Unfortunately our free enterprise system is not working as it should for many reasons, all bad for the average American entrepreneur. Many equate free enterprise with capitalism. It is my contention that our brand of capitalism will cause the demise of free enterprise and left to its own devices will eventually make every American a unit of labor competing with every unit of labor overseas. We are in the process of becoming indentured servants to the corporation, a working commodity.

Those afforded the ability to gain the most from American innovativeness are no longer the innovators; they are no longer the entrepreneurs. We have become a society that rewards those who move capital and have the ability to cater laws to their benefit. We reward a class of people that provide no real tangible service or product of value proportional to their earnings or wealth.

The wealth and income disparity in the country is not an accident. There are many systemic reasons why this disparity will continue. As long as we have a Right Wing misinformation engine that remains effective in indoctrinating a large percentage of the population to vote policy makers into office that ultimately pass laws that is against their own financial interest, the trend will continue. The following chart shows the progressive decline in wealth of the bottom 80% of the US population.

The smell of blood was overpowering and his stomach was yearning for more.

The girl, where was the girl? Had she been telling the truth? He ran to the door and opened it to find her sitting on the doorstep. He ran to her and pulled her roughly to her feet. She shied away and cringed before him.

“What have you done to me?” he screamed. “What in God’s name did you do?”

He was shaking her and screaming at her. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

“Take your hands off me before I break your arms off!” she snarled.

She was no longer a demure little girl. Her eyes were ice blue and her canine teeth had grown in length. She looked very scary and very angry. He dropped his hands to his sides in shock.

“I tried to tell you, I turned you into a Vampire,” she said talking through her teeth and not taking her eyes off him.

“Now, if you will shut up and stop whimpering, I’ll tell you what you need to do to survive. It’s my duty, as I’m the one who changed you. But once I’ve warned you and told you how to hunt . . . the responsibility stops there and you’re on your own!”

He nodded and sat down on the step next to her, docile and attentive. She proceeded to tell him that life as he’d known it was over, as was his career, until he could get a handle on the blood thing and find a mortal woman to love him!

No excerpt was provided by the author.

Things happened in 1968. Assassins killed Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King. I was a young soldier waiting for my twelve-month vacation to the Republic of South Vietnam. And Prospect, Tennessee, a small town in the foothills of the Smokies, gained prominence. Thanks to the national media, an armed robbery which took place in Prospect became known as The Great Smoky Mountain Bank Job.

Forty-three years later, Sergeant Bettye Lambert buzzed my intercom.

“Chief, there’s a Miss Lucy Frobisher here to see you.”

“About what?” I asked.

“Something you’ll want to hear.”

I get suspicious when a good-looking and well-dressed woman walks into my office carrying a briefcase. I expect her to hand me a document and say the magic words, “You’ve been served.”

That didn’t happen.

Instead, she offered me a hand. “Hi, I’m Lucy Frobisher. I’ve got a problem and Special Agent Ralph Oliveri thinks you can help me.”

I grimaced at the mention of Oliveri. “Obviously you already know I’m Sam Jenkins.”

She smiled. “I do.”

I shook her hand.

“Sit down,” I said, pointing to one of the guest chairs in front of my desk. “Tell me about your problem.”

Lucy took a seat and looked at me with expressive light brown eyes. Her two-piece navy blue suit appeared expensive. The skirt landed only an inch above her knees, which she held together very properly.

“My father was murdered,” she said. “I’d like you to help me find the killers.”

That’s not the kind of request you hear everyday in a small Tennessee police department. I’d ask how Ralph Oliveri, my pal from the FBI’s Knoxville field office, got involved, but I started with a few more basic questions.

“Did this happen in Prospect?”

“It did.”

“When?” I sounded surprised. No one had mentioned it to me.

“April 15th, 1968.”

After that I was surprised. I did some quick math and came up with a figure. I would have placed Lucy Frobisher in her late-thirties, but with her father getting killed forty-three years ago, she had to be at least forty-two.

“I assume your father’s death was reported back then?”

“Of course. My father was the guard at the Prospect Citizen’s Bank and Trust when it was robbed. Are you familiar with what the papers called The Great Smoky Mountain Bank Job?”

“No. I’m sorry. In 1968 I was at Fort Bragg and not reading too many newspapers.”

“The robbers were anarchists—anti-war types. They killed my father when he tried to stop the robbery.”

“And you spoke to Oliveri because the FBI assumed responsibility for the case?”

“Yes.”

I noticed her looking around the room—at the flintlock Tennessee rifle hanging on the wall behind my desk, at the shadow box with the medals and badges from my time in the Army, and at the counter where the mini-refrigerator, coffee maker, and a vase of artificial flowers sat.

“And no one was arrested for the robbery or your father’s murder?”

“No.”

“Why do you think I can solve this mystery after forty-three years?”

“Because I think at least two of the robbers were from New York.”

I stared at her. She pushed a few strands of shoulder-length dark brown hair behind her right ear and smiled. Lucy Frobisher was trim and quite pretty in a very professional way—like a tall Audrey Hepburn.

“And Oliveri told you I was a cop in New York for a long time.”

She nodded. “He did.”

“And you think I can resurrect an old case and track down former SDS or Black Panther members or other anti-war, anti-government thugs when the entire FBI couldn’t?”

“They were part of the Revolutionary Youth Movement and I have new information.”

I heard the radio crackle out in the lobby. Bettye dispatched PO Jamey Hawkins to a first aid case at a trailer park off Doc Beasley Road.

“Why won’t the feds act on this information?” I asked.

“They say it’s not sufficient to reopen an old case.”

That sounded like rubbish to me.

“Ms. Frobisher, I’m sorry your father was killed, but I’m only one guy with a small police department to run. Even though it happened in Prospect, I doubt I can . . .” I let my sentence trail off.

“May I tell you the whole story?” she asked.

She sat back and crossed her legs. I think she anticipated my answer. That or she knew a big smile and a few extra inches of lovely knee would influence my decision.

“Sure.” Then thinking she may take more than a few minutes, I said, “Would you like coffee? I have a fresh pot.”

“Thank you. Dark no sugar, please.”

I fixed two cups and watched her take a stack of newspaper clippings and official reports from her briefcase.

I sat behind my desk, took a sip of an extremely hot Indonesian blend, and listened to Lucy tell me her father, Douglas “Buck” Frobisher, not only worked as a bank guard, but also served as a Blount County deputy sheriff, the security job being only a part-time gig.

According to Ms. Frobisher, the robbery went off like something from a 1970s “heist” movie. Three males and one female entered the bank just before closing time carrying shotguns and pistols. All wore rubber Halloween masks. After an attention-getting shot went off and Buck Frobisher stepped out of the men’s room, he drew his revolver and foolishly told the four armed felons to drop their guns. One of the males fired his shotgun and Frobisher bought the farm. The anarchists made off with $46,000 dollars before a bank employee could trip a silent alarm connected to the police station.

Two days later, in a message sent to the Knoxville News-Sentinel, members of the RYM claimed responsibility for the robbery.

The former Prospect police chief, one Eli “Peanut” Crowder, called in FBI assistance. Lucy said the investigation lasted for months, but as with many crimes perpetrated by a crop of home-grown anarchists from the late ‘60s, it remained unsolved.

“You don’t seem to have a problem talking about your father’s death,” I said.

“No, I’ve lived with the fact all my life. And I never knew him. My mother was pregnant when he died.”

“You’re certainly tenacious.”

“Unfinished business.” Lucy slowly nodded with a look of resolution crossing her pretty face. “I think these people should pay for what they did to my mother.”

She looked at me over the top of her coffee mug.

“No argument there. But the same question keeps popping up, Ms. Frobisher. Why do you think I can solve this?”

“Please,” she said, batting her eyelashes, “call me Lucy.”

“Okay, Lucy, back to my question.”

A little more eyelash action, then, “May I call you Sam?”

“Sure, everyone else does.”

“Well, Sam, I believe you know one of the killers.”

No excerpt was provided by the author.

Stefan did it the hard way. That Friday after the ball for business leaders, he tried to make love to Teresa again. He was completely unaroused.

When they finally spoke about it, Stefan admitted it was not a temporary thing, but that he found her unexciting. Teresa cried, speaking of all the exciting events they had gone to in the ten months they had been dating. He reminded her none of those had been in bed. This time it was Teresa who slammed the door, exiting his suite with her overnight bag and demanding a ride home from the Sentinel detail.

Thank God for Saturdays and Mother’s little afternoon classes. Stefan threw himself into the circuits Mother had designed until she was working with Evan and Josef alone. He asked if he could look at her lab notes for her crystalline resect data storage cubes while he waited for her to finish with them. She drew them up immediately, and he threw himself into studying those. By the end of the session, Evan was growling, Josef was rolling his shoulders to release his tension, and Stefan was calm and cool, back on track again.

At dinner Josef asked Stefan, “Hey, I could use some help on this little project I am doing. Would you consider looking it over?”

“You have a project? What are you working on?” Mother seemed professionally interested but somewhat reserved. Stefan figured she would prefer her sons to spend their limited spare time studying stargate circuits.

“I’d rather not say yet, Mother. It is just an idea I came up with one night. After all, you surely cannot expect to be the only inventor in the family,” Josef teased her with a smile.

She at least smiled back at him. “I see. Does this have anything to do with our own little project?” She was being circumspect, since Anne had invited Andrés to dinner.

“No, Mother, not at all. Just trying to reinvent the wheel,” he drawled.

Stefan snorted. Josef had been teasing him and Evan about this mysterious project for some time now. “Sure, I’ll look it over after dinner.”

Father gave him a puzzled look. “Aren’t you going out tonight?”

Flushing, he bit his lips together. “No. I don’t think Teresa and I will be seeing each other anymore.” Going back to his meal, he began cutting and recutting his meat until it turned to mush. Putting his utensils down, he glanced at Father. “May I be excused, please?”

Everyone was staring at him now. Realizing that all conversation had stopped since his announcement, Stefan flushed again and looked down at his plate.

“Certainly, son. Come see me if you need to talk,” Father added gently.

Stefan nodded, set aside his napkin, and left.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Evan and Jessica were almost to his suite that night when Josef left Stefan’s suite and stormed toward his own door, grumbling. Evan wondered what that was about. “Bad night?”

Josef stopped and shook a data card. “He solved it. Made it look easy. Dammit, I’ve been working on this idea for four weeks! Now I’ll have to share the patent with him.” Emitting a brusque growl, he stomped through his own open door just down and across from Evan’s.

“What did he invent?” Jessica wondered as they waited for Evan’s Sentinel agents to scan his suite.

“I don’t know, but he’s been alternately smiling and frowning whenever he mentions the project. You would think he’d be happier to have it done, but I am starting to suspect there’s some real jealousy there. Stefan seems to have no problem picking up – anything mathematical.” Evan caught himself before saying anything about Mother’s project.

“You mean he hasn’t said a word to you on what it’s about, yet he told Stefan all about it? I thought you were the mathematical genius of the three.” She frowned in suspicion, and the Sentinel agent indicated they could enter the suite.

“Genius? Hardly that. I just prefer it to the physics or the microengineering classes we are taking,” he said hastily. Pushing her gently toward his suite, he ogled her openly. “I can think of a few engineering feats I’d like to try with you right now, though.”

Jessica laughed and pulled him to her. “Teaching science now, I see. I’m going to have to sign up for that class.”

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

On Tuesday, Mother looked over their work. “Much better. I can see you’ve finally applied yourself, Evan.”

“Not fair, Mother. I apply myself all the time,” Evan complained. “It just finally clicked, that’s all.”

Josef and Stefan looked at each other. They had drilled Evan for three hours before that click had come, just before dinner. He had been apprehensive during the meal, wondering if he remembered everything, avoiding conversational gambits with little more than a few words to throw the subject back to the speaker. Renee had looked at all three of them solemnly as if she knew just what it was costing them to maintain their pleasant façades.

“Now, the next circuits in the series work in parallel. These are the ones that release the plasma energies into the crystalline couplers that – never mind, we will get to it once you master the series,” Mother explained obliquely.

“How many more designs are left in the series?” Josef asked.

“Twelve,” she said matter-of-factly.

Evan groaned very softly as Mother began teaching again.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Stefan spent two hours in the gymnasium on Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday. The twins would come for their workout when Stefan had already done his warm-ups and begun sparring, and leave about the time he headed for the knife alley.

Stefan spent over three hours in the gym on Saturday morning and ate lunch in his suite. When the twins finally cornered him in Lord Charles Strauss’ antechamber to Mother’s lab that afternoon, Josef asked, “Man, when do you find time to study? If you aren’t in class or working out, you are taking on social duties like crazy. Are you on some kind of stim?”

“I study in the mornings before breakfast. I don’t get much sleep, though,” Stefan admitted. “Since I got rid of Teresa, I feel like an enormous cloud of worry has dissipated. I can think clearly now.”

He pulled a paper out of his pocket. “Here, I thought of another easy tweak. This will make the running lights shine brighter if a vehicle approaches within a meter of a shielded ground car. It should be bright enough to alarm a driver to at least brace for impact, if they are that unaware in the first place.” Handing it over to Josef, Stefan put his computer down on the bench next to Mother’s airlock lab door and went across the room to chat with Charles.

Josef looked over the diagram and the formulas, shaking his head. “At this rate, I’m going to just patent it in Stefan’s name.”

“What is this design, anyway? You never told me,” Evan complained.

Josef described his force-shielded bumpers to Evan, who whistled with approval. “I even got Roberta to help me price the components. It won’t add more than ten percent to the price of a ground car, and that could easily be covered by the savings an owner would get on insurance alone.”

Looking over Stefan’s schematics, Evan’s voice went plaintive. “No wonder Mother thinks I’m a dunderhead. Between you and Stefan, I might as well be a horse in her eyes, just someone to ride until I’m knackered.”

A sharp breath came from the doorway to the corridor. Mother stood stiffly, staring at Evan and blinking back sudden tears. She looked over at Stefan, who was busy with Charles, and then at Josef, who felt as embarrassed for Evan as his twin looked. To their great surprise, Mother turned and walked away.

Two minutes later, a Sentinel agent peeked through the open doorway. “Your Highnesses? The Empress says your class has been cancelled.”

Stefan glanced up from his position looking over Charles’ shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

The Sentinel agent’s face was blank. “I do not know, Highness.” He retreated quickly.

Josef waved Stefan over. When he was within earshot of a confidential whisper, Josef replied, “Mother caught Evan saying something indiscreet. She finally realized how much pressure she’s been putting him through.”

Evan couldn’t hide his misery. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have complained. I’m just jealous that it takes you two no time to absorb everything, by osmosis apparently, whereas I have to beat my head against it all. I hardly see Jessica on weekends anymore, even. I feel like I am about to explode,” he confessed. “Even workouts don’t seem to relieve me. Or sex, what little I get anymore.”

“I do understand the feeling, but if it’s going to interfere with me and Josef getting trained, I object,” Stefan said coolly. “This is the chance of a lifetime, and I am ready for it, even if you are not. Would you please at least go apologize to Mother? And make sure she knows it is your problem and not ours?” A brief look of thunder crossed his face.

Josef was torn. Try to keep up with Stefan, whose brilliance he already resented, or stick with Evan’s reluctance to continue and have more time for himself? He was mad as hell to be caught in this conversation. “Go ahead and take the training, Stefan. It’s not like you have other people you want to spend time with.”

The look on Stefan’s face made Josef desperately wish he had not said a word. Stefan blanched a sickening greyish-white before striding over to pick up his computer and leave without even glancing in the twins’ direction. Josef could hear his steps pick up in the corridor, almost to a run.

Evan shook his head. “Thanks for the moral support, but I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the horses gets ridden to death today.” He sighed. “I’m going to go find Mother. Would you like to come witness my personal humiliation? I’m used to you being there for it by now, after all.”

Josef huffed a laugh. “Yeah. I’ll give you points for groveling. Five on your knees, ten on your belly.” As Evan chuckled a bit, Josef grew more serious. “But if you screw it up for Stefan and me, we better schedule our workouts at different times.”

Evan gulped and nodded. “Are you going to grovel to Stefan?”

“Only if he succeeds in killing a horse. Or a Sentinel.” Josef rubbed his still-bruised wrist.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Stefan did kill a horse. He worked on his jumps until he decided to take on the circuit all at once. He knew when he approached the fourth jump that Feverfew was tiring, but he spurred him even harder. Feverfew landed with a sickening crunch and stumbled an extra step before falling, giving Stefan just enough warning to kick out of his stirrups and follow the horse down until he could push away into a rollout in the soggy mulch of the jump corridor. The horse had screamed twice, writhed a bit, and now lay blowing in pain, eyes wide and panicked.

His two Sentinel agents came up immediately. After seeing Stefan stand and brush himself off as if nothing had happened, Captain Russell and Sergeant Clovis immediately surrounded the horse. One called back to the stables on his wrist phone for the head groom, but the latter had gone to a distant duchy that day to look over a few young stallions to be purchased for the Imperial stables. Since the break was an ugly compound fracture and Feverfew was a gelding, the consensus was to put the horse down.

Sickened by his actions, Stefan nevertheless sat and stroked Feverfew’s head and neck until his two Sentinels agreed to use their pulse pistols together. He stepped back to a safe distance, brushed away tears, and watched with sorrow as they executed the beast. They had removed its riding gear by the time the grooms got there with a new horse for Stefan, and a veterinarian’s air van arrived to remove the dead horse.

As they rode back to the stables, Sergeant Clovis said gravely, “That was a remarkable rollout you did, Highness. I’m glad we didn’t have to take you to surgery for a broken leg. Or worse.”

Stefan looked down the access road and stopped his new horse. Father and six Sentinels were headed for the Preserve. Since he had already ridden out that morning, it could only mean Father had heard about Feverfew and suspected Stefan had disregarded the horse’s signals. Not wanting to be dressed down in front of the grooms, Stefan turned his horse back to the Preserve and headed for the small glen where the truly private conversations among Imperial Family members took place, with Sentinels barely visible among trees atop the ridges.

The little grotto had several objects decorating it now. Besides Sophia’s crystal angel, there was a silver drinking goblet near the trickle running to the pool, a small candle-cup complete with melted wax on the bottom, and an offering of late-summer wildflowers tied in a ribbon, drying out nicely. Stefan wondered who had placed the candle and flowers there; it seemed reminiscent of some kind of rite. Love rite? Fertility ritual? He sat cross-legged and wondered what he would place as a memento, as well as whether such a rite actually beckoned the desired outcome into reality.

Father found him there beside the pool. Dismounting and leading his horse to drink, he sat beside Stefan and stretched out his legs, arms propped behind him. After a few moments, he very casually remarked, “You know I did not meet your mother until I was almost 31. About this time of year, too.”

Stefan didn’t want to talk about women. “I’m sorry about Feverfew. I pushed him too hard and I shouldn’t have taken that last jump so fast. Russell and Clovis did the deed. I could have used one of my knives, I should have, it was my responsibility, but I didn’t want to see the blood spatter.”

Father continued as if he had not heard. “Phillip didn’t date for about two years before he found Annette. I was surprised Zhaiden bounced out of his relationship with Colette within one year. And Brian and Christian have never settled on one lady for more than a few months. Besides all your married siblings, you are the one who has had the longest relationship with anyone. That kind of investment in time and emotion is bound to be painful when you watch it drain away into nothing.” He bent his knees and sat up, brushed negligible dirt off his hands, then pierced Stefan with his warmest gaze. “We will support you, no matter what.”

“No matter what?” Stefan brooded, tossing a stone in the pool. “Are you sure about that?”

“Well, if you were to demonstrate violence against a lover, we would probably send you to get help, but otherwise, yes, no matter what.” Staring at the grotto, a moment later he added, “One of your brothers even had a few experimental homosexual encounters.”

Stefan turned to him, then. “I… have to admit, I’ve wondered about that kind of thing. I know I enjoy women, though Teresa turned out to be a real turn-off. But sometimes when I am working out, I find myself enjoying the wrestling moves more than I think I should. I don’t know whether that means anything, though.” He groused bitterly, “And it’s not like I can ask about it. What Sentinel would want to work with me if he knew I was thinking about him like that?”

Father uttered a short laugh. “You would be surprised. Shall I have Chief Savat send you some new agents? Ones who would not mind?”

Stefan gaped. “Father! You can’t be serious!”

“They are the most discreet men in the Demesnes, after all. And Chief Savat knows all about them; he has to in order to give them security clearances. They will behave professionally at all times, but they would understand completely if you were to have questions, or more male friends than female friends.

“And as long as your Sentinel detail knows, your mother and I don’t have to know,” he pointed out. “Your mother only asks you to introduce her to possible bedmates in order to ask them personally if they have contraceptive implants, you know, as well as to make sure they do not expect a marriage contract to result just from a night of sport. And to check for their parents’ approval if they are under 21.”

Stefan’s mind was boggling, now. “I had not realized all that was going on. I just thought she had to approve of the girl, personally speaking.”

“As always, your mother is practical above all other concerns. Even in love.” Father chuckled. “You should have heard us negotiating our marriage contract. We agreed not to speak of its terms because we knew no one would understand.” His chortling wound down. “She’s not quite sure what to do with you three boys. As the youngest children, she feels like she has shorted you her attention, and she truly does think you deserve to carry on her stargate legacy. But if Evan is having problems with it—”

“We three spoke about it briefly. They don’t mind if I take the training by myself. At the least, they may train with her in the future, just not when so many other things are going on in their lives.”

“Ah, yes. I can see now how your mother thought it would be efficient to train you all together, given that you are taking the same classes. And it has been a boon to Sentinel Command to have you all together so they only have to concern themselves with a few classrooms, as well as for your personal details to be able to protect you with their comrades.” Father rose to his feet. “I shall speak to her about this fetish for efficiency and how we might personalize our attentions to you in the future.” He dusted off his hands once more. “Is there anything else you would like to talk about, son?”

Stefan rose, too. “Not at this point. I really am sorry about Feverfew. I had no idea I was taking my own stress out on him, until that last drive to force him over the jump when he was unprepared.”

Father tilted his head. “There’s a strong metaphor in that, if you think about it.”

“Indeed.” Stefan sighed but stood straighter as a result. “I shall see it doesn’t come to that again.”

No excerpt was provided by the author.

Often there was no rhyme or reason for life’s tragedy’s. They came leaving heartache and misery.

Everyone had a reason to look forward to the New Year, everyone but me. My heart was in dire straits missing Will.

“Not again”

I scrambled to gather all my papers from the floor of the crowded hall.
I had never been popular in school; in fact, I got picked on nearly everyday. I tried to drown out the sounds of my classmates’ laughter as they walked past on their way to class, but it was difficult. You would think I would be used to it by now. I suppressed the tears as I finished gathering my scattered belongings. The loud ringing of the bell vibrated through the halls signaling the start of class.

If I’m late again my teacher will send a meeting request to my parents to discuss my tardiness.

Mr. Johnson, my math teacher, was already in the middle of attendance when I reached the door. I watched from the hall as he began class by instructing everyone to solve the problem on the board. After an internal battle I decided to head to the roof, leaving math studies to the rest of my classmates.

The janitor keeps the main staircase to the roof pad locked, but a few months ago when I was hiding from some bullies in the janitor’s closet, I found a weakened spot in the plaster wall that connects with the staircase leading to the roof. With a quick glance I confirmed there wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. Silently, I slipped into the janitor’s closet. Using my cell phone as a source of light I made my way to the back where the hole was concealed. I expertly slid through the hole then pulled my backpack through, my shoes made a soft thudding sound as I walked up the stairs.

The door opened effortlessly allowing bright sunlight to stream into the dark stairwell.

“Beautiful”

I stared up at the bright blue sky containing a few thin clouds. Even weather like this couldn’t chase away the pain of constantly being the target of ridicule.

“Why do things like this always happen to me?”

I slid down the wall, sobbing letting the tears flow freely down my cheek. Pulling my knees to my chest I rested my head on them. My pants absorbed each tear as it fell leaving only a darkened spot.

“What did I do to make them pick on me? I wish they would just leave me alone”

I don’t know how long I sat on the roof crying but my tears ducts were beginning to dry up, I had reached my limit. I was considering wiping my wet face when something soft brushed up against my hand. I jumped nearly falling over. It was a solid black cat.

“MEOW”

The cat’s voice vibrated through the air it almost felt like the air itself rippled.

“How did you get up here?”

I rubbed the cat’s ears, it purred happily rubbing its head against my fingers. I smiled for the first time today. I guess it’s true what they say; an animal can always make you feel better no matter what kind of mood you’re in. I glanced at the watch loosely fastened around my thin wrist.

Only five minutes until the bell rings

“I have to go little kitty”

I forced myself to stand up before I was tempted to skip another class to play with the cat.

“I’ll bring you some milk after class”

Making sure not to be seen I slipped back out of the closet just in time for the bell to ring. I scurried down the hall not making eye contact with anyone on my way to geology class. Sandra stood leaning up against her locker with the rest of her posse, her lips smacking while chewing on her favorite gum. I was sure that she would empty the contents of my backpack again as I hurried past, but she didn’t move. That was lucky I made it all the way to class without being picked on once which was unusual, but not totally unheard of.

I pretended to listen to the teacher drone on and on about the different types of rocks and minerals found in the ground. Secretly, I was counting the minutes until the bell rang so I could take the cat some milk. Finally, the clock struck 2:30 the loud bell could be heard through the empty halls. I rushed out of the classroom as quick as possible so that a member of Sandra’s gang wouldn’t stop me.

At the vending machine near the cafeteria I purchased a small carton of milk and proceeded back up to the roof.

“Here Kitty Kitty kitty. I brought you some milk”

I scoured every inch of the roof looking for my new little friend but he was nowhere in sight. I let out a big sigh.

“Not even a cat wants to spend time with me”

The house loomed in front of me like a lion standing over its prey. The white paint was cracked and peeling it covered every inch of the old house, many of the formerly black shudders loosely clung by a single hinge…it had seen better days.

Tall weeds grew in the yard suggesting it had been several weeks since the lawn had been tended to. I still didn’t know why my father had accepted a job in this small town, but he did so here I was standing, still clinging to a box, in front of the old house that I now had to call home.

“Thomas hurry up and take that inside” my mother called being sure to cover the microphone on her Bluetooth, she didn’t want the client to hear.

“Yeah Yeah,” I grumbled under my breath walking up the moss covered stone steps.

Inside, the house was dark despite it being the middle of the day. A strange odor found its way inside my nostrils as I entered the foyer most likely from being closed up for so long.
The old steps creaked under my weight as I started up the stairs, the first time I went upstairs I thought they were going to collapse, but now I came to expect the creaking.
Like the rest of the house my room was dark that changed with the flip of a switch. The light illuminated the room while the ceiling fan roared to life sending dust particles through the air. At one time the walls had been painted a dark green, but over time it faded now they were a pale sickly color. My parents said that we could repaint them, but I doubt that will ever happen they will be too busy with work. I set the box in the corner of the empty room; the moving van hasn’t yet arrived with all our furniture.

Out the window my little sisters chased each other through the weed infested yard laughing as though they didn’t have a care in the world as though we didn’t just move from California to this small town in Kansas. My father busily carried another box from his old 2000 pickup truck while my mother continued the conversation with her client; after all, she was a consultant for a large firm who was allowing her to work out of our new house.

“Thomas where are you?” my father called on his way back out of the house to get another box.

“Coming”

I quickly exited my room.

Just at I got outside the large moving van pulled up spewing diesel fumes everywhere.

My father shoved the box he was carrying at me so he could direct the movers where to put the large items.

It only took a few hours for the movers to have the truck unpacked, filling our new house with boxes.

“Kids find the boxes with your name and take them to your rooms. Thomas help your sisters if they need it,” My mother instructed

She had finally hung up the phone…for now.

“Yeah,” I muttered finding my first box I took the old steps two at a time.

Even with everyone downstairs the house seemed eerily quiet as I made my way to my room. Now that the movers had finished, my bed was against the right wall while my old brown dresser occupied the space on the left next to the closet door. I set the box down next to the one I carried up earlier and began my trek back down to do it again.

“We’re going to order pizza for dinner,” I heard my mother say as I entered the living room

“That’s fine dear,”

My father was busy tinkering with another one of his gadgets; I don’t think he was really paying attention. He likes to invent things, although his inventions don’t always go as planned, so he took a job at a local company his official title Innovative Engineer but mainly, he just gets to use company resources to bring his hair-brained ideas to reality.

“Tommy can you carry this”

My little sister tugged on my shirt.

“Sure”

I picked up her box along with another of mine and carried them both upstairs.
By the time the pizza arrived most of our boxes were in our rooms where they belonged.

“This is a good dinner dear,” my father joked.

“I knew you’d like it,” she jested back

I rolled my eyes at their conversation at least my sisters were having more fun wearing their pizza as the cheese stretched with each bite causing sauce and topping to fall in their laps. I quickly downed two pieces of pizza

“Going to unpack,” I called throwing my paper plate in the trash and hurrying out the door before they could say anything.

Once again the eerie silence filled my dark room with a click the light switch flipped illuminating the area. Placing the first box on my bed I started the mundane task of unpacking. A short while later my sisters came bounding up the stairs each going into her room…filling the silence that once reigned supreme. Ignoring the chatter of my sisters I continued to hang the clothes in my closet.

“Girls get ready for bed”

My mother’s voice echoed through the house once the clock struck nine.

“K mom,” the girls called in unison.

Sometimes I thought it might be nice to have a twin someone to always play with as a child, but as they argued over who got the new pink toothbrush I realized; I was glad I wasn’t one. Shaking my head I pushed the door shut to drown out the sound of their arguing. My mother rushed upstairs to break up the skirmish.

Once I was sure my sisters were in bed I opened my door again listening to the creaking of the old house as it settled in for the night. I plopped down on my newly made bed wrinkling the covers; I had enough unpacking for one day and wanted to relax a little.
This is so frustrating instead of the sound of cars driving down the road I get crickets chirping. Instead of sirens I get dogs barking.

I rolled over looking at the bright red numbers of my alarm clock 11:19.

I should try to get some sleep

I drug myself out of the bed and made my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for my first night in the new house.

“AAAAAHHHHHHH”

I had just gargled my mouth when someone screamed. Quickly spitting I ran from the bathroom down the creaking stairs listening, trying to pinpoint the exact location.

“AAAAHHHH”

I heard again this time accompanied by the sounds of two metal objects being smashed together.

“What’s gong on?” I heard behind me

Instinctively I turned and swung my fist connecting with something hard.

“Sport it’s just me,”

My father was holding a baseball bat out in front of him

“Dad, I think you broke my hand,” I said shaking it, which only increased the throbbing.

“Do you know who’s screaming?” I asked

“What!”

“AAAAHHHHH”

Rang through the house once more as the banging also continued. Looking at each other we continued down the dark hall towards the kitchen the floorboards groaning beneath our feet. My father clicked on the light as we entered the room; just as we left it boxes piled up everywhere.

BAM BAM

I jumped as something hit the floor from beneath.

“What’s going on?” I asked in a voice so squeaky it couldn’t have possibly come from my mouth.

“AAAHHHH”

The voice once again sounded Clang rang through the house as the metal object hit each other again.

“There”

My father pointed to a door in the corner of the kitchen. His hand was shaking proving he was just as frightened as I was

“Where does it lead?” I asked

“Don’t know, Basement probably”