Tuesday, 28 August 2012

Uncomfortably Dark. Prologue. Part 2


Something about those pine tree covered mountains sprawling off into the distance usually had Brad Pachett enjoying the scenery offered by the glass walls of the hallways.  The refreshingly cold water from the cooler did wonders to him when he took these breaks from the lab, but Morton and Celene were having a tiff, rather violent by the sound of it, and all he was feeling right now was on edge.
   “Now this is what you call eavesdropping.”  It was Tyler, ex-military like himself and best friend.  He was in the Mechanical Engineering Department, and he was talking in a kind of harsh whisper.  “I mean, personally, instinct would drive me away from a deserted hallway outside an office containing a quarrelling couple.  But that’s just me, you know?”
   The whisper was beginning to weird Greg out.  “And yet,” Tyler continued, “Can you believe with this fine personality of mine, I tried not to barge in on a discussion Sandra and Greg was having the other day, when it was most important to inform Greg of something… waited on Sandra to finish her sentence and do you know what?  The b…, the woman accused me of eavesdropping.”
   “I’m kinda frozen to the spot.  They caught me off guard.”
   Greg took a side-long glance at his friend and felt the concern deepen.  “Okay man, let’s get out of here.  He’s your boss, she’s his woman.  That’s a very unstable powder keg.”
   Just then they could hear the violence turn physical.  Someone had been slapped.  Greg twitched around, and Tyler grabbed his arm to stop his start for the door.  “Hold it,” Tyler warned.
   Two more slaps and both of them started for the door, but just as quickly they could hear fast steps coming towards it from the other end, lady’s shoes.
  Impossible to look any less awkward, they simply froze as Celine opened the door and jumped back a little in shock.
   Morton came to find out what was going on and joined the frozen scene.  For a slowly thawing moment their eyes were the only moving body-parts.
   Celine broke away first and brushed past Brad and Tyler; they could see the reddening fingerprints on the side of her face, and that piqued the both of them some.
   Morton simply slammed the door in their faces.

   At lunch break, Brad found Celine where he knew he would, up on the roof of the complex.  The mountain air would have begun nipping at her already, and would start at him shortly.  It’s the reason no one came up here.
   “Why do you let him treat you like that?”
   She snorted a nasal grunt of a laugh.  “Cliché concern for the cliché victim?  Really Brad… leave it alone.”
   “I can’t take this anymore Celine.  I came to work here because it would allow me to be closer to you.  I’m okay with things not working out so well between us.  But to see you mistreated is just beyond me.  I’ve had enough.”
   She turned to examine him.  He was more than just brooding this time.  She knew what was coming.
   “Brad, you’re the chief developer here.  You’re worth a lot more than we can pay you.  I don’t know what to do with Morton.  He’s fired Hawkins and Moore out of sheer stupidity.  Those were two good scientists, but you are our linchpin.  Without you things will fall apart.”  She tousled his dark hair and had the odd thought of what color hair their children would have with her sandy blonde added to the recipe.
   “One more time Celine, and I’m gone.  And I hope if it reaches that far you’ll have the sense to come along with me.”
   He stood and left.

   Everyone except security detail went into town on Saturday nights.  With no other town for eighty miles they had to make do with all this one had to offer.  Bob’s Jerk was a sure count on the list of places guaranteed to make your mouth water the minute you got in the parking lot.
   The day’s misgivings were slowly being eased with every bite Brad took of the jerked venison.  Throw in the swigs of beer to quench the burn of peppers and wash down the tender but spicy meat, and he knew he’d be sure to have a tipsy glow to go with the heartburn by the time he was done.
   Tyler was designated driver so he went for soda to compliment the less spicy jerked chicken.
   “How’s Andrea?”  Brad asked, tongue feeling unusually lively.  “Haven’t heard a mention of her for a while; she okay?”
   “She’s moved on.”
   “Oh, sorry; when did that happen?”
   “Got the letter Monday.  How’s the yoga?”  He took a series of bites until his mouth was stuffed.  Brad took the cue and tried to think of something useful in the direction of the suggested topic change.
   “It’s getting pretty advanced.  Matter of fact, I’ve been applying some of what I’ve been learning to a project I’ve been working on and I think I’ve got something.”
   Tyler could only chew and raise his eyebrows.
   “It’s pretty deep, so I’m not gonna go into it now.  Plus it’s not the sort of thing I’d ever let Morton get his hands on.  Give it a couple of years, maybe, and I’ll know for certain.  If it works, I’ve got a few friends in the European scientific community I’d like to discuss possible applications with apart from the one Morton would be interested in.  I’d have it done in a year if I left this company and worked on it at home.”
   Tyler stopped chewing then started to swallow as fast as he could manage.  “What?” he asked, almost choking.
   “What?” Brad responded.  “You know I don’t really need to work here.  Plus I’ve got all the equipment for this sort of thing at home.  If what I’m talking about can be done it could mean leaps of technological advancement like you’d never believe.”
   Just then a fracas broke out in a store across the street.  Female patrons all around put their hands to their mouths and looking into the shop Tyler could see why.  From the look on Brad’s face his view was unobstructed as well.  He was up and moving.
   Beer, hot peppers and a generally foul day drove him faster than Tyler could catch up to this time and as he got to the storefront a slap from Morton’s hand to Celine’s face was followed by a punch from Brad’s fist to Morton’s nose.
   Tyler saw Morton reel backwards as if shot in the head by a shotgun.  He didn’t get back up, but he was clearly still alive, blood pouring down from the smashed nose as he tried in vain to collect his senses.
   “You coming with me Celine?”  He didn’t wait for an answer.  He was striding out almost as angry as he was going in.
   “Tyler,” Celine pleaded, “Please drive.”  Then she was running after Brad.

Saturday, 25 August 2012

Uncomfortably Dark. Prologue. Part 1

She was eight years old with jet black hair and eyes.  Tears were streaming from those eyes, and she did her best to stifle a sob as she looked out at nothing in particular from her room's window.
   This was her grandma's house.  Her parents had left her here for the holidays despite her ferocious protests.  Dad acted like he didn't believe but she was sure he did.  He knew.  This house...
   "Haley?" It was grams calling from the dining room downstairs, "Supper is ready dear."
   "Coming grandma."  As for grams, she had heard her downstairs late at night talking in muffled tones, sometimes with vehement emotions.  They were the only two in a house with no phones and she knew her grandmother was not crazy.
   "Grandma," she said in a voice that revealed too much of her sorrow and made her feel immediately more peevish, "why do the rats look at me so?"
   The orange glow of a sun getting ready to set was streaming in and warm fresh air from an open window was drifting through, but Pearl Reynolds instantly felt choked and chilled as her granddaughter took her seat before the hot callaloo soup she had prepared for her.  She resisted the urge to talk casually and dismissive, forcing herself to be silent for just couple of seconds as she took a good look at the child.
   "When did this happen Haley?  Are you sure you didn't dream it?"  Carefully, she spooned some of the spicy soup from her own dish.
   Haley looked up at her grandma and felt comforted that the old lady was as pale as her own reflection had been in her dresser's mirror the first time it had happened.
   "No grandma, they just looked at me before I came down and I haven't been in bed all day."
   Her grams stood and left the table with a speed that didn't seem possible.  She was halfway up the slightly creaking wooden stairs when she stopped.  What was she doing?  Only frightening the child more than she already was.
   "Okay Haley," she said without turning around.  "You're sleeping with me tonight.  I'll set some rat poison in your room before I go to bed."  She just stood there, halfway up the stairs, and Haley had a very uncomfortable feeling watching her.  She was holding to the banister with both hands and staring at the foot of the room door.
   She held on tight to keep from falling as she stared into those shiny black eyes.  There was just one rat in the open doorway, standing on its hind legs and looking back quite calmly into her eyes.  She would set the poison as soon as she had the strength to move from this spot.  These were new rats who had recently slipped in, maybe for shelter from coming rain.  
   She had killed the last set and burned the carcasses.  There were no nests in the room; she had cleaned it thoroughly before Haley's arrival.  These must have grown up elsewhere, grown up without the fear of humans.  It was that simple.
   A second came and joined the first rat.  Then a third.  Soon the entire doorway was filled with rats all standing on their hind legs and staring at her.  "No. No, no, no," she mumbled under her breath.  Just rats who had grown up without the fear of humans.  Grew up as a family.  Acted as a family.  Nothing strange here Pearl Reynolds.  "The ghosts in this house are bad enough."



Okay, so this is the beginning of a work of fiction I've just started for the fun of it.  One more thing to occupy my time that I like doing.  So if it feels good enough and you'd like to make suggestions every now and then, please feel free to do so.  Who knows what might happen with collaborative effort.  It, or any other story I start here, might become truly readable.

And no, it's not unlikely for rats to behave like this.  I've experienced it in my own grandmother's house when she was alive.  Creepy but true.

What Am I Doing?

Oh, so I can format my writing better here. Alas then, to the task.

Triad Infinity.  The depths of this will I suppose extricate itself from mystery eventually, but for now, let's say it's the first phrase that came to me that describes the most powerful aspects of my life currently.

I have been storing ideas on Facebook as Arthur Antonio (my middle names), but my occasional fiction formats poorly so I need a beautiful place where I can squirrel away my literary experiments should I feel the need.

The question I'll be constantly challenging is, can I sit down at any time and on demand fill a post with fiction or fact that holds my attention, not to mention the attention of others?

Cheers to the thought.  We shall see.