Friday, March 23, 2012

TO A FRIEND

We pass through this life but once,
Like the wind: sometimes unseen.
Living our days one at a time
Spending them down to our last day.

Along the way we met one day
I don’t recall it well.
But there you were and gave a gift
Of friendship and memories.

Together we laughed and
Together, we cried spending
Days gone by that we shared,
Like apples from a tree

If I could have just one more day
I’d thank you for the past.
And adorn my remaining days
With your sweet memory.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

A STRANGER

Chapter 1

Jason sat at the table, listening to snippets of conversations that were not meant for and of little interest to him. He couldn’t help but ease drop. Sometimes a woman’s nervous laugh would draw his attention away from one to another, as the noise filled bar crowd grew larger.

Vodka tonic was the only friend he seemed to have this night, as couples mingled and shared stories and days events. Jason sat lonely, his life having taken a rather sharp turn. Staring into the almost empty glass, he visualized what he had once. Kim had been his life for the past two years, and she kept popping into his mind now, he could almost sense her being there with him. Funny he thought, how a woman could become such a large part of a man’s consciousness.

They had met in a retirement village in Boca Raton, in a public square outdoor dance. He was visiting his aunt; a rather contentious thin-skinned yet funny old lady of 94, and Kim Belmore was about 45 and visiting her widowed father, a retired doctor. Jason had seen her sitting with some girlfriends across the square, leisurely chatting. Collecting the courage he timidly crossed the crowded square over to ask her to dance, leaving aunt Martha to listen to the 4-piece band that played in the bandstand. He introduced himself and before he knew it they were chatting and joking like old friends.

She was wearing a pair of white jeans and a red-checkered blouse, with large gold earrings, and her shoulder length auburn hair caught the setting sun that gave it its reddish luster. At first she was caught unaware that he had asked, then one of her girlfriends poked her into consciousness and she responded to Jason’s greeting.

He was from New York City, and as it turned out, so was she. She was divorced with no children and he was a widower with no children not looking for anything except to move on with his architectural career and life in general. Working for a large firm kept him busy, with late hours and travel, which was perfect for helping him get over the hard times of missing Gwen, his wife for over 30 years.

They started to date occasionally, then, more frequently, and soon were an item. But the past few months with Kim had changed her somewhat. There was nothing he could do wrong in her eyes, and she in his, it was love and it seemed to grow. But as his ideas and designs proved to be so innovative, so did his status in the firm and with it came new demands from his job. First it was the long hours, and then the international travel, pulling him away from Kim and the job became his mistress for weeks at a time. At first Kim tried to be accepting, but soon became very jealous, and started to demand more of Jason’s time then he could give. Then one evening when they were celebrating two years together in a favorite little restaurant in Manhattan, things came to a head. He said things, and then she said things and stormed out of the restaurant into the east 48th street crowd. He tried calling her, but she refused to answer the phone or his messages, as she did likewise to his e-mails.

He sat wondering how she could go so cold, so detached as not to care anymore. He wondered what the two years he spent with her really meant to her. Jason was a betrayed man, lonely and bitter, wishing only the worst for her in his mind, then trying to be forgiving, but then angry once again that she remained away from him by choice.

In his mind he was beginning to demonize her, at first guarded criticisms, until finally, after no communication for three months, full-blown hatred and anger. It struck him that he needed to get over her, and go on with his life. But if he could hurt her he would. He still kept her picture on his dresser. The photo was of the two of them sitting on an outdoor bench with the ocean beach behind them. Her smile was large as his was forced. Damn her, the bitch! But he couldn’t bear to part with the photo.

Suddenly Jason was aware of a presence across from him that he hadn’t noticed before. “Regrets?” asked the stranger, a man about 45, with veins that stood out of his thin skeletal balding forehead, a ponytail and piercing almost black eyes. On the strangers chin was a wispy growth of hair that would have been better shaved.

“Natas Hetkwaad, at your service sir.” Reaching out his hand to Jason, Jason hesitatingly accepted it and shook it once, almost casually. “Jason Middleton” responded Jason, looking at the man closely.

“Natas! Never heard the name before, what’s the origin?” inquired Jason.

“Dutch actually, named after my father.” The man had a rather peculiar accent, a cross between a German and English sound to it. It seemed to Jason to have an educated flavor in the pronunciation, yet he wasn’t sure.

“I take it you seem to be deep in thought, lose someone?” asked the stranger.

Jason wondered if he should bother, but then thought that maybe if he talked to someone it would help him flush out the feeling of betrayal he harbored.

“What else, a woman, over two years we were together, then she leaves me. One day we are lovers, the next…” Jason lowered his eyes once more, toying with his glass and swirling the mostly melted ice cubes, holding the glass at eye level.

What was she like? Asked the stranger, looking intently into Jason’s eyes, his long legs crossed one over the other, resting comfortably in his chair, arms folded.

“Does it matter anymore?” asked Jason. “Maybe I should just forget, or at least try to, I’m sounding like a love-struck school boy for Christ-sake!” continued Jason. With that he slammed his glass down and looked for the waitress.

“Allow me” offered the stranger and summoned the waitress for another round for Jason and a Merlot for himself.

“Ever have it happen to you?” asked Jason. “Ever been dumped hard like that?”

“Me? Oh no, I don’t involve myself with love anymore: you see some of us are not cut out to love. I find my passion elsewhere, away from any feminine influence. In fact I find them to be more a hindrance to me than anything else. No, my passion is beyond that, beyond the carnal, beyond the daily struggle of relationships with women. You my friend are a case in point! You sit here and while away your good time, and over what? A woman? Just because society says that is what you do?”

Jason shifted in his seat and wondered to himself who this Dutchman was. Where was he coming from, was he trying to pick Jason up, was he gay?

“Don’t concern yourself old man, I have NO romantic interest in anyone. Hardly.” Offered the stranger.

Jason noticed his fingers were long and almost feminine as they tapered down to a point on each digit. It seemed to match his sharp nose and pointed Adam’s apple. Jason surmised that the reason he had no interest in women was because women had no interest in him, he was not a pleasant looking man, although not unpleasant as a man.

“You see Mr. Middleton, no man should serve two masters, yet every man does… a woman and money. I for one seem to eschew either one and instead deal with the more earthly.”

Jason had no idea what the stranger meant, but he promised himself he would ponder the words. Leaning forward in his chair he asked:

“What makes you so interested? I mean here I am a total stranger and you come out of nowhere! Are you some kind of psychologist or something?”

Natas unfolded his arms and then folded them again.

“You might say that,” he said, using one hand for emphasis with unfolding the other. “I study human behavior, and offer solutions, simple, uncomplicated and yet direct solutions that deal with the root of the problems that mankind faces.”

Natas was beginning to intrigue Jason, so much to the point that he wanted to ask more.

“What do you charge? You must have a large clientele, there are a lot of troubled people looking for solutions out there.”

“Actually my friend, I don’t charge money, you pay with what you can afford, kind of barter if you will. I offer to fix a problem: you in turn will be given choices to fit the bill to rid yourself of your issue. Rather simple and time-tested method of doing business. I’m not your traditionalist, no, I like to deal in the abstract.”

Jason was almost on the edge of his seat. His creative mind was racing. Maybe Natas could help him rid the monkey on his back called Kim.

The waitress dropped off the drinks and Natas sipped from his Merlot, savoring the wine, but not looking at Jason, rather a far-off stare, across the room. He seemed to be waiting for something, or for Jason to speak. Slowly he placed his wine glass down carefully in front of him, and leaned back once again and crossed his arms.

“You know Mr. Middleton, uh, Jason, you might do well to consider my services.”

“And how would I do that Natas, my issue is unique, no? I mean she doesn’t want to know me anymore, and I can’t seem to contact her anymore, or at least she won’t let me.”

The stranger eyed him for a moment that seemed like an eternity, and began to speak in almost a practiced measure of words.

“Mr. Middleton, what would you say to the idea that this woman you once loved were to comeback to you, with all her love in tact, and it offered you the opportunity to reunite then you could cast her away, rid of her once and for all?”

There was a long silence from Jason before he answered.

“And you could arrange that? How? I can’t even speak with her, yet you can do all this? You must BE a master psychologist to play her mind that way!”

“Please Jason, there are ways to effect anything if you trust the right forces.” A casual smugness crossed Natas’ face as he lifted his glass and tipped it toward Jason, a slight bow from his thin skeletal head, sipping once again.

Jason leaned forward and with his elbows on the table, crossed his arms, one hand reaching for the vodka.

“Ok, when do we begin, and how?” inquired Jason.

“In two nights time, you will meet me here at mid-night, and come alone.” With that, Natas rose and left a twenty-dollar bill on the small round table and turned dramatically on his heels and walked out of the bar.

Chapter 2

Jason walked from the subway his mind confused. He thought that maybe the vodka was keeping him from thinking clearly, but the stranger had a weird effect on him. Reaching his apartment he felt somewhat spooked. Here was this stranger, sitting there out of the thin air: did he really meet this guy? Did he imagine the whole encounter? Was Kim really taking over his life in this odd fashion? Was he so obsessed with her, and the anger he harbored, that he was just dreaming all this?

Entering his apartment, his mind continued to wheel, his mind was racing. He entered his bedroom, and sitting on the edge of his bed, he turned on the TV with the remote and started to untie his shoes, and his thoughts went back to the stranger. He thought some more: “What did he mean by “effecting” things?

Then it struck him, this stranger, this so-called Natas, didn’t even know Kim’s name, doesn’t know who she is or where to find her, yet in two nights time, he would meet him once again, and Kim would come running back?

“No” thought Jason, this stranger was not there, it had to be the vodka or his need to hurt Kim badly enough he is dreaming this whole thing! He looked up and noticed Saturday Night Live was on, but nothing else seemed to penetrate his mind. He finished undressing, lit a cigarette and blew the smoke then stabbed it out and turned off the lights and fell asleep.

In his sleep that night, he dreamt of Kim, but she was wearing a mask, it was a party somewhere in Florida, he seemed to be at this large gathering and Kim was dancing with someone in a mask also. He couldn’t make out who it was, but as the couple twirled, the mask flew from Kim’s dancing partner, revealing the stranger he met at the bar. A sense of rage and jealousy seemed to grip him in the gut, and he awakened from his sleep, and lay there.

He replayed the scene in his head a few times, and each time he saw who the dance partner was, the sense of jealousy and anger re-appeared. This stranger was starting to get to him as much as Kim did, he thought. Falling back to sleep, he was once more on the dance floor, but it seemed to Jason that he was in a dance hall of some kind then the next moment he was in the square in Florida, his aunt Martha by his side, when Kim and the dance partner spun by to a rather fast dance, when the mask flew from Kim’s dance partner revealing the stranger once again.

That morning, Jason rose about 9:30 am, and stepped into the shower, the hot water pelting him in a steady stream, and running down his face. As he felt the water hitting the top of his head, the evening before came back to play, and the dream he had had twice in one night. It still disturbed him that now he was jealous of the Stranger and angry with Kim, who he was referring to frequently as “The Bitch!” Stepping out of the shower, he once again tried to piece together the events last evening and how possibly this Natas whatever his last name was would ‘effect’ anything without Kim’s acquiescence or his knowing who she was.

Putting on the hot water for instant coffee, he went into the cupboard and pulled out a box of Grape-nuts cereal, and poured himself a bowl without thinking. He tried to take his mind off of things by thinking about the office and his latest project, a multi-million dollar office building with a parking garage under the building and a small apartment complex next to it. But his mind went back to Kim and the Stranger once again!

Jason decided to dress and go down to the local deli and purchase the Times, maybe if he tried to relax with the newspapers, he could take his mind off of Kim. Walking out of his apartment, he walked to the elevator and pushed the down button, waiting for the car to arrive. Leaning against the wall, he noticed all the paint chips that fell from the corners of the hall, the scrounged looking sconces that populated the walls and the grimy floor that ran the length of the hall.

Out of the corner of his eye something seemed to flash by, almost seen, like a shadow or motion that was invisible. He thought that maybe he needed a rest from himself. This Kim and the stranger were getting to him.

Walking the street to the deli, it seemed like someone was following him. He seemed to hear echoes of footsteps, a cadence that seemed to match his, yet if he stopped, it stopped. Once he deliberately stopped and quickly turned around, but no one was there. The Sunday morning traffic on the street was next to non-existent.

As he approached the deli, something or someone flashed by him from out of nowhere, crossing in front of him right to left as to run across the quiet avenue, and as Jason looked, there was no one to be seen. This disquieted Jason because he just saw or felt the presence of someone or something!

Returning to his apartment building, he kept an eye open and an ear to the wind, looking and listening, yet nothing was happening. He thought he was becoming paranoid once again, and that this whole situation was starting to frighten him. Entering the outer entryway he inserted his key and began to walk toward the elevator. Searchingly he scanned the area but no one was there and he entered the elevator. Pressing the button, he wondered if someone was waiting for him to leave his apartment in order to break and enter, maybe he should have stayed upstairs he thought.

The elevator door slid open and he entered his floor, the newspapers tucked under his arm and he looked around once more. Still it was quiet, but he felt like someone was ready to jump out of the woodwork and shock him once more. Once inside his apartment, he threw the newspapers on the sofa and sat heavily into his couch, pausing to catch his equilibrium and adjust. The incidences in the hall and on the street seemed to unnerve him enough to need the rest. Lighting a cigarette, he drew in deeply on the cigarette, wishing he could break the habit once and for all, then reached for the papers. He went to the main section and read the latest news coming out of the Middle East, where the story continued on page A-25, and as he quickly turned the pages, awkwardly fumbling with the shape and size of the paper something familiar caught his eye, forcing him to seek what it was by turning back the pages. It was a front headshot of a man that he seemed to recognize, but not quite! Jason could not locate the photo, slowly turning back the pages a number of times!

Jason threw the paper down on his coffee table, sending a candy bowl a few inches, just short of the edge. He was totally disgusted with himself, and starting to feel a crisis was brewing that he couldn’t understand or foresee clearly.

Lifting his cigarette to his lips, he took a drag and held it out at eye level, then switched his gaze to his window, staring out into the vast grey New York sky. Soon he drifted off to sleep, a restless sleep that caused him to shift and toss and turn. He dreamt he was walking along a road, the day was dark and dreary, snow was falling and on his right was a cliff that fell about 25 feet to a rocky edge of water. Reminding himself not to trip, he suddenly fell down into the jagged rocks, and as he neared, before he hit the rocks the cigarette he was smoking burned his fingers between his index and middle finger, jerking him awake in confusion and sending the cigarette on his lap, then the floor.

Disgusted, Jason reached for the TV remote and searched the channels, settling on a basketball game, as the camera focused on the head coach who was shouting out to his team on the floor. Behind the coach in the stands sat a man, who, looked like the stranger, but before he could focus on the man, the camera switched to the floor and then a commercial. He was tempted to leave the TV on and see if he could find the stranger once again, then decided not to. He wondered how a strange man, a woman he now hated and the constant reminders could invade his reality? Maybe if he had not revealed what was troubling him to the stranger, none of this would be occurring.

The rest of the day seemed to drift by. Jason read the papers, having a late lunch or rather an early dinner, did some reading and reviewing some sketches he had made for the next day’s meeting with a client. But an occasional drifting back to Kim, the stranger, and the dreams, and flashbacks to the elevator incident and street that morning kept occurring.

That evening Jason went to bed about midnight, carrying a book on Pre World War II architectural design, with full-page illustrations and photographs in a large formatted book, read a little and then he fell off to sleep.

In his sleep once again, he felt the familiar sequence unfolding, yet he seemed to know what was coming, yet was surprised by what he expected, the same dance, same place and same players all playing out the scenario once again.

Chapter 3

The dawn drew the rising sun into his eyes, awakening him. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, the residue of the deep sleep, running its course. The book he had been reading lay next to his bed on the floor. Jason looked at the clock that read 6:38 am. Jason rose from the bed and headed toward the bathroom and ran the shower, undressing he stepped into the ceramic walled and glass partition shower and allowed the water to cascade down onto his head. He realized that this would be the night he would meet the stranger, maybe ridding all the drama that was playing out in his mind, ending the puzzlement once and for all.

The day itself seemed to revitalize Jason, as he hailed a cab and went to his office, the dream once again invading his consciousness momentarily, but he was able to switch it off. It did bring him back to the question of how this Natas guy was going to pull off what he said he would. He thought about Kim some more and the idea that if the stranger did what he said he could do, that Jason would reconcile with her. He realized he was jumping from the love he had for her to the anger he harbored about her.

The day was a busy one for Jason. A client meeting first thing then a staff meeting that took them through lunch, then plans for a new project were discussed. A possible trip to Copenhagen to scout out a new location for a theatre that a Danish group had selected for the project was also on the table. When Jason checked his watch, it was 6:30 pm, and he made some phone calls, checked his e-mails from the days activities and was now looking at 7:45 pm! Jason plopped into his leather sofa and allowed the cleaning crew to come in and do their job, as he pretended they were not there. Looking out the vast panorama of the darkened New York City skyline, his mind drifted to his meeting tonight, would the stranger show up, and what would he bring to the table, he thought.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he thought about the day’s activities once more and decided to get something to eat.

The building was empty. Most of the lights were out except in the main entryways and hallways. It was a lonely feeling, the heartbeat of the day echoing through in the strange silence. The sounds of the phones ringing, and distant voices talking, all silenced by the abandonment of the work force. Slowly he walked toward the elevator bank, when something caught his eye, flashing by him about twenty feet in front that went around the corner. Jason quickened his pace to follow it, turning the corner, and once again, nothing was there!

Unnerved, Jason leaned against the doorway of one of the closets, then walked back toward the elevators and pushed the button waiting for the cab to arrive. Just as he pushed the button the movement once again occurred, and this time Jason followed it as fast as he could, turning the corner and moving from door to door, checking the knobs, but each door was lock, each office was cleaned and the night crew looking as they left. He tried one last door and it opened! Jason froze in his tracks and then slowly pushed the door a little at a time, peeking in, a shadow lurking in the corner inner office.

As the door was pushed by Jason’s nervous hand, he immediately noticed a light coming from the inner office, and cautiously he tiptoed toward the light, a shadow bouncing around from the floor and wall. Turning into the office a small cleaning lady nervously jumped startled at seeing Jason standing there.

“DID SOMEONE ELSE COME IN HERE JUST NOW?” demanded Jason.

“Huh! No comprendo, no hablo Englise” She clutched her gloved hand to her chest, frightened.

“Sorry” said Jason, and then tried to pantomime someone walking in, but it only confused the diminutive lady even more. Leaving her he heard his elevator chime ring and the doors open then close as he returned to the elevator bank.

As he left the office, the thought occurred to him that perhaps the stairwell was where this phantom headed, so Jason went to the door that read “STAIRS”, and opened the door, but realized that by now whoever it was, was long gone.

“Something or someone is doing this to me, and is doing it effectively!” he thought. ‘How’ he wondered and did not know, but it was starting to scare him. Nervously he hit the down button one more time, then nearly jumped out his skin as the chime rang immediately! Stepping in, he hit the down button and the incident plagued his mind to the point he was now finding himself standing on the street!

He scanned the area and wondered if he should perhaps just go home and call it a day, but a driving force of curiosity and fear was going to take him back to that bar from Saturday night and meet with that stranger at mid-night.

Walking along the street, Jason found a Chinese take-out with a few tables to sit and eat, and decided he would go in. He noticed a person, a tall thin person, with the back toward Jason with what seemed to be the same build he recalled the Stranger having when he left the bar standing at the counter! He couldn’t be sure, but he could almost swear that it was the Stranger.

Jason entered the restaurant and stood behind the person, who continued to stare ahead. Jason raised his hand: his index finger poised toward the man and gently poked him.

Jason could not believe what was happening, what was consuming him, what did this all mean? The person was not the stranger, but a woman!

Jason apologized and the woman gave him a dirty look and stepped aside, keeping her gaze on him. Taking her order she immediately left, never saying a word to Jason. He wondered if this was a bad dream.

He gave what looked like the owner’s wife his ordered and sat down at one of the tables. He had to steady himself, he was starting to fall apart, and wondered if he needed to see a shrink, maybe there was no stranger after all, that that night in the bar lounge was all a figment of his imagination! Maybe he never was in the bar! He looked at his watch and realized soon he would have his answers.

Chapter 4

Jason left the restaurant, and walked to the bar, there was time and he wanted to walk off the food, and think. The air was filled with the soft patter of raindrops, a cross between a mist and an actual rain, leaving a chill in his bones, in spite of the General Chang’s Chicken. There was hardly anyone on the streets and the city seemed to be slowing down from the hectic activity that lasted from sunrise to late into the evening. He wasn’t sure if he was excited about what would unfold with Natas, an end to his anger or a dread to further his misery along by there being no real stranger.

Crossing the empty street, he could see the reflection of the bar window with its neon glare flashing even in the street, the row of storefront establishments were darkened, yet this was a beacon of light as it stood out in the row.

He entered the bar as a young couple departed: the lounge itself was nearly empty with the exception of two young women who were animated in their conversation. Jason took a seat at a small round table, lit by a candle as a waitress came over, placing a bowl of peanuts and napkin down and greeted Jason, pencil poised to take his bar order, a Vodka tonic order, Jason leaned back in his chair and waited.

Casually surveying the room, he looked at everything but saw nothing, heard the crowd, but didn’t seem listen to it. He looked at his watch several times and checked it again, as the waitress put down his glass and smiled walking away.

Jason was ready to leave money for the drink and depart, fearing for his sanity, but realized if he did, he would never know for sure and it would haunt him the rest of his life.

Taking a sip of his drink, he better positioned himself, facing the door.

“Come on you scumbag, show up” he thought to himself: checking his watch one more time. It was midnight!

Just then the door swung open, and in stepped what surprised Jason.

At first he was not sure what to do, then he rose and sat then rose; again, the shock so strong he laughed at the circumstances. Could it be? Were his eyes deceiving him?

Standing at the entrance was Kim, slowly surveying the room, her head moving left to right in a robotic fashion! Spotting Jason, she slowly approached his table and stopped, staring down at him. May I sit? She asked expectantly. Jason wasn’t sure what to say, but motioned yes.

The stranger somehow had delivered, and now it was in Jason’s lap.

“Hello, Jason.”

“Kim! I didn’t expect to see you here! Are you meeting someone?”

“Can we talk?” staring into his eyes, searching deeply, almost to the point of a hypnotic stare, causing Jason to look away.

“What is there to talk about, when you left me sitting all alone, I figured that was it. You never answered my phone calls or returned my e-mails. What can we say now?” Jason searched her eyes and waited.

Kim still held her robotic gaze, eyes hardly moving, blinking or even acknowledging what Jason had just said. Finally her lips moved:

“Jason darling, come with me.”

“What! Where?”

“Please don’t complicate things, come with me, just come…”

Jason froze for a moment, searching her eyes, looking for clues of any kind. She was Kim, yet she wasn’t. Her thin lips and long auburn hair told him she was, but he could feel a distance in her, and a detachment that somehow communicated yet left him void of any feelings. One might even say a: coldness.

Slowly she arose from her chair and backed away from the table, her eyes fixed on Jason, almost welded to him in their stare. Jason felt compelled to rise and slowly he did, his eyes now locking on hers. Like a slow motion dreamlike sequence of small yet simple events, he rose, slowly until he stood there, mute and expecting. His arms hung from his sides, his eyes fixed like a matador toward his opponent.

Deliberately Jason strolled toward Kim, and she encircled his arm with hers, gently guiding him toward the door and onto the rain soaked street.

“Come darling…”

That was all Jason could remember.

When he was aware once again, he lay in his bed, staring up at the figure at the foot. The room was dimly lit, and the curtains were drawn closed. There was a series of votive candles that seemed to be everywhere, flickering so silently, so intensely that Jason could not help but wonder if this was indeed Kim being romantic or something else taking over.

As she stood so still, so statuesque, he wondered why, as if she was standing on guard. He could not recall the trip to his apartment from the bar. How did he get here he wondered, a dryness in his throat, and a tension running throughout his whole body.

Slowly Kim began to move, and as she did, he noticed for the first time her eyes. As they slowly lifted toward him, looking across the bed. They seemed to brighten unnaturally, almost glowing, and Jason was becoming alarmed. A voice in his head said to run, just get up and go. He could feel his heart beating, with what seemed like it was about to burst. He tried to lift his body from the bed, but both fear and curiosity had overcome him, his body refusing to move! He couldn’t understand the fear of Kim, the paralyzed feeling of hopelessness, and the want to escape from her.

The shadows on the wall were becoming more prominent. They were casting a huge dark shape that seemed to be human in its silhouette than dance and would disappear into the softness of a formless cast of light. Kim edged closer and as she did, the glow in her eyes was becoming like an ember, one that would glow then die: yet it didn’t. She was now on the edge of the bed, near his head, her long brown hair covering her eyes, her breath now emanating a foul odor that caused Jason to catch his breath and stop breathing. Her body odor was no longer the sweet smell of lilac he noticed in the bar, but the smell that one would notice on a hot summer’s day in a city street, rife with old garbage!

A low, mournful cry was beginning to come from her body, a sorrowful mourn: and she said: “Oh, that you harbored such hate, such anger, such REVENGE! Just then, she looked up and it was the Stranger!

A coldness: overtook Jason, his body suddenly shivering as the room turned cold, the candles suddenly burning and rising to a new height!

“OH THE EVIL OF MAN! YOU WISHED ME DEAD? YOU WOULD GIVE ANYTHING TO SEE ME HURT? OH, YOU WOULD PAY THE PRICE YOU SAID.

Her long hair was no longer hair, but the hood of what looked like a monks, swallowing the strangers head, his dark piercing eyes now like embers of coal.

Jason could feel his body shaking, trembling, wishing he could move, a pleading in his voice… “No, no, no, no! Who are you, what do you want form me?” he cried, his voice quivering. But there was no response, just a deadly silence that made him tremble even more. For a moment he was a little boy again, in his parent’s Bronx apartment reliving a horrid nightmare that so frightened him that he was afraid to go back to sleep and didn’t sleep for days.

Slowly but shaking Jason rose, backwardly crawling away from the figure, as it started to rise upward, standing erect over him. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed he tried to move toward the door, and as he did he could feel a force holding back his progress, making it difficult to move. His legs were unsteady and he was just out of reach of the door, the figure moving over the bed toward him.

Suddenly he was overtaken by the unbearable coldness of an unseen force, hurling him into the very door he wished to reach! Slammed against the door, he turned and faced what he thought was the stranger, but there stood Kim, pointing at him, like the evil one, she let out a loud howling laugh, then screamed: “PAY THE PRICE, GO AHEAD, PAY THE PRICE!” The figure of Kim turned once again into the stranger, as he hurled himself at Jason.

Chapter 5


It was days before anyone finally located Jason. His bosses tried to reach him by phone, then e-mails, and finally, someone noticed an awful odor coming from his room. A neighbor called the police and they found Jason lying face down in a pool of blood, his throat ripped out. They also found something else. They found the body of a Kimberly Belmore, white female, about 45 to 50, brown hair, brown eyes, a picture of her and the deceased male at a beach on his dresser the police said. There was no trace of the male’s torn out throat!

Sunday, February 26, 2012

“JUDGING OTHERS DEFINES WHO YOU ARE”

There are people that I know
Who play their roles in time,
They seek your pity and respect
But cheat themselves: sublime.

Their narcissism reigns complete
Yet they cower from the truth,
Leaving a wretched taste in mind
Their ugliness at heart the fruit.

They play the victim like a fool
Dancing to false tunes, they sing,
Making silly statements that
Oh deliver me from what they bring!

Monday, February 20, 2012

THE WIDOW CONSTANCE

The only thing to travel faster than stomach virus through a small town is a rumor. It seems that the folks of Travers Falls certainly could tie-up all the loose ends of a story, whether they knew the ending or not. It would make a man freeze in his tracks to do anything publicly.

You take old Mr. Morrow at the train depot for instance. Married over 30 years, nothing much to look at, three boys in their teens, had the man hung for adultery, before there was even a trial! The whole story concocted by a bunch of old biddies who sat and gossiped, turns out the woman who Mr. Murrow was cheating with was his sister from Clair County!

Then there was the time schoolboy Lenny Lukas was accused of some ill-gotten gains, stole a 56’ Buick, brand new so they said! Turns out Lenny’s uncle kicked the bucket and left him a ton of money being Uncle George had no wife or children of his own.

Then there was the widow Constance, and there’s a story for you.

Some people swear it’s not true, while others to their dying day swear it’s so. I know it to be true because I was there. Now the widow was a fine looking woman, a fine looking woman indeed. Slim with golden brown hair, and a waist that was the envy of all the ladies of Hudson County in and around Travers Falls. Skin like alabaster, lips red as a cherry, and teeth so white people would stare into her mouth long after she closed it. By golly, every poke in town and then some looked for the opportunity to look into her big brown eyes and say “morning Miss Constance” or “good evening Miss Constance” or “Fine weather we’re having Miss Constance.” But none of the buggers were brave enough to ask her out for a social. Naw, they were just too afraid she’d turn them down, and it would serve them right!

The so called ladies of Travers Falls often speculated about widow Constance, how she became a widow so young and all that. Why they could talk for hours just speculating on how it all came about. Gather two or three of them together and you could rewrite the theory every time. Of course no one ever asked the widow how it all came about, it being just impolite and all, besides it wouldn’t be as good as the speculation.

The widow came to Travers Falls back in early winter of ’54 I believe, took a job at the local department store in the ladies dresses and what not department, 5 days a week she showed up, rain or shine. People complained she took a lot of time, some say too much time with the men customers looking for a something for their sweethearts or wives. Once they say she even tried on a dress or two for a male customer!

One day this smooth talking fellow from the big city showed up, claimed he was a big time lawyer and wanted to buy something nice for his mamma, and could the widow help him? Well one thing led to another, and rumor had it that she was with child, his child! Soon that city slicker is gone quicker than the hound on the scent, and stories got around some. Seems Doc Samuels wasn’t no talker, never said nothing about his patients, but that wife of his, now she had a sharp tongue, and got it to wag enough to have people stop speculating and start believing things. Well how do you do, the young lady is gone! Just clears out one day, no forwarding address, no phone number, no nothing! Why even I had some wonders myself about her. Of course in those days she wasn’t known as the widow Constance, but Miss Constance like I said before.

Anyway, some time went by, I think it was the summer of ’55, when who do I see walking about the streets of Travers Falls but the young lady! All dressed in black she was, I swear as sure as I can tell you this story: it was her! Now I know there’s no use of speculating and what have you, but that black dress had me thinking; was Ms. Constance a widow now? Did she go off and marry the fellow she been cahooting with, did he DIE!?

Well she wore the black dress long enough for others to speculate just like I did, and before you knew it; she was being called Widow Constance. Of course there was no real proof she was a widow. It seemed that when she walked the street, it was still: “Morning Ms. Constance” and “Good evening Ms. Constance!” by the so-called gentlemen of Travers Falls, but no “Widow Constance”.

She moved into a one-room apartment above a dance hall, and became a hostess for the owner of the place. A fellow would enter alone, and she would escort him to a table, sit him down and order him a libation of sorts, and even light his cigarette! Not that I ever went there, but that was told to me by a reliable source. Then, when Jeremiah’s Elm Street band started to play, she’d be dancing the fellow ragged, slobbering all over the fool, a cigarette dangling from her mouth, the whole place wild with cavorting and what not. Why it was enough to make a man pause.

Then one night, when the music was going strong, and old Jeremiah was playing some of that Rock and Roll stuff they play on the radio and the TV now, I could never like it, the police came. Just marched right in, just like that. Stopped the dancing, the music, and the good times, like it never happened! This big old burley cop takes the widow Constance by the arm and leads her out of the place, her hands cuffed in front of her like she was some kind of murderer, an unlikely thing if ever I saw one!

Well the whole town of Travers Falls was abuzz the next morning. Suddenly, there were more experts in criminal behavior than the populations of Hudson and Clair Counties combined! Now mind you that’s a lot of people, yes it is. Then the newspapers came out and there it was in black and white, the whole truth.

Seems that the widow Constance really was a widow, but not exactly like we speculated. No sir, uh-uh. When I read what happened, I nearly fell off my chair in Don’s Barbershop across from the dancehall. Dan was snipping away, right behind me, reading along with me when I spotted this headline about this murder in the big city by some local lady from Travers that took place. Well who do you think the paper is calling a murder suspect but our Ms. Constance, the Widow Constance!

Seems that the widow got herself in a family way with the big shot city slicker alright: but she wanted him to marry her. Seems he would have nothing to do with that idea, especially since he had a wife already waiting for him in the big city. No, he said he would pay her ever month after she had the baby if she would leave him alone. Turns out she agrees, has the baby but the fellow disappears!

Well you know the old story about a woman scorned, and this was true to life.

She was not to be outsmarted the widow wasn’t. No, she decided to find the fellow once she put the baby up for adoption. She checked his place of employment and found the arrogant SOB sitting in his office in the big city. So what does she do? Why she goes out and buys herself a ladies pistol, that’s what. You know, those little light-weight guns that you can hide in ya woman’s purse that can be concealed easily.

She calls his office pretending to be a potential client and would he see her a.s.a.p.? Well the sucker agrees and when she is escorted into his office, he jumps out of his chair and heads to the door, where she nails him in his cheek. That is his left cheek, right next to his wallet, then once more for good measure, as he spun around, right between the eyes.

Since the trial was held in NYC, I never got to go, but I hear and read that she got 25 years to life for murder, and now waits on ladies only in the prison commissary.

Friday, February 17, 2012

HENRY

He would lean against the frame of the doorway leading to his apartment. His hands in his pockets, one foot crossed over the other, toe pointing down. It was how he spent his days. He was known as Henry, and more often by other names as well. He stood about 6 feet tall, in his mid-forties-stocky but with a child-like innocent face. His black hair was still all jet black, and no signs of age to betray how old he was.

No hope, no future, not even a dream, Henry was considered too backward to stay in a classroom with his peers as a child, and the fear of ridicule consumed his mother Lena. She took him out of the classroom at the age of 8, never again to sit with children who verbally abused her son.

Lena was a short squatty woman in her late 50’s who loved life, enjoyed good conversation and little children while taking custodial care of the three-floor walkup. She was often on call, and enlisted Henry to help her with the heavy lifting when it was needed. It was an old wooden apartment built before the World War I. An immigrant from Sicily, Lena had met her husband Enrico at a festival at the local church. Enrico work in construction, sometimes 12 to 14 hours a day, and many times on Saturdays. He had no time for Henry, his namesake, and it troubled Lena. Often they would fight because she spent so much time with Henry, an embarrassment to the old man.

In the winter months, Henry was kept busy by doing various chores for Lena, it didn’t matter that he did them poorly: it occupied his time thought his mother. But Enrico could not tolerate his “backward son”, comparing him to other sons that were spoken of on the job. Enrico worked along side many other veteran’s who had returned home from the front, some from Europe, some from the South Pacific, all working in construction as 1950’s Brooklyn grew into a new shape.

Lena wondered what would become of Henry once she passed on. Henry was the oldest of three children, a son named Armando, an engineering student at Manhattan College and the youngest child, a beautiful little eight-year old daughter named Maria. Henry loved Maria, was protective of her, yet it was Maria who watched over Henry for her mother, and with love for her brother, she was wise beyond her years.

In the warmer months Henry would spend his time observing the neighborhood, seeing the same people go off to work every morning, silently passing him. Often he wondered what their jobs were, where they went and how they got there. His mind was simple, a non-aggressive bulk of a man, one that commanded respect for his size, not his intellect, he was confused often.

He wished he could ride the ‘Train in the ground” by himself. Once when he was young, his Mother took him on a train, and the idea that such a large structure could move on the thin tracks intrigued him. He loved the freedom of going somewhere, anywhere where he could master the route and explore. Often he would watch the train on the El down the end of his street, as it snaked across the street under it. The clatter meant it was moving to go somewhere. He wondered if all the trains went to the same place, or if they went each somewhere different.

Today was a warm spring day, and the sun seemed to radiate with intensity and a merriment that celebrated the end of the winter snows. The children were out on the street, their play seemed so much more vigorous and carefree then Henry could recall. There seemed to be joy in their cadence as they jumped rope, and played with a rubber ball against the stoop. The counting seemed to help Henry know that their play was still going on, and when they stopped counting their turn was over. He wished they would ask him to jump. He could jump: he would be good at it! Their laughter and joy seemed to fill the air that day for Henry.

Henry decided he wanted to leave the safety of the doorway and walk down the street, to see what was there. His fear was he would not be able to get home again, and what if Mamma called him and he wasn’t there? She would be very angry, she would yell at him in Italian, just like Poppa.

Slowly Henry stepped away from the doorway and placed a foot on the descending step, almost as one might stick his naked foot into a hot steaming bath, testing the water. His mind flooded with fear as he realized he could be lost forever, never seeing Mamma again. But he looked once again down the street, this time looking the opposite way. There on the end of the road was a busy street; there were cars and buses that hurried along. Once more he had the urge to step down and begin to walk, and once again the fear of losing himself overcame him, as he dragged his foot back up to the stoop and retreated into the safety of his little world.

Henry heard the clatter of the train on the el, and decided to walk that way. As long as the street stayed on his eating hand side, he would be ok, so he thought. Slowly he nudged himself off the stoop each of the three steps measured, one at a time. Slowly he concentrated, placing his foot down, holding onto the side railing that led him down to the sidewalk. Soon he was on the sidewalk, where the children were playing and shouting to each other. One of the little girls shouted: “Here comers Henry!” in mock fear, laughing as they all scattered. Henry continued to walk past them like he was sure where he was going, not looking at them, staring ahead.
“Look! Stupid Henry is gonna get us, run!” The laughter followed and Henry ignored it, and continued like they weren’t there, hoping they wouldn’t talk to him.

Looking behind himself constantly, Henry checked that he could still see the fire hydrant that stood guard over the street in front of his house. It being there was reassuring to Henry, as he checked which side of the street met was on his eating hand.

Suddenly Henry came to a cross street, and slowly started to cross. Unheeding he stared straight ahead and slowly stepped deliberately one foot in front of the other when almost across-

“Hey! What the hell’s the matter with cha? Waddya stoopid? Can’t cha see numb skull?

Henry heard the screech of brakes and the blare of a horn, but stayed focus straight ahead, becoming un-nerved as he walked. As he reached the other side, he stopped and took a deep breath and looked back once again, the hydrant still in view.

The sun had risen over the train tracks that made up the el, and started to blind him somewhat. Frowning, he continued his trek, checking his hand to the road, and passed what seemed to be a giant whole in the building. Slowly walking by he looked in, noticing huge trucks, painted red with golden letters and numbers. He didn’t know how to read, but he could distinguish some of the numbers. Hanging on hooks were heavy coats and boots sat at the bottom of the rack of coats and what he guessed to be hats over the coats, Suddenly he realized he was looking at where the big fire trucks went when they passed him by on the stoop of his building.

Henry remembered he was away from home and wished he were safely back on his stoop. He could picture Mamma, and worried that he was taking too long and better hurry. There was a lady on a chair sitting in front of her building, another man leaning into his building entranceway that reminded Henry of himself. Each followed him with their heads as he slowly walked by, not saying anything, or even speaking.

Suddenly Henry heard a familiar sound, one he heard every day, the sound of a train crossing over the street, and looking up, he realized how large it was and how loud it sounded, sending a shiver through his body. Slowly it crossed over him, and set him to wonder once more, where it was going. Transfixed, he waited for the train to cross over before continuing under the el and crossing the street once again.

The morning air was warming up even more, and Henry was perspiring as beads of sweat were running down his forehead, racing one another and reaching his neck. Taking out a handkerchief, he slowly wiped his neck and replaced the hanky into his pocket.

Once more he dared to cross a street. This one a greater challenge than the last, with cars and buses and trucks and people all moving at once, and the clatter of the train, the train that were beginning to scare him into retreating back.

He froze at the corner where a line of people were waiting for something it seemed to him. Henry slowly raised his foot to step down into the street when he had this sudden sense of an onrushing object about to run into him, and as he put his foot down someone yelled: “Hey!” Looking up to his left, a bus swung into his path just as he quickly pulled back onto the sidewalk. The doors of the bus folded opened, revealing a driver who looked at him blankly as the people who were waiting on line clamored aboard, staring at him quizzically as they passed.

Henry stood frightened and confused, people were rushing by, he started once again, crossing the busy street, the horns blaring at him as he slowly and deliberately crossed, people were swearing at him and another overhead train was clattering loudly overhead. Henry stopped in the middle of the crossway, holding his ears wishing he was anywhere but where he was. Suddenly he wished he could see his Mamma’s face, yet heard his father cursing while sweat was once again pouring down his cheeks. He checked his eating hand, there was a building next to him, he was lost!

“Get the hell out of the way goddamit!” “Whatta ya crazy, get the hell out of da street ya moron!” The world was quickly crashing down on Henry, he had lost his way and he was frightened beyond his ability to act. Frozen in the middle of the thoroughfare covering his eyes, shaking uncontrollably.

As Henry stood amidst the loud cacophony of angry swearing and impatient horns, the overhead loud clattering of the passing train, a hand reached out and gently touched his arm. He knew that hand, and the feel was comforting to him. Suddenly he felt that he was almost in his entryway to his apartment, the safety of Mamma’s reassuring voice calling him, the sweet sound of a gentle voice.

“Henry, Mamma is waiting for us, hold my hand.” A gentle little voice reassured him, rescuing him from his hell.

Henry cradled the little hand of Maria as she led him back to where he belonged, and suddenly, the world stood quietly still! Henry was going home.

RISE UP OH GILDED PLACE


Behold your storied canyons
Your heartbeat so strong,
It energizes your minions and
Moves the world along.

You rise up like the majestic sun
Your golden rays shine down on all,
You are Gotham, City of life
The world heeds when you call.

There is no place quite like you
As you stand there so strong,
Your arts and your numbers grow
And build tomorrow along.

You speak so many languages
So many cultures thrive,
From foreign shores they come
And here they stay alive.

Oh hear the sounds of progress as
The people come and go, filling the
Mighty Gotham with its horns
On traffic blow.

Your mighty backs are strained
And their minds are filled with need,
Your ships your planes your trucks
Come and leave with equal speed.

When the world no longer copes
And the people quit the race,
You stand up alone Gotham
And rise up oh gilded place.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

MISSED SOUL

I hear the silence in my soul
It is deafening – calling me to hear.
A voice so loud is that shouts my name
And yet I know not fear.

It was silenced long ago yet like yesterday
I feel the pain in my heart: I go on living
To this day and wander as I live, alone
And saddened on my part.

If you see him someday tell him
That I cared, not knowing where to go
And not where to stay, looking always
To the other side someday when I know.