he said angrily.

The old man sighed. “Okay. Follow me.” John followed the old man down the dimly lit hall.

Hanging from the walls of the hall, John saw old, framed black and white photographs of what looked like attractions from circus freak shows. Families with hair covering their entire bodies including the faces of their children, making them all look like werewolves.  One photo showed a man standing on a beach in a bathing suit, his entire flesh covered in scales. Next to it John saw a photo of a beautiful woman in a long white dress, standing in a field, with octopus-like tentacles instead of hands.

“Where did these photos come from?” John asked.

“Huh? Oh, those,” the old timer laughed and kept walking toward a room at the end of the hall.

John followed the man into what looked like a dining room area with a red carpet and walls made of dark wood. The room was lit by metal sconces along the wall, each having a candle. In the middle of the room was a long rectangular dinner table with four chairs. In the middle of the table was a circle of twelve, tall, lit candles on a black metal tray.

At the head of the table furthest from John sat an old woman with long white hair, wearing a black robe with a hood. Sitting next to the old woman was the blonde beauty he had seen outside. She smiled and fluttered her thin fingers, waving at John. The old man with the fishing lure hat took a seat at the table opposite the blonde beauty.

John let his backpack fall from his shoulders, dropped it onto the floor and approached the table. He pulled out the chair nearest him, but before he could sit down the old woman spoke.

“Do not sit!” the old woman screeched in a high-pitched scratchy voice that stopped John where he stood.

A bald Asian man in a black tuxedo with white gloves entered the dining room from a doorway at the opposite end of the room. He carried a tray with three metal goblets that looked like something from the middle ages. As the man put a metal goblet in front of each of the three people at the table John noticed the ears of the man were pointed at the top. Holding the empty drink tray behind his back, the Asian man bowed to the old woman at the head of the table and walked silently out of the room through the same doorway he came.

John ran his hand through his beard and sighed. “Look, I don’t know where I am and I don’t know who you people are and I don’t know what you want with me, but I’m sick of the riddles and I want some goddamn answers and I want them now!”

“Silence!” screeched the old woman. A painful electric current surged through John’s body, dropping him to his knees.

The blonde beauty stood and walked quickly over to him, helping John back to his feet. “Don’t say anything else, John. I can help you get out of here, but you have to do as they say and you have to trust me,” she whispered. The woman stepped back from John.

“Disrobe!” the old woman shouted.

John looked at the blonde. She nodded. “Do as they say,” she whispered.

John tiredly untied his boots and kicked them off. He took off his parka and began to unbutton his shirt. He looked up at the old woman. She was staring at him as she sipped from her metal cup. The old timer sat with his hands on the arms of his chair. He stared at the ceiling and mumbled to himself. John removed his flannel shirt and tossed it on top of his boots and parka. He pulled his white t-shirt over his heavy frame and dropped it on the pile of clothes. He crossed his arms over his chest as if to say I’m done.

“All of it!” the old woman growled.

John looked again at the blonde still standing facing him. Again, she nodded. John unbuckled and unzipped his pants. As he began to slide them off of his hips he felt something unusual on his lower back.

John stopped and reached behind himself. Over his boxer shorts he felt a strange protrusion just above the crack of his ass. A chill ran over John’s body as if his bones had turned to glass. He looked at the blonde with wide, unblinking eyes. Again, she nodded for him to continue.

John put his thumbs into the waistbands of his trousers and boxers. He breathed in and closed his eyes. He pushed his pants and boxers down to his feet. As he did, he felt it spring to life behind him and coil shyly around his right leg. It was a tail.

John reached down and gripped the flesh covered, snake-like growth with his shaking hands. He relaxed and the tail went limp as he stretched it out in front of his body. The self-consciousness he would have normally felt of being completely naked in front of three total strangers was nowhere to be found as he now examined this most unusual part of himself that he’d never seen before.

Made of his own flesh and lightly covered in about as much hair as his arms and legs, John’s tail was roughly three feet long and about as wide around as his big toe. It began at his lower back and ended, much like the end of a sausage, at mid-calf.

John examined his tail. He could feel the warmth of his hands on it. He pulled on it gently and got a sense of the permanent attachment to his lower back. He let it go and found he was able to move it around in front and in back of him as easily as the tongue in his mouth. It was as if it had appeared on his person from nowhere, but functioned to his will as if he’d had it his entire life.

Colors

I woke up to the temptress I championed home with me the night before, her hair a flowing mess across the beige cotton comforter. Turning my head to the nightstand to my left, I grabbed my phone to check the time.

7:13 AM.

I’ve always been an early riser. I sat up on the edge of the bed, taking in the sunrise from the adjacent window. The burning red-yellow horizon bounced off of the egg shell white walls, and the painted nature drew me in. It was a chilling winter day that was reminiscent of beautiful spring memories. The sky was a light shade of blue, with the burning star adding a special hint of golden radiance.

I stepped toward the window, forth and forth, until I was close enough to smell the freshly painted window frames. Close enough in fact, to actually see a reflection of myself. My 5 o’clock shadow became a full on beard, my eyes were bloodshot, and to be honest, I looked beaten down by life. I’ve avoided mirrors, and selfies, for the past three weeks, with hopes to live down how I’d actually felt inside, for whatever reason that I felt it.

My color was yellow.

Walking back into the bedroom, flaunting my navy blue boxer briefs to an audience who was still dead to the world, I grabbed a black bath towel that was tossed recklessly on the spacious hardwood floor.  Walking into the bathroom, I could hear the blonde in the next room stirring around the bedroom one door away.

As I turned the knob on the shower to three-quarters hot, I finally took a deep look at myself in the mirror. I examined my face as if I’d be quizzed on it later in the night. My once smooth skin was now cracking, wrinkling, and I wondered if it had anything to do with me losing hope.

My color was red.

I hopped into the shower and tried to take my mind off of things, but with no fruition. As the steaming water hit my bare skin, memories of drunken rage plagued my mind. Closing my eyes did no good; it would only intensify the visions. I did the only thing I could think of to take my mind away from these bad places, and turned the cold water completely off.

As the smoldering flow pelted off and around me, I came to the realization that I felt no pain at all. My skin was reacting, it was as red as a drunkards face at last call, but there was no pain attached. For what it’s worth, this did temporarily kill the memories I had recently suffered through. I passed out in the shower, maybe from shock, or maybe due to my horrible ability to deal with absolutely any and everything.

My color was black.

Some will say that black isn’t a color at all, but whatever it is, black is all I could muster up, as far as memory goes. My hair was still soaking wet, but the shower head was turned off, and the tub I was laid out in was dry. I shook my head and ran my hands over my clean shaven face before attempting to stand on my own two, before my shaky legs brought me back down.

I groaned to myself as I gave it another go, knowing I’d have to use more of my upper body strength to stand. Putting both hands on the edge of the bathtub, I gripped and pulled myself up until I spilled on the floor like a glass of milk. Crawling towards the door, I eventually pulled the door open to see an empty bedroom, with a piece of paper on the bed.

I picked it up, held it a few inches from my face, and read it out loud.

“All you ever wanted was to forget. You’re free now.”

I did not know the significance of this letter, but I knew I felt a bit differently after reading it. I went back into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and was pleased with what I saw looking back at me. A young, astute, clean shaven man, ready to take the world by the throat and make it kneel at his will.

Something told me to reach into the drawer on the right end of the sink, so I did. Inside were a singular bullet and a 9mm handgun. I stared at it for a minute, wondering if this was the right thing to do. A lot of my life had come down to simply doing the right thing, something I failed at so many times before, but every day was a new opportunity to be a new you.

My color was white. 

Sunflower

The clock read 5:56 AM as she reached for the liter of swill beside her bed, slightly tipping and pouring it into the coffee cup that rested on the upper part of her left leg. Briefly contemplating a mixer, she shook her head negatively and took her medicine like a champ. The burn that accompanied the shot was well worth it.

Reaching for her pack of smokes, she grabbed one, and lit it up before blowing a cloud of smoke that resembled a deep fog from rural Maine. Sometimes, well, more times than not, she’d stare off into the smoke clouds she created with each exhale. Daydreaming, watching the smoke twist and dance with the cool fall breeze. It was a shame that she grew up in the era of pill pushing physicians, making a buck at any chance they could. This, in turn, lead to her walking through life like a zombie version of herself.

She knew that a lot was missing from her life; this was something that she could not deny. She simply had no way to know how to go about it obtaining it. The fake smiles and counterfeit emotions she passed onto the background characters of her life were beginning to take their toll on her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be happy, or didn’t want to genuinely care about anyone else, but more so about how she had to fix herself the only way she knew how . . . by shutting out the world.

As she grabbed for a prescription bottle on the nightstand, she pushed down and turned the lid, dropping two Xanax pills in her palm. She cracked them in half to break the time release, a trick that an old friend had taught her. She’d never forgotten this tactic, because she didn’t believe it at first, until it hit her like a twenty foot wave. Chuckling to herself, she grabbed the entire bottle of vodka, and downed the two pills.

Clicking the light switch on was damn near blinding, causing her to squint while on the search for her day planner. She threw the planner on the bed and sprawled out on her stomach to thumb through the planner comfortably. As she reached todays date, October 17^th, 2014, her heart sank to her stomach. She couldn’t believe that she had forgotten the significance of this day.

Feelings of regret washed over her, wishing she hadn’t dosed herself so early, especially with the assistance of the eighty-proof booze. She could feel the tears building and refused to let herself appear weak, even if only to herself. She had come a long way, further than she ever dreamed, but still wanted so much more. There was so much she hadn’t learned, hadn’t experienced, and hadn’t questioned.

What is all of this for?

Does he care?

Do I care?

Why are we here?

Is there a God?

Questions overloaded her mind, she could sense a meltdown coming on. He would be here in two hours, and she had no clue what to ask him.

She paced back and forth, forth and back, until she reached for the glass bottle containing her current buzz.  A rage induced grip resulted in her shattering the glass in her hand. Looking down at the floor, then back up at her hand, she gasped at what she had expected to see.

There was no blood.

There were no cuts.

There was no vodka bottle.

There was no bedroom.

Standing still in the darkness, she attempted to scream but to no avail. Rendered useless by temporary paralysis, her eyes were her only friend.

She could hear a sound in the distance.

Pat-pat-pat-pat, pat-pat-pat-pat.

A gang of druids with torches lighting the way accompanied a stage coach. All of the riders stopped at once, as they surrounded her.

She was terrified, and her face was holding no secrets. It appeared as if she had aged years within mere moments, the stress was eating away at her.

“You’ve done very well for us, Lydia. Your dedication, loyalty and allegiance will be rewarded at the utmost level. You know the rules, let your will be known.”

As Lydia attempted to speak, the voice from the stage coach laughed and said, “ah yes, of course, silly me. Unchain her!”

“What rules? Who the fuck are you people?!”

Lydia attempted to approach the stage coach, but was stopped after three steps by two druids, hoods still intact.  After informing her of her wrongdoing and explaining that nobody dare approach their master without being summoned was a sign of great disrespect.

The voice called her forward, and she followed the orders given.

“What is it that you want more than anything on this planet, my dear?”

The question hit her hard. She asked for a moment to think about it, and her request was granted. Her new reality was a dark forest, surrounded by creepy guys in hoods with huge torches, and a mystery voice in a stage coach. She felt like an alternate version of Cinderella, or something.

She stepped forward, head high and ready to deliver her answer with pride.

“Ok, hi, yeah hi,” she said as she waved towards the front of the coach, “so, I’m not really sure what you guys know or don’t know about me, so I’m just gonna tell you. Things suck right now and they didn’t used to. Things used to be wonderful, I had friends, great friends, and a decent family, and a good life… and now it’s just, everything is shit. I just want to feel ok, I want to be free. I want to let go. I want to let go of all of this stuff that I carry around with me everywhere I go. I want to be me again. I want to let go, please. Help me let go all of all of this stuff that I feel every day, and how hard this is to even just navigate through a single day.”

The druids dissipated into clouds of smoke, one by one, until it was just Lydia and the stage coach.

Daydreaming, watching the smoke twist and dance with the cool fall breeze.

“You may go, my child.”

The EKG machine flatlined, and after a fifteen year coma, Lydia had finally succumbed. She died alone, with nothing but a wilted sunflower by her bedside.

Stray

I scurried out of the brush in which I’d spend a fair amount of my humid summer nights under. I wasn’t sure exactly where in the world I was, but I’d like to think that I had explored my share of it. I’ve seen exotic birds and fast squirrels, seasons change from cold to hot, and many neighborhood friends come and go. Some passed on, others just faded away.

As I looked around the parking lot, I noticed more vehicles than usual. It was a very hot day, and with me being as hairy as I am, I desperately needed something to quench my thirst. Running towards a door with a open hanging shade, I stopped at once and stared into their domicile.

A woman stepped to the door, turning the knob and eventually greeting me on the concrete based porch. There were two green folding chairs on the porch that overlooked the parking lot. As she caressed me, I circled around her, rubbing against her to show my appreciation.

I didn’t normally trust people, but there was something special about this person. This person put love into every touch, this person sweet talked me, this person fetched me some much needed water. I wouldn’t dare ask for food, even if I knew how. I’ve never been domesticated. The streets are all I know – it was all I’ve ever known, honestly.

I was ok with it, I accepted it. Not all of us were meant to be loved. I watched acquaintances and friends return back to the place they called home with the people they adored. It wasn’t that I didn’t want that, it’s just that I knew that it wasn’t for me.

A husky man joined her on the porch and kneeled down beside her to join in on the current infatuation of me. If I said I didn’t revel in this particular moment in time, I’d be a bold faced liar. His beard was dark and well groomed, and their hair color matched almost too perfectly. It was obvious that they were meant for each other. I used to look at Jesse that way.

As my past life came to mind, I subconsciously resented  them for taking me back to that place, so I rose to my feet and ran off to see where the rest of the day would take me.

I loved Jesse with all of my heart, and couldn’t help but relive me helplessly watching as he got ran over by a red truck. By the time I reached him, he was already gone. There was no goodbye, there was no closure. There was nothing. Nothing but me, left alone to pick up the pieces, alone.

As much as it hurt me to relive that day, I knew that it was necessary. I had to let go, but never forget.

I decided it was time for me to take a nap. I could sense the impending rain in the air and knew it’d be best if I rested somewhere with a slight overhang. Strolling through back alleys and backyards, I had arrived at a bar that I frequented. The people there seemed to enjoy having me around and I could always count on a free meal.

I arrived at the door and the same wrinkled gentleman cleared the path for me to go inside. I climbed up on a bar stool, and was greeted with a chuckle and a bowl of tuna fish. This man, as nice as he was, didn’t have the same light inside of him that the brunette woman had. It didn’t make me appreciate the meal any less, but I left almost immediately after eating.

As I ran back to the apartment complex to see the brunette lady once more, I realized that she was sitting on the porch, alone and crying. I approached her and hopped in her lap, but she didn’t seem to like me as much. The tears kept falling, a few of them landing on me, and her cries got louder.

Maybe her Jesse got hit by a red truck, too. I sat in silence as she ran her fingers through my fur, purring softly. 

Episode 1

JOURNEY

EPISODE 1

WRITTEN BY JOSHUA NEARY

Snow crunched beneath his feet as he trekked onward to a fate unknown. He’d woken up in an abandoned junkyard less than ten hours ago with no recollection of the events that led him to this point. The lonely journey would continue as a solo mission as long the kindness of strangers proved to be bone dry.

The snow was falling harder, the temperature felt like it was dropping with every step, but he trudged forward. His size 11 boot was leaving deep impressions in the white underneath him. He chuckled at the thought of his beard giving off a festive look, littered with snow from the wintery conditions. As he took a moment, hands to his knees, bending over, he took a break to catch his breath.

The stocky man didn’t miss the opportunity to take in more than oxygen, standing upright, hands at his sides to absorb the beautiful scenery surrounding him. As he had just begun to take it all in, a jolt of electricity powered through him, dropping him to the pristine white surface. With his hands covering his ears, rocking back and forth and screaming in pain, an elderly man stepped out of the woods, surrounding the road he was traveling.

As the elderly man approached, the journeyman attempted to scramble away. The elderly man shook his head and whistled into the wooden depths, where two younger men blistered their way through the snow. Both wearing matching attire, a washed denim colored snow hat and cerulean blue jacket with matching pants approached the traveler.

Snow crunched beneath his feet as he trekked onward to a fate unknown. He’d woken up in an abandoned junkyard less than ten hours ago with no recollection of the events that led him to this point.

“Everything is weird now.”

“Weird is cool,” a female voice retorted, “at least I think so.”

“Not the cool weird. The weird-weird. Who the hell are you anyways?”

“Well hell, you told me I could come with you.”

“I wouldn’t have said that. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“No, you’re the one who isn’t supposed to be here. You don’t even know where HERE is, do you?”

He thought about the words she just threw at him, and realized that she was right. It wasn’t just last night that he couldn’t remember.  He couldn’t put an exact timeframe on what he was missing, but he knew it was a good chunk of his recent past.

He turned to her, lowering his backpack to the ground, and eventually kneeling down next to it, “how long have you been with me?”

“Time is relative, John. You know this. Time doesn’t change anything, your perception does.”

“So what are you, the fuckin’ Riddler now?”

His smart-ass line got a quick smirk but nothing more. She stepped closer.

“Look what you packed for yourself. You were going to anyways.”

John zipped open his backpack and as he rummaged through it, came across a cell phone with 97% charge but no service wrapped inside of a grey sweatshirt.  John shoveled through a bit more revealed a notebook and half a bottle of Jameson whiskey, as well as numerous changes of clothes for the future.

“So a cell phone, some hooch and a fucking notebook? Is that supposed to enlighten me in some way?” No response was given.  He zipped up his Jansport bag and rose to both of his feet. Behind him, he could hear the crackling of branches.

“Hey, lady! Get the fu—“

Before he could finish his sentence, a jolt of electricity powered through him, dropping him to the pristine white surface. With his hands covering his ears, rocking back and forth and screaming in pain, an elderly man stepped out of the woods surrounding the road he was traveling.

As the elderly man approached, the journeyman attempted to scramble away. The elderly man shook his head and whistled into the woods, where two younger men blistered their way through the snow. Both wearing matching attire, a washed denim colored snow hat and cerulean blue jacket with matching pants approached the traveler.

“Everything is weird now.”

“Weird how? Like, cool weird?”

“No, not cool weird. Weird-weird. Like something doesn’t fit. Like I don’t belong here.”

“Do any of us, John?”

He scowled back at her, “What the fuck do you know about anything? Any of this, what do you know about it. Enlighten me!”

She turned her back on him, planted a foot in the snow and did a deliberate spin in the icy roadway, chuckling to herself as she reached him face to face once more. “You don’t even know who you are, what you’ve been through. . .  Do you even know where the fuck you’re going?”

A jolt of electricity overcame him once more, hands to his head and head to his knees, almost in the fetal position.

The pain went away.

He looked around him to see no snow, but blue skies with just the right amount of clouds, the ones that make your imagination flutter.

“There was an elephant! And oh look, a unicorn! And a penguin!”

He shook his head and rose from the pavement, cars whizzing by his backpack of belongings. There was no five and a half foot blonde haired beauty, no more than there was a snowman, carrot and all standing a mere ten feet away.

“Or was there?” he thought to himself, turning to the left of him, which showed nothing but barren sunlight and green pasture. It was almost sundown, and if he had any chance to survive the night, he knew the cell phone in his bag would be of great importance. That was, until he spotted a warehouse a half-a-mile away.

He stepped forward, and further, until he reached the door this brown panel-sided establishment. John knocked at the door, and a man with a decorated cap answered the door.

“We’ve been waiting for you. Please, come in.”

John entered the dimly lit hallway as the door slammed behind him.