Tag Archives: fiction

Writing Update

I’ve been gone for the last two weeks for a variety of reasons that are more uninteresting than you would expect. But there is something in my life that I think is happening.

I’m going forward with self publishing my first collection of short stories, A Heartbeat in the Darkness. I got the cover from a very good artist and I’m really looking forward to putting it out there. One of the stories will be on my fiction Friday.

As I finish up editing and writing the last stories for it, I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never put myself forth like this before. I recently put out a story and it got slammed by a bunch of people online. It was in a genre that I didn’t really write in before. I have to say that it shooke me a little bit. I’ve never gotten feedback like that.

But I think I’ve learned my lesson. I need to get thicker skin. If I’m going to be on the internet, I need to make sure that I can handle anything. Eventually, I’m probably going to be getting death threats for some of my opinions and writings. What’s that saying, if you’re not pissing off certain shitty people then are you really doing the right thing?

Anyway, I just thought I would give this update on my life. I think my collection is going to be great and hopefully it’ll be really spooky.

Breaking the Rules

England, March 18th, 1883

The carriage came charging up the main drive, rattling along the cobblestones. It’s occupant was reading in a notebook. She was dressed in a simple dress and had barely been able to put herself together. She looked out the window at Windmoor Manor as they approached. The grounds were enormous and well kept. The night was chilly and looking like it would snow.

As they approached the doors, the footman jumped from the driver’s seat and opened the door.

“Thank you, Elliott,” she said as she got out.

There were two men and women waiting in the foyer as she came through the door. The man was a young rake, handsome and indulgent from the look in his eyes. Well dressed with dark brown hair.

The women were distraught, one of them was a teen and she was waifish and thin. Her hair was dark brown as well. She wore a dark blue dress. Her mother was older with hair going gray, there was much of the mother’s beauty in the daughter.

They looked upon the handsome woman that had come into the house. There were serving people that stood nearby.

“Lady Edgars, it’s good to see you,” the young man said.

“Hello, master Charles. I wish we could have met on better terms,” Lady Edgars said. “Yvette and Josephine, how are you?”

“My father is more important than providing comfort to these women despite how hysterical they may be.”

“Fair enough. Ladies, I will speak to you in a moment. Show me the body.”

Charles led her to the sitting room where his father had passed. He had doubled over out of his chair and died on the carpet. There was blood pooling out of his mouth. Staining the carpet red. He was a large man, it would take many men to drag him out.

She picked up the whiskey and sniffed it.

“Arsenic,” she said.

“My God, who would do such a thing?” Charles said.

“Did your father have any enemies?”

“No, not a one. He was well loved throughout the town.”

“Hm. Did anyone owe him money? Someone that might have access to the grounds?”

“Many people owe us money.”

“Hm.”

“Do you have any theories?”

“Several. I would like to speak with your mother and sister in private.”

“I don’t know if I can allow that.”

“Sir, if you want me to figure this out, I’m going to need unprejudiced statements.”

“They’re weak as all women are. I don’t know if they can take it. Especially in their fragile states.”

“Your mother gave birth to two children. I know from personal experience that is no easy feat.”

“Fair enough.”

“Make sure to drink nothing else unless I smell it first.”

She chose to speak with Josephine, the daughter, in her bedroom. It was well kept as all ladies of means’ bedrooms were. Josephine’s face was damp with tears.

“Thank you for speaking with me, I won’t be long,” she said.

“I’ll let you know everything I know,” Josephine said.

“If it gets to be too much, let me know. Now, where were you at the time of your father’s death?”

“I was up here, preparing for bed.”

“Did you hear or see anything after the maid screamed?”

“No, I just knew that my brother and the help were running to the sitting room. I went running and saw my father on the floor.”

“May I see your fingers?”

Josephine showed her her hands. She watched as Lady Edgars eyes went wide.

“My God,” she said. “I know who killed your father.”

She walked from the room and called out.

“I need everyone to meet me in the sitting room,” she said. “Josephine, follow me.”

Soon, they were gathered. Yvette and Josephine stayed away from the body.

“Now, I didn’t know who it could have been when I got here,” Lady Edgars said.

She opened up a snifter and smelled it. She poured out two drams each into a pair of glasses. She handed one to Charles. He downed it immediately.

“And that took far less convincing than I thought it would,” Lady Edgars said.

“What?” Charles said.

“Waiting for you to drink that whiskey. I thought you would push back on it. I thought that you would have some sense of self preservation. An iota of thought in that stupid head of yours. But alas, not all our enemies can be so deviling, so challenging. Sometimes a fool is simply a fool.”

The pain started in his gut. It traveled throughout his body.

“You and your father are not well loved in the town. You can’t see it because people scrape and bow whenever you come by. They ignore the working women you abuse. They know to not hold you accountable. Your mother and sister wrote to me. Told me of the monsters you and your father are. I had only to look at your sister’s fingers to know that they were true. They never healed properly when you slammed them in the doorway? I told them to wait. New legislation was coming through and it has. This house and everything will go to your mother. Everything you worked for will be for nothing.”

He looked at his mother who looked sad. Despite the hatred she had for him, he was still her son. His sister on the other hand, she was smiling wickedly.

“You won’t get away with this,” he wheezed.

“Yes, we will, I will tell a story so believable. A son jealous of his father. Confronted by the evidence, he drank the poison rather than face justice,” Lady Edgars said.

The world faded away from the son. The ladies toasted their good fortune.

Our Perfect Gentlemen

(This is a preview of one of the stories that’s going to be in my collection of horror stories entitled A Heartbeat in the Darkness.)

It was an unfortunate thing that most people were happy about the missing child posters.  Though they would never say such a thing to the distraught parents.  They would place their hands on their arms and say it was such a tragedy and they were in their thoughts.  Meanwhile saying good riddance behind their backs at various social functions.  The one bit of sorrow was that their older daughter still wandered the streets putting up the signs.  A hopeless endeavor.  It made them sad because she was a good girl, so different than her brother.  People liked her.  Maybe if they had liked him a little bit more.  He wouldn’t have turned out this way.  

Or maybe he just needed a firmer hand than his parents had been willing to use.  At least that’s what the Pince sisters thought.  Two older women who had relaxed into a life of retirement with a nice little nest egg.  He was their current house guest.  Wasn’t he just so fine now, sitting in their living room across from them.  Serving them tea.  His smile so much better than that nasty look he had on his face at all times before.  Constantly frowning, constantly smirking and giving people the finger.  What a naughty little boy he had been.  

They had fixed it.  It had taken quite a bit of work but they had fixed it.  Just like that they had so many times in the past.  They had this down to a perfect science.  He would be their house guest for as long as they could keep him.  Not that anyone ever left by choice.

Night came and so the two sisters retired up to bed.  Leaving him downstairs by himself.  One of them gave a quick flick to the machinery on the wall.  It spun and the resulting slackening was near instantaneous.  

The young man’s arms fell to his sides, his mouth finally fell away from the rictus smile that it had been forced into throughout the day.  It was hard to decide which was the worse pain.  The ones in his arms, mouth or in his cut achilles tendons.  The rings that had been sewn into his skin and then laced with fine piano wires ached.  He was made uncomfortable by the IVs that fed him as there was no longer any use for his super glued together teeth.  

He sat like a doll that had been left in the corner.  His body limp and useless.  There was no escape.  No way to get out of here.  He remembered the day that he had broken in here.  Looking for something of value to steal and sell.  How he hadn’t heard the one sister behind him before she struck him with the encyclopedia.  Knocking him unconscious.  Where had she gotten that strength?  

He had woken up this way.  Covered in the rings.  His jaw clamped together.  They had kept him like a toy ever since.  That had been months ago.  He assumed that they had killed their husbands.  Were living off the life insurance policies.  How else could they have afforded this?  

He slept fitfully this night and every night.  His body wrapped up in its various pains and discomforts.  The next morning, he rose with the sun in his eyes.  But the women weren’t there.  He couldn’t hear them.  The day passed.  The IVs ran dry.  Still no sign of them.  There hadn’t been a day when they hadn’t come down to torture him and play out their sick fantasy so what had happened?  

Night came again.  He wondered if this was some trick.  If they were going to come back and hurt him in some way.  He sat.  A second day and night passed.  No sign of them.  By the third morning, he figured that they had died in their sleep two days ago.  Good riddance, you god damn monsters, he thought.  He knew he had to go now.  He knew there was only way to exit.  

He bent his body forward and began to pull.  

A Moment in the Lives of Two Early Risers

The sound of her leather jacket was soothing. She had done her makeup the night before and put her hair into a bun on top of her head. Wrapping it with a bandana. There was the crunch of gravel underneath her feet as she walked into the convenience store.

There was an old man standing behind the counter. He was reading a paperback novel. There was music playing on the overhead speakers. Given that it was morning, she bought a small sleeve of donuts. He had a pot of coffee going and she poured herself a cup. Adding her sugar and cream, she approached the counter.

“Morning,” he said setting down his novel.

“Good morning,” she said.

He looked at Julia. She was young, somewhere in her early twenties. She had bright red lipstick and her skin was pale. She wore a buttoned down dark blue shirt with white polka dots tied at the waist. Black boots and black leggings.

She glanced at him. He had a Santa quality about him. Was probably a grandpa. He wore a black Motley Crue T-shirt and jeans. He had tiny reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

He glanced at the clock. It was five in the morning.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’re you doing up so early, dressed so fine?” he asked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Julia said. “Thought I would take my bike out for a ride. Go see the sun rise.”

“That sounds like a helluva morning,” the old man said.

“I noticed your sign has different hours. You shouldn’t be open this early.”

“Couldn’t sleep so I figured I could make some money to early risers like yourself.”

“That’s fair.”

“Where are you heading to see the sunrise?”

“West Quoddy Head lighthouse. I’m racing the sun.”

“Funny, isn’t it? The most eastern point in America is called West Quoddy. Interesting.”

She held out a twenty.

“Keep it,” he said. “You have a good ride. Wish I was your age again. Sounds like you’re having fun.”

“I am and I don’t want to short a small business, especially one run by such a gentleman,” Julia said.

“Fair enough.”

He took the cash and gave her her change. She offered her hand and the took shook. She walked out of the store and threw her leg over her bike. She started it up, revved the engine and took off down the road.

The road to the lighthouse needed people to be wide awake. The coffee was a boon to her. She got to the lighthouse and parked her bike in the parking lot. She climbed the small hill and waited.

There were others there with her. They were doing the same. Waiting for the sun. Waiting for a new day full of promise.

She thought about the breakup that she had gone through recently. How for so long, she had felt wrong and foolish for breaking up with him. He had done such a good job putting her down. Trying to dampen her light. Now though, as the sun rose turning the sky pink. The feel of the sea on her face, she felt alive again. Light and beautiful. She raised her cup to the sun and hoped that the old man at the convenience store had a good day as well.

The next day was rainy and cloudy. The day after promised clear skies.

Because of this, an older gentleman, white of beard and aching in his bones rolled a motorcycle out of his garage. An older but slightly younger woman, not used to being awake at this time of day but happy that her husband was happy, came walking out of the house securing a helmet over her hair.

“Let’s go, mama,” he said.

They drove into the coming dawn. They saw the sunrise. They hit the road again. They saw where the day could take them.

Write Fanfiction Before You Start Writing

(There’s a scrape of metal on wood as I drag a chair over and turn it around. I sit on it backwards. I’m clearly uncomfortable but going to push through.)

Hey, kids. Let’s rap. I’m down with what the kids are with it these days. Let’s talk about writing.

So, you have rough ideas of your characters, the setting and concept for your manuscript. But you don’t know how to start or where to go with it. Well, I have the solution for what ails you.

Write fanfiction.

I see you slamming your hands against the table as you jump to your feet. You point your fingers like a bunch of Phoenix Wrights.

Hear me out. What is the purpose of fanfiction? Fanfiction has many purposes, it’s great practice for early writers who haven’t come up with their own concepts yet, you can use it to explore relationships that you haven’t seen in the media you’re fanficcing, add missing scenes that you feel should be included. But most of all, you can use it to learn how to write in voice.

And that’s why you should write fanfiction of your own work. You don’t have to worry about the scenario or place your characters in, you can just throw them in the sandbox and see how they interact with one another. You can establish how they interact, possibly hint at their past and then workshop that into your main work. You can also figure out what the tone is regarding your work. Is it fun and playful or dark and mysterious. That’s how you have fun. Hell, you can try your characters in different genres.

Anyway, that’s what I wanted to talk about today. Stay cool, kids.

(I get up from the chair and I was clearly uncomfortable because I’m walking poorly.)

A High School Reunion

I show up hoping that for once in my life I’ll impress someone

It’s important tonight, out of spite

I wish that I could see the people I want

But they don’t show up to these things

Instead, the rest of us talk about

What could have been

And what was

They play songs that were new back then

They make us a little sad

Like the memories we’re bringing up

I think about the ones that didn’t make it

One in particular

I wonder if she thought about me at all

It’s still all about me

Maybe I deserved this bittersweet ending

Reading Books is Like Falling in love

When I walk amongst the shelves of the library it’s like I’m the pretty girl walking into the bar. All eyes are on me. Each book telling me to pick them. Asking to come home with me.

I pick out a few each time, usually returning the others. I have a two week stand with one. I can’t get it out of my head. I want to understand every inch of it. Explore it from end to end.

You never know when you’re going to fall in love. You never know what a book is going to do to you. There are ones that I barely remember. Lovers that didn’t register. But then there are others. Ones that stick with me. Stay on my skin. I can still recall them to this day.

I hold them in my memories. A warm, pleasant thing for cold, lonely days. I don’t know if I’ll ever love a book the way I love that one. I don’t know if it’ll ever come back around to it.

But like others, I’m going to keep trying. I’ll kiss a thousand frogs to find another prince. Because unlike humans, books don’t let you down in the same way. They at least take you on a little trip first. Instead of just leaving you alone in your bed and don’t call you back.

The Yorky Beyond Space-Time

Throughout the years from friends and family members I’ve been introduced as Rick’s oldest friend.  We both know that’s untrue.  It’s always been him and his dog.  Through our childhoods and eventually through the decades.  We don’t know where the dog came from, it’s always been there and undyingly loyal.

The first recorded evidence we have of the dog is a picture of Rick as a baby.  It’s licking his face and he’s laughing in the baby carrier on the floor.  He’s in the background of the shot, the main focus being on his parents.  It’s a bit of a mystery in his family because no one owned the dog, had seen it come in, seen it with Rick or had any idea about where it came from.  It was a more corporeal form of those shadows and strange lights on pictures that people assume are ghosts.  Eventually, the photograph was just another point in time and the mystery a far forgotten detail like what room it was taken in or the time.

The first time I met the dog was when we were in his room playing video games.  It appeared on the bed behind us and barked to let us know it was here.  I jumped having been heavily involved in winning against Rick.  

“Hang on,” Rick said.

He went into his closet and got out a bowl and some dog kibble.  He poured it into the bowl and the dog hungrily ate it. When he was done, he filled the bowl with water from the bathroom.  The dog lapped it up then barked at him until he picked up the dog and pet him.  

“Where did that dog come from?” I asked him.

“He just comes around every now and then, the last time I saw him, he was under my table looking for food,” Rick said.  “Want to pet him?”

“Yeah, but where did he come from?”

“I don’t know, he just kind of shows up.”

“Out of what?  Nowhere?”

“I guess.  I never really thought about it.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

“I don’t know, like my whole life?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I thought you would think I’m weird.”

“Dude, just no, don’t worry about it.  But this is freaking me out.”

The dog leapt off his lap after this and then turned to look at us.  I remember it’s brown/gray coat and wagging tail.  It was one of those small long haired dogs.  A terrier or a yorky.  We didn’t find out until years later.  I still can’t remember the answer.  But I’ll never forget how it barked and then disappeared into the nothingness from whence it came. 

“What the hell?” I yelled again.

“Dude, calm down,” Rick said.

“A dog just appeared and disappeared in front of my eyes.  Why should I calm down?”

“Look, the dog’s doing his own thing, his timeline intersects with mine at random intervals and that’s about it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I figured that if this was going to keep happening I should read up on theories about time and space.  Y’know cause this is super interesting!”

“Get to the point now!”

“Okay, so for us time moves in a straight line.  From point A of our births to point B, our deaths and we can’t really get out of it.  This dog though exists outside of all that.  He keeps coming in and out of my life, kind of like his time line is more of a squiggle like a bunch of hills.”

“You say that this is all perfectly normal!”

“For me, it is.”

“Do your parents know?”

“No, they’ve seen the dog around and seen me interact with it but they’ve always figured it was someone else’s or a stray.”
“I guess it is kind of a stray, I mean, it’s not like it belongs to anyone.”

“It belongs to me.  It’s my dog.”

“Does it have a name?”

“A name?  No, I was never around it long enough to think of one.”

“You’ve had fifteen years of interaction with this dog and never gave it a name?  You’re a shitty owner.”

“Fine, then how about Spot?”

“That dog didn’t have spots.”

“Rover?”

“Be more creative.”

“Dogthulu?”

“That thing is definitely not a Dogthulu.”

“Ice Cream Sandwich?”

“Let’s go with that.  That’s a good name.  You know what you should do?  Next time you see it, put a collar on it.  Then we could see if you’re also encountering that dog in a linear fashion.”

“That’s a good idea!”

“I think my brain is coming down from the shock.  Let’s play some more and you can tell me about when and where this dog has appeared.”

Rick seemed relieved.  I wasn’t but what mattered was that he was.  I listened as he listed encounter after encounter with the dog.  When he was picked on by Jason in the fifth grade, the dog found him crying and licked his scratched knee then stayed with him until he stopped.  Playing fetch after school waiting for his mom.  Just randomly appearing and him trying to find food for it.  I noticed a pattern that maybe he didn’t, that the dog appeared when he was alone or hurt.  Maybe the dog had a kind of intelligence to it.  

I was Rick’s friend through and through.  You don’t find a guy like him all that often.  Someone who will have your back through everything.  So, I didn’t go running to the hills when this dog started appearing while I was there.  It did make me curious that it would reveal itself so openly to me.  Maybe it trusted me?  The idea that it was smart enough to have the capability to selectively trust was growing inside of me.

The next time we saw it was in the movies.  It appeared on Rick’s lap and barked.  Someone shushed us probably thinking that we were a pair of smart aleck teenagers, which honestly we were.  Rick was prepared though he quickly put a collar on the dog that he had been carrying around since I told him about it.  The dog seemed appreciative and licked his face.  We didn’t see the person to our right get up and leave.  We did notice when the usher came to talk to us about the dog that wasn’t there anymore.  It was a close call that made us laugh uncontrollably.

The collar was a revelation in Rick and the dog’s relationship.  The relationship had actually expanded to Rick’s future and past selves as well.  Notes were tucked into the dog’s collar and they were seemingly unharmed in whatever dimension or what have you the dog traveled through to get back to Rick.  They ranged from advice written in pen or typed on a computer to little notes from his past selves saying hi written in crayon.  Rick got a bloody nose for about four hours after we put the collar on.  He told me that new memories were appearing in his head.  I stayed with him, wondering if I had somehow altered my friend’s past and he was going to die or the world would crack in two.  We took it as a lesson that we shouldn’t be meddling too much.  Things worked out as you can tell, the world kept spinning and time seemed more or less stable.  

It wasn’t all fun, there were things that worried us, like the day the dog came running to us.  It’s fur singed and it’s little heart beating and it wimpering.  Rick took it to the vet and she said that the dog seemed to have come from a fire.  That there was soot to be vacuumed out of its lungs.  Rick listened to this news looking grim.  The dog would be fine though, it was soon back to normal.  Jumping around and licking his face. Rick seemed happy about this but it left me with a cold chill down my back.  Wondering if the dog had run from my best friend’s death by fire to come back to him in the past.  I didn’t want to talk to Rick about it though. In retrospect I realize that I may have done more harm than good.

The years went on, the dog appeared and disappeared at varying intervals and for different periods of time.  At certain points we would have to hide him for days or weeks.  We began to wonder how old the dog was.  We figured the dog to be about three or so.  

Eventually, the dog appeared with a leash attached to the collar that had a note tucked into it.  The note read simply: Take him for a walk in the park.  I know you have time.  It was signed by him from some years in the future.  

Rick later told me that the day was so nice that he couldn’t help but want to.  They walked through the park slowly, Rick wondering why his future self had sent him there.  He was distracted by wondering if he should go faster or slower.  Then according to him the most beautiful woman he had ever met approached him, attracted to Ice Cream Sandwich who was excited to meet her.  They chatted for a long time.  They had their first date later that night.  

Seeing Catherine and Rick together made me happier than anything I had experienced up to that point.  It was the same for him when I met Terry.  Rick was engaged first with me following shortly after.  Ice Cream Sandwich made an appearance at both weddings wearing a bow tie that Rick’s future self had assumedly put on.  It made me wonder if he ever figured out a way to tell when the dog was going to show up in his own past.  The girls were surprised and at first disbelieving when we told them what was going on with Ice Cream Sandwich until he disappeared in front of them.  They were believers after that.  It was the first time we had ever let anyone in on our secret.  We had been perhaps overly solemn when asking them to talk leading Catherine to believe that Rick was going to tell her that the him and I running away together.  A real possibility for many of those that met us.  They were fine with the dog for the most part and they never told another soul.   

Catherine wanted a cat and with much wheedling eventually got Rick to say okay.  They got a little black cat that was sweet to everyone.  When Ice Cream Sandwich showed up nex, we found out the cat seemed to have some kind of sixth sense towards the dog.  She began to hiss and puff out her hair.  The dog appeared and she went after it.  Catherine grabbed the cat and Rick chased the dog.  When they had their respective pets there was a great more hissing and barking.  The downstairs neighbors began pounding on the ceiling with a broom.  The cat never got used to the dog.  But it did become our warning sign.  

It was a good life.  The years piled on in happy succession.  Terry and I loved and fought, we bought a house, talked about kids, decided against and then decided that we were ready.  Jim was born when I was thirty-three.  Ice Cream Sandwich showed up at the hospital when Rick came to visit.  A new theory popped into my head wondering if a future Rick was instead sending the dog where he showed up.  

The dog would make another appearance at the hospital when Catherine got cancer.  Those became the only times that the dog appeared without Rick present.  She would be at home, sobbing, the cat ignoring her and the yorky would appear.  He’d nuzzle her and she’d hold him and cry.  My theory began to seem more plausible though I began to wonder if the dog just knew somehow.  

She died on a Sunday.  I remember Rick calling me, sobbing, Terry and I rushed over there after dropping off Jim with my mother.  Jim left with the ambulance.  We fed the cat and went home.  

That Wednesday we had her service.  She had asked to be cremated and had her ashes let out over the ocean.  Rick asked to be alone when it was done.  We walked away, clad in our black clothes.  I remember looking over my shoulder at him.  He was standing on that cliff, silhouetted against the setting sun.  I remember seeing something moving and then the dog was by his side.  He didn’t reach down to pet it.  He just continued to stare out over the ocean.  The dog seemed content to just be there with him.  

Rick fell into depression.  I would come by and his house would be covered in bottles at times.  He would start projects and not finish them.  My wife did her best to make sure he got some food in him.  After a while, we stopped hearing from him.  We would go over and pound on his door whenever his car was in the driveway.  He would either be too drunk to answer or just not come to the door.  Jim was older then, he couldn’t understand why Rick wasn’t around.  I told him that Rick was going through a rough time and he needed some time alone.

A year passed in this way.  We hadn’t heard from Rick in three months.  Finally, I got a call from him.  He asked if I could come over by myself.  We were in the middle of dinner and my wife just mouthed the word “go” to me and I was on my way.  I drove faster than the law advised, I was almost stopped twice but pressed on.  My friend needed me, it would have been worth the ticket. 

When I got there, the house was clean, no bottles anywhere and Rick was dressed in his best suit.  The cat was lounging on the couch, uninterested in us.  He was standing and waiting for me when I got through the door.  He was thin, dirty looking, haggard and bearded.  His eyes were red and I wondered when the last time he had slept or ate was.  What day?  What week?    

“Hey, man, long time no see,” he said.

“Yeah, how you been?” I replied.

“Been not so great.”

“Here, why don’t we sit down and talk about it.”

“We talked a bunch about it already.”

“Yeah, but we can always talk some more.”

“No, I just wanted to bring you over here to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?  What do you mean?”

Rick took a deep breath and let it out.  

“I can’t be here anymore.  Everything hurts too much.  I can’t be without Catherine,” he said.

“So, what you’re planning on killing yourself?” I asked him. 

The cat started to hiss and that’s when Ice Cream Sandwich appeared.  I looked at the dog who sat dutifully next to Rick.

“Take care of the cat and put everything in order if you could, please,” Rick said.  “You’re listed as my beneficiary.”

“Rick, c’mon man, you’re talking crazy.”

“I got to go.”

Before I could do anything, Rick picked up the dog.  Then they were gone.  I shouted at the moment of his disappearance but it just rang through the empty house.  I slumped to the ground.  My best friend was gone.  I sat for a long time on his couch staring at the walls.  Upon further inspection, he had left something akin to a suicide note relieving me of responsibility in his disappearance.  I hoped that it would be good enough for the police.  

I picked up the cat and found his carrier.  I closed down the house, turning off the lights and locking it up.  I climbed into my car and left his house for the last time.  I knew I would only be inside it again to sell it.  When I got home I told Terry what happened, the cat running around its new home and freaking out.  

“It makes sense doesn’t it?” she asked.  “How would I go on without you?”

I thought about that possibility, one that I refused to acknowledge at the back edges of my mind.  It twisted my stomach, a knot of despair and pain.  I didn’t have an easy way out now that Jim was here.  I’d die for her but I wouldn’t live for anyone else but him.  I held Terry for a long time.  When I let her go we went to bed.  The cat had found its way to Jim’s bed and had curled up with him.  They were best friends from that night on.  

I lay for a long time thinking about Rick and the dog.  My theory on whether or not it had been sent back by Rick to all those lonely moments in his life.  To ease his pain and share his joy.  Maybe it returned to him in some distant and unknown future.  Now the two of them relying on one another for emotional support.  A man’s best friend.

But there in the darkness, alone with my terrible thoughts I began to think about a new possibility.  That the sadness and pain had snapped Rick’s spirit in two and he had fallen to never rise again.  The dog licking at his face and nudging him with his nose to make him wake up.  Then disappearing into time and space to be reunited with his friend.  Perpetually running from the fate it knew to be coming.  Trying to be the kind of dog that his master would want to stay with.  Trying to get him to hold on.    

I fell asleep with these thoughts in my head.  Pressing my hand against my wife’s stomach.  Reassuring myself that she was still there.  

I’m older now and things have continued in much of the same vein.  A happy life interspersed with moments of terrible sadness and others of anger that we work our way through.  Terry and I are still together for what it’s worth.  I believe I make her happy and she does the same for me.  

Our son is becoming a man and a damn fine one if I do say so myself.  He gets into trouble at school sometimes but for all the right reasons.  He fights to solve a lot of his problems but those problems most of the time are kids picking on other kids.  He has a girlfriend who we like but are fearful that she’ll get into a family way but I believe that’s a normal parental concern.  I’ve told him about his uncle Rick.  About everything because I trust and love him.  He thought I was crazy until his mother confirmed what I was saying.  Then he just thought the both of us were crazy.  

We’re done camping now.  The three of us.  We’re walking back to the car and the sun’s setting.  I’m putting something in the car and not looking at it when I hear my son.

“Dad, do you know that guy?” he asks me.

I look up and see a man silhouetted again by the sun.  A black shape on orange.  He’s waving at me. I want to go to him.  I want to talk to him. But I fear the consequences and I stay still.  I see a small dog running up to him.  It yaps excitedly at his feet.  I see the man pick it up.  But he doesn’t disappear.  He simply walks away from us towards the sun.  

I feel the tears hit my shirt before I know that I’m crying.  My wife moves to my side and holds me.  She wants to be close to me because she thinks I’m sad but the smile on my face is bigger than any I’ve had there in a long time.  My son comes to my side as well and a put on hand on his shoulder.  

I think about best friends.  I think about a man.  I think about a dog.  I think about a love that is so strong that it transcends everything to come back to you.  I think about love that can’t be conquered by time, distance or death.  I think about what a wonderful life I have lived.  I live.  I will always live.  

Angel

When I was growing up there was a girl that lived down the street.  We met in the usual way, our parents holding our hands talking to one another while we stared bug-eyed and apprehensive, slightly obscured by their hips.  The exact memories of those early days have left me but I still remember the feelings.  Warmth and kindness beyond measure.  Secrets that I was sworn to keep but were forgotten as the days turned to months and eventually years.  I never told anyone.  

As we became teenagers, she became a handsome young woman.  Hard for me to define her looks as such because they never mattered much to me.  I never thought of her in that manner.  We loved one another deeply but we weren’t in love because that one seemed too flimsy and easily broken.  A passing fancy at best, a distraction from our dull daily routines at worst.

What stood out most to me about her was her kindness and that despite the fact that I had been there through every moment of her life, there was something I never knew about her.  Something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.  I couldn’t put a word to it at no matter how many hours we spent together.  No one else noticed it.  They loved her just the same as I did.  She never had a bad word for anyone and was always helpful.  

I remember asking her how she did it.  She laughed and said she just did.  I asked her if she was an angel.  She laughed again, a sound akin to Christmas bells and asked “Well then where are my wings?” 

It would be a year later when she left with her family.  I never saw her again and though I acquitted myself admirably at our parting, I still feel like there’s more that needs to be said.  I still turn to her sometimes.  It might be easier if I could hate her for the emptiness in my heart but I can’t.  

It’s my twenty-first birthday today and seven long white feathers have arrived in the mail for me.