Crazed Lunatik's Blog

What's in a name?

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Fri, 27 Feb 2015 22:20:00 +0000

I have artistic ambitions. I draw, paint, photograph and write. Not as much as I should but it is a way to reconnect with myself. It calms the voices in my head, you know, the voices that doubt. Every time I make time to write, draw, paint, or photograph, I immediately feel better and a little more in control. I feel confident and sometimes I even feel proud of something. For example, I drew a woman lying down based off a picture and I felt pretty good about the outcome. I felt like it was instantly recognizable and pretty similar to the picture. It is by no means perfect. Some lines are too long or too straight and the shading is terrible. The thing is I am self taught. My only class was an online perspectives course. I learned by reading and watching. I learned by constantly trying, erasing and trying again.

I am getting sidetracked. The point is my artistic side sometimes has incredible ego, where I imagine myself showing my work or doing a reading (unfortunately a lot of the time I feel super self conscious about my creations). During these times I imagine my work, whatever it is, up in a museum or on a bookshelf. This is where I start wondering about my very generic name and how it would fit in. Rembrandt, Picasso, Kahlo, Michael Williams..... it doesn't work. Don't get me wrong, I do not think I produce work anywhere on the caliber of these artists but please indulge in this fantasy with me. Can you imagine it?

I can't. I can't imagine my name being attached to something someone else finds extraordinary enough to put in a museum. Maybe this tells you too much about me and my demons. Oh well, the thing I am talking about here is the name (so stop delving below the surface). My name is pretty common here in the US. There are countless numbers of Michael Williams in the world. I know some have been star athletes, entrepreneurs and all sorts of things but the name seems a bit ordinary. A name lacking in the requisite shine to compete in the arts. So, as I was driving one day, I began to entertain the thoughts of changing my name. Something that would really shine. That would be intriguing and captivating. You know, something that would look okay in all those museums I was destined for....

Then I thought about the name again and I remembered a few things. Some things that point to my own duality. Perhaps the astrological sign I fall under is a little accurate after all. You see I love my name at the same time that I find it completely ordinary and a touch boring. Here are some stories about my relationship with my name.

One of my earliest memories of my name being cool is when my family called me "Michael Michael Motorcycle". Maybe that should be my new artist name.... Michael Motorcycle. Or Michael F'N Motorcycle. Sounds pretty good to me.

The first time I ever realized my name was not unique was a shock. I met a kid named Michael one day when I went to my cousin's house to play. I instantly hated him. How dare this kid usurp my name! That devious devil. I kept my eye on him from then on. Never really warming to him and not having any other reason to not like him than he had my name. In reality, he was a nice kid. After all I should have been pissed at his parents. In fact, I am pissed at every parent of a Michael. HOW DARE YOU???? IT IS MY NAME NOT YOUR PRECIOUS POOKIE'S NAME! EVEN IF YOU ARE OLDER THEN ME, YOUR PARENTS WERE WRONG! Maybe I have a few issues to work on.

It was a few years later and a parade of other people named Michael had come through my life. I was getting used to it. I think I was in 4th grade by this time and I had learned how to be friends with name thieves. My teacher was out, thank the lord because I hated my 4th grade teacher. Except that my substitute would almost unseat her as Queen of All Villainy. During roll call she mispronounced my name and asked for a "Michelle Williams". Michelle? It isn't even spelled close. If you think it is, you would be wrong! The other kids teased me until about lunch when they forgot about it but I never have. I probably never will. I hope that sub died in a fiery explosion.... maybe from an over abundance of gas caused by an unhealthy diet.

That mispronunciation prompts me to tell you something else, perhaps we should call it a public service announcement. The only way to spell Michael is M I C H A E L. It is not Micheal, stop screwing my name up! If you are somebody out there who had stupid parents that misspelled my name and gave it to you please alter your spelling or choose another name. In fact, knock it off with the multiple spellings of all names. Can't we choose one and stick with it? I mean aren't they all pronounced the same? That is all, now back to our regular random ravings of a slightly insane individual.

I was horrified when I went to college and found that on the same dorm floor as me another Michael Williams resided. I never met him because I moved out of that dorm shortly after but I am sure he was an upstanding citizen, that I probably should have shoved off a cliff..... name thief...

As I grew up I started to accumulate lazy friends who called me Mike and I allowed it; even embraced it. I also started a pen name in high school that some people know and other college friends know some variation of. I had a nickname that I was largely responsible for. It was not until recently that I have been introducing myself as Michael again. My new friends know me as Michael and probably think I prefer it because they apologize for calling me Mike. Which is unnecessary, I answer to old nicknames and Mike (As long as it isn't Michelle). I just kind of realized one day that I liked the sound of the whole name. Even if it is not exactly a unique name.

Speaking of not being unique... could all the other Michael Williams stop getting tickets and not paying them? Every time I get a new drivers license I have to go through a laundry list of offenses that I have never done. Especially a certain Michael Williams in New Jersey... cut it out man! Speaking of that, why the hell do they show up on my record check with the DMV? Shouldn't they research you by social security number or the driver's license number? What the holy heck do I have personal identification numbers for? PLEASE LEARN HOW TO DO YOUR JOBS PROPERLY!

So as much as I might wish for a more unique and individual name I still really want to keep my name. I also must accept that my name will always be given to other people and I will do so gracefully (ish). In order to cover the bases for my possible canonization after my death, I might be working on a few new pen names and artist monikers.

No matter how you know me feel free to use the name you have always used for me. Hey! That was rude! I do not need you cussing like that. I hope you don't cuss like that in front of your mother!

Give An Ear: My Recent Podcast Exploration

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 25 Feb 2015 02:53:00 +0000

I have been listening to a lot of podcasts lately; more than I usually do. I have been a long time Adam Carolla listener. I have also listened to years of the Stuff You Should Know, Stuff They Don't Want You To Know and Stuff You Missed in History Class for just as long. I have become a big fan of the Alison Rosen is Your New Best Friend podcast. I stopped looking for new stuff about the time ARIYNBF hit my iPod. I had a few other podcasts disappear on me or I lost interest in. I found that I love listening to things but I am not a talk radio guy because I have grown accustomed to the long form interview and discussion of podcasts. I have found that they can actually make you think about things you hadn't considered. They can push you to try something, learn something or to blaze your own path despite obstacles.

I was listening to Adam Carolla one day and I realized I knew the story he would tell and what direction the conversation would go. The show had changed over the years and a few things that drove me insane ended up sticking. I liked how he originally started where he dug into what made a person who they are now. He really went after the journey and that was what hooked me. I can't stand the live drunken crowds, questions from the audience or the call ins. It seems like most of the time the caller or live audience member is an idiot. The few times the person delivers is not worth the 97% of the callers who aren't smarter than a piece of cheese. I felt that he got away from the thing I found so unique and often did not really even interview the guests he brought in. So when that episode ended I decided to put the show on hiatus. I will come back more eventually but it was time to find something new.

One new podcast I have found and have dug most of is Creative Start. The podcast talks to artists about their journey to their current career. It is a new series and has like 6 episodes currently. I have listened to 5 of them and have learned something every time.

Another podcast I have found is Invisiblia. It is an NPR production. I am not entirely sure if that should matter but I am sure it does for some readers. Either way I have only heard one episode so far and I am excited to hear more. The episode I listened to was about fear. It talks about changes in how kids are parented, a person who actually has no fear, and ways to overcome fear. To be honest I still have about 10 minutes left but it is awesome and I wanted to mention it.

I am also listening to the recently relaunched Radio Free Burrito. It is helmed by Wil Wheaton and maybe his wife Anne. I am not sure because I am starting in early January and he is figuring it out. I find him to be pretty amusing and interesting. I am a huge fan of his web series Table Top and it seemed natural to try something else he is behind. He and his wife seem to have no filter and you learn things you might wish you hadn't but I can't get enough.

I mentioned it earlier but a podcast I have really fallen for is the Alison Rosen one. Alison Rosen Is Your New Best Friend is different. She has some amazing interviews with guests. In fact she was behind a lot of recent Marvel talk after her interview with James Gunn. This week her interview with Jennifer Lee, widow of Richard Pryor, is making headlines because of comments about Cosby. Her interviews are where it is at. She is all over the place when she interviews and it isn't a clear and distinct linear path but she digs where most don't. As a result she gets really interesting answers. She currently airs 3 times a week. One day is a one on one interview, the second is a group of friends and is usually super funny, the third is her and her husband Daniel. The third show is the newest and seems to be working on figuring itself out. My personal favorite 3rd show was the first where it was just Alison Rosen. Her husband was sick, ruining her plans, but she recorded anyway. I think it might have been my favorite episode ever. Especially when she called her husband on the cell phone to see if he was doing okay (and woke him up and he sounded like death) and when she made 3 failed "phone a fan" calls that went straight to voicemail (she rambled spectacularly for a message). I was in tears laughing. Good stuff.

I am also giving Jay Mohr, The Art of Charm, Book Lab, Coffee Break Spanish, Joe Rogan and The Writing Podcast a try.

One more thing, I am listening to a podcast about podcasting. It is called Free Podcast Course. Who knows maybe I will be writing things for my podcast as well as for this blog sometime in the future.

If you have suggestions or give any of my suggestions a try, share your experiences and feedback. I would love it.

Job Hunts and Soul Sucking Phenomenons

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 25 Feb 2015 02:13:00 +0000

I have had a couple weeks of downtime since the last job ended. I am terrible with downtime. I am looking for work but there is not a lot of things happening currently. I have my application for teaching licensure sent in and it seems like I might not get that back in time to make use of it. Which is so..... you know? I have been a walking ball of stress.

My last episode of downtime pushed me creatively but I am having a hard time focusing enough to get anything much done. I have done a couple picture walks and I am writing but I hate pretty much all of it. I guess I am feeling a little negative about everything.

I have recently put in for positions that I think I would do really well at if they would take a chance. I have also applied overseas a little and to jobs that aren't the right fit. You know because I would like to work. I have a few ideas of things to do once I get a steady gig to turn things around but I can't start until I am no longer wallowing in job hunt mode.

I don't want to whine about my life when I put on a new blog. It was one of the reasons I stopped writing candidly in here. It was why I switched focus to stories. The teaching gig kind of tended to bump my momentum a lot. I would be excitedly writing and then I would stop to work on school and then a month would go by. So I decided I needed to share more then my writing here. Even if nobody pays attention it feels good to put it somewhere. So why exactly am I whining now? The reason I am whining is because I needed to post something and I apparently needed to get all this out and written. It helps, not exactly sure why or how.

Thank you for letting me get this out.

Small Cans

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Tue, 27 Jan 2015 02:17:00 +0000

I have not posted in a while and I was wondering why not. I seem to have gotten away from using this to talk about life. While I am not super eager to convert this back into a diary I feel that I need to have the variability to talk about daily life, frustrations, successes, challenges, achievements and just random crap. I will post my writing here as well, for a while. I am looking into moving my writing elsewhere. If I do I will make an announcement. Until then...

I came home and decided to have a snack. I grabbed some edamame and threw them in the micro. Then I grabbed a can of Coke. I became a huge fan of Coke and peanut butter during my year abroad. The Coke made a lot of sense because I would get an ice cold bottle of Coke and drink it as I walked home from the local tienda. It felt so good in contrast to the sweltering heat of the day. It made the walk worth it. The peanut butter ended up being a comfort food and I would eat it when I felt homesick.

The thing about having a Coke now is I am not walking a couple miles a day any longer. It is not a great choice or nearly as satisfying as it once was. The craving has not left though. I have a dilemma in front of me. I am not ready to give up on Coke again but I also found I do not need a 20 oz bottle or a 12 oz can. I don't want that much... thank goodness they make the little cans! 7.75 oz is just about perfect. I get done and wish I had another sip but I can live with not having one. It kills that desire when it crops up. I do try to avoid drinking one a day. I try to space them and I am usually successful. Thanks for the concern...

The little cans happen to have an even bigger benefit. You can pretend to be an abnormally large sized human. A giant of the Andre the Giant ilk. You can say silly things and rhyme other people's words. You can talk about your way not being very sportsmanlike. It is awesome! Everytime I grab a small can I pretend to be a giant in a world of tiny people. You know, instead of a large guy in a world of other large people.

Yes... I do still pretend. It is not my fault you chose to grow up.

The 4 Poems

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 01 Oct 2014 05:29:00 +0000

I have been running a writing club lately and the topics I select for writing sometimes produce things I want to share. These 4 poems owe their life to the group because without it they do not exist. They were a challenge for September that required 4 poems that work on their own but also work together. I hope you enjoy them.

Poem 1: Daybreak
http://crazedlunatikdesigns.blogspot.com/2014/09/daybreak.html

Poem 2: Noon
http://crazedlunatikdesigns.blogspot.com/2014/09/noon.html

Poem 3: Sunset
http://crazedlunatikdesigns.blogspot.com/2014/09/sunset.html

Poem 4: Midnight
http://crazedlunatikdesigns.blogspot.com/2014/09/midnight.html

I have been trying to think of a collective name for when I show them together. Leave your suggestions in the comments section.

Midnight

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 01 Oct 2014 04:43:00 +0000

I awake crying.

My empty bed still smells like her

I touch her pillow,

cool from her absence,

Cradling it to me

my face wet from grief,

until dreams of her arrive again.

Sunset

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 01 Oct 2014 04:42:00 +0000

We walk

as dusk settles around us

The destination, only she knows

I follow, still quiet, since midday

An occasional pause, as I catch up

her only acknowledgement that I should follow

We both stop and look out over the city, silent

Noon

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 01 Oct 2014 04:41:00 +0000

She won’t meet my eyes.

My words fail to break through

as she stares into the distance.

She sits there shivering

but refuses my coat.

I do not know how to speak to her,

she is out of reach.

Daybreak

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 01 Oct 2014 04:40:00 +0000

I always wake early

and watch her sleep,

her chest rise and fall,

the movement of her eyes behind her eyelids

offers me a measure of peace.

I feign sleep when she stirs

as the sun pierces through the shades.

Forgettable Lessons

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Fri, 19 Sep 2014 01:08:00 +0000

These are the things I no longer wish to understand.

That thought lit up my brain like the Las Vegas strip at night. It went exactly against what my teacher was trying to drill in my head. He tapped the chalkboard next to the words he deemed to be the most important for the lesson. I looked straight at him but was really looking out of the corner of my eyes to see how my classmates reacted. He looked right at me and I bent to copy the words hurriedly.

“Tena, do you think I am talking to everybody but you?” He began as I felt my cheeks redden. “Your classmates have already written this information down and you are just starting. Hmmm…. maybe you think you know better than I. Perhaps I should hand the chalk to you.” He made his way over to my desk with the chalk outstretched. He stopped right in front of the desk with his hand still outstretched, holding the chalk. He towered over me when I was standing but I was currently sitting as he dressed me down; you could say he towered over me. I risked a glance up and saw, behind his large hooked nose, his piercing ice blue eyes boring into me with barely concealed contempt. He reminded me of a scarecrow; unusually tall and oddly proportioned. His face seemed wrong somehow; it was too pale and parts of it seemed like it belonged on another skull.

When our eyes met I knew I made a mistake looking up at him. I tried to compensate for it by hanging my head; allowing my hair to cover my face and my fear. He responded by slamming the chalk down on the desk with such force that part of it was changed to dust. “Teach!” He bellowed. I was rooted to my chair but could hear the snicker of my classmates. They were always laughing at me, I did not belong in this world of power and privilege. They mocked me openly in the hallways and tormented me in the classes. The quiet laughter at my humiliation had always seemed harder to brush off but the quiet laughter bothered me more than normal today. I pushed the tears and fear back inside and snapped my head up in the middle of the teacher’s tyrannical gloating. I met his eyes again with my best steely gaze, grabbed the chalk and headed to the board. I began writing on the board and the snickers died. For a second there was not a sound except the scratching of the chalk as I wrote. “What do you think you are doing!” He demanded. I kept writing and ignored him. He began screaming at me but I kept writing until the words of wisdom had been etched on the board. I read it again; pausing long enough to correct the grammar. Then I turned around, dropped the chalk and stomped on it before moving out of the way.

On the board it read:

The scarecrow made a mistake handing his power over to a teenager.

The room was quiet for several seconds until the unexpected laugh of the principal ripped through the air.

Shadow King; A short Story

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 23 Jul 2014 06:57:00 +0000

Shadow King

Do you ever wonder if you have a story to tell? I have never thought of my life as being worth putting in writing. What good would a story about somebody fumbling through life do the world? Isn’t that everybody’s story? What makes my story more compelling then someone else? I am not famous, rich or successful. I am a regular person living day to day, with the same worries that everybody I have ever met has as well. As far as I can tell the stories that were published had a lot more to offer then mine. So what changed? Why are you, hopefully, reading my story? A lot. Nothing. I don’t know.

The day I became interesting.

It started out as an ordinary day. I was at work. The glamorous life of a grocery store employee, an overnight stocker and cashier. I was unloading the weekly shipment when I first noticed something strange. The city was unusually quiet and at first it seemed peaceful but as I listened I soon felt fear creep up the back of my spine. Something was off. The quiet was unnatural. Oppressive. I became suddenly aware that I was alone. My coworkers and the truck driver were gone. I was alone on the unloading dock.

All of my instincts were telling me to run and hide. Unfortunately I was unable to move. I have read about being stuck as if your feet had sprouted roots, trapping you to the earth where you stood. This was not like that at all, it was like my body didn’t belong to me. Like I was merely a visitor inspecting a statue. I simply did not have the strength to pick up my feet and run away. I was stuck; alone and terrified of the silence. I began to wonder, if I could move, would I see hundreds of people stuck like this all around me. Stuck in one spot and terrified. Was this why the world had gone eerily silent?

I realized it wasn’t that the world wasn’t actually quiet. I could hear something, panting. The sound suddenly filled the silence and it seemed to come from all around me. Then I saw the source of the noise, large black dogs were slipping out of the shadows and surrounding my immobile body. The panting continued for some but others emitted a low warning growl. The growl was deep and vibrated my entire being. Warmth spread across my midsection and it took me a second to realize I had managed to pee myself in fear. I was beyond caring because I could tell my number was up anyway. The shadow dogs seemed to find my terror intoxicating because the growls were replaced by what seemed to me to be mocking grins.

“Have we terrified this young man enough boys?” Boomed a voice from the deep shadows. In response the dog tails wagged as they sat down and resumed their panting. The darkest shadow seemed to break away from the other shadows and move toward me. As it did layers of shadows stripped away from the figure and I began to make out a small figure. The figure still was mostly concealed and the voice was still terrifyingly loud when it spoke next. “Human, we have need of your services. Come with me and offer aid.”

If my body had been capable I would have turned to look behind me to see who the shadow spoke to but it became apparent when no answer came forth that the shadow figure could only be talking to me. “I require an answer.”

“An answer? You did not ask a question, Shadow Man. You simply spoke a command. So far, I have no reason to trust you or go anywhere with you. You terrify me with your shadow hounds, root me to this spot and cause me to pee my pants in terror. As far as I am concerned you can go spit.” Once again I felt the urge to look behind me to see who spoke despite knowing full well that the words had come bubbling out of my mouth.

“Shadow hounds? I like that. It sounds more ominous then the name I gave them. ‘The pack’ sounds like a group of annoying teenaged wannabe thugs. I thank you for the name for my ‘shadow hounds’ but I still require that you come and assist me.” The shadow man gestured for me to come and this time I did. I am still not quite sure why.

“You are a perceptive human. You could feel me coming while the rest of the humans froze unaware. I exist in between time and my presence tends to cause low intelligence beings to simply stop until I leave an area. You couldn’t move until I spoke to you but you were fully aware. This means there is hope for you, unlike the rest of humanity.” His words were dripping with venom. I knew this man held no love for humans including those he deemed to have hope.

“Interesting. Since I come with you of my own accord I will ask a few things from you. First, some new clothing that does not reek of urine. Second, tell me your name.”

“Ah, reasonable request, the first one is. The second is problematic. Names are power. I will not tell you my name but I can give you a name to use if you like. Although I can tell you already have one for me and that is fine as well. Although change man to king as I am the king of the world we are entering.”

“You want me to call you Shadow King? Seems odd to me but I’ll go with it. So when can I change clothes?” I asked

“It will happen once we cross the threshold, humans these days have no sense of style. I made sure that the threshold would redress all entrants in an appropriate manner when meeting with me.” And as we crossed the threshold shadows enveloped me and I could feel myself become clean and dressed in light, loose clothing. When the shadows parted I was wearing black slacks and a purple silk shirt and what seemed to be boxers; looser then I was used to but at least they were clean. The Shadow King was no longer covered in shadows. He was a small dark skinned man with angular features. He almost looked human but only just. There was something off, some energy that told your hind brain that he was dangerous. His eyes were a yellow color that I had only seen on television shows about werewolves. He smiled at me and I got the distinct feeling that he had too many teeth. “You look much more appropriate for a meeting with the Shadow King.”

I nodded stupidly at him. My words were caught up in the part of the brain that was in fight or flight mode, meaning they were once again not readily available to me. Luckily for me the Shadow King had no intention of letting me control the conversation, or was that lucky, I’m still not sure. “I need you to do something human.” I bristled at the lack of my name as he spoke to me. He hadn’t even asked for it. The arrogance of that act really got under my skin. I was about to mention it but part of me was reluctant. He handed me a hot drink and I suddenly realized the Shadow King’s realm was bitterly cold. I took a sip and it was awful, I placed it down on the table I was suddenly sitting at.

“It is very nice here if you can get past the cold. You should see it during daylight time, it is beautiful. Of course once you really see in the shadows the view is unsurpassed by anything on Earth.”

The conversation confused me because I could not keep track of it in my mind. I was not sure how we had got here and seated at this table that looked over a vast dark abyss.

“Drink human. It will help keep you warm.” I did as I was told but the lack of my name irked me a great deal. The drink was bitter.

“A Shadow King’s primary job is to manage the shadow realms bloodlust. Some of your history, human history, has been shaped by humans that were infected by shadow. The spillover is expected of course. We occupy some of the same space on this world as you humans.” He smiled at me again and my fear was replaced by loathing that ran deep. “Humans are the worst creature that could be infected by shadow. The murderous rampages are bad but truly astounding is monsters that wrap it in political or religious doctrine. Humans are monsters. They are what keeps the children of the shadow realm up at night. Humans are our bogeymen.” He looked at me without smiling, his eyes sparkled like amber fossils. My loathing went up an octave as we continued to look at each other. I broke eye contact first. I grabbed and took the last drink of my suddenly empty cup. I wanted more. Sensing my sudden desire for more of the drink a shadow servant appeared and poured some in my cup. I greedily snatched it up and guzzled it before demanding more from the servant. The shadow king began to speak again and I found his words confusing and irritating. He talked too much.

“Listen, Shadow King,” I interrupted, my words came out angry and slurred, “I don’t know who you are kidding. You are a horrible ruler, your pestilence overflows in to every place it can. You have no desire to keep it away from humans. You want us to be infected!” I was angry and when I grabbed my cup, some of the drink sloshed on my shirt. I cursed and began trying to suck the drink out of the fabric. If this bothered the Shadow King he drew no attention to it but I still felt his judgment. That rankled and I growled at him to show him my displeasure. His response was to smile at me.

“Perhaps you think you could do a better job?” He asked with that ever present, self-satisfied smirk.

“I think no such thing. You told me you were lousy at the job when you were explaining what you do. I am just tired of your attitude.” I said, at least I am fairly sure I said that, because there is a part of me that only remembers growling. Either way his smile did not falter.

“Let me ask you again human, do you think you are more suited for this job then I?”

“I have a name you know!” I growled.

“I know,” he said with a twinkle in his golden eye, “….human.”

I was out of my seat and had my hands around his throat before I was aware of moving. I was trying to choke the life from his sparkling golden eyes. He did not look concerned, nor did he seem to be fighting me. My grip began to loosen as my rage continued to grow. It didn’t make sense but I soon became aware of a steadily growing pool of dark crimson that enveloped us. My eyes threatened to close and my hands were not working as they should. I looked at him and he merely offered that same smile. This time it no longer seemed to mock me or enrage me. Instead it seemed to pity me, but it was the exact same smile. I felt a deep searing pain in my gut and it pulled my attention away from his smile. I had been stabbed, gutted really and most troubling was that I was not sure when of how it happened. The crimson pool surrounding us was my blood.

“You have fire Jason Moore.” The Shadow King whispered to me. “It is far down in your person but it is there. It took several glasses of the potion to get it to come out but come out it did. I have a question for you. Just one more question and then I will leave you to your fate.”

I looked at him with wide open eyes. It took a second for my brain to concentrate enough to blink. My eyes closed and wanted to stay behind closed lids but my brain forced them back open. When I could see again the Shadow King no longer lying beneath my body. My body that was rapidly draining of life. I had once again lost time in this shadow realm. I should never have come here, I wondered if anyone missed me. I wondered if my body would be left behind somewhere. Would they look for my murderer?

“Before I ask you the question Jason Moore,” He said my name again, when had he learned it? Had he always known it or had I told him during one of my many blackouts this evening? I wanted to ask but my lips would not move. “I must tell you something. Your wound is fatal for a mortal such as yourself. So you will die here tonight and for that I am truly sorry. No matter what you will never be you again, not exactly. It is necessary though, please believe that.” I continued to stare blankly at him. I wanted to curse him but my body was not cooperating. “Now for the question, I require an answer from you but in your current condition I know words are not a possibility. A blink shall suffice. If your answer is yes blink once and if no blink twice. Do you understand?” I blinked once. “Good. Jason Moore, Do you think you would do a better job than I at the job of Shadow King?”

I thought about my body lying here slowly leaking my blood across his floor. I thought about the life I had lived. I thought about all the decisions I had made that led me to this point. I thought about all my lost dreams and then I closed my eyes. Images floated across my eyelids. Moments both joyous and heartbreaking. Memories of all the confusion, indecision and pain. Times were I felt good, smart and on top of the world. And those earlier days when I would often find myself bored and looking for some mischief to get into. I thought about what people had said to me during those early years. I had never really lived up to the potential that others had expected of me. I had not accomplished the things I had meant to. I was a man unfulfilled. I was a lost puzzle piece trying to find the right puzzle. I had always believed that I existed in the wrong time or perhaps the wrong world. I wondered if I had been looking for my spot in the wrong puzzle. I suddenly knew my answer and I opened my eyes.

I made sure that they stayed open while I looked around. The room was empty. I was alone, laying on the floor in dried up blood. The pain was gone and there was no evidence of the wound that had nearly killed me. The knife was by my side but not in my side. I went to stand and that was when a shadow servant appeared and helped me to my feet.

“Where is the Shadow King?”

“You are here sir.” The servant replied.

The Nightmare: Quality Time

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 09 Apr 2014 00:22:00 +0000

I lied on the floor for a minute. It was the only dignified thing to do after my humiliating entrance. I was face first on the floor; Ava had simply shoved me sideways off her. She hadn’t even staggered when I fell on her. She was stronger then she looked. I had a suspicion that my nose was bleeding from one of the two impacts. I was betting on the floor.

“I have no words.” Ava said. “Except for, get off the floor and out of the way of the door before I decide to close it through you.” I did as I was told. She was wearing a smirk when I sheepishly looked at her. “You’re nose is bleeding. I wish Emily had seen that.”

I looked around and confirmed her words. Emily was not there. I looked at her with a confused expression and her response was to turn and walk further into the decadent suite. After a second she looked over her shoulder expectantly and I obediently followed along. The room was a mixture of yellows and browns. The table had a dark brown table surrounded by yellow chairs and a large dark brown sectional. The walls were a shade of brown with a wallpaper wall. It was white with brown lines on it; I think it was supposed to look like ivy but what do I know? She pointed at a chair and when I sat down she tossed a cloth at me to stem my bloody nose. I looked down at my shirt and saw it was a little bloody and I had a sneaking suspicion that in my stupor I had leaked a bloody trail all the way to the chair I was sitting in. When I stopped staring at the blood on my shirt and the blood on the cloth I realized Ava was sitting across from me in the large brown sectional. She was waiting for me to realize she was still there.

“Ray,” She began and paused before continuing, “You never stop amazing me.”

“Thanks” I replied.

“It wasn’t a compliment.” She hissed.

“I figured.” I forced myself to make and keep eye contact with her. “I am sorry about falling on you Ava.”

“Thanks Ray. Despite a slight pain where your head hit my chest, I think I am better off then you are.” She looked at me with that jarring smile and I felt myself jerk a bit. I always felt like I was the prey and she was the predator. I definitely knew she was the type of predator that enjoyed playing with its food. I fought the shudder that was threatening to overtake me.

“Glad to hear it.” I managed. “So, why am I here?”

“You mean besides your charm? Well that can wait until Emily gets back.” She fell silent but continued to stare at me with that same alarming smile. I squirmed a bit in my chair.

After a few moments I had to ask, “Will it be much longer?” She didn’t answer but her smile grew. After a while I started to wonder if she had blinked yet. I couldn’t remember her doing it and since I had become aware of it I had not seen it happen. The smile seemed to grow larger and I could feel the sweat beading on my brow despite the coolness of the room. I was beginning to panic and I was about to start screaming when the phone by her side rung. I felt relief until I watched her not look at it and continue watching me. Ava’s relaxed posture began to look more and more as if she was readying herself to pounce. I did what I do when I was scared, I began to babble. “Don’t you wish Portland had another major sports team besides the Blazers? Of course you don’t! I mean after all you live in Washington. You are probably a huge Seahawks fan. I despise them by the way. The weirdest thing is I have no real reason for it. I mean I like Washington and especially Seattle but I could do without the sports teams. The Mariners? Gag! The Seahawks? I mean come on. The best thing that happened to your state was when the Supersonics left, because, lets face it, one less team to despise. Am I right?” She was blinking now and her face was contorted into a funny and unreadable expression. I kept going. “Speaking of that, what is Seattle’s claim to fame? The space needle? What is the purpose of that thing? Speaking of Seattle, have you seen 10 Things I Hate About You? That was shot in Seattle and I have decided I was robbed by fate because that high school building looked amazing. I wish I had went there.” By this point I was gesturing wildly. What came next should have been no surprise because I was watching her but it was. Suddenly I was tasting foot and found myself falling backwards. When my head hit the carpet, I was surprised that my knee was right behind it as it slammed into my face; knocking me out.

Nightmares: My Entrance

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Thu, 27 Mar 2014 02:05:00 +0000

“Hello Ray” I was awash in her blue eyes from the moment I saw her. The people in front of her got there food but I have to admit that I barely remember making it.

“Emily.” I paused, searching for words. “Your hair is red!” I regretted those words. This was definitely a time when being at a loss for words are better than the words you find.

She smiled. “I see you have not developed the ability to stop yourself from speaking before thinking. Yes my hair is now red, very observant.”

“Can I make you something?” I ask in an attempt to not sound like an idiot.

“Well I am hungry and I noticed your menu has morphed since I last visited. Surprise me and then make something meaty for Ava because she is here as well.” Her smile widens at my flinch at the mention of her green eyed twin’s name. “She will be on her best behavior. Probably.”

I stared after her as she walked away. I had tried to convince myself since we last spoke that my crush on her had faded. I was now very aware how wrong I was. Once she was too far away to stare at I began cooking.

When I brought the food to the tables I saw that Ava sat facing me and Emily sat with her back toward me. Several people were wandering around the area and clearly had no intention to eat. There was nobody else anywhere nearby. These two women were still very important people in the crime world. A lot of people had no idea who they were but they weren’t taking chances. As I neared the table I was intercepted by a bulky, angry looking guy. “I need to check the food.” He barked.

“The Hell you do! You touch this food and I will make sure you die choking on it.” I was serious when it came to food and this reject was not touching something I made for someone else. His response was to step closer and I made ready to make good on my threat.

“Back off Roland; Emily says he is fine. Am I clear?” Ava barked at him. He sneered at me and made the watching you sign by pointing at his eyes and back to me.

“I guess you live Ruby.” I whispered as I passed him. It wasn’t my best insult but I knew it would piss him off. As expected he huffed loudly. “Well I do declare! Ava, my knight in shiny armor, will wonders never cease?”

She rolled her eyes in response. “I have a French dip for you, my champion. I have the salmon topped stir fry for you, Emily.”

“Sounds good, Ray. What else do you have there? It looks like more than 3 dishes.” Ava asked. I was stunned that she was talking to me so politely and interested sounding. I blinked for a few seconds before answering.

“I was worried I wouldn’t choose right so I brought extra.” I began putting things on the table as I told them what I had.”This is my twist on a Panamanian tamale I learned about from a friend who lived in Panama for a while. I also brought half a roasted chicken with coconut rice and vegetables, lavender pork fried rice, and the last slice of my tres leche cake.” I watched as they ended up taking a little of everything. Then I grabbed what remained of the chicken and rice dish. The most boring sounding dish but the citrus based marinade I roasted the chicken in works well with the coconut rice. We were quiet for a while as we ate. When I was done I sat and watched the ladies enjoy their meals. They ate slowly and occasionally commented on a seasoning or the texture.

“Hey Ray,” a voice from behind me spoke, “we are all heading to Tom’s house. Do you think you might be heading that way tonight?” It was one of the other cart owners. A friend and this was his way of checking in. He had asked several questions with the one question he voiced. He made sure I was okay, he was wondering if he should sit down, he wanted to know if I was going to get friendly with the ladies later, he wanted to know how long I was staying and he wanted to know the answer to the question he actually asked. I did my best to answer him.

“Probably not Jim, have a good time. I can hit the lights and close the gate when I leave.”

“Thanks Ray, have a good night. Ladies” He bent his head toward them before taking his leave.

I looked around and saw that they were close to bringing up the reason for the visit. I started to get nervous and my mouth started flapping. “Ava, this has been a very confusing night for me. I never felt the urge to flee while you sat across from me. Does this mean we can become besties?” Her response was a laugh.

“Ray, shut up.” Emily said.

“You know I suck at that. So can we move on to business?” I asked.

“Not here; lock up and meet us at the Nines.” Ava said. I nodded and they took their leave but I noticed Roland stayed a bit longer to glare at me. I maturely flipped him off.

As I walked around the grounds making sure everything was secure my mind started racing. I had no idea why they were here. The last time we were all 3 together I was sure I was going to die. I hadn’t, obviously, but I was still never sure how long until they changed their minds. That thought led to more troubling thoughts. Suddenly I could see the warning signs that meant certain death. Emily was less then friendly to me and when we last spoke she was. Ava, the person who tried to kill me quite often was being nice and that was really scary. I slunk back into my trailer and poured a tall glass of Great King Street whiskey for courage and polished off quickly. Then I locked up and headed toward the exit, shutting off lights as I passed through. I locked the gates and hustled down to the max station and barely caught the train before the doors closed. It was at that moment that the whiskey hit and I had to sit down and quell my stomach. I took a hit off the water bottle I had in my jacket and that helped relieve the nausea. After a short ride I found my exit at 5^th and Morrison.

I let the Max pass and stood facing the hotel. It was big and I was sure it was expensive. I had never made it into the place before and I suddenly wish I was not due inside at the current moment. It was when I was starting to walk that the attack came. I knew before I saw him that it was Roland come to deliver my comeuppance. I had learned a few things since getting tangled in the twins turf war and I managed to roll with the punch and lessen the damage considerably. The punch had enough power to refocus my whiskey soaked brain. I turned toward him as he grabbed me and I head butted him hard and felt Roland’s nose break. He hollered out and I did it again two more times. He fell to the ground dazed. Our scuffle had garnered a crowd and I decided to make myself scarce for a bit. I elbowed through the crowd right into another of the twins guards and he escorted me toward The Nines. As he did so he handed me a towel to wipe Roland off of my forehead. “Good moves kid. I figured Roland would try something after you made him look stupid so I came out to make sure it didn’t go too far.”

“Wow. How nice, you were only going to let him kick my ass a little bit! You sure are swell.” I looked at him as he grinned like an idiot at me. He was at least a half of a foot taller than me and he was twice as wide; solid muscle of course. I was not going to Roland this guy. Yes my new term for humiliating someone is to Roland them. “How long until you dragged him off me?”

“I guess we weren’t meant to find out that answer sunshine. Now try not to make the ladies shoot you.” With that he knocked on the door and disappeared. I realized I had missed the entire hotel. I also realized that the alcohol had settled back in to fog my brain. I decided to lay my head against the door, temporarily forgetting that the solid chunk of marble that had whisked me to the room had knocked. As I leaned in, the door opened and I fell right into Ava’s chest. I had officially made my entrance.

Nightmares

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 26 Mar 2014 02:35:00 +0000

The nightmares started several months after my ordeal. I would be sound asleep and suddenly I would jar awake; heart pounding and sweat leaking from pores. I didn’t scream though and that was a blessing. It allowed me to pretend everything was fine. My girlfriend, at the time, had slept on while I spent the rest of the night shaking, sweating, and near tears. At first I believed this was something to deal with on my own. That illusion was shattered when she woke up to use the bathroom and found me drenched in sweat and shaking in the bathtub. She had wanted to help and she had tried. The problem was she wanted me to confide in her and that couldn’t happen. How do you tell someone that you were involved in a war in Washington that nobody knows about? How do you talk about the people you killed? I chose to remain silent but she could not handle being left out. The relationship ended very quickly after we reached that impasse. Whenever I run into her now I can tell she still held a grudge. I liked her but hadn’t loved her. Sometimes things work out for the best but in this case it had ended miserably and I spent months afterwards questioning my decisions and berating myself.

Then the business had picked up and I no longer had time to think. I would work all day and crash hard when it was time to sleep. The cart had become popular and his food would go quick. Some of the other food carts near me were successful as well and they were people I now consider friends. When we had a slow night the carts would close early and we partied the night away. At first the partying kept the nightmares away but they came back. As with everything that was bad they would come back with a vengeance. The alcohol intensified the violent images and the kaleidoscope of feelings and then the alcohol would make me vomit. I continue to get together with the cart crew but have stopped drowning my sorrows and have found an uneasy balance. The reality of the situation is the cart job allowed me to keep hours that worked with night terrors and sleep issues. I am my own boss and as long as I make the lunch rush on the weekdays and was there until 3 AM on the weekends I was in the sweet spot. I soon realized I was as close to happy as I might ever be. I also realized that this was a harbinger and something was coming to muck up my life. I never expected it to happen on a busy weekend after closing time. I never expected the harbinger to be standing behind 2 other people who were ordering food. Most of all I never expected the harbinger to be a twin.

Excuses and Whining

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 26 Mar 2014 02:34:00 +0000

I hit a wall on the story about the house. So I am going to put it on the shelf for a while (which realisically means forever). I have something I want to post and see if you can make connections to something I wrote earlier. I am going to attempt to write a sequel. I have never done it before.

So the next post will be the prologue.

The House Part 7

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Sun, 01 Dec 2013 00:39:00 +0000

Foreman’s Log

June 22 Day 1 Surveyors came and marked off the land for the buildings.

Julia read through weeks of very normal sounding notes like this; short and straight to the point. A week before she came for her first visit the notes started becoming a little strange.

August 22 Day 62 – Visit from the owner today. Workers kept on pace.

There were 3 of them watching.

She was not sure what he was referring to. She knew it wasn’t her because she had been accompanied only by the construction company owner. She doubted it was an employee because every other labor issue up to this point had been noted specifically with the offense and the penalty paid. The first offense was a warning and it was noted with WRN written after the offense. EL meant a note in the employee’s file. F of course meant fired. She had seen it a few times but this was the first time a note like that was written. A half completed thought that seemed to be a continuation of another. It was a non sequitur and it did not belong in the log. She was disconcerted by it. The next entry was back to the regular pattern. Nothing was out of the ordinary, in fact, for the next 6 entries. Then there was no more order.

August 28 Day 68 – They keep watching me. They follow me home.

August 29 Day 69 – I can’t leave the house. They are watching.

August 30 Day 70 – I’m scared.

That was the last officially dated entry. The rest of the book was filled with scribbles of eyes and birds. The words “watching me” appeared over and over again. Julia found that her heart was beating hard as she flipped through the log book. She, like the foreman, was scared. The logical side of her brain was fighting this feeling as best it could but something in the recesses of her mind had latched onto the feeling of terror and it was not letting go.

She decided to go to one of the resort’s bars and have a drink. She thought that being around people would wash everything away. She was right. The flirting from the cute bartender didn’t hurt one bit. She allowed herself to be wooed as she drank the lovely rum concoctions he put before her.

________________________________________________________________

She awoke in agony. It felt like somebody was beating on her head with a bat. She sat up slowly and crawled to the bathroom. She got a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she grimaced at the site. It wasn’t pretty. She remembered flirting with the bartender until late but then leaving as the crowd got thinner. Even as intoxicated as she was, and as handsome as he was, she had not wanted to end the night with him. Even worse, then ending the night, would have been waking up next to him and dealing with what to do then. Julia had been a married woman for a while but he had died in a car accident. She had been avoiding relationships a lot since then. People always assumed it was lost love that kept her single, but that was only part of it. She had hated how much change had happened after she said “I Do”. It felt stifling and she had not met a man as worth the whole confining experience since her husband had passed. She was not opposed to falling in love again but last night was not love. She had been scared and desperately needed to feel normal. The only thing that would have happened this morning is that she would no longer be comfortable staying at this hotel. Word could travel fast and she had no desire to be hit on by every would be Romeo that was employed by the resort.

She swallowed some aspirin and sat in the hot shower trying to will the aspirin to do its job. Then she slipped on a robe and ordered room service. She consumed water and felt the old familiar feeling of not being sure if she would ever get enough liquid back in her system. She briefly wished that rum would be outlawed so she would never drink it again but the truth was she still liked rum; probably not today or perhaps the next 3 days. She found her eyes being drawn to the stack of papers she had not looked through. She had no desire to look through that rather large pile of complaints but she needed a complete picture of the project from the start to now. That meant the complaints needed to be looked at. She moved slowly to the table, careful not to bounce her brain too much, then she sat and set herself to the task. The first was not very interesting, just an accusation of another employee cursing too much. She picked up the second when room service arrived. She welcomed the excuse to continue avoiding the complaints and she immediately sat down to her breakfast. She had spent time in her youth in the US and the idea of a greasy breakfast to cure headaches had stuck. Of course she was in Panama and there were some differences in what she could get. She had scrambled eggs with cheese, onions and ham, 2 slices of bacon, a thick circular corn based product that was fried in butter and called a tortilla (although she knew it wouldn’t be considered that in the US), and two meat filled empanadas. This was accompanied with a carafe of coffee and a large glass of orange juice. As she looked at it she realized this would probably take more room then she had in her stomach. She managed to get the room service attendant to take the empanadas with him to enjoy, along with a generous tip as well. She ate about a quarter of the meal before thinking about stopping to get sick. She managed to eat a little more instead and with half of the food eaten she covered it back up and got back to work. The food definitely helped bring some balance to her system.

The complaints were still waiting for her to dive in when she was done eating and she made herself sit down and get to work. An hour later she found herself cramped up from the position she was sitting in staring at the complaints. The employees were pretty easily offended and she was only about half way through but she needed to move and stretch out her limbs. Between the food and the aspiring she was feeling almost human. So she slipped out of the robe and into some real clothes. She took the room service cart out with her when she left and she went for a walk. The sun was shining and she felt like strolling along the beach.

The House Part 6

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 20 Nov 2013 18:48:00 +0000

The paperwork was a mess and it took a long time to figure out that there was no logical order to the papers piled together. She first sorted the paper work into two piles: receipts and other. Julia began trying to create a time line of the receipts; except nobody had bothered to put a date on over half of the papers that she came across. So she started with the easy to place papers with dates first and she took the entire floor when she did it. From these receipts she could see that the crew ate regularly, that things were pretty consistently progressing until her visit 2 weeks ago, and that she had purchased the same supplies 7 times in the last 2 weeks. She grabbed her business calendar that she had been notating the progress and all discussions about the property in. The purchases were all documented with a conversation except the first two. She did not worry about that fact though because that was the standing rule: Call before you buy it thrice! She was a little amazed at herself for allowing it to happen 7 times before she actually thought it through. She finally admitted this project had become a bit of an obsession and that she might need help figuring out what to do next. She could involve her family, they had offered, and she planned too, but first she needed to figure out where she was at. She needed to present a clear picture when she asked for help.
She spent a lot of time and managed to make sense of the receipts. She organized them and placed them in one folder with the hand copied expense report she had created. It was a little ugly but not too bad yet. She looked over to the other pile and noticed it was quite a bit bigger. Her cursory glance told her she would not spend time organizing the data, it was all dated and in order. She would however spend a lot of time reading. The papers included official requests from the government, the daily log of the foreman and a lot of complaints the workers had filed. She was amazed that the complaints were such a large stack of paper. It intimidated her a bit so she put them off. She quickly read through the government related paperwork. It was legalese was abundant but not abnormal. She did not notice anything that looked odd except for the latest request from the local community. It looked like somebody had just enough law school in them to sound like a professional to all the regular folk out there but like an idiot to anyone acquainted with legalese. She blinked at it for a long time before dropping it into the file. Her stomach rumbled and she called for room service before picking up the foreman’s log. She paced around with it and ended up putting it on the table she had left undisturbed. She knew she would eat here tonight and it was a drag to have to clean before you ate. In the very same vein she had made sure there was a clear and wide path from the door to that table. The knock came and her food was delivered. She was very hungry by then because all she had was some fruit in the morning. It was now the evening and she wondered how the time had gone so quickly. She ate her food and then poured a cup of the coffee she had requested into a cup. She cleared the mess from the table and put the tray outside her door. She sat down to read the foreman’s log as she enjoyed her coffee.

The House Part 5

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 20 Nov 2013 01:06:00 +0000

The work hit a snag 2 weeks later. It started with stolen materials. Pipes and wires were put in the building and the next morning they were all gone. Then tools started going missing from the locked shed on the property. Then the water people were calling saying the person who had approved their water paperwork was not authorized to do so and they would need to halt the work until the paperwork could be refiled and examined, the tests would need to be done again, and another inspector would have to come by and approve it all. Finally the local community leaders decided they needed a taste and they were demanding that their approval for the project be sought, again. The construction progress was dead in the water.

Julia’s easy project she managed in her spare time started to creep more and more into her daily life as the construction company kept getting her involved. They were authorized to work and call the shots but the people in charge of approving everything refused to talk to anyone but the owner. She came to the decision that she would have to take a vacation from her regular job to manage this entire resort fiasco. Her family was not thrilled but were used to doing business and they made it work for her. She left the city behind the next day. She dropped off her bags at her usual spot and headed to a meeting with the construction company. As she drove she realized she no longer was as charmed by the locale. She began to notice the random discarded trash along the roads, the level of poverty of the surrounding communities, and most of all the damnable amount of vultures she saw along the way.

____________________________________________________________________

She eased out of her work clothes and eased into the tub. The water was toasty the way she liked it and the radio was playing soft relaxing music. Unfortunately Julia was not relaxed she was majorly miffed. Her construction company was testing her and she knew it was gender related. She had worked with this company before but her brother had been in town and had been along for every discussion. It seemed they thought he was the one that called the shots and that she wouldn’t know what was what. Over the phone she had not been aware of the real issues but when she got here and talked to them…. the story they told! They had told her ghost stories about the place being cursed, accidents that had occurred, the vultures being the devil’s minions and people and property going missing. She had been so shocked that she had not really reacted right away. She had taken all the paperwork and information with her when she left and promised to look it over and get back to them. Then on the way home she began to get angry. She was fuming mad and aggressively drove through the streets until she reached the freeway and hit the petal hard. Her fury was overwhelming her senses because her speed and aggressive driving garnered the attention of la policia. She had barely avoided going to jail. When she got home she tossed the paperwork from the construction company on the bed and nearly avoided starting to scream in frustration.

She attempted to allow the music, the bubbles, and the rum to improve her mood. The um wasn’t going down well, the bubbles were making her sneeze and the music was grating on her last nerve. She needed to relieve some of her pent up irritation but had found no outlet for it in the tub. That had been her mom’s trick, to let the frustration float down the drain, and it worked for Julia quite often but not always. She switched tactics and she went into the bedroom and began working up a sweat with exercises and boxing moves a younger brother had taught her a few years back. She did not feel completely satisfied when she collapsed in exhaustion but she felt better. She felt like she could think and she showered off the sweat and set up an office inside the room and cracked the paperwork.

The House Part 4

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Sat, 26 Oct 2013 14:27:00 +0000

             Her son and husband were in the ground less than a month when she sold her son’s land. All her other properties in Panama went next. Her husband was not a superstitious man but Maria Bustamente was. She sold it fast and cheaper than it should have went for but she wanted out. She sold all her possessions next. When she boarded the plane, to fly to her sister’s home in Brazil, she only owned the contents of the two suitcases she took with her. The ladies who had made up her inner circle loved the sensationalism of the story and the rumors were flying. They took great delight in her sad predicament but they all had the common decency to appear grief struck and horrified as they spun their tales. All of the women that is except for one.
                Julia Vega never got involved in the gossip. The women praised her for it but secretly despised her holier than though attitude. They were sure she was stuck up and as a result there was a lot of gossip about her whenever she left the room. Julia was pleasantly unaware of the spewed poison that crawled out at as she left. Julia worked at being appositive person, as anyone should but usually didn’t. She had her bad days but those were for her to know about; and perhaps a confidante. She firmly believed you got back a lot of what you put in. It was a motto that her entire family lived by and it had served them well. They were business owners in 4 different countries and 2 continents. Julia was working on developing her family’s company in its 5^th country. She was doing well. She was the one who bought Maria Bustamente’s land. She was not interested in it but she wanted to help the woman leave it behind. She had paid a fair price for both of them. Enough for Maria to not feel cheated and yet not enough that Julia regretted the decision. She had no plans to touch the land or do anything with it and she turned the land over to be sold by a realty company. There it would sit for the next 3years.
                It was only a passing fancy that brought her to the spot of land she owned. She would identify with it much like Javier Jr. had. It would completely capture her imagination and she drove home thinking of what to do with the land. When she got home she began searching her files. Maria had left her with everything about the land including Javier’s resort blueprints. When she found them she rolled them out and she knew that Javier was on to something. He just had the layout completely wrong and she began to sketch her rapidly forming idea. She didn’t sleep that night but that did not stop her from taking her plans to her developer. She had got the ball rolling but unlike the Bustamente she did not need to go and oversee the work. She had people for that. She decided that she did want to see it in progress. She would visit on the occasional weekend and for that she would stay in a relatively nearby resort. It was actually forty five minutes away but she wanted the creature comforts the resort could provide.
                Her first visit was during the second month of construction. Everything had been going fine. The foundation had been laid for the footprint of the main reception and it was in the process of being framed. The bricklayers were hard at work when she showed up on a Saturday morning. She knew this would be the case because they expected her. She knew it was never quite going at this frantic of a pace because they would be past this stage. She did her part and praised the group to the construction foreman. Then she went for a walk of the grounds. It was the rainy season and there was quite a bit of life happening as she strolled. She came across a stream of rather large red ants taking the fallen blooms of a tree to their colony. She giggled as she watched them carry blooms that were bigger than they were to the nest. She pictured a bunch of baby female ants asking for flower decorated walls and their dads went out to make that dream a reality. She knew this wasn’t what ants did but she could still enjoy the thought. She started on her walk of the grounds again and once again felt extremely pleased that she had decided to take this project on. She did notice the vultures watching between the branches at the top of the trees. When her walk was finished she went back to the resort and indulged herself by spending the rest of the day by the pool that overlooked the ocean.

The House Part 3

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 23 Oct 2013 01:29:00 +0000

It had been a week and after not hearing from his son, Senor Bustamente, Known simply as Senior, headed to him. As he had been getting ready to go he had assured his wife that everything was fine. Despite the many reasons he listed for her as a possible reason their son had not been heard from in a week, he knew that Javier Bustamente Jr. was a good man. He would not leave his mother to worry about him unnecessarily. He was conscientious and cared how his actions affected others. He would not spend a week ignoring emails, text messages and phone calls ever. He did not want to admit it, even as he made the drive, but he was very scared about what he would find when he reached his son’s temporary home.

The drive was made longer by his fears but he was finally at the town. He drove down the streets until he reached the little rental and saw his son’s car in the driveway. He couldn’t help it; he felt relieved and extremely upset to see that his son was at home. He pulled next to the car, put it in park, turned off the car and put on the emergency break in mere seconds and he flew out the door like he was still a young man bounding with energy. He pounded on the door feeling the relief and anger come out through his fist as it banged through the door. The door did not open. His son did not welcome him in. He felt the panic start pushing all other feelings away. He began pounding on the door hard and yelling for his son to come to the door. He chose to focus on his anger and not his fear. He yelled threats and warned that he would kick the door in. He tried the handle and found it locked. He yanked and yanked on the door and began bouncing off of it.

“No senor, no!” came a frantic cry from behind him. He turned toward the direction of the sound and he saw a small Chinese woman running across the street toward him. “No derribar la puerta! Es mi casa, tengo la llave!”

He stopped yanking on the door and waited as she came near him. She continued to speak as the distance rapidly closed between them. “Usted es el padre de Javier, ¿no? Hemos estado preocupados por él, porque no lo hemos visto desde hace semanas.” < You are Javier's father, right? We have been worried about him because we have not seen him for a week.>

“¿Cómo sabes que soy su padre?”, Senior inquired. The woman waved the question away by simply point at his face. “Why haven’t you looked on him before now?”

“He is paid up through next month and we do not really know his habits. A lot of people come to this town for privacy and we respect that. I was thinking about invading his privacy since last night and I came running when I saw him emerge from your car. As I got closer I realized you were his worried father. Then I saw you trying to break in the door and I ran across the street.” She slid the key in the door and opened the door. She moved out of his way and allowed him to be the first to enter the rental home. He called out for his son but this time it was quieter and less hopeful. It was the smell in the house that made him lose hope. It smelled like death. The tears were falling before he had even made it fully into the kitchen. He was not a man who cried easily but that smell told him it was time to mourn for his son. His pace quickened as he found the kitchen empty. The living room was empty as well but abnormally tidy. Except on the coffee table there sat a big black feather. Senior knew this type of feather very well. He used to shoot birds on his father’s farm as a boy and he knew a feather that size and shape came from the tail. He picked up and examined it and felt a wave of revulsion come through him. He was not a superstitious man, not merely because he was a very head strong man, but because he didn’t have time to waste on worrying about superstition. So the revulsion and dread inspired by that feather were very unnatural. He dropped the feather from his hand and walked slowly toward the bedroom. He feared the worst. He had no idea what his worst fears were until he walked through that closed door.

The stench in that room doubled him over and he began throwing up. He was tightly closing his eyes but he had already seen too much. He had seen the blood. It was everywhere. The dark spot in the middle of the bed where his son must have been severely wounded, the dried blood at the outskirts that was that peculiar reddish brown color and the blood splatters all over the wall. He could not move and he could not warn the woman to stay back and her blood curdling scream sliced through the air. That was when they heard movement. That was when the leathery flap of wings hit their eardrums. The woman turned and ran but Senior was too panicked to do anything but convulse with dry heaves. They tore through his body but he could not stop them even if he was aware they were happening. Something had snapped and Senior was no longer in control of his own mind. That was why he didn’t move when the vulture flew through the window and landed on the bed. It was also why he didn’t move as others emerged from the bathroom covered in gore. The police would arrive 10 minutes later and begin shooting the birds as they continued to attack Senior. They were already too late by the time they got the birds away from him.

The House part 2

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 23 Oct 2013 00:31:00 +0000

Javier did not leave his house early the next day. He spent most of the night, after waking from his crying fit, awake and afraid. It was not until dawn, when he could finally see outside, that he was able to rest. The vultures from the evening before were gone and he found a wave of exhaustion hit him. When he finally emerged in the afternoon he looked like death. His face was an unhealthy pasty color and his eyes were bloodshot. He was unusually jittery and his head darted around looking for the vultures. He did not find any but that did not help him to relax.

Javier was debating just going home and managing the construction from afar. He was even considering selling his land and restarting his dream somewhere else but Javier had a stubborn streak and in the light of day he allowed the stubborn streak to dismiss his fears; sort of. He still looked like a man who was on edge and his neighbors could see it and they went inside instead of greeting him as they usually did. Had it not been for the call from his pavers today he would still be in bed; hiding from the world.

The drive was uneventful as was his arrival and wait at the job site. The pavers were late but not as late as he had expected. His experience with construction guys was that punctuality wasn’t their thing. So only being slightly late seemed like a good deal. The guys were fast and efficient and soon Javier was driving back to his rented home and he still had daylight left. As he drove in the gate of the property he let out a breath he had been holding. There were no birds. He went inside.

That was the last time the neighbors saw Javier.

The House

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Sat, 21 Sep 2013 15:12:00 +0000

The house sat vacant. It was unfinished, only brick and mortar; no doors, windows, or flooring. Nobody lived there and the locals would drive by and discuss the house. But they never stopped, never ventured in. So there it sat; unmolested, undisturbed for years. Until one day it had a visitor. I am getting ahead of myself, let’s start at the beginning. Let’s tell the story of this partially finished home.

Javier Bustamente had a dream and it did not involve digging ditches. Except there he was in the middle of Panama digging a ditch. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his eyes before he began digging again. As he stood there he looked out at his land and knew that his dream might not involve digging ditches but sometimes you had to do the dirty work to make the dream happen. He had bought the land a year ago after scrimping and saving all his earnings since his first job. At first he was not sure what he wanted but as he continued to save everyday an idea formed; he would open a fancy resort that would bring in the international customers that were slowly trickling into his country. Javier had never done manual labor before and as he dug he soon appreciated the gardeners and cleaning crew that had always done the work around him. They worked hard for their pay and he could actually say he finally understood that. Javier hoped that soon he would be working smart for his paycheck and not hard for a paycheck. Working smarter was something his dad always talked about. His father always told him the smart worker made the money and that was why Javier had never done manual labor and that was why he learned to dream so big.

The clouds were moving in and he knew he should get some more work done before the rain storms hit. So he dug the shovel in and lifted the soil out, placing it in the ditch between his new land and the road. He needed to get this finished before tomorrow when the trucks came. His shoveling speed increased for a few minutes but he soon learned that was the path to early exhaustion and he let himself find a rhythm. He worked for the next hour before the slowly rising humidity and heat of the day forced him into his car to drive back to the small house he was renting a ways down the road. He would get back to it in the afternoon when the heat broke. He was looking forward to a shower, lunch and a short siesta. Javier had purchased a large parcel of land and he knew that it was a big undertaking but he was sure it was one that would pay off.

Javier awoke later then he had meant to but there were still several hours until night fell. As he headed toward his car he took on the service of two others, and they joined him in the ride out to the land he owned. They sat in silence as he drove until he turned on the radio. One of the men tapped lightly against his arm rest and the other man hummed along as the song approached the crescendo. He turned off the main road and headed toward his property that was walking distance to the beach.

As he pulled into what would soon be his driveway, but was now just dirt, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was movement and his brain registered a wake of vultures tearing at something and as he turned towards the commotion, just for the briefest of moments, he thought he saw them ripping apart a baby. One of the men whispered “Dios” and brought his cross to his lips. Javier kept his eyes on the vultures and soon saw the characteristic face of a possum. He let out the breath he was holding and opened his car door and got out. He walked towards the birds in an attempt to shoo them and their prize away. He thought better of it when he saw several birds pause in their feeding and puff up as he got nearer. He did not want them to think he was attacking them or attempting to steal their meal. He was not sure about what vulture capabilities were but he knew they had strong beaks for tearing apart a carcass. On top of all that, though this is something he was not willing to admit, they kind of scared him on a more primal level. He backed to the car and decided to use that to get them to move. They did move but not real far away. He hopped out grabbed his shovel and scooped the remains and flung them as far as he could. The vultures watched him for a minute then left to complete their feast. Only then did his hired help emerge from the car. They did not look happy but they were ready to work. Javier put on music and they all started digging.

As the day began to slip away he stopped the work and he and 2 tired men left the work behind; the wake of vultures forgotten. He took them back to town and headed to his house to shower before heading out to find something to eat. As he pulled into his carport he saw them watching him from the trees and surrounding buildings. He stopped the car and hit the lock button on the door. He knew it wasn’t logical. Vultures couldn’t open car doors, so locking them was a futile gesture. He was breathing hard and he saw his hands shaking. His logical brain kept telling him that these were different vultures and that there were a lot of them in this area. Unfortunately his logical side was not calling the shots right at the moment. He looked away from the birds for a moment and looked at the door to his temporary home. It was not that far away and he could drive closer so he turned the car back on and drove up to the front door. When he opened the car door the birds took flight and he fumbled for the door. The keys were a confused jumble as he tried to remember which one opened the house. Finally he got the key in and as he pushed himself in through the door he noticed the birds were now on the house looking down at him. He slammed the door and locked it before melting to the floor against it.

Javier began to cry and he cried until he fell asleep. When he awoke later he was in the fetal position and there was the scent of urine. He decided to shower and not think about what that meant but before he moved towards the bathroom he looked outside. He had to know if they were still there. He looked outside and did not see the vultures but it was very dark and he could not quite make the leap to believing they weren’t there. He shivered at the thought of the birds watching him from the darkness and hurriedly moved away from the window.

Thanks for your patronage!

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Thu, 01 Aug 2013 18:23:00 +0000

Hey all! Thank you for reading The Money (If you didn't, ya better get reading). I am super excited that I finished it (the fans of this blog know how rare that is for me). I would love feedback on it. In the meantime I am starting a new story but want to wait until it is further along before I post it here. I am also thinking of reviving old stories from this blog and trying to finish them. We shall see how that goes considering I am a week away from going back to full time teaching.
I have another blog, that chronicles my adventures in Panama, that I would love to share with you: http://blog.travelpod.com/travel-blog/crazedlunatik/1/tpod.html

I will keep writing and hopefully you keep reading. Do me a favor and turn a friend on to this blog. It needs more eyes I think.
-Michael

The Money Part 15

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Thu, 01 Aug 2013 16:48:00 +0000

Epilogue

3 months later I was working hard cooking up some dishes for a few people who were working hard to become regulars. It was hot in the cart but I was happy to be here. Most days I was able to go almost the entire day without the shake s hitting me. I had went to a doctor about it and he had given me pills but they made me hazy and I hated that more then the shakes so I stopped taking them early on. I threw the stir fry over 2 plates of rice and took it to my customers. When I got done with them I saw her. She sat in the benches nearby watching me. It was the first time I had seen Emily since I had collapsed against the door. My breath caught and I realized that bastard Lupo was right. I had a crush on Emily. I was not clear why she was there, I had stuck to the deal that Ava had set with me and was almost paid back. Business was even starting to pick up and I figured that one payment remained but it wasn’t due until the end of this month. She motioned me over and I left the cart and walked over.

“Looking almost healed Ray. Stir fry? Never expected you to make stir fry your specialty.”

“It isn’t, Its stir fry weekends. My menu changes 3 times a week. I am either going to pick one if I find my popularity waning or add more daily specialties. I am having fun with it.”

She smiles “That’s good Ray.”

I sit there and wait for her to say something else but she doesn’t so I offer to make her something and she agrees. I go back in to the cart and have a few customers appear at the window. I add their order to hers and start cooking. A few minutes later I bring the food to them and her. I sit back down. She smiles at me and takes a bite then another. “This is good Ray.”

I smile and then return to my cart.

The Money Part 14

crazedlunatik@gail.com (Michael WIlliams) — Wed, 31 Jul 2013 16:47:00 +0000

I was awakened by light. I had been moved to a bedroom and the sun was shining outside. I tried to move but it hurt so I stopped. I heard the sounds of people working on what I figured could only be rebuilding the house. Saws screamed and hammers pounded. I listened to the noises for a while before I fell asleep again.

When I woke back up Jimmy was changing my bandage and checking the wound. “It’s improving.” With that he left. My eyes closed again.

I woke up feeling hungry and noticed it was night. I decided to move and I fought the pain as I sat up. I hoped no stitches tore as I pulled myself up. I moved slowly toward the door and down the stairs. The house looked like it had when I had last seen it. As if nothing had happened. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and caught my breath. My side hurt pretty good from the wound but it wasn’t doing anything but slowing me down.

“So you are up and at it.” I heard her voice before I saw here. She stood in the shadows. “Emily isn’t here. She left you with me. Does that frighten you Ray?”

I looked at her for a moment and assess where I am and all that has happened since we last spoke. “No Ava. I am not afraid of you anymore. You will do what you need to do and as soon as that is done I will do what I need to do.”

“What do you need to do Ray?”

“Go home. Open that restaurant and forget the people I helped kill.” I looked at her silhouette. “Try to regain some normalcy and then return the money I still owe you.”

She laughed. “Glad to see you hadn’t forgotten Ray.” She turned and disappeared down a darkened hallway.