The Heir to Darkness Part 2 (standard:humor, 6876 words) [2/4] show all parts
Author: J. F. Naples	Added: May 30 2002	Views/Reads: 2884/2108	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Meeting Veronica

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

I never punished them with spankings.  The most I ever done to them was
a slap on the hand when they would try to touch a hot skillet on the 
stove, or when they wanted to experiment with the electrical outlets.  
This most always worked with them, but with my morph, my patience 
deteriorated. 

I began to snap at them for meager things that they have done, like all
children do.  Not taking their shoes off when they came inside of the 
apartment, not flushing the toilet when they had used it last, asking 
for a glass of water when they were supposed to be asleep.  For each 
action, the beast inside me found a horrific punishment, and it was 
never good. 

One time, Helena left me for a couple days because I had overstepped the
boundaries.  Christopher received a black eye for running in the 
apartment by a slap I delivered.  He was then knocked into Shayna, 
which in turn suffered a mild concussion when she rebounded off the 
entertainment center.  Helena just grabbed the children, the car keys 
and walked out of the door.  She never said good-bye or anything.  She 
just left.  As they rushed down the hallway to the relative safety of 
the outdoors, I yelled after them that they would be back. 

A couple days later Helena did return, without the children though.  She
told me that she didn't know what was wrong with me, or why I have 
changed, but she wasn't going to live like that any longer.  So she 
went into the bedroom and started packing. 

I stayed in the living room, blankly watching the television, fuming. 
When Helena walked into the room with filled suitcases, I couldn't let 
her have the final say in the matter.  When she did leave though, she 
was a little more bruised, a little more hurt.  She then walked out of 
the door. 

And I never saw her or my children again. 

I never believed that there was anything wrong with me.  When Helena
walked out of that door and out of my life, I laughed to myself.  I 
knew deep within me that she would be back.  But days turned into 
weeks, then the first month rolled over.  I realized that she was never 
coming back.  The pent up frustration that was building up inside me 
was coming to an all new high.  I needed release.  I needed departure.  
I needed the taste of blood, fear, vengeance. 

I knew that there were other women out there that could possibly quench
this ravaging fire burning inside me, and I wanted desperately wanted 
Helena to be the one that could handle such a feat.  But in time, I 
realized she wasn't the one up for the task.  I believed that there was 
that single soul out there that could take this challenge, and be 
willing to succumb to the torturous hell that I would pour onto their 
sweet and sumptuous bodies. 

(quietness) 

I lost my job soon after Helena walked out on me.  I saw it coming, but
at that juncture in time, I didn't care.  All I had on my mind was one 
thing, and one thing alone.  To give satisfaction to the growing fiend 
that had taken over my being. 

The taste for journalism had left me.  The written word no longer
satisfied me.  It was what women had to offer, more so, what they 
didn't want to offer. 

Now that I reflect upon my recent past, I know that I have been evil.  I
have done many evil things, and there is nothing that I can do to go 
back and change them.  If I could change what I had done, to undo the 
hurt I inflicted upon my family and friends, I would do so immediately. 
 But now all I have is this tape recorder, these cassettes and my 
memories.  I would try and beg for forgiveness from the people that I 
have hurt, but I know that I will not receive the redemption that I so 
longingly wish. 

(sigh) 

The story for my inevitable termination is this: 

*	*	*	*	* 

Mathew, the chief editor, had recently hired a new office assistant. 
Karen Belmont was her name, and she was the cause of my termination.  
If I had a clear mind at the time I wouldn't have thought of her as a 
person in which I could have a relationship with, but she was new, and 
new was exciting. 

Karen wasn't attractive in the sense that all men bowed down to her
beauty, but there was something about her that attracted me.  It might 
have been the way that she carried herself in the office; confident, 
aggressive.  Or it might have been that she was a touchy-feely type of 
person. 

When she would talk with someone in their cubicle, Karen would like to
lean in and put her hand on the persons' shoulder, talking softly as if 
what she had to say was a secret.  In the break room, I saw her rubbing 
a co-workers leg after he told her a joke.  It wasn't like a sexual 
touch, but rather an unconscious gesture when she was laughing. 

Then, at one time, she came into my cubicle when I was reluctantly
finishing up a piece that I had been working on for the past week.  She 
stopped behind me and I felt her hand on my shoulder, then the scent of 
perfume came to my nose.  I felt something inside me begin to swell. 

Karen lowered her head next to mine, and I felt her hair caress my neck,
and she whispered something to me.  I don't recall what she had said, 
but I knew that she was the one that I needed. 

Starting then, her innocent touches and whispers seemed to me as if she
was flirting.  I knew that she did this with all the people she talked 
to, but I believed that there was something more when she was with me. 

Everyone knew that I was newly separated, and I knew that Karen had
known.  A couple times she asked if I was all right about the 
separation.  I told her that I was holding up, 

(a little lie to draw more attention form her) 

and she would give me a quick friendly massage, pat my shoulders and say
that all will be fine in due time.  The beast inside me was telling me 
that she was going to be mine soon, and my body flushed with 
anticipation. 

My working habits faltered.  My articles began to look like juvenile
works, and my cubicle started taking an unkempt appearance.  The time 
that I spent working went from aggressive production to nine to five, 
with an hour and a half to two hour lunches in between.  The only 
reason I came to work at all was to see Karen, with the hopes that she 
would ask me how I was, or to even drop by my cubicle so that I could 
smell her, to touch her. 

Writing stories was the last thing on my mind.  My mind was constantly
filled with visions of Karen and all that I wanted to do with her.  The 
beast grew more fierce, but I was able to hold it at bay for the time 
being, but I didn't know how much longer I could.  Deciding not to 
tempt fate, I came to the decision to finally ask Karen out. 

The next day, I walked into the office just after eight, early for the
first time in a month.  I scanned over the floor for Karen and did not 
see her.  I stopped in the break room that held a fresh pot of coffee 
and a couple boxes of doughnuts that employees had brought.  Then it 
dawned on me that Karen doesn't come into work early.  With this new 
realization, I slumped my shoulders in defeat and went to my cubicle to 
wait for her arrival. 

I was constantly looking at the clock that I had on my desk, counting
down the minutes until it was nine o'clock.  People started to filter 
in the office, but not one of the was Karen.  Nine o'clock came, and 
then it passed.  Nine-oh-one, nine-oh-two, nine-ten, but still no sign 
of Karen. 

As the minutes crept by, I thought that Karen wasn't going to show. 
Patience turned into anger.  Not able to sit any longer, I got up and 
headed towards the break room to grab a cup of coffee and a doughnut if 
they were still available.  As I neared the break room, Karen walked 
through the door.  Her fun-loving smile played towards me and my anger 
disappeared. 

I changed my route from the break room to Karen, meeting her near the
copier.  It wasn't all that private, but there was no one around, so it 
would suffice.  Karen stopped before me, asking me how my day was 
going.  I told her that it was all right.  I paused for a moment, then 
said that I had something to ask of her. 

“What is it?”, she asked me. 

“If it wouldn't be asking too much, would you like to have dinner with
me tonight?  I know this great Japanese place..”, then I paused because 
of the look that she was giving to me.  It wasn't that it changed much, 
but the light in her eyes seemed to have dimmed. 

Karen brought her hand to my arm and gently squeezed it.  She then
replied, “That sounds really nice, but I have made it a point not to go 
out with co-workers.  I feel it could ruin out working relationship, 
and I don't want that.”  She looked directly into my eyes, and smiled 
softly.  “Besides, why would you want to go out with me?”, looking 
shyly away. 

Fire burned in my cheeks, and when Karen looked back at me, she noticed.
She touched my burning face, and gave me a soft peck on the cheek. 

“I'm sorry,” Karen said, stepping away. 

I stood there basting in anger, holding it in as best as I could. 
Knowing that I wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything that I was 
currently working on, I decided that I would go home and call in sick.  
Even though people had seen me in the office, Mathew didn't.  So 
without further ado, I turned to the doors, and went home. 

Being at home didn't help either.  After I called in, I just paced
around the living room with the rejection still fueling my  anger.  I 
had to have her.  She was mine, and she had no right to turn away my 
proposal.  I knew that she wanted me, but didn't have the courage to 
follow through.  I decided that I would help her with her courage. 

I found out where Karen lived, and around four o'clock, I went over to
her apartment.  I knew that she wasn't going to be home, and that is 
what I wanted.  I walked up to her door, made sure that no one was 
around, and made my way into her humble abode. 

I walked through her apartment to see how she lived.  From the initial
once over, I saw that she was a very tidy person.  Everything had its 
place and was neatly arranged.  Her collection of books went from tall 
to short with the binds aligned.  Cupboards was neatly arranged with 
soups, fruits and vegetables, canned pastas, stacked evenly, all with 
the labels facing outward.  The cupboards underneath the sinks were 
kept in order.  Even her clothing was folded in a department store 
fashion. 

After I perused through her apartment, I found a place where I would
wait for Karen to return home.  There I sat patiently as I could, 
thinking of what I was going to do to prove to Karen that being with me 
would be the best thing for her. 

At five-twenty-two by my watch, I heard the tumblers to the door turn. 
I looked through the slats of the closet that I chose to hide and 
watched Karen walk in.  She set her purse on the chair next to the 
stairs and draped her coat over its back.  She brought her hands to the 
back of her neck, gave a sigh and stretched her aching body.  Karen 
then disappeared up the stairs. 

I quietly came out of hiding and stood at the foot of the stairs.  I
listened for a moment and heard the shower turn on.  I listened to 
Karen walk on the floor above me, and when I heard the bathroom door 
close, I made my way up to the second floor of her apartment. 

I moved quietly to the end of the hall where the bathroom lay.  I put my
ear to the door, and lingering above the sound of the spraying water, I 
could hear Karen humming a tune of her own making.  I put my hand on 
the doorknob and slowly turned it. 

I turned the knob until I felt it pass the latch catch.  I slowly opened
the door and the steam that the shower was producing started to slip 
out into the hallway.  I walked into the bathroom and quietly closed 
the door behind me. 

I could see Karen's naked body through the frosted glass of the shower
door.  Anticipation mounted.  I walked over to the shower and slid open 
the door.  There Karen stood, eyes closed, washing he lather out of her 
hair.  I stood mesmerized.  Watching the shampoo run down her body, 
over the curves of her breasts, through the soft lines of her belly, 
down her glistening legs into the drain, I was caught off guard when 
Karen caught me ogling her. 

But that was only momentary. 

There was a gasp of surprise that passed her lips, but I reacted quickly
and shushed her before she could let out a scream that could alert the 
neighbors and I took what she didn't want to give right there in the 
shower. 

Things happened so fast that she couldn't react to anything.  As I
forced her to couple with me, her muffled cries underneath my hand made 
me want to hurt her. 

(sigh) 

And I did. 

At the time, that was the best sexual encounter that I had ever
experienced in the waking world.  Then word came out at work about our 
little escapade.  Mathew told me that I was out of a job, and that if 
he would ever see me out on the streets, that I had better watch out.  
The last words that he had spoken were these: 

“You will never be a journalist for any paper or magazine in this
country again, and if I have my way, in this lifetime.  Now get your 
shit out of my building and get out of my face.” 

So, there I was, unemployed, with no hope of finding another job that I
had loved so much.  Living alone in my ailing apartment, and with 
everyone treating me as a recluse, that was when I had time to justify 
this punishment that I felt I didn't deserve. 

I thought long and hard and tried to figure out when it was that I had
changed.  That one moment in time where I went from the most popular 
person to the most hated.  The more I thought about it, the more I 
realized it had to of happened before those haunting erotic dreams, 
even before that fateful phone call that seemed to trigger everything 
from then on.  Before the night grew into the time of nothingness, the 
memories started to come back to me with much clarity. 

Then I remembered everything. 

*	*	*	*	* 

It had started insignificant. 

With a phone call, all that was given was a name, an address and the
promise that there was a story wanting to be written.  When asked to 
reveal who they were or what the story was about, they had hung up. 

I guess Mathew figured it was something to look into, even under the
suspicious way that it had come about.  That was when he called my 
name, handing me the piece of paper with the name and address on it. 

“I don't want you spending too much time on this.  Just give it a once
over and see if there is any substance to it.” 

“Roger that, boss,” I replied.  I went to my desk and began research. 

Veronica Sommers was the name to the address.  I typed her name in the
county's database and I found out that she did reside at the address 
scrawled underneath her name.  I also found out that she had lived 
there for the past seven years and worked at a small design company in 
Orange County.  She never received a traffic citation and had no 
criminal record.  There was also no picture of her. 

I didn't know what I was expected to find out, but if Mathew was curious
about it, I thought that I might as well go an see what might be there. 


The drive to the address was uneventful.. The traffic was light, and the
lights that I came upon turned green before I had a chance to slow 
down.  It was like I was being allowed to go unabated. 

When I got to the house, I parked my car on the opposite side of the
street of her home, waiting for her.  As I waited, I noted that her 
lawn was immaculately manicured.  The shrubberies around the front were 
alternating round and square, the grass was neatly clipped and the oak 
that grew in the center of her front yard seemed as if it knew it had 
to look nice for fear of being turned into firewood. 

It wasn't a long wait that I had to endure before she showed herself. 
Even with the distance involved, I heard a faint squeak of Veronica's 
door opening. 

The door opened and the first thing I saw was her brunette hair being
slung over her shoulder.  I adjusted the focus of my camera, and waited 
for her to turn about.  When she did turn, I felt my heart skip a beat 
or two, like the way my heart skipped when I first laid eyes on Helena. 


Her long, flowing brunette hair ran over her slender shoulders, framing
her angelic face.  Her smooth, lightly tanned skin complimented her 
green eyes, and red pouty lips that I desired to taste.  The way that 
she walked out of the door, and down the street, 

(oh) 

her body floated along.  Her feet needn't touch the ground. 

My first thought was that the informant must have been mistaken.  I
couldn't see what kind of story could have been had here, except for 
being as beautiful as she was.  Then my next thought was that I wasn't 
pressed for time, and I could use a few days and get to know this 
Veronica Sommers a little better. 

I started a journal for Veronica.  I outlined what she did, where she
went, and what she ate.  About a week passed, and there was no change 
in her monotonous routine.  She would leave her home at eight every 
morning.  A thirty minute walk brought her to the delicatessen where 
she would have her breakfast that consisted of a blueberry bagel with 
cottage cheese and black French Roast coffee.  After about twenty 
minutes of dining and chatting with the regulars, she would walk a 
couple doors down to the design company that she was employed. 

Lunch varied, about the only change in her routine.  Sometimes she would
go to the delicatessen to eat, sometimes to the tavern next to her job 
for a veggie burger and a light beer.  One day she worked through her 
lunch break. 

When that first week passed, Mathew thought that I had enough of a break
from the office and that there was no story to be had with Veronica. 

“Can I stay on for one more day?”, I asked. 

He took in a deep breath, shook his head.  “One day.”	I went home for
the night and after Helena and I had made love, I prayed that there 
would be something new tomorrow. 

That next day, I waited for Veronica to walk out of her home.  I hoped
that something different, something to write about would happen.  Even 
though I was beginning to bore with trailing her, it was always a 
pleasure to see her, even from afar. 

As I followed her, I wasn't paying much attention.  Because I had become
accustomed to her route, I lost sight of her.  I stopped and looked 
around to see if I could find her again. 

I walked quickly down the sidewalk and when I came to the intersection,
I saw her make a left behind a building.  I picked up my pace a little, 
got to the alleyway and saw her make a right at the next building. 

My heart was racing.  Something new.  I hoped beyond all hope that this
would lead to something rather than just a scenic route to her work. 

I finally got close enough to Veronica that I wasn't worried about
losing sight of her again.  We walked through the trash-laden alleys, 
and from their graveled stoops, the residence of the miserable 
dwellings followed us with their eyes.  Some I challenged with a gaze 
of my own and they would look quickly away.  But I know that when I 
turned from them, they would return their attention on me.  I didn't 
feel threatened, but I also didn't feel secure. 

With each decrepit apartment building we passed, more sets of eyes
turned in our direction.  I felt a little awkward from their gazes, but 
I decided that there was nothing that I could do about it.  With that, 
I turned my full attention to Veronica. 

She was about fifty feet before me.  At first I panicked because I
thought that I lost sight of her again, but through the leaning boxes 
and garbage bins, I saw her once more.  I watched her turn down another 
alleyway and I jogged to the corner from where she entered. 

I stopped at the corner and peeked into the alley.  I got there in time
to see her disappear through a doorway.  Once her hair slipped through 
the threshold, the door closed behind her.  I looked around casually to 
see if there was anyone around, entered the alley and to the door I 
went. 

Stepping over rotting food, and what could have been feces, I finally
came to the door without stepping into anything particularly offensive. 


I first studied that door and it looked as if it were out of place,
sitting in this garbage-riddled alley.  The door was made of solid oak 
and its brass fixtures were immaculately spotless.  I glanced to the 
other side of the alley to the door that sat closed there and mentally 
compared it to the one before me, but there were no real comparison, 
except that they both sat in a doorframe. 

I brought my attention back to the door of which stoop I was standing. 
I got the nerve up, and tried the knob of the door.  As my hand touched 
the polished brass, I pulled it away just as quickly.  For thinking 
that the knob was going to be warm to the touch from the  temperature 
that the day held, it was really quite cold, like grabbing onto a cube 
of ice.  The courage was still within me though, and I wrapped my hand 
around the frigid knob, and not being shocked by its odd temperature, I 
attempted to twist the knob to the left, the right, but to no avail.  
It wouldn't even turn in its housing like other locked doorknobs. 

Discouraged, but not beaten, I backed away to see if there was another
way into the room that lay hidden behind that oak door, or even a 
window that I might be able to chance a glance. 

The wall that the door was melded into held no windows or even cracks
from the abuse and neglect that the other buildings around had.  I went 
to the backside of the building, but was even more disappointed when I 
saw more of the same; no windows, not a missing brick, or even a crack 
for that matter.  Feeling a bit frustrated, I decided that I would wait 
for Veronica to reappear, if she even would. 

Time crept along.  I don't know how long I was waiting, but the bright
light that the sky once held began to change to the deep color of 
purple of sunset.  I was about to call it a day, head back to my car, 
go home and forget about Veronica when the door opened.  Veronica had 
walked out alone, and I knew that she wasn't the only one in there.  I 
didn't see another person, but I knew that she was not in there alone. 

Having the intuition she was headed for home, I decided that I would
take the alley to the other side of the block, meeting up with her 
again somewhere in between this rat-infested alley and the comforts of 
her home.  When I reached the end of the alley, making my right turn, 
my heart dropped, along with my mouth. 

Walking towards me was Veronica.  But it couldn't have been possibly
her.  I saw he walk out the other side of the alley, and there just 
wasn't enough time for her to run all the way around the block, meeting 
me at the corner of this street, unwinded and unflushed from that 
impossible task. 

We both paused for a moment as out eyes made contact.  I felt my heart
begin to turn to putty as the corners of her lips began to play upwards 
into a smile.  No words were spoken, because none were needed.  She 
slowly approached me and I felt my pulse beating madly.  The look in 
her eyes was one of lust and desire.  Veronica lifted her arms as if 
she was going to embrace me. 

I wanted badly to touch her, but was frozen within her stare.  As she
lifted her hand to touch my face, I felt a cool breeze blow in from 
behind me and Veronica dispersed like a dreamy entity.  I thought that 
I could hear a laugh come from her apparition, but I couldn't be sure. 

The paralysis broke from me and I reached up to my face where she had
touched me.  The touch my fingers felt was cold, like that of the brass 
knob, but just to my fingers.  My face was still warm on itself. 

I took in a breath to cleanse my thoughts and finally decided that it
had to have been a hallucination.  Veronica is a very beautiful woman, 
and being around her constantly for the week, I have fantasized being 
with her.  I believed that was just my imagination trying to make it a 
reality.  I took another cleansing breath and took a tentative step 
first step in the direction that I was headed, back to Veronica's home. 


When I turned the corner in which I knew I should have been behind
Veronica, there she was before me, not so far that I couldn't make her 
out, but far enough as to not alert her that she was being followed.  
She took the same route back that she had come.  I wasn't at all 
worried that I was going to lose track of her again.  About thirty 
minutes pass and Veronica was walking up the steps to her house, as I 
walked over to my car. 

Seating myself in my car, I picked up the pack of cigarettes that was
lying on the dashboard, a new habit I have chosen, lit one up, and 
inhaled deeply. 

I studied her house, and even though darkness had all but fallen, not a
single light glowed from within.  For living there for the past seven 
years, she probably know every square inch of that house and is in no 
threat to bang her shins on the coffee table, or stub a toe on the legs 
of furniture.  She could probably go around her house blindfolded 
without worrying that she will hurt herself. 

I dropped my smoldering cigarette into an old soda bottle that I had
consumed that morning.  I was going to call it a day , pass by the 
office for any new post-it notes that might have been set on my desk, 
to the county records office for anything on that building that 
Veronica had introduced me, then finally onward to home to spend the 
rest of the night with my lovely, beautiful and wonderful wife.  I 
released the breath I held as I thought and looked at Veronica's house 
for the night. 

I noticed something about it that I hadn't before.  In the basement
window, underneath the family room window, between a square shrub and a 
round one, I saw a strange light glowing.  It looked a little out of 
place, a little different.  I don't know how do describe it except that 
the light sent a chill up my spine. 

Curiosity grew within me and I got out of my car.  Looking up and down
the street to see if there were any onlookers about, I casually 
strolled over to that window in which was glowing. 

As I got there, I knelt down into the newly watered grass, and looked
through the water-spotted window.  I tried to find where the light 
might be coming from inside the room, but it seemed as if it was just 
there, everywhere, without a real source.  I could see that the 
over-hanging lights were extinguished, and where there should have been 
shadows, there were none. 

I began to sweep the room with my eyes and my breath stopped cold in
mid-exhale.  I saw Veronica and she was holding a leaded goblet.  
Inside the goblet, something glowed.  I couldn't say what was in it, 
but it was glowing brighter than the room itself.  But that wasn't what 
made my breath stop.  It was the other being in the room, the one lying 
comfortably on the alter before Veronica. 

Veronica wasn't actually standing either.  To be more exact, she was
hovering at the foot of the alter, feet off the ground, gliding 
counter-clockwise.  Her hands poised over the center of the alter, over 
the center of what was my blanketed body. 

I was held in a state of shock.  I wanted to leave, but yet I couldn't. 
I was too enwrapped in what I was witnessing and I wanted to know more 
of what was going on.  Maybe that tip was something big after all, and 
all that the story needed was a person who had some sort of patience to 
see where it could lead. 

I stayed kneeled in the grass and the dampness was starting to seep into
my jeans at the knees.  I looked at my sleeping figure one more time, 
and then turned my attention back to Veronica. 

I noticed that her lips were moving, but I couldn't hear any sounds. 
Slowly, her mouth began to widen as she was starting to chant louder.  
I leaned closer to the window to see if I could make out the words that 
she was speaking, and I was granted for what I had hoped. 

Sometimes, I can still hear those words in my mind, but with this tongue
of mine, I wouldn't be able to enunciate those words correctly, even if 
my life had depended on it.  She was speaking in a tongue that I have 
never heard before.  I have been around the world at least once, and a 
few places more than others, but if it was a language that was spoken 
in this world, it is in a place so remote that only the inhabitants of 
the land spoke, and never to any foreigners. 

Veronica's volume was rising and the words becoming more clear, but
still incomprehensible.  Stopping at the backside of the alter, 
Veronica ceased chanting.  She removed the sheet off my twins chest, 
closed her eyes and opened her arms wide. 

Then something was happening to Veronica. 

Slowly, her body began to shimmer and ripple, like throwing a pebble on
a clear glassy pond.  Her clear complexion began to boil, and her 
tanned skin began to turn into a darker color of muddy brown. 

Veronica began to chant again with a voice that was not her own.  It was
deep, guttural, and raspy.  As her voice rose, the hand that held the 
goblet began to tilt.  The glowing liquid that was held within began to 
drip out of the goblet, to a steady stream it poured.  As I watched, I 
realized that there was more substance coming out than what the goblet 
could possibly hold. 

On my twin, the glowing liquid was poured upon.  When it touched his 

(my?) 

skin, it changed from blue to red.  As more was poured, it began to
bubble and fizz. There wasn't a thing I could do.  All I was able to do 
was watch, and pray. 

I watched on helplessly as the glowing liquid continued to be poured
onto my twin's body.  I was held in a state of shock.  I couldn't 
scream, move or even breathe.  The light in the room began to glow 
brighter as my twin's body absorbed the glowing liquid.  My heart felt 
as if it were jumping all around in my chest as I watched my twin have 
an onslaught of seizures.  When he finally lay still, I felt myself 
become sated, serene.  I closed my eyes. 

An icy touch came to my cheek and I slowly opened my eyes.  Standing
before me was Veronica and the smile that I seen when I left the alley 
was there now.  I returned the smile.  Veronica brought her head down 
to mine, and I closed my eyes.  I felt her breath on my face, cold, 
soft, the scent of lilacs.  Then the image of watching myself be hit 
with seizures came to my mind.  I opened my eyes and turned towards the 
window in which I was kneeling. 

I couldn't be sure, but I thought that I seen something on the other
side of the glass.  I tried to focus on what it was, but it faded away. 


I turned my attention back to Veronica.  I looked into her eyes and I
felt myself go weak.  Her smile stayed.  I was going to say something 
to her, I don't remember what it was, but before I could even say 
anything, she stayed my words with the touch of her finger on my lips.  
She leaned closer to me and brought her lips to my ear.  I could feel 
the touch of her breath. 

“Sleep,” she said. 

Then there was blackness. 

*	*	*	*	* 

I woke up in the comforts of my own bed.  I glanced at the clock, and it
read 8:02 in the AM.  I didn't think about Veronica, I didn't think 
about work.  It was Saturday, and I was going to relax that day, and 
probably get in some fishing that afternoon.  I woke up refreshed, and 
so good that I wasn't going to waste it spending the day inside. 

I walked into the kitchen, grabbing the paper from off the counter,
poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the breakfast nook.  I 
set my coffee down, slapped open the paper and picked up my coffee once 
more. 

For some reason, I looked at the date, something that I ordinarily don't
do, but just the same, I had.  As the hot coffee started in my mouth, I 
was quick to spit it back out, burning my lips and staining the paper. 

I closed my eyes, squeezed them tightly and rubbed them until I saw
stars.  I then looked at the date once more, but it had remained the 
same.  For the paper had noted that it was Monday, June 3. 

I felt myself slipping into oblivion.  I couldn't see how it could be
Monday.  I set the stained paper onto the nook, closed my eyes, and 
tried to remember the last thing that I did before coming home, but 
came up with nothing. 

Hoping that it might have been a misprint, because I have seen them a
few times, but not a three day gap, I decided that I would see what the 
television would say.  With the remote, I turned the television on.  I 
turned it to channel seven and I could hear Good Day, LA through the 
speakers. 

Not a good sign.  That show is only on during the weekdays.  The
television started to brighten and there it was in the lower right hand 
side of the screen: 

Temp: 73* 

8:43 

Mon, Jun 3 


Tweet