Chronicle VI

The old tube television is strapped to a swivel rack suspended in the upper corner of the diner behind the counter for the patrons to see. For the first time in what Ol' Earl might claim to be a decade, the diner is abuzz with folks. Too bad Ol' Earl isn't among them to see it. Even the parking lot is full of cars, trucks and a couple news vans.

The tv reporter is mute as the screen crackles from poor reception. In the parking lot the reporter continues, "We are being asked now to leave the parking area. The officers are starting to partition off the lot and they are stating that it has now become a murder scene. Last heard, the body count was at 8. So again, we are out on old state route.."

2 hours prior.

A man and woman sit at a table in the corner of a small, scarcely populated diner. The cook, Ol' Earl, has already approached the couple and took their order while complaining about Sarah not showing up for work that morning. The couple's conversation becomes heated at times. Their voices becoming loud enough for Ol' Earl to hear through the kitchen's order window.

"You knew this from the beginning," the man began. "I. Don't. Care. Every person in here could die right now and I wouldn't care. It's just a part of me. It doesn't make you any less important to me. I'm not going to spend every waking minute thinking about someone else. You either live with it or you don't."

"Ok.. then what if I don't?! How bout I leave and take that case with me?"

The man sits there gently turning his Zippo between his thumb and middle finger. He stares at it as each side taps the table top while he turns it in motion. "I'd rethink that before you decide that's what you're going to do."

"Really? Why? You going to hurt me or something?"

The man sets his Zippo down on the table. "Sometimes things aren't just about you. Maybe it's because I don't want to hurt everyone in this place." His focus shifts from the Zippo on the table to the womans face, "I knew you didn't understand when this began, even though I explained it to you. I knew that you took it as a grain of salt. Don't underestimate my inabilities. Just because someone might think the job was done doesn't mean the job can't be done for real."

"You are so FULL OF SHIT!!" The woman's voice grabbed Ol' Earl's attention. He turned around in time to see the woman stand up, push the man back and grab a case from the man's side. The man grabbed her wrist and yanked her down towards him as his other arm jutted straight up.

That was the first time Ol' Earl saw blood spray high enough to hit the ceiling of the diner. The last thought Ol' Earl had was how am I going to clean that up?

Chronicle V

What is there? What has become of the one thing that kept the world running?

The coffee was strong, the room wasn't hot but it wasn't cold either, and the world seemed to have shut down. Where ever the eyes shifted to there was nothing happening. It was like everything had decided to just slow to a lull. Even the hum of the ceiling fan had seemed to have become quiet.

What was I looking for? Wait.. what was I even doing?

There was an air of confusion. A feeling of disbelief amongst the continuing inability to focus on the matters at hand. The world changed within the years of content.

I don't remember this.. How did things change so much?

Time changed everything. The overwhelming stench of hopelessness made the stomachs of millions churn. It wore down even the strongest to their cores. It turned back the clocks in ways that could dissolve even the mighty.

I have to do this, I have to make ends meet.. I don't have anywhere else to go..

The plan was simple enough. After all, they have much more than they need. The times have made this an acceptable risk. The times have forced the action to react. The times have made it desperate.

Everything will be fine.. I have to do this. There's nothing left that I can do.

The times have made the options unavailable. The times have made people greedy. It has made the term, surplus, a thing of the past. It has made the term, desperate, a common view.

Ok.. let's do this.. In an out.. nothing more.. just take my share..

A foot knocks the door open.

Up the stairs.. fast.. let's go...

The drawers are pulled out to the floor. Their contents are scattered.

Where is it? Where the FUCK is it?

The closet doors flung open, pulling one side off the track. Clothes are pulled off the hangers as they are shoved out of the way.

Son of a BITCH! Where is it!!

The times have changed many things but time is still constant. Boxes on the closet floor get rifled through. Box by box they are scattered across the room. Nervousness starts to sink in.

I gotta go.. This was stupid.. I gotta get out of here!

A noise emits from below the room. A door swung open to hit the wall then silence.

The fuck was that?! Shit! They're not supposed to be home...

The stairs creak. A clicking sound was heard as if it was the only noise within a mile distance. The noise created by an instrument that hadn't been used in a decade or more.

What am I going to do!? The window? The door? Hide?

Time slowed to allow the many thoughts. The thoughts came so fast to deny the important one. A face covered hides the truth.

The door, I'll just talk to them, I'll tell them I'm sorry... I'll tell them...

The world goes quiet. The thoughts cease. Nothing pertains in the realm of worry. Only one thing left to do.

"Dad??"

The times have changed. He thought he was protecting his family. He didn't know that his family was trying to save themselves. He did what came natural. He heard the noises. He saw the mask. He didn't know.

He didn't know.

The times are changing. He buried his child.

Chronicle IV

"Tell me your reason."

"My reason? Why does there have to be a reason?"

"There's always a reason. Everyone has a reason."

"I don't understand why there has to be a reason. What makes you think there has to be?"

"There's a reason for everything. A thought process that makes things happen. If there's a thought there's a reason behind the thought right?"

"Maybe if it was something you think about but..."

"See.. that's the funny part. It's not something I think about. It's just something that happens. There's a subliminal thought behind it so there must be a realistic reason to make the subliminal thought happen. It's not just going to happen because it happens."

"Man, you're putting too much thought behind all of this."

"But isn't that the point? Why am I thinking so much about it if there's no reason to think about it? Why is it in my head?"

"I don't know.. Maybe it just popped in your head an now you have to know the answer. You know how you get. You have to know after it's in your head."

"That's bullshit man, every subliminal thought occurs due to realistic thoughts or events. There's something going on that's causing me to think these things."

"Then start looking at that. I'm tired of all this talking an nonsense.. I'm going to bed."

"Are you going to wake up in the morning?"

"You know.. I haven't had a reason to think about it. Think about that."

Chronicle III

I saw the look in your eyes. You weren't going to listen to anything I said. You thought you knew what you were doing the whole time.

You never thought about it. You never stopped to consider the aftermath. You never had the foresight to determine what your actions would do for you or anyone else. You always just did what you thought was needed to be done.

I tried to talk to you. I did. I tried to bring out what you were thinking. I tried to warn you what would happen. Just like all those other times, it didn't matter. Except, this time, I was on the end of your tirade.

I told you that I loved you. I told you that what you were thinking was ridiculous. I tried so hard to convince you but it didn't matter. You thought you knew what you had to do. Well, I did what I knew I had to do.

It wasn't as quick as I thought it would be. What lasted a minute felt like hours. I didn't want to do it, I had to. I had to try and stop you. It's not that often a gun gets pointed to my head.

After that minute of grabbing you and falling to the ground it happened. You got back up and I stayed down. The next minute or two felt like hours as I laid there and floated out of consciousness.

I felt the bullet rip through me. I felt my skin and organs tear apart to give it passage. I even felt it leave me and the blood start to trickle out of me like the water did in that little stream we used to visit. Time slowed to an almost standstill as I felt it all happen. Like time from the more innocent years that had passed so long ago.

I fought with my eyes as they tried to roll up into my head. I tried to focus on you but all that was left was a silhouette of the person I had loved unconditionally. You stood there and watched, the gun hanging from your fingers as you started to realize what had happened.

The next time I would see you would be from over your shoulder. You never knew I was there but I would try to let you know. No matter what I would do there was never a response. You never knew I was there or you didn't want me to know.

I would follow you and watch over you until that day. They say every dog has it's day and yours came sooner than you had hoped. They had found you and made you do your time. They gave you 25 years to sit in your cell and think about what you had done before they would walk you down that hallway to your destination.

It was then that you saw me. After they pulled that needle out of your arm. You cried and said my name in that barren and cold little room. The priest outside of the room could hear you. He prayed for you there. Even though you had denied him and renounced your faith.

You said my name in that simple and loving way with tears flowing down your cheeks. You looked up and tried to fight off the poison that was flowing through you. You tried so hard. And then your head hung low and the tears dripped off your face and to your lap.

I never saw you after that. I guess you went to a place other than where I was. I know why but I wish I didn't. You killed me in a fit of rage. You took away something without realizing what it was until it was gone.

I still roam occasionally. Hoping that I might run into you on this plane. It's not often that I see anyone. I guess in time it will come about. Time is all we have now.

Chronicle II

The noise was familiar and plain. A monotone and long "beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep".

He laid there. He could hear the noises and if he struggled enough he could open his eyes to see the blurry images. The fluorescent glow above him hurt his eyes enough that he could only take it for a few seconds at a time. He wasn't sure why he was here. He couldn't remember the reasons behind his entrapment.

His strength was limited and it took a lot of it to try and move his arms. It was almost like his arms wouldn't obey him. He wanted to move and to scratch his nose. It tingled with annoyance and he just wanted to scratch it to make it go away. He tried to pull together the energy to make it happen but nothing did. He thought he could feel his arm move but wasn't sure if it was being held back or not.

The room was silent. Every once in a while he could hear people walk by. Their random conversations never gave a hint as to why he was there. He was able to piece together that he was in a hospital.

Occasionally he would open his eyes to the fluorescent glow and try to adjust them. He knew that he had to have been asleep for a while since the lights hurt his eyes. After a few minutes they began to adjust to the light and he could make out the tiles in the ceiling.

A few more minutes and the glow of the television started to make sense. The bright colors of the Tom and Jerry cartoon were coming into view. Tom the cat was being chased by a bulldog and Jerry the mouse was flailing his tongue at Tom. The cartoon was familiar, it was his children's favorite.

Then the tickle on his nose came back again. He tried again to muster up the energy to scratch the itch. Nothing. He turned his head slightly to look down at his arm. He thought that if he saw it he could make it move. As he started to turn his head a doctor walked into the room.

The doctor walked over and stood above him. He stared down at him and spoke in terms that weren't recognizable. A nurse walked out from behind the doctor and her eyes grew large while staring down at the man. She spoke the only thing that the man could understand, "Doctor, he's awake!!"

The doctor turned and checked the instruments and the nurse ran out of the room. She came back with a woman and two children. The woman was crying and the children ran to the bed. The man stared at them and wondered what had happened. As his mind worked to try and move him the memories started to come back. It was his wife and children. He still didn't know what was going on.

He tried to get up to reach for his wife. His arm was still not responding. He turned his head to look at his arm again and thats when the familiar sound started.

"beeeeeeeeeeep"

It was then that it all came back to him. It was then that he could see himself in full view. It was then that he was floating above and watching as the doctor tried to resuscitate him again. It was then that the memories came back.

He could remember the accident. He could remember trying to change the tire on the car on the side of the road and another car hitting him.

Then there were the memories that weren't his. The feelings from his family rushed upon him as if they were his own. The months that they spent at his side in the hospital. The news that his arm would have to be amputated. The waiting to see if he would recover.

The decision to pull the plug because money had ran out.

They did what they had to do. He only wanted to say good bye. Time was not on his side.

As the doctor worked on him he knew it was time to go. He knew he would be useless to his family and he never wanted to be a burden.

The family was rushed out of the room. He followed and saw how they were crying and wanted him to come back. He moved closer to his wife and whispered something into her ear. She turned and looked around and found nothing. Her heart felt light and her burden of the decision was lifted from her. She knew he was happier now.

She kneeled down and explained to the kids that daddy was in a better place.

The doctor walked out and consoled the wife. He told her that they did everything they could. She agreed and told him that she understood.

The man would check in on his family from time to time. He would watch them grow and he would see his wife become happy again with another man. He could still hear her speak to him at times.

He would be there forever as long as he was remembered.

Chronicle I

He stood there. He watched. He noticed.

She laid there almost motionless. Her chest slowly pumping with every breath. Her eyes dashed back and forth with the common movement of REM sleep. She laid there on her back in a slight blissful moment. Her right leg was bent under her left leg to form a cross. Her right arm was out to the side as if looking for the body that was next to her. Her left arm rested on her stomach.

He stood there and watched as she slept. He stood and watched as her chest raised and lowered with each breath. He stood there and took it all in. He stood there.

Thoughts raced through him. He wondered where they had come from. He wondered what it was that had awoke him already standing and staring down at her. He stood there and took it all in.

He couldn't remember the last time that he was able to watch her sleep. He couldn't remember the last time that they had such a quiet moment. He couldn't remember what had awakened him. He couldn't remember getting out of bed and coming to this point. He couldn't remember.

Then it came again. The whisper. The whisper that had awakened him. The whisper that told him to go to the kitchen. He looked down to his right hand. He didn't remember this. The whisper. It was much more than a whisper a few minutes ago. It spoke louder and more confident then. It told him what to do in a very stern way. It told him to go to the kitchen. It told him. Now it whispers. It tries to condemn him. It tries to tell him what it wants.

He looks back to the bed and watches as the woman slightly stirs within her dreams. He wonders what it was that brought him here. He wonders why the whisper was so strong before. In a flash the memories come back. The years, the moments, the disgust, the happiness, the ups, the downs, it all floods him. He stands and takes it all in.

Again, the whisper comes to him. It says the things it once said louder. It tries to bring out the side that listens. It tries to bring out the man that is hidden from the world. It tries to command the process that it needs.

He looks again at his hands. Staring down he slowly remembered going to the kitchen. He remembered having to look for what it is he know has. He remembered that it was a specific object. It had to be or none of this would be right.

He stood there contemplating what it is that the whisper wanted him to do. It was a familiar thought but it was an action that had never been done before. It was something that had never been spoken of and would never be spoken of even after.

Then he knew what it was that he had to do. It had to be done.

The woman stirred again. This time she rolled over and her arm searched for the body that should have been next to her. It stretched out and moved along the empty space next to her. It never found what it was looking for.

The man took this as his cue. He jumped on the bed and pinned the womans legs between his. He grabbed the wrists of the woman and held them together. Her eyes bolted open, her head twisted to him, and her mouth tried to let out a scream. She struggled as much as she could but to no avail. She was powerless and he was in control.

The whisper was once again a thunderous voice commanding issues to be dealt with.

In the morning the man would go about his normal routine. Shower, shave and a fresh clean shirt and tie. He would walk out of the bathroom with little pieces of toilet paper on the slight cuts from his dull razor. His mood would be high and his spirit was swept clean. The thunderous voice had been quelled. It was now gone and there were no worries.

As he stepped out of the master bath and into the bedroom he would stop to see the mess that had become the bedroom. The table light broken, the sheets pulled off to the side, and the object that he had held was on the ground near the door.

He stood there for a minute and took it all in. The whisper had returned with a triumphant laugh.

He then walked out to the kitchen to consume his ritualistic breakfast. The eggs with tabasco, bacon strips and orange juice. As he walked around the corner he could hear the voices of his son and daughter. The voices of the little angels that thankfully did not know.

He sat at the table and from over his shoulder came his morning plate. His breakfast served by a caring hand that had searched for him that previous night. The hand that had smacked him and caused more scratches than his dull razor. And then the whisper, "Hey tiger," along with a kiss on the cheek and a smile. With that came the unapproving sounds from the children of "Ewww" and "Gross!!"

The whisper had been right. Something needed to be done.