It's Been A While

I am sorry that it took so long for me to post episode 2.  Over the last month my schedule has been very crazy and I never got around to posting the second chunk of the story.  But here it is!  I hope you enjoy the second installment in my running narrative and thank you for stopping by!

Episode 2: "Sorrowful Dreams"

The cool draft coming from the less-than-adequately sealed window woke me from my deep sleep.  Chilled and shivering I pulled the covers over my shoulders and strained my blurry eyes to focus on the alarm clock.  2:30 in the morning.  Slowly I sat up in bed and gently put more body weight on my feet as I heard the popping of my bones with each additional pound placed on them. 

“Stupid blanket,” I thought to myself.  Normally there is a blanket placed in front of the window to add a little bit of insulation from the outside conditions.  The size of the blanket needed to effectively shield us from the elements lent it to fall down on occasion.  Trying not to send too many bed springs into a screech, I pushed against the bed and stood up.  I walked over to the window and reset the blanket as well as I could.  Hopefully the next time it falls it waits until I’m more awake.

I turned to make my way back to the bed.  That’s when the image of my empty bad surprised me.  Where had Carolyn gone at such an early hour?  Puzzled and slightly concerned I donned my old sweater that my father had given me and exited the room through a slightly opened door.  Another odd sight.  Ever since Carolyn and I had been married she always slept with the door closed and kept them closed even if she were not the one sleeping.  I walked down the hall and down the stairs leading to our living room.  A quick scan of the room showed me that she was not there either.  As I walked past the side table sitting at the base of the stairs I reached under and removed my large folding knife from its hidden location, taped to the bottom, out of sight of anyone visiting their home.

Any locking knife and knives with blades longer than three inches were strictly prohibited.  At the same time, news of people disappearing from their homes never to be seen again was more prevalent than ever.  The current regime was not shy about their raids on groups who openly oppose the government.  It seemed like every day there was a report of an apartment building housing anti-government people being raided and countless arrests being made.  But on the more clandestine side there were people going missing straight from their homes, no raid, no news story, just people disappearing.  Of course the most cynical of us recognized the trend of those missing as being people who showed negative emotions toward the government, but never took part in any of the more radical activities.  Never the less I had been more cautious when dealing with matters around the home, and the odd disappearance of Carolyn definitely warranted me taking the extra level of security with me.

Fixing the blade into my firm grip I turned the corner into the kitchen area.  Still no sign.  As I crept in the dining room I noticed a stream of light streaming through the sliding glass door.  Moving slowly toward the door I began to make out the form of my wife sitting on our back porch with the light now.  She was reading a book under the dim glow of the aging porch light.  It was definitely odd that she was reading so early and in the cold fall air, but she didn’t appear to be in any danger. 

With a sigh of relief I folded the knife and stowed it away in my sweater pocket.  I opened the glass door startling her in the process.  “Babe you scared me! What are you doing up so early?  Did I wake you?” she asked in a loud whispering tone.

“No,” I replied.  “The blanket fell off the windowsill again, the draft is strong tonight.”  “What are you doing out here?  You kinda gave me a scare when I woke up and couldn’t find you.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you.  I had the strangest dream.  More like scariest dream.  Woke me up and really weirded me out.  Couldn’t go back to sleep after it.  Decided to come out here, read a little, and let the cool air clear my head.”  With a pause accompanied with a truly depressing look on her face she closed her book and continued.  “I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you.  In such a lost world you really are my rock.  With everything going on you have to think that it’s only a matter of time before something really bad happens to us, and if something did I only hope it happens to me ‘cause I wouldn’t be able to go on without you.”

With concern on my voice I tried to comfort her, “I’m not going anywhere.  I’m gonna be right here ‘til we both drop dead at the ripe age of 150.”  She laughed. 

“I’m sorry to bring so much doom and gloom.  You’re right,” she said standing up and placing her book on the chair.

“Let’s go to bed.  We’ve both got work in the morning.” 

As we both crawled into bed, I only wish there were a way I could have prepared myself to deal with the true source of her sorrow, and the pain that would come from it.

Episode 1: "Rainy Days"

It’s raining again today.  It seems to always rain.  It’s a funny thing how the weather seems to reflect the mood of the world.  Now a day there is not much that can’t be described by the words sad or dark or depressing.  Since “The Crash” the world is nothing like it used to be.  I remember that time like it was yesterday though I was only twelve.  People starving in the streets, people ripping doors off of their hinges just to get at what was inside; people who in the blink of an eye saw their lives turn into times of desperation.

 

My parents did so much to protect me.  My father joined a brotherhood that ruled the streets of my city after all other forms of authority failed to keep control.  My mother fell into the world of prostitution after she could not find a job.  Life was not ideal, but for a young boy all I saw was two people who loved me enough and wanted me to be free from the horrors of this new world as much as possible.  Unfortunately, the evil of this world was not so easily kept at bay.  When I was only fifteen, three years after “The Crash”, the unspeakable happened to me.  In one day, much like that of everyone else in this world, I saw my life ripped from the very clutches of my hopeful hands. 

It started with my mother going about her day as it normally was.  It was later, however, that something very out of the ordinary happened.  Mother normally never brought her suitors’ home, a part of her life she never wanted her family to see in person.  That is why when she walked through the door with a man I had never seen before I was particularly puzzled and scared.  It is one thing to know your mother does something, it is another to see face-to-face the very men who use her.  I try not to dwell on the emotions felt on that day.

Without need for direction I ran to my bedroom, laid on my bed, and proceeded to read my book.  I wanted to keep my mind off of whatever may be happening in the other room.  It was not long after that when I heard our front door slam open.  I heard my father yell my mother’s name in a winded and angry voice.  With thundering footsteps he ran down the hall.  He opened my door and gave me a look that, to this day, has been burned into my mind.  His face showed a terrible mix of fear and sadness.  He told me to jump through my window and run to my aunt’s house just a few blocks down the road.  Before I could ask why he hugged me with the firm embrace that only a father can hold someone, and then guided me toward the window.  The last words that he ever said to me were that he loved me.  After he said those words I climbed through the window and ran as fast as I could to the bushes in my neighbor’s yard.  I wish I would have just kept running.  All I heard was incoherent yelling, followed by a scream, and five shots.  I couldn’t move.  Fear froze me in place as my eyes needed to see who came out of that alive.  I heard the front door open and my entire body trembled as I witnessed the strange man walk out of our home.  After that my imagination took over.  I could not stand to see what fate had come to my parents.  So I ran.

I did exactly what my father told me to do; I ran to my aunt’s house where I explained what had happened.  I’m not entirely sure what happened after that, all I knew is that she took care of whatever needed to be taken care of.  The day after my unexpected arrival on her doorstep my aunt left and didn’t return until late that night.  It was then that she confirmed the very thing my mind was imagining.  My parents had both been killed.  Little was known about the murders that took place in my previously peaceful home, only that they were the result of my father’s brotherhood taking what was “rightfully theirs.” 

I was taken in by my aunt after those horrific days.  It was the years after that that shaped the world into what it is today.

Around the age sixteen a new government came into power.  They were a collection of different units from the old military banded together under the banner of rebuilding the new world.  At first they cleaned up the streets around the country, everything seemed nice, everything seemed safe.  I came to accept the presence of armed soldiers in my street, because their bellies were full and their needs met which kept them from tearing through people’s homes usually.  This peace did not last, however.

Under this new government a new economic plan was introduced to the population.  The government wanted to create a system that would stop the economy from committing suicide like it had years ago.  They did this by rebuilding businesses, manufacturing facilities, and power plants, everything that had once existed.  The only difference was under the law you had no choice in where you worked, what job you did, or what you made.  With these fixed incomes the government could control what people bought to stimulate the economy in whatever way they saw fit.  The only way you got a good job was if you happened to be friends with the right people.  When this system was put in place it became obvious, we were not being rescued from our life of chaos.  We were being enslaved.

Introduction to My Idea

First I would like to say thank you for taking an interest in my blog.  What I am doing here is a kind of compromise with myself.  I don’t want to say that this is an original idea of mine as it is more than likely that there are others out there that are doing the same thing that I am just not aware of.  But the idea behind “Episodic Story Telling” is to take the idea behind television programs and apply them to writing a book. 

A brief explanation: 

I have for a long time wanted to write a book.  On a regular basis I come up with an idea for a good story, write it down on a piece of notebook paper, nod my head in pride, and then promptly forget about it.  I feel that making the move to tackle the endeavor of writing a book would prove too daunting to see to fruition.  And that is what brought me to this idea.  I have a story I want to tell, but lack the stamina to write a full book, so I am writing my story in the same realm of television shows.  Periodically I will write the next chunk or “episode” of my story and post it here so that it is out there and constantly giving me a reminder to continue the story.  Over time, the story will come together bit by bit until I have a complete story from start to finish.

Now that I have given an explanation as to what I am doing and what goal I am trying to accomplish, I will begin work on my first “episode” and post it as soon as I can.

Thank you and God bless.