Chapter 1
In the distance is a small house on a hill, where an old man sits in his rocking chair gazing at the clear night sky. The stars are shining bright tonight, and a soft cool breeze gently caresses the trees.
The old man sits alone on his porch, his face is weather beaten and his hands marked from the years of hard work. The old man lets out a slow sigh and looks down at his only loyal friend. The long barrel of the shotgun shines silver in the night. He pats the redwood butt that has his name burned into it, and rocks in his chair his mind remembering the past.
He fingers his name on the butt as he rocks softly in his chair in-tuned with the gentle breeze. He dreads these night as his eyes sweep across the land. His family are gone, and the few friends he does have never come calling. Only the old nightmares call, and the old regrets of a wasted life. It didn't need to have been wasted; if only something could have been changed!
“I'm an old man now, looking back on old memories,” he said to Betsy his shotgun. “Just like all old men do. Yep, isn't that right old girl?” he pats the redwood butt. “Just need maybe one or two shells for the task at hand. Should have done it years ago to tell you the truth old girl. Me alone with nothing to do except look at the stars?” he sighs. “Deaths been playing hard to get. He's never home when I come calling”.
“Is that so?” said a warm voice. “I'm so sorry I was late.” The man called death takes a seat next to the old man. His eyes are gentle, and he rocks with the old man, eyeing the shotgun in his hands.
The old man looks at death, not surprised by his arrival. He pats old Betsey, rubbing shells between his fingers. “You know I've been waiting a long time for you?”
“Like I said, I'm sorry.”
“Yes, I heard you,” the old man leans further back in his chair. “Me and Betsy were wondering if you were ever going to show? I've spent the last twenty years miserable and alone, with nothing but the nightmares to keep me company.”
“Like I said,” said Death putting a gentle hand on his knee. “I'm sorry, I really am. ”I've come to you now though, providing your ready to leave?”
The old man laughed. ”I'm sat here alone at night holding a gun! Either I go with you, or I'll go with another. I'm not going to spend another twenty years in this living hell alone.”
Death smiles, slowly taking the gun from his white knuckled hands. “I have a proposition for you, I think you'll like it”. He smiles as the old mans eyes fix on the gun at Deaths feet.
“What kind of proposition you got in mind?” he replies, lifting his eyes to look at Death.
“Oh, you'll see,” he replies eagerly, taking his hand.
A large square mirror appears before them not made of glass for it had no sides nor back , It held no reflection. Death grins with a wave of his hand a cool breeze throws the old man towards it. The old man screams as he passes through its shiny skin. He falls through time, images kaleidoscope around him, faster and faster. He twists and tumbles, images of his miserable life engulf him, unfold before him. All the pain and sorrow of his shattered dreams, the result of one wrong choice. The wrong choice spreads like cancer, becoming several wrong choices that have ultimately led him to this moment of unbearable suffering. Heavy chains of burden suffocate him, making him gasp in despair and pray for an end.
He hits something solid, the wind is knocked out of him. He lies still, gasping for breath in a body that feels broken his mind swarming old and distance memories. He is trapped and alone, unable to move anything but for his eyes. He loses track of time, lying trapped within his own body waiting for the images to fade. He feels compelled to speak his name but is unable to breathe.
The room around him is not very big, and yet has halls leading from it. The light in the room is soft, barely enough to see by. It seems to have no point of origin, as though the very walls themselves were producing it. The light is pale in color, yet not quite a color at all. The room is eerily silent, no sounds can be heard coming from anywhere. The place has an unnatural feel, as though the laws of the world don't apply here. The old man panics from its strangeness. ”Help! Can anyone help me!” he screams. His screams are suppressed by the places unnatural nature. His plea's for help muffled by a strange force, as though he were shouting through a pillow.
Feeling week laughing at himself. “Fine mess I got myself into this time. Thought it was hog wash thinking Death was going to help me. Great now we're talking to ourselves. Well I don't like here and want I to get out of here”. The feeling of being of trapped is stronger each step he takes. The feeling of despair and loneness is getting stronger by the minuet. His heart is racing like is it going beat right out of his chest. "I am Doomed ". About to give up he turns around the bend begins to see a tired youngman in bewilderment as if he has lost his way. “Asking where did he come from? He would have known, but right now that was not important as he turns and asks. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”
In hopes he might know the way out. The tired youngman just looks at the old man as if he should of known who the boy was, falls to ground in nearby corner with his head in hands and begins to cry. As the old man ponder this in his mind, and gathered a little strength and gained just enough courage to go over to where the youngman is sitting and try’s again. In hopes he might be my way out. The old man begins to start take more notice of the surroundings a little bit closer. Noticing how frail the youngman looks as if he been through a war, but different kind of battle. He's dirty, but so is the old man, he doesn’t care at this point. He's shivering and not sure from the cold. The old man quietly removes his jacket trying not to startle him and put the jacket around his shoulders. The youngman slightly flinches back, but does not look up. Trying to make him feel more at easy at the sametime, Plus to contain the excitement that there might be away out, there’s a feeling that he is the key. Knowing now the worse thing is to do is frighten this boy more. Then he would be truly alone in here forever and doom would come more quickly. It was so close everytime, he could taste it.
Hearing the quiet sobs of the boy is almost at peace now, considering just awhile ago it was silent as a grave. On the other hand it does give the old man lots of time to think. “TIME does it exist here? Does anyone know that I am even missing? Does anyone even care? Does it even really matter any more” the old man thinking of old Betsey setting alone by the side of the house? Or does Time exist at all?” All is quiet, “strange did I do something? Did I say anything because I am alone with my thoughts? Unless?”
Noticing the boy's eyes staring back into his, somehow they were warm, friendly yet they seem full of pain, sorrow and loneliness. The old man just realized something. “He must of brought him here. He is also the key, but why?" The key to what? Will the pain of sorrow ever end? All he wanted was just to die to forget the nightmares of his past. Things seem to just get worse not better, we need to find the way out.
Looking down at the tired youngman whom seems to bewilder and lost... This time lying beside him was a set of old keys. We both looked at the keys lying beside him. He gives the old man a quirky little smile hands them to him. The old man looks into his deep tear laden eyes as he is about to turn ask his name. He grips him with all his strength he has left to him. As the old man lifts him off the ground to walk with him. He turns to find a door for the key. The old man thinking “I don't remember any doors or windows just walls that go nowhere”. The old man turns to ask his new friend about these keys and why he never used them? Or the more important where are the doors for the keys? The old man turns on his right to ask just to discover his friend is gone. “Where could he have gone? “I need him; Please don't leave me not now, not here, not in the dark, WHERE ARE YOU? Who are you?”
The old man wondering if he should go on alone he begins to search the corridors for the doors and for his missing friend, trying not to let fear get in the way. The old man can barely hear anything except for his own heart beating and dulls sounds of clinking of the keys in his hand twisting beside him. “I must be mad, I never seen any door's in here, where could he have gone? It's so dark in here. Wait I see, I think I sees something just up ahead, a shape? WAIT? “DON"T LEAVE”.
His heart racing faster as he gets closer to the shape, a small figure not sure yet the same boy pointing to the same door. Running, tired, but knowing he must get there, Afraid he might leave him here alone, “I hate being alone especially here. I was right” the old man nearly out of breath, “it is the small boy, he looks somehow familiar to me as if I have seen him somewhere before”. The old man noticing the same sad, wanting eyes, he looks at him gives a little smile and points at a little key hole at a rusted lock in the door. The door is old, black and tarnished. Turning the old man asks “is this the way out?”
The young boy backs away from the door quickly. With fear in his face and just points with his little fingers, shaking and points at the door. Looking back to where the little boy was standing and watching him fade into the background with the door as the old man opens it. He looks back once more watching the door close, even the air is different, the colors the sounds. “But why was that boy so afraid? Why did he look so familiar to me yet so sad? More questions, why am I here? I wonder how old that boy was. He could have not been any older then 10 or 11”.
Just for a moment the old man thinking he was left alone again with his own thoughts; in the yard the old man looks around noticing it feels like it was November. The leaves had just stopped falling and the winter cold was just setting in. There in the yard was a young boy playing in the leaves much like the one he lift behind, behind the door now closed as he watches him for while. Wondering what it would belike to be that young again. Not have adult problems, not having to suffer things that he has suffered. Forgetting about the boy for the moment for in that single moment he becomes that boy.............................
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The old man never felt so alive the autumn leaves touching my skin as he throws them into the air falling to ground around him. The wind running through his hair. “I am FREE”, the pain is gone”.
Running through the yard, down the road as fast he can. How long would it last? “Run, run, and let nobody catch me, I won't tell a soul. All it matters is that I am FREE from the world. I am a kid again at last. Run, run don't let them catch me, don't let them find me. I' am FREE to LIVE, to LIVE AGAIN” as the old man runs trying to escape himself in the boys body he is over powered with the boys memories and emotion his mind slipping into a distance fog. He becomes trapped in the boy’s world………
“The only problem with running was nowhere to run to. After all I am only 10 and it's getting cold now, except for this nagging feeling that I am supposed do something be somewhere, besides play in the leaves. Wishing is great and all besides running round its lots of fun to. I want to go home”.
“My foster brother Jeff was must be home early from work today; he's 18 he’s getting ready to go on mission and works at local welding shop. We don't talk much he's always busy. I get the feeling I haven't been here very long. Something tells me I don't stay anywhere very long. Some sort of a nagging feeling like tugging as I look around. “Did you hear that? Came from the outside of the house or was it just the sound as if the wind just made something fall at the back of the house it made my skin crawl”.
Must have been Jeff. Never did know when he was coming or going these days. The folks left for the weekend wont be back till sometime tonight. Better make sure the dishes are done before they get home or my ass is grass that's for sure. They won't care who left them, Jeff's there perfect little angel. I'm everyone's gum on their shoe or yesterdays garbage”.
“Tried to running away couple times, always ran into few problems, money, age, cops and food during the winter it's cold during those months. I hate parks; burr spent enough time living in trees when I was younger. The cops are real big about you sleeping in the park and if they catch you they bring you back, because your not old enough to go to juvie. Then you expect biggest beaten of your life, then wonder why you want run away. My question always be the same why would you want to stay? Things are getting little better. Heck I might actually get to go home talking about sending me home for good, that's hard to believe. Course I have not lived at home more than, lets see counting 12346 maybe 6 years of my entire life at home since age 10 which usually is not more than 3 to four month at time. Well but look at the possibilities never leaving again. Maybe it is mistake? Maybe they do want me... they? Or he does? There's that noise again. Somebody is in the house, Jeff must be home. Funny I didn't hear his car”. Walking through the house there's odd feeling, its cold against the boy’s skin; it was a feeling or a presence of death in the house. The source of the noise was coming from Jeff's bedroom down the hall.
The boys legs felt like they are made out of lead could barely move them, slowly reaching Jeff’s room. The boy slowly, turns the door knob opening the door, very quietly so not disturb anything including the dust. The boy puts his hand to mouth to scream no, but no words, no sound nothing came out of my mouth. The young boy felt paralyzed to move as his eyes within those short seconds lock with Jeff’s.
In that last instant the gun fires, the young boy looks at him lying on the floor he could see the blood forming a puddle on the rich blue carpet around his head, gazing upon him for the last time. He could see his dead cold eyes staring back at him as if they were holding him hostage. The room was silent now except for Jeff’s last breath leaving his limp body. The boy turns to leave the room leaping through the closing door. The hall where we came from moments ago have gone and transformed back into the strange forbidding room of behind the looking glass.
“I hate this place, but right I now I'm not sure what is worse, images or the memories and those horrible feelings that him and the boy experienced”. The old man still shaking, not sure what he could have done? “Would I made a difference? The question is and still remains do I make a differences? Is there still time to help the boy? Can I help the boy? I now understand why the boy would not go inside there. We must be on our toes incase Time its self, in our mind decides to lay traps for those with wandering souls”.
"For they, are those that need to fear are those are they that fear, fear its self. For Darkness waits for no man even light has it shadow, which hides deep within itself. So when Death comes so eagerly to some then , Rebirth will come on the Morning tides for fear has nothing to hided for shadow and light are one, meaning death and rebirth is equals to life. For fear has no fear without understanding fear itself. Few will soon discover fear will go away leaving a rebirth of something else instead of being and living in fear forever".
“Is this what Death is per-posing that I help the little boy?”
The old man realizing that he must push on have found a new zeal and reason and knowing that fear is waiting at every door step. The old man can smell deaths nightmare and baited breath, the same ones he has been having for the last twenty years and knowing soon it will come sweeping down upon her wings to crush him.
The old man laughs silently, wondering “maybe at last I will die”.
Once again we find ourselves in that dread horrible looking hallway, in the searching for that missing little boy. In hopes in finding that way out is near or in better yet he will soon provided the answer that will change his past before Time runs out for both of us or die in here forever.
The old man pushing himself down the hallway not far, he soon begins to hear a distant noise, but unsure because everything is so muffled here and he really has to strain his ears and eyes. Which are just getting used to the lack of light here? Once again he think he sees two images this time. “but how is that possible”? And how did they get in here? I can't even get out. I am losing my mind?” The old man running towards them feeling angry, they begun to walk away as if they don't even notice. “WAITE FOR ME”... “WHO ARE YOU?”
The old man yelling again, thinking that would get their attention, but they paid him no mind. They keep walking away and fade away as quickly as they came. So tired, angry he falls to the ground with loud slump. The keys chimed hitting the ground bedside him, rubbing his eyes with heals of his hands, trying to remove the tears of anger behind them. He yells with all his might ….
”What in the hell am I supposed to do now?”
Yanking his head back and letting out a blood curdling scream. In hopes at lest somewhere, he scared some poor defenseless chickens to death, in by laying all their eggs at once and when they hatch some are hard boiled or scrambled, or doubled yoked; go figure the chickens had a rough day.
His head rebounds back against the wall, instead hitting the hard cement wall with back of his head, there's a loud "thud" a woodened thud feeling instead. Placing his right hand behind his head to feel it, making sure what he felt was real. Eyes widen with a surprise and dismay at the sametime. Fear begins to creep over him begins to feel light headed as his heart begins to race with excitement. Caution is needed remembering the pit falls of last door he opened. Yet at same time wondering what could be lurking behind this door? After gather some courage and dusting himself off my feet, “lets see this door. I am sure this door wasn't here before? Question is where did it come from? Where is that little boy? Who is he talking too? Where did he go?”
The door is an odd looking door, vary scarred and ugly marked as if has been beaten and torn, yet cold to the touch like it all the heart has been torn out of it. Not really sure he wants to go in there, he wonders “but it could it be the way out. Which key fits the lock is the question?” The old man looking down among the keys feeling each key one by one, Noticing each one has a different, but odd feeling about them, it was hard to describe the feeling as he felt and held each key as there own, going over each one over in his mind, tracing each one with his fingers, being afraid it being the wrong key. “At least the boy could of given me instructions even a map would have been nice. Especially if he was going run off like that”.
Laughing at the mere thought, of how to use a set of keys “well it still would have been nice”. For some reason this key feels right in his hand. Finding the key hole, he places the key into the lock and slowly turn the key, hearing small ‘click".
As before another room opens before, the old man stepped through it and door behind him quickly blendes into background. He was different somehow, images quickly swirl around him. Old memories intoxicating out of control, something in the room immediately grabs hold of him. Gazing about as if in daze about to awaken, his body now feels small, cold, trapped, hurting all from pain of the wounds incasing his now small body. Like before his mind swimming as he becomes the person in this body takes hold seeing, feeling like tidal wave emotion pierce his inner soul, leaving the old man behind he is the boy……….
The sounds in the small room are angry and hostile. The boys left eye is swollen; he can barely open it enough to see enough through bottom of his eyelid. Looking around he notices that he is tied to a metal folding chair with a chain wrapped around his unclothed body. He can hear a small child crying nearby. A mother screaming at him at top of her lungs. The boy is being beaten by a wooden spoon on his bare bottom, trying to do dishes at the moment, trying to find away to escape the blows. There are smiles on his sister’s faces, while playing with their dolls on the other side of the room as they watch.
“How can you help him? Right now I can't even help myself? The question is who am I? Where am I?” Gazing down upon my cold, naked feet. “Asking how did I get myself into this mess this time?”
As if I were asking the little girl across the room, playing with her dolls these questions? She looks a turns and laughs? “Look mommy it asked a question. It thinks it has rights to ask question's now?”
"HE DOE'S, DOE'S HE, that ingrate little brat. After he tries to run off and tells everyone how he got all those bruises. Nearly got all of us into trouble again. We all know girls, how he fights all the time, he got them at school or fell off his bike him and his brother. After all father and I would never ever put a hand on him, we all love you all.”
“How many times do I have tell everyone... boys will be boys? This how you train them, a good one these days. Besides these boys are always in trouble? People need to mind there own business. If ain't broke don't fix it. If it is there always a new one down the street on sale. Right girls? And you boys are going to learn that lesson if we have to beat it into your stupid heads. Oh look your brother needs to go the bathroom can you take him outside. After that put him to bed for the night. I don't want him disturbing anyone next door”.
Girls laughing as something struck them funny, “anyone ready for around two”. The boy wasn't laughing, the pain was nearly unbearable already as she came over to pop him a couple more times, because she thought he was being smart, “I yelled "STOP IT".
His father took off his belt and begin swing it at him across his bare legs and feet. “Don't ever talk back to your mother like that you worthless little brat. Why did you come back in the first place? They didn't want you? Nobody wants you?”
At that moment, the wooden spoon broke in two as she hits it across his already sore shoulders wincing with pain. The sharpness of the blow must have loosen the chains that wrap around him snapping chain link and freeing him. Without thinking the boy quickly dives for the door, he was cold hungry and did not care, as long as he was away from there for that was a living hell. The pain that he felt was great, but right now it was a blanket of warmth. He was never going to return to that and to think a small boy could or ever think that could be called home. He knew that we had to find some shelter for the night. Lucky for him there's old barn not far from the house, just right for the night. Finding old horse blank for covering and hide behind old hay wall to keep the wind, prying eyes away until morning he fell into a deep sleep…….
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The term love, home, and family are always be redefined into several different ways and have many factors, but the term disposable or replicable are a more or less come to new terms known today in some social circles as true Family and Factions and terms to a contract as slavery. Some would say White Slavery, or Back Door Slavery, the government knew about it, but went on regardless even thou they were hidden well and well guarded. Few knew they existed are even cared, some found it easier to ignore the problem after all said and done was not their problem best to pass it on or I don't have the time right now maybe later.
Remember deniable ability is everything according to any rules are traps that lay before Him. The next best tarp of them all is love. It can also be lie and can be well hidden. Played upon the innocent then smashed, crushed or ripped apart. Done enough times you can become numb. Yes love and family is one best laden traps world has ever known. Some say people say it is given freely, but there's always a price to pay. What is the price of mans owns destructions?
“The old man wonders in subconscious as he slowly watches the boy sleeping, hearing the soft sobs of the small boy as falls into everlasting sleep and after seeing, after feeling and knowing it. Watching his very hopes and dreams die with the boy, It was almost obvious that this little boy, "was, as, he is" remembering it was himself, for he was this boy long ago and soon he to will just stop feeling as he relives his past. Was this Death design and his purpose? Or was this a joke that Death himself is playing on him?”
Beware of cupids poison arrows. It tricks you, hopes something you can not have will never have. For you do this for that small nameless boy in hopes you might be able save him.
Death smiles looking down upon the boy sleeping in the barn as slowly gazes deep inside the old mans self subconscious. “I wonder? Yes my boy I wonder?” Leaving a small kiss on his small, tear laden cheek. ”Whispers softly in his ear go find them, help save the boy and yourself”. Brushing away his soft brown mossy hair a tear drop falls from Death own cheek. “I am sorry, I was late, but I am here for you now”. In a whisper of the wind he is gone and the boy and old man are one.
If you think back to the 1970 generations it was common practices back than almost as it is now to find a small boy easily fallen through the cracks. Children back then were easily not seen through the public's eyes or not heard from. They were known as society casts offs or for better word garbage. The generalized government or social services during that period of time assumed the roll and standard. If doesn't work it's ok not our problem. Ignore it tell there is a real problem. Lets us know, until then fill this out and wait six months and than will come back check on the progress. After you waited 1 year?
“What's was the problem? I see. Did you fill out the paper work? I see. That program changed did not someone from the department tell you? So how can I help you? Yes I can help you with that, just fill this out and send it in. It will take about six months for reply back. What was that Mrs.?''
“Your son is missing, he dove out the front door last night and been gone for? You don't know why? Oh I see he got into another fight at school, does that a lot and you think he might be in some trouble. Not to worry we know how handle that sort; remember there's saying my grandmother used to say in for penny in for pound. Plus; when they get hungry enough they'll come home with their tails waging feed them put to right bed”.