Short Story episode two

I drive home a little unsettled at the strangeness of the event which has just occurred. I wonder if that oil vending woman was just crazy. Still, the meeting was unusual enough to become an unforgettable memory. I pull into the Driveway of my home and head inside. "I'm home Vanessa."
"Hello John." Vanessa said with a smile.
"Well don't you look gorgeous. Are you planning on going out?"
"Nope, I just like to look nice for you John. How was your party with Harold."
"He complained that there wasn't any alcohol."
"Well don't mind him. Just forget the stress of today and come and eat the dinner I prepared, I kept it warm."
I don't mind her attentiveness, the way she is always waiting to greet me the moment I come home, with her makeup on and looking beautiful just for me, yet it seems a bit excessive some days. She wasn't always like she is now.
"How are the kids?"

"They are asleep."

"I wish work didn't take up so much of my time."

"They understand honey. They still think of you as a good father."

"I hope so. I know how hard it was for me to grow up without my father."

"This is different though. Your father passed away when you were young. You are still here for your children."

I give a little nod. I am tired.

"Come to bed, you look tired."

I want to but I take some time to write letters to my children. It is sad that my work requires so much time that I can't even find time to be with my children. That is going to change. That has to change. I will delegate more of my work out, I just need the right people, I need to find the people with the right attitude. I finally go to bed and close my eyes and comfortably drift to sleep.

"This Oil here will help you fulfill your purpose in life Mr. McCasey." The lady said her voice colder than when we first met. A touch of anger lined her accent. I close the door on my car.

"How?"

"Fate has given us these oils. Fate can work through these oils. Fate can communicate through some of them. If you would spread the oil of communication on your cheek, your mind would begin to vibrate in sync with the cosmos and you would be able to truly understand the message I bring to you."

"You are lying to me." I shake my head. "Those oils are just like a placebo if anything."

"You are wrong Mr. McCasey, you could be the tool of much good in this world. It is sad that you pass up such an opportunity. There are many truths in the world yet so very few have ever found all of the important truths."

"I am not passing anything up except some psychotic drug induced fantasy."

"Tsk.. Tsk.. Mr. McCasey. I am sure glad there are other worthy candidates who will do the good in this world which you refuse to do."

"What other candidates, huh. Who would go along with your crazy plan?"

"Soon enough you will find out."

She takes out a small brown bottle.

"This is your last chance Mr. McCasey. This is your final warning. I suppose that if you still refuse then fate may still grant you favor. However this is your last to chance to choose the part of a king rather than a pawn."

"I will never choose your madness."

"OOOhhh. Tsk... Tsk.. Mr. McCasey, use the word never carefully. Well then you shall be a pawn, if you choose to be such before the last day. Don't choose too late." she uncorks the little bottle and turns it over upon herself. The contents poured down on her and she slowly begins to grow and to change into a great snarling beast. I watched in horror but my feet wont move. I looked down and I am slowly being sucked into the ground. The Beast laughs and jabs at me with a spear. My blood pours down upon the ground into which I am slowly sinking. Inch by inch my body becomes paralysed. I scream but no one could hear. Eventually my mouth dries, I am helpless. I vomit. The beast laughs again and as the ground is up to my neck.

"Too Late..." The beast says then raises a foot...

I wake up with a jerk. I feel cold. Sweat pours down my face. I am wet all over. My heart pounds. I check the clock, I have only slept a few hours.

"Honey are you alright?" Vanessa mumbles.

Breathing heavily I try to reply, "It's nothing dear.."

I try to go back to bed but I am worried I might have that dream again.

Guns.

(I wrote this a few weeks ago. I kind of went through a short morbid period, I didn't think of putting it up here but then I heard about some model who had been brutally murdered today and it made me think of this peice. From what I heard, the Model's killer, ripped out her teeth so that they couldn't identify her through dental records, stuffed her in a peice of luggage and dumped her somewhere. That was a real murder, that was real cruelty in action. It is sick, and it should make anyone think twice who has murderous intents in their heart.)

Guns. Guns have taken the creativity out of killing. All you do is point and squeeze, then boom, in a flash, in an instant, it is over, and there is no waiting, no mental struggling. It is over before you know what you are doing. This leaves plenty of time to regret and no time to pull out.
With knives, it could take much longer for the victim to succumb. You could be much more creative with a knife. The most creativity I have ever seen with a gun is the game of Russian roulette. Yes, it is true that moviemakers have tried to make guns more creative by having massive battles with guns. What they loose in finesse is made up in volume. However, in the end it all amounts to hundreds of wasted bullets and then one final instantaneous death blow. Not with knives, or poison, or a chord with which to strangle, or bare hands to choke and thrust beneath the water, those take time. Then there are those exceptionally creative fellows who use odd objects, farm implements, pickaxes, chainsaws, cars, fire, or the earth itself as their victim is buried alive.
*Sigh* You don’t hear much about creative murders anymore. All you hear in the news headlines these days is that someone was shot and killed or blown up by a bomb. I miss the old days. People would find dead bodies hanging from trees. People were found drowned by the crick. People were found torn limb from limb with cuts all over their body. Murder was something shocking back then. Murder was only capable by the truly twisted minds, the ones that would sit through the endless moments that it took for the victim to drown or bleed to death. Women would put their hands to their mouths and nearly faint when someone was murdered. Now the act of murder is all too commonplace for anyone to bat an eye at it. Now the act of murder is capable by any hot head with a 9mm piece of metal and one irrational moment.
Guns have ruined murder.

(now after this short interlude I will start working on the second epsiode of the short story)
~SB

The Short Story Episode one

(Let me first say, this is not a happy story. Be forewarned if you read through all the episodes.)

I sigh deeply. The view is beautiful, the sunset over the city from the forty-third floor is a sight I shouldn’t forget anytime soon, especially since I shall be seeing it more often now. I sip on my cold sparkling white grape juice and turn to my partner. “Cheers.”
“Cheers indeed.” Harold says back. “Why couldn’t you get some real drinks though?”
I shake my head, “A drink is a drink. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the occasion for the drink. Who would have thought that we really would have gotten as far as we have. Look at us now, Kings among men.”
Harold snorted “Kings drinking fake alcoholic drinks.”
“I never told you that you couldn’t go buy your own drink.”
Harold laughs, “I think I might do that later, I need a stiff one to celebrate this merger. I am still not sure how you pulled off merging your company with a larger company and still managing to haggle it so you would own a majority of the company and remain in undisputed control.”
I smirk a little “Well what can you say, so long as the other guys get what they want, I can have what I want. Seeing as how the other people only wanted money, it was easy to satisfy them. They knew how valuable the company was and they would do anything to get it, even giving up their control over their companies.”
“Weren’t they worried about you double crossing them and kicking them out of the company completely?”
“Of course they were worried. ‘Were’ is the key word though. They looked at all my records and they know that I am an honest man and that I wouldn’t dare to do renege on my deal. Like it used to be said of gentlemen of old times, my word is my bond.”
“I know that better than anyone. But do they trust me?”
“I trust you and that was enough for them.”
Harold sighed. “Kings among men indeed. I guess it is wise not to get drunk, my work desk will still be waiting for me in the morning.”
I lift my glass and nod. “Now you see my reasoning.”
“So what are your plans now? What are you going to do with the company now that you have all these added resources?”
I look at him and smile, “I will tell all in the board meeting tomorrow.”
“Aww no sneak peaks?”
“Nope… Sorry Harold.”
“Fine then, have it your way.” Harold said. We drink.
“It is going to take months to sort out all the logistics of the merger.” I state plainly.
Harold nods. “How did Vanessa take the news?”
“She’s happy for me but she also knows that this means I will be home a little less for the next several weeks. She isn’t too happy about that. I don’t blame her. She has a right to be upset about that. I feel a little guilty myself for not being able to be home for our kids. How anyone balances their life these days is a mystery to me.”
Harold looked at me a moment and shook his head, “I know a lot of my buddies who balance their life with alcohol.”
I chuckle a little. Harold laughs along with me.
Harold really doesn’t understand me; none of my coworkers really understands me. I don’t mean to be patronizing. It is hard though. It is hard being around people who haven’t a clue why you say the things you say, and do the things you do. It is the epitome of loneliness.
We don’t say much more till it is time to leave; we just sit and watch the sun sink below the skyline. We watch the great life-giving globe be devoured by the jagged lower jaw of the city landscape. Harold says goodbye and leaves. Shortly thereafter, I grab my stuff and begin to make my way to the elevator. As I walk to my car, a woman approaches me.
“Are you Mr. McCasy?” She says in a calm voice. I take another look at her. She is dressed like the “new age hippies,” those organic loving, environmentalists. She stares at me very sternly, in a way that makes me uncomfortable.
“I am, how may I help you? You aren’t by chance some environmentalist come to lobby me because I now own a very large company.”
“I am a respecter of nature but I am not here to discuss any environmental impact your company may have. I am here to make a proposition. I wanted to see if you would invest in something that really does have the potential to change the world for the better.”
I open my car door and toss my stuff in the back seat. Nevertheless, I don’t look away from her. She spoke in such a serious tone, it was clear that she believed in what she was about to propose. I try to keep a casual tone, “What would that be?”
She reaches into her bag and withdraws a tattered looking homemade book. She opens it and begins to speak quickly. “I’ve been doing research for quite some time and I’ve discovered the sources of most of the world’s greatest problems of these days. Those sources are stress, fear, and hatred. Stress and fear can be counteracted and hatred can be counseled. Nature has provided us with formulas to get rid of pain and stress, even anxiety and fear. These formulas are completely safe and natural and have no negative side effects. The problem is that so few people want to believe in these solutions.”
As she spoke, she showed pictures of soldiers in wars, and hungry kids, and pictures from the inside of a courtroom. For half a second I almost expected her to ask me to donate 28 cents a day to feed a hungry kid in Africa. Then she flipped to a page with a picture of a bottle that had Stress Relief Oil, written on it.
“Consequently, there are only a few of us willing to invest any time into spreading the news about this cure for world problems.”
I put my hand up signaling her to be quiet for a moment then I ask, “Are you trying to tell me that some oil is going to fix the world?”
She sighs, “You don’t believe me.” It isn’t a question. She was able to read my expression. “If only you knew, if only you would try it out you would see.” She flips the page again, to what looked like the page of some oil catalogue. “There are essential oils for everything, stress relief, anxiety suppressant, headaches, backaches, sex aides, there is even one to help you fulfill your calling in life.”
A little red flag goes up in my mind. I can understand if you are using this to fix some physical ailment. However, claiming to have some thing that alters your mind that has no ill side effects. To me that sounds like a drug not to be considered lightly. I look around and she reads that expression too, she closes her book and stuffs it in her bag. “I can see that you just think I am crazy and you won’t believe what I say, Have a nice night Mr. McCasey.” And with that she turned and quickly left...