Double Vision
By Karl J Livingston
For Mom,
Your time here was short,
But you won’t be forgotten
And
For Jaclyn,
I’ve always loved you.
And
For my Sis,
Miss you
And lastly (but not leastly)
The Reader,
Without people with curious and open minds,
None of this would ever have happened!
Today `was a windy day, trees reminded me of ocean waves as the wind rustled through its foliage. Maybe today was not the best day to go for a jog, my neighbor Sam has already left.
Crazy man, I thought, your beloved Bichon is going to be whisked away out there.
Yet without hearing me send him telepathic warnings he must have chosen to ignore them. Nonetheless I had just finished boiling me some hot chocolate.
Yes, I may be old fashioned, but honestly nothing warms the cockles of my heart better than a warm cup of hot chocola2te. I can hear most of you say how stupid and crazy I am for not drinking java or even beer.
Well to let you know I don’t really like coffee (makes me too jittery) and I do like alcohol, just not tonight.
There was a ring at the door.
Now who could that be? I hope it’s not trick-or-treater’s, can’t be its too early.
I get up from my writing desk and start shuffling towards the door.
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I hope nobody left a flaming bag on the porch, this year. I think, crossing past the shelves of novels people have gifted me.
It is an odd phenomenon that because you graduated college as a writer automatically marks you as someone who likes to read.
Not necessarily, I loved to write, but honestly I don’t enjoy other putting images into my head. I can do that myself. Plus, nowadays television and movies are programing our brains and telling us what is funny and what’s not.
As I walk around the corner I can see a kid running down my cement stoop. I run towards the door to catch him.
What could it be now! Those damn pranksters! Stupid ding-dong ditcher!
The wind hit my face and I started to regret opening the door. Then as I was closing the door something caught my eye.
It was a brown paper wrapped box. Like the kind terrorists leave.
I chuckle, who honestly would try to kill me? No one.
I do live in a safe neighborhood, so I know no one’s trying to hurt me.
I bent down and picked up the box, and on top was a card addressed to me.
Opening the card while seated at my writing desk allowed me to sip some more cocoa.
Dear Karl,
Sorry I was not there to personally shake your hand. I am what people may call as an introvert, I am working on it. It’s just people I don’t know. Sorry, but honestly enough about me.
Silly me! I never introduced myself! My name’s Robert Wallace. My friends call me Bob. You can call me that if you wish, That’s how Kyle referred to me.
Basically I left four handwritten books detailing every important move that we’ve made over our collegiate career. Some you might find interesting, and some you might find dumb.
Lastly I would like for you to read over it, edit as best as possible then publish it. That is what we all want, but Kyle most of all.
Thank you,
Robert Wallace
P.S. If you need a little motivation and/or to get this done. My friend Isaac just told me that he is willing to give you $250 thousand dollars.
My eyes grew to the size of silver dollars! Looking at all the bills lying neatly in the bottom.
That’s more money than I have ever seen in my life! I thought.
I was just a poor college kid, struggling to put food on the table, but hot dog! For two fifty I’d do just about anything.
I find in the box for college bound notebook, each notebook to be written in a different pen color, except in the notebooks entitled, “Tainted” and “Shattered”. By the looks of it, those two hand jotted entries are the start and finish to the main story “Broken”.
He never left a number for me to even say yes or no. Yet I think he knows what my response will be.
