I Am Alone

The line of flesh trails for as far as the eye can see, winding into the obscure distance. They are on the road invested or ignorant in the direction they are traveling, however it matters not because its destination is highly undesirable. I am dropping below now on my path where there is broken glass and fire, it is lower that the broad path and twists and turns. I can see their eyes glassy and focused into the nothing that awaits. My own eyes weep for their destruction which lays over the horizon. My hands are stretched out towards the people. They hate You. They suppress You. Their thoughts care nothing for You. But still You call them.

The hot wind engulfs my face as I ponder. Why can they not see? Their windows let images of stock portfolios, elevated rank, and Chromebooks infiltrate. What are their ends? Entropy; they will disallign and pull apart, tear down and dissolve with no profit at all. Bread is for the stomach one more day. Cash is for the hand for one more night. Where does it lead. Its path is broad and easy but the biters nip at one another and reach in between the ribs in hopes of taking someones heart for themselves. Wolves that lick their dirty lying lips as the meat gets stuck in the teeth. This was my end too once.

I was destined for a great travesty in the name of justice and rightness. Who could see what was around the corner, certainly not me as pleasure and power were my opiums. I bowed down to the accuser and wanted pain to prove I was still alive as I would continually wake every morning again and again to my disappointment. I committed double high treason against my Maker. I think about it, and I don’t know how I got here. No, I can not understand how I escaped. No, I can not understand how I escaped… No, I can not understand how the dreams of hellish ends suddenly became just a dream and not a destination. I was delivered by hand. Now I am in the right place, but I have to pull the pieces of glass out and bandage my wounds.

Where are my brothers? Where are my sisters? These words reverberate into their hearts as perfect understanding they have coming from the same. Why don’t they come forward to my aid? Why don’t I come forward to their aid? Wir sind alleine sien, aber warum? My brothers and my sisters. The same tears in blood, the same agony, the same hope, the same ending. But our books are only opening where theirs are closing after we fall Asleep.

Into the darkness

I do not have discipline. I do not have strength. I am dying, my breaths are wearing out; they grow increasingly thin. Words are empty shells because their invokers are the dead, so they are dead. What hope do we have left to hold in our hands that suspend lifeless and purposeless at our sides. They reach toward the earth that will cover us in the end and take us away into oblivion. We cry out for You because we can do nothing else. The knowledge is almost complete now concerning the brokenness that beholds the world, in fire and torment we are engulfed by the damning winds of guilt. We wait to die. We wait for the release into the forever. We are waiting for You. You gave to us what could not be wrought by ourselves. We can do nothing of ourselves, we are helpless and wandering. We look into the dark for comfort, but instead we chew our lips and bleed our tongues to hide the pain of aloness. There are too few of us it seems, waiting to be repaired. Most of us are dumb and blind and can not distinguish light from dark. We are but children called into fierce warfare quickly aging and fainting in exhaustion. Please let there be more like me, where has my family gone to? Where are my brothers and sisters? Will they enter into paradise with nothing in their hands to be tried by the fire? I am in allegiance ever as it is day and pay with life the grace that was given me. I pay with blood, I pay with fear, I pay with terror, I pay with misery. Please release me! How much longer? How much more will there be? I can’t take any more. The days are gruesome, they call for the laying down into the grave, but we continue on. I can hear the arms moving slowly ticking without regard to my hell I am living in. I can’t stand the pain, I step outside of myself. I call out to You and you hear me, You see me. Am I being good? Will You love me more? How ignorant I am to look for drugs in Your holy places. The damage stems from my youth, unexplainable disgust and hurting inside. I can’t breathe, here it comes again. In and out I am brought high and low. I hate the dead. I hate the slime that pours out of their mouths. I hate the putrid smell that permeates into the hopeless air. Will I see you again? I wonder as I see them, will I see you again. I claw the nothing for You. I am ever your son. I am ever Your child. You said all of these things would happen, no lie have you said. The rest is had in at the end of the race. But something is amiss. I pray tell me what ails me. You are my designer. What is this killing me. Why am I so sensitive to everything around me. When one speaks I hear screams, when one touches I feel battery. Why do I feel so alone? I have much work to do. I have years and years of work to do. Where do I begin. The spikes pierce annoyingly into my hands and feet, every step I take as painful as the last. The swords are pressed into my body and keep me at alarm. It NEVER stops! I can feel it in my physical body at all times. I have so much to do. I have good plans that are unfolding. I requested them from You and I believe You have granted them. I piece the steps together and press on. I never quite. I never deviate. I ask for more, I will Not return empty handed! I will comply. I will to do Your will. I asked for this, this special task. You know me so well. A quiet life would have killed me fast. Good work you gave me to do. I accepted. My work is to tell them about You and your great love. I will see it through.

Beside Myself

I am beside myself safely staring from a balcony above. I can see my body down below moving through time, I look up at me and I am alone. But do not worry because I am here beside you. I will finish your sentences and think like you think because I am beside yourself. Me from below is pressed into the dust, sadness swells and torrents like the great red spot on Jupiter, but don’t worry because I am beside myself. When your breathing becomes shallow and weak, do not worry because I am beside myself. When you lay down in the earth and close your eyes, do not worry because I am beside myself. I will never be hurt again because I am not present, I stand outside looking at the pain. I will never be alone because I am with me, I stand outside always watching our life unfold. How did life get like this? Please Master put me back together again! I hate it here but we must pass through so that we can get home, its too much sometimes, I dislocate my thoughts to some other place. Please Lord make me let you take my place and walk beside myself.

I Wish Everything Could Be The Same

How I wish everything was the same.

When I wake up at the same time every morning I go through the same routine. I prepare myself in the lavatory with the same items in the same way, combing my hair to the same side every time. I wear the same kind of clothing and eat the same kind of food, and drink the same cup of coffee. I turn the same channel on the television to get the same traffic report, and leave for the same job every day doing the same thing.

Then everything will be safe and foreknown, there will be no deviation. I will know what will happen the next day and the next. Instead I work to find that perfect routine so that it can withstand any variables. The DiSK says I’m an “S” type, but I don’t know if humans have cracked the personality code God has created, these types being a product of our environment I believe. What does that mean then, it was unstable for me as a kid? Yes. Now I yearn to put the pieces back together, and make a plan so that they will never fall away. It must ever be the same and unchanging, then we will have peace. You will have peace and I will have peace. Then the fighting will stop, then the problems will end, then we can love each other and not press to destroy. I want harmony with every person I see, I want them to feel comfortable and safe. I want them to come and rest and escape the world for an hour. I will be your ears and will listen to whatever you tell me. I just want you to feel safe. I will be your friend you can trust to do good.

Instead they consume one another. The dead are eating the dead. They want to hurt and take. They want to devour and contend. Stand back from your perception of the world system, all a lie from the greatest liar who was the morning star. Now he is destined for the lake of fire. Will we go with him?  We are born and bred to understand the worlds ways. Open your eyes.

The Labyrinth Below

I entered the tall high rise residential building by way of the front revolving door. Walking past the front desk, I made my way to the double elevators located next to the mail room and pressed the arrow indicating the direction of up. The circular plastic disk lit up to confirm the request was being processed and I stared at my feet on the floor while I waited. Something seems off, I felt the all of the concrete in the building at once like a some high prime number; clearly announcing its name to me; the building, the structure. Everything within the walls are subject to the laws that apply to the space defined by it. Am I dreaming?

The doors opened suddenly after waiting for me to complete my thought. I took a deep breath and stepped inside. The panel of choices presented an array of circular plastic disks similar to the one I just saw, but this time adorned by numbers. I touched them as I searched for the one that had a 35 on it. I chose and the machine complied. A brief moment passed and then I ascended right away to the level where the management office was. It seemed like I was stuck in my moving chamber for years before a subdued tone was sounded to alert me I had arrived. The doors opened again and released me to a 4 inch thick floor 35, and I turned to the right and read the placard on the wall that read “Management Office” before I pressed through.

“Hi, it’s Chris from Imperial Contracting, I’m here to look at a unit for you.” I said to the air that connected the individual working cells together with hopes that I could discover who was responsible for getting me to my final destination in an efficient way addressing all at once.

“Oh, yes. Hello. Hold on I’ll pull the keys for you, do you have your I.D?” one of the ladies replied to me while getting up to resolve my occasion as she had many pressing matters to attend to that day, and every day for that matter.

“Sure thing!”

I reached into my back pocket and retrieved my wallet and took out my drivers license and held it in my hand. I looked down at the picture on it. Seconds passed that felt like hours and I felt something cold on my shoulder. Just then my card began to slowly melt away right there in my hands. This can’t be happening I thought. It bent and warped until it became a molten substance that fell through my fingers and onto the floor, which swallowed the card right up. It disappeared! I looked up from what just happened and instead of the bustling office, there was darkness in every direction. I felt that it went on for a great distance well beyond the confines of the building. Am I dreaming?

“I’m afraid that we don’t have a key for that unit on file. I will have to go up with you and let you in with my master key.”

I gazed into her face, but it was badly distorted and blurred so that I could not make out any distinctions that resembled the office worker I was just interfacing with just a moment ago. I know that indeed I do dream, even this very instant I thought to myself. I submitted to the unconscious state of my mind and went forward with the plan of whoever is in control of human dreams.

“Follow me.” she said.

I followed behind her in a direction that was arbitrary to me as no points of reference could be made out in the darkness except for her and I, that somehow managed to reflect light that came from an unknown source. I heard her footsteps now clicking on what sounded like a grand floor made of marble. My heart began to fret as I felt more and more of the rules being thrown out the window. Soon I will not be able to explain why any of this is happening and it will become a nightmare. We kept going.

The whole thing seemed surreal as I thought about why I had come in the first place which was to do work for the building on an electric panel for one of its residents. When I held that notion up next to the notion of the lunacy that was running amok right now with the fuzzy lady in the dark, the thought of a beautiful red apple popped into my mind whose skin was painted in blood which was why it was a red. Sanity wrapped in horror. I have to get out of here. Will I wake up soon?

All of a sudden the clicking came to a stop and the outline of a door appeared that was traced in light because she was opening it and the light escaped all around its boarders. She walked through and so did I. I was now in a perfectly normal stairwell, and the ladies face returned back to the way it was before.

“We have to take the stairs, the elevators are out of order.” she said.

“Whats your name?” I asked.

“You know who I am already.” she replied coldly lucid.

I didn’t ask again because I had absolutely no idea who she was, and I felt if I pressed something terrible would happen.

We ascended the metal stair way for such time that I knew my legs would fail soon. Although we went up, I distinctly feel like we are going down; like there was an inverse relationship concerning everything in the stair well. On and on we step, endless stairs. The light began to grow more dim the higher we go, and the echo of our feet striking the steps resonated more fully and ever became more broad and carried I’m sure all the way to the chambers of hell. We alerted them to our presence.

As we advanced, time itself raced paced our position in the river and left us behind. The enclosure became aged. By force in relation to our pace, time was out of control. I saw all around me what would be in 100 years. It was all worn down and falling apart, clearly abandoned and left by a people outside of the building obviously in turmoil to leave such a trophy of progress to its demise. Why do I continue to follow this devil still?

Back in my bed by body convulses in a quiet tumultuous protest, yearning to wake up. This is a night terror! I’ve had them before as a kid. This isn’t going to be good. Sweat saturates the linen and my temperature rises. Something is wrong.

“Can you smell it?” The lady asked in front and above me as she continues to climb.

At once I became aware of a putrid odor I can only compare to a dead rotting animal, well like 1,000 dead rotting animals on the hottest day in the Amazon. I nearly vomited.

“It’s the slime.” She answered herself.

The slime? I thought. What is she talking about. Then I saw it. An ocean of horrifying slime oozing down all of the walls. I could not tell where it was coming from or what caused it. I stayed in the center of the well daring not to touch it. It flowed downward and as I peered below, somehow I could see the ground which was not there but instead there was an opening to a sewer that was below the building. Almost as if the meaning of the slime, the building, the lady, and the darkness became known to me all at once being part of the fabric for which it was woven; my eyes were opened. I am aware of all of it, and what they are saying to me in this concert of abstract lunacy.

As I pondered, we arrived at the floor we journeyed for. Being so high from the ground, I couldn’t help feeling as though we were in some subterranean abyss. The door she opened led to a hall way lined with doors on the left and the right. All of the doors were shut and could not be opened by us right now save one door. We floated in silence to that door. Pausing outside of it I could hear something like a torrent of storms times storms on the other side; violent wind and shaking and screams. I do not want to go inside.

“I don’t want to go in there.” I said.

“You know that you are going in there already, you will see what is on the other side.” The woman stated.

She did not knock, but instead inserted the key into the tumbler and disarmed the mechanical guards preventing passage. She turned the door knob… and slowly pushed open the door, and it stopped with a thud as it hit the wall opposite and rested. My eyes hungrily but fearfully feasted on the sight that was now before me.

What should have been an apartment was not. It was a place far away. There were stones everywhere as though it were some kind of ancient ruin, but at the same time it was mixed together with the things that were or should have been expected inside a lonely apartment. I saw a television, a radio, a stove, and a great stone alter. On this alter I saw a man who was bear except for a wrapping around his loins, laying upon the alter on his back. His body was dirty and there were cuts all over him. His age was well advanced, and he did not seem to notice anything that was happening around him because he was in some sort of trance. With his head lying flat and looking into the ceiling, his arm extended beside him to a set of papers that were flailing in the wind that was now picking up to match what I heard before we entered the apartment. He was writing fervently words I could not make out, not even looking down at them but staring off else where. Writing and writing did he. There was no pause or delay. upon his chest I saw a deep cut that was in the shape of a number. I moved slowly closer to discover what it was. Carved in his chest was the number “666”, and carved upon his forehead was the symbol of a pentagram.

Not so, this isn’t happening! I thought in my mind that was now filled with terror and bewilderment. Seeing these two marks were purposefully cliche, someone wanted me to be clearly aware of something. In a trance he did write.

“Who is this man?” I now yelled loudly as the wind and the torrent was in the transformed room all about.

“He is writing your death.” She replied simply.


At once I awoke and sat vertical in my bed. Sweat was abounding all over my body and my heart raced without restraint. The dream was slipping away, I was immediately beginning to forget it as the awake usually does upon completion of the night. Desperately I held on to it until I found its meaning. Its meaning was this:

The building was full of people. The people were not aware of the special room inside of them. It influenced them and led them into the darkness. The people followed by their own free will. Their ways were as foul as the slime that went down and gathered below. The man in the room was recording their actions to bring accusation against them to gain more legal access to tormenting them and taking them. The people did not believe this was happening, it could not be seen with their eyes of flesh.

I gasped. I lay my head back down and fell asleep.





Three Jacks and a Candle: Chapter 2 part 2 of 3 (unrevised)

moonThe alarm buzzed abruptly and vibrated off of the thrift store nightstand with a thump. A steady flow of saliva that was rivering out of Sarah’s mouth was immediately cut off when the void from where it came was shut with a groan. Horizontal became vertical and erect holding her head in pain stumbling to the bathroom across the room. The alarm continued to buzz on the floor; Sarah ignored it before finally realizing what was making the sound and then ended its life for waking her up. She unplugged it and put it in the top drawer. “Time to get ready for work, again.” Sarah grumbled.

The bells above the café door jingled as Jack went inside the vintage coffee house called Weitzes Café. Such a small establishment means he could seat himself because the waitress knew who was new and who was waiting for the check. He chose to sit in the middle of the narrow restaurant in a booth that protruded out of the wall across from the diner bar that was empty. Looking around after settling in, there was only two more people in the place. Good for him he thought. He picked up the menu preplaced at all the tables and was deciding what food would be responsible for sustaining him for another day. The waffle looks good he thought. Just then the bells above the door rang again and a tall gentleman with a dark long jacket walked in and removed a pair of aviator sunglasses. He walked over to where Jack was sitting behind the menu and sat down on the other side of the table. Jack lowered the menu enough to identify the company and then was raised again in disregard. “Tom, you just can’t stay away can you?”
Tom picked up another menu and idly replied “We’re best friends Jack, you can’t brush me off.” Tom’s voice was quiet but carried a weight that was palpable, as if he came from another world full of despair and placid acceptance, now retired to earth where no one could understand the gulf in between.
The two of them didn’t look like they belonged in a modern world full of electronic communication devices and trendy pound signs; they stuck out in a peculiar way. Jack hated the new wave of opium guiding the young generation and corrupting the old. A man of 30 years old, dirty blond hair combed to the side nicely, slender, piercing blue eyes that wouldn’t look into another’s but into the soul instead to see the truth; Jack was an ordinary human being minus the persuasion of masses. “Don’t you have anything else to do on Sundays, like not bothering me?” Jack said.
“I bet this menu hasn’t changed in fifty years, this is awful, why are you even here? The food is going to be bad.” Tom replied.
“Negative as usual, I’ve never been here before. I pass it all the time on my way to work. I like it, it has a nostalgic feel.” Jack said.
“No, you just don’t like being around people and this place is dead. I can read you like a book. You think you’re better than the rest of us? You always want to be alone like you know something that ten million other people don’t. When are you going to join the rest of the human race and get off your high horse?” Tom hissed putting the menu down on the table in front of him as he was only arbitrarily reading it in the first place.
Jack looked up toward the front of the restaurant and saw the rays of sunlight penetrating the single pane glass illuminating the fine particles of dust that were gracing in no direction, almost motionless in suspended animation. He looked down at his hands that started to shake ever slightly and Jacks heart began to pump harder. The walls bore cracks and paint chips and the odor was of old newspapers mixed with breakfast food. He hated all of it, every detail he could perceive was a nightmare. He could not enjoy any of it, but nothing escaped his discernment.
“What will it be?” a waitress interrupted looking down at her note pad not connecting with Jack face to face. Her hair was dark and her skin pale, her body was full and healthy except for the melancholy aura she perspired. Jack was frozen in time and the hairs on his skin began to stand on end as her appropriate words permeated his ears and the combination of voice and text confessed to him all of her pain in one fell swoop.
Jacks heart now racing and skin getting clammy, he looked up to her and the clock stood still as fell into the labyrinth of beauty he saw in her face she wouldn’t give up, and what he knew was inside. “I’ll just have the special, with coffee please. . . no I mean tea, hot tea.”
She was serving him in this restaurant in a mechanical way, submitting to the role she played here as waitress, not acknowledging the people behind the orders. He saw her but she would not see him. His insides began to melt as he realized he has seen her before.
“I’ll just have coffee.” Tom cried, but the woman was already on her way back to the kitchen and didn’t hear the request. “Wow she’s got a one track mind huh.”
She returned and set a cup with hot water in front of Jack quickly and then retreated to the back. Jack saw what must have been her boss scolding her for some mistake she obviously couldn’t possibly make in Jack’s eyes, and witnessed her countenance sink lower and continue about her business.
“Where the heck is my coffee! Boy she is an air head for sure.” Tom exclaimed.
“Shut your mouth, no one asked you to be here anyways. Leave her alone.”
Tom looked deeply into Jack and saw how the image of the lowly waitress consumed his reluctant friend like he had never seen before. “Ah, I get it.”
“Get what? You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack snapped back.
A few minutes later a different girl returned with the food on tray and laid it out before Jack who watched intently hoping that she would turn into the first girl spontaneously, and when he was disillusioned, he said impatiently “What happened to the other girl?”
“Oh sorry she had to go home because she got sick suddenly. I’m Tanya, can I get anything else for you?”
“No thanks, just the check I’m in a hurry.” Jack answered.
Jack ate. Tom watched. The cars went by outside and so did the people on the sidewalk. Jack saw a young man in front of the store window handing out little tracks of paper to anyone who would take one, but most people he saw walked right passed and ignored him. He was determined and wouldn’t give up though and kept on trying to get someone to listen to whatever he was saying. Jack found himself wondering what made him do this. Tom was talking in the background in Jacks ears about this and that and how everything stinks and is bad, but Jack just kept watching the fellow outside and gave an occasional “oh yeah”, or “wow”.

What keeps people from laying down in the middle of the street? What is this life that you have fueling your cause, whatever it is? I want some of it too. My flesh is on fire, my mind is exhausted, my muscles ach all the time and are contracted in anticipation but never release. I am not able to find peace here, I am just on the path but never on the bench smelling the flowers. I hate it all not because I am indifferent, but because it is all in front of me but out of my reach. What do you have, man on the sidewalk, that I do not.
Jack rose to his feet, left the money and tip on the table, took a deep breath and walked out.

Three Jacks and a Candle Chapter 1 (3/3 unrevised, unedited)

Quickstepping to the blue overhead signs that outlined a generic male and generic female figures, he entered the corridor that lead down to the restrooms. Sweat began to evacuating out of his palms and forebrow as he entered into the men’s room, and then directly into a stall. He closed the metal door behind him and went to the back corner wall and leaned up against it; crouching down he held his head in his hands and began to lose control in his mind. What he needed now was isolation. Too much to see, too much input to consider; how could he keep a straight face this whole time. It was a personal excuse to Jack that he went to the mall to sharpen his salesmanship, really it was to fix what he knew was broken. His sarcastic outlook mutated into solemn concern for his balance and mental stability.
Looking around him now Jack witnessed the hole that was the human race in this bathroom stall somewhere on planet earth. All of its glory wrapped up in the confines of the waste depository, he saw graffiti sprawled across the walls revealing the most sincere emotions emulated by the ones who had been here. Jack realized that the walking dead patrons of Mall Town U.S.A, were all cannibals! They feasted upon the flesh of all the others, their teeth gnashing as they devour their own kind. Darkness. Was he the only one to think so? After Jack gathered his composure, he slowly rose to his feet and went home.

Inserting his key into the deadbolt positioned in the middle of his front door, the lock accepted the cut below the pins in the tumbler and granted access to the bearer. He swung it open and it hit the back of the wall behind; as if he opened a portal that led from hell to comfort and consolation. He entered and closed the door behind.
He moved down the hall way to his room and opened the top drawer revealing his evening clothes. They were folded perfectly and in place ready to be used by Jack. All of his clothes were plain and didn’t boast any name brand or flashy emblems; these were clothes to be worn to hide the shame of human nakedness and to keep warm only. All of them were meticulously folded or rolled positioned on purpose inside a sector in a drawer all the way down. He knew exactly what he had, how many, and where they could be found. In fact a scan of Jacks entire apartment would reveal the same. All chosen by utility and not by desire. He had because he needed them; but he needed them not because of utility by for consistency. He needed things to be the same and predictable and Jack exerted control over every single possession in his realm. All things were labeled, cataloged, and filed. He also craved the etiquette of yesteryear knowing that this brave new world had none to offer. It has been a free for all since the sixties, and as a lover of history, Jack retreated to just after the beginning of the industrial revolution. He escaped his own generation, and wandered through the centuries of before; anything but now. He changed his clothing and went into the kitchen and sat at his simple table next to a window that overlooked the street.

The clock ticks upon the wall. Upon my wall ticks the clock. Incessantly marking time, it progresses one instance into the next forbearing death to death and life to life; it makes no difference to this juggernaut clock ticking on my wall. Steady now. Not too fast, not too slow. We are carried along at the appropriate velocity, not forgetting the essence of the cadence resounding serves to remind that time does not belong to me, but instead merely emphasizes the direction to which I travel. The moment we are born we begin to die; the moment I was born I began to die. My time stops for neither my frustration nor fright, which both I pay to this clock treading upon my serenity. Tick. Tick. Tick.
The head hangs upon the shoulders. Upon my shoulders hangs my head. The ears I have on either side, left and right, accept the sound and tempt my mind to entertain. I let out a sigh. I don’t need a clock to tell me what to do. My hand brushes across my kitchen table, small and round, against imaginary debris. The seasoned grains in the tables face, and in the lonely chair on which I am sitting tell me a tale about the fate of some tree in the wilderness, my own body lacks the fortitude to be re-purposed entering into the annals of antiquity like the tree my elbows now rest atop. Oak would make a great casket though. Perhaps I will ask the Mennonite whom I get all my furniture from to make me one, and I shall keep it in my closet. I long for its encompassing rest, I long for the pressing earth, I long for the heavy stone bearing my name on it “Here is Jack Heim, this rock will never forget him.”
Jack sighed as he took a sip from his coffee cup that bore a yellow smiley face on it. The affirming vessel did not however contain coffee, but Black English tea instead.
Ah the tea. The rest of the world’s joe. I could see my reflection in the large circumference of the flavored water. I take another sip; not bad. After eating I bring my breakfast-ware to the sink and slowly clean the remnants into the shallow water and place them on the rack to dry. Putting my hand into the cold water I pull the stopper. While watching the murky water drain away, a maelstrom began to emerge in the water. It twisted and moved about the center of the drain violently pulling any wayward sea farer straight away to the bottom of the ocean. The sailors scream in terror as they meet their destruction, fully aware, in a decisive journey into the abyss. A soap bubble bursts when it connected to the bare metal bottom of the sink; and the water was no more. I took a breath and threw the dish towel into the kitchen hamper.
The light switch clicks when I reposition it upwards as I walk into the bathroom. Centered at the mirror standing on the rug, I look into his eyes and he looks into mine. “I know just as much as you do!” Only a face without expression replies.
Just then Jack heard three slides successively overcame, and the front door creak open slowly. Next He heard footsteps then ended in the kitchen followed by his chair sliding across the floor. Then silence. Jack when to confront the intruder. His heart nearly stopped beating in his chest.
“Jack, nice to see you again.” The figure clothed in darkness knitted a sequence of words simple in nature but reverberated violently inside Jacks thoracic cavity.