IS
4

After returning to the front yard to clean up my mess, I was stricken with an overwhelming thought that, until now, had escaped being a factor in the evaluation process entirely. Why Me? If in fact, I was the only one being targeted, or targeted at all… Why? What could I have possibly done to enrage someone so much as to single me out with such sick retribution? Surely there was nothing; only more unanswered questions.

Shaking my head, I took one long and deep breath, pushed play on my iPod, and continued on with my chores, while Killswitch Engage’s “My Curse” rang diligently through my head. Once everything was cleaned up and put away, I thought of maybe taking one of my long walks to clear my head. But if I was indeed going, it would have to be soon, before the darkness would set in and the refuge of light was gone once again.

As a child, the darkness of night is rarely accepted without some means of light for protection. Monsters dwell in the shadows behind doors, under your bed, and just inside the darkness of an unclosed closet, waiting to grab you at the most opportune moment. For some adults, the uneasy relation to night and how it’s blackness envelopes us, still remains. It is human nature to fear the unknown, and the unimaginable which exists in a domain outside the realm of light.

Normally, in recent days past, I would prefer taking my walks at night. The air was cooler, and the traffic of busy cars and people would be minimal, if not scarce. But with recent events being what they were, the insecurity of my inner child was ever so present, and I knew I would now feel safe and less vulnerable in that realm, and welcomed the presence of others as they passed by.

Twenty minutes or so into my walk, I looked up through the trees to see the sun and all its glory, but beginning its slow decline for the inevitable change, as I had come upon the asphalt bike path which spanned a good quarter mile or so through a beautiful wooded area and ending at the river. This was a great place to walk, with its large oak branches that reached over the path, shading a great deal of the distance on overly hot and sunny days. Looking at my watch, and then the suns position in the sky once again, I estimated another half hour till dusk.

But for whatever reason, this didn’t seem to be so very important anymore. I began to feel a calm come over me that I had no explanation for. Other than the fact that I wanted to eventually get back to my family, I wasn’t feeling so stressed. As if my mind had repressed the idea of evil goings-on, and graciously accepted the possibility of my paranoia at its most extreme. Whether I was wrong or right didn’t seem to matter at this time. All that mattered for now was that I felt good, and I hadn’t felt this way for some time.

Just then, a cardinal swooped down and landed on the path only yards in front of me, as if to greet me in my moment of happiness. Alley loved cardinals—cardinals and blue jays. I smiled and continued on my way, taking everything in, and feeling a special reverence towards the day which, without hesitation, was continuing to make its slow transformation from light to a darker shade of pale.

After a short while, I knew by certain landmarks that I could soon expect to hear the river’s rushing flow, when three small boys on bikes came rushing by as well, yelling and laughing in single file. The last of which had lifted his hands from the handlebars, and with great demonstration of balance, raised his arms out at his sides, pretending to fly. As he passed by with a smile in my direction, I felt as though a force greater than I had flipped a switch, and the fear that had lain in the shallows, beneath the surface, once again reared its ugly, smiling face! Bliss was short lived, with panic at my front door.

I reluctantly looked to the sky once more, and then to the shadows which had now fallen across the path in front and behind me. “Okay,” I said in a calm and controlling tone, “Time to head back,” knowing all the while I had waited too long, and that it would most likely be dark before I could ever leave the path, and make it back to my house. I began with a slow jog, while nervously repeating to myself, just how foolish I was. Then I began singing–-loudly, never slowing or changing my pace. As if the day were being controlled by a switch, only now a dimmer switch, and in my mind, I was actually watching the dim grow dark, and then darker still. Repeating the chorus to “Home” by Three Days Grace, and wanting so badly to be there, I continued to keep the tempo of the song in my head with every step of my stride, when the lyric was so rudely interrupted by a grunting sound from behind me.

Frantically turning to acknowledge the noise while in stride, I tripped and tumbled viciously to the painfully hard asphalt surface, then rolling off into the surrounding dirt and stones. My right hand and elbow received the brunt of the fall, as I writhed with the intensity of pain, but still making an effort to see what was there.

And indeed, someone or something was. Approximately twenty yards in the direction I just came from was the obscure silhouette of what looked to be a man, standing just off the path and motionless. It was too dark by now to see his face. He made no sound or attempt to speak, and I found myself squinting hard to be assured that he wasn’t something other than what I had originally thought him to be. My pain had now become secondary to what stood before me.

“Hello?” I yelled out, in denial for wanting response, as my voice echoed down the path and past the stationary figure. And then again—only silence. Shaking uncontrollably, but not wanting to show my fear, I spoke again. “Man! I really wiped it!” sporting a bogus smile as I climbed to my feet while brushing the dirt from my knees. Something kept me frozen there; paralyzed and apprehensive to make any move, when all I wanted to do was run.

Suddenly my body began to respond to my fear, as I once again began to jog. Looking over my left shoulder, as far as I could tell, he was moving too, which made me move all the more faster. My stride had now progressed to an all-out run, as I looked back a second time to see he had shortened the distance between us. I still couldn’t see his face, but his stride was awkward and uncontrolled, and I wondered how he was able to keep up with me. My heart pounded desperately in my chest. I was in fear of catching my breath, when I saw the entrance to the path maybe thirty yards ahead. I was almost there! Twenty more yards, and then we would be out in the open, and I would be safe with someone as witness.

As I exploded off the path and out into the open air, I screamed, “Fuck you!” with all the anger and fear I felt compelled to release… but to my amazement, no one was there. And once more, I apparently had scared the hell out of two old ladies who were walking by at that time. Their walk had picked up a much quicker pace with darting glances of disgust, as I slowly walked back to the entrance of the path, gasping for breath with nothing but questions to hold on to.

Bent over, with my hands on my knees, I could only see maybe fifteen yards down the path by now, before the darkness engulfed everything beyond. “Fuck you!” I screamed long and hard with as much rage as my spent lungs would allow, while my voice echoed into the blackness and soon died off into the silence, leaving me to reflect on what had just happened. I found my conscience altered into a place I couldn’t understand. As if I had been thrown into a real living nightmare, with no clue of how to escape from it, or how to get back to anything resembling the normal life I had been accustomed to.

Maybe this was all a dream. Yeah! Maybe all of this, and I mean everything that has happened up to this point, including the storm, was just a very elaborate, and very bad dream. But when, if ever, was I going to wake up? And then again, how common is it to wish yourself out of a dream that you’re currently in? I would guess—not very. Again I found myself swimming within an array of emotions, none of which gave me the strength or fortitude to rise above all of this. And as I stood there still gazing into the blackness, my head began to swim as well, knowing damn well I had run out of hope for any kind of rationalization.

I was soon overtaken with feelings of surrender and abandonment, as I dropped to my knees and cried. Just as someone might release a small amount of air from a balloon to avoid the inevitable burst, my body was now doing the same. Once my weeping began to subside, I was in awe to hear someone still crying from somewhere off in the dark distance before me. As if to be mimicking my sorrow with rude distaste. Not only mimicking my sorrow, but mimicking my voice as well! And it wasn’t until I screamed out in anger that it stopped. Though more frightened than angry, I turned and began to run in the direction of my neighborhood, not even looking back when I heard, “Fuck you!” shouted at me with what sounded exactly like my own voice!

This living and breathing nightmare had now reached the height of insanity. But was this my insanity, or his? As I crossed the main boulevard, not waiting for, or responding to any traffic, I now had become that train wreck. My buttons had been pushed, and then pushed again. I continued to run as I entered my sub, yearning only for the warmth and safety of my home, unresponsive to the physical trauma my body had just encountered.

This had gone too far. I didn’t understand why this was happening to me, but I now knew I would have to involve the police. And if I was going that kind of distance, I felt it would be best to wait until my family had left the following night. I would try to resolve all of this while they were gone. There was no sense in putting them through any of the terror I had experienced, and may experience still.

Besides, I was feeling an intuition that he wanted nothing to do with them, or anyone else but me. But what did he want from me? I kept a strong vigilance to the spaces around and behind me as I continued up the street and towards my house. My anxiety would keep me awake tonight, but this was a good thing. And as I approached my front door, for now, I would have to put all of this behind me. My injuries were a result of stupidity or ignorance, surely not from the fear of some crazed lunatic’s presence! This brought out a nervous giggle as I turned the knob, and entered the temporary sanctuary of normalcy once again.

“What the hell happened?” Corey shouted as I entered into the bright lights of the kitchen, and the intense game of Monopoly the three of them had been playing.

Seeing their jaw-dropped faces, I came to the realization that maybe the injuries I sustained might be a tad bit more severe than I thought. And also, that my choice of white and light grey apparel was probably not helping my appearance any, as I must have appeared to be concealing a gunshot wound somewhere to my right side, with the obvious wet stains of blood. Looking at my right hand, my jaw must have dropped as well. It had swelled, with the majority of my palm severely scraped and bloodied to the extent that it covered a good portion of my wrist, and forearm too. Lifting my hand, and finally acknowledging the superficial damage I suffered, opened the flood gates to acknowledge the pain, as I plucked a few small asphalt stones and loosened skin from the wound. Then, as I rotated my arm inward to view my elbow with its matching gash, I reported, “Took a fall on the bike path!”

“Took a fall?” Corey said. “You look like you were hit by a damn car! Are you kidding me?”

”Got a Band-Aid or something?” I asked with half a smile.

“Not funny! Get in the bathroom--now!” The sergeant was back!

As I sat on the edge of the tub with the sarg/nurse attending to my wounds, my thoughts drifted off to the path and just how everything had played out. It all seemed to happen so fast. From the time I heard something behind me, to the point where I was running for home, all began to run together, like some crazy, messed-up water painting.

And when I envisioned the intruder, I had only the choice of putting one face to his lanky bod, the only face that has plagued my thoughts and nightmarish visions since that night of the storm. We’ll call him Smiley! It had to be Smiley! Somehow, by giving him that name, it seemed to make him less intimidating or intrusive. Who the hell was I kidding! He was a scary son of a bitch, and I hoped to God I would never have to see him again. I was kidding myself once more.

“Honey! I think maybe you should go to the hospital,” Corey exclaimed.

“Why, do I need stitches?”

“No, I don’t think so, but you’re going to have some nasty scars,” she replied.

“I’ll have scars regardless. You cleaned it good enough, now just wrap it up, Doc!”

“Okay,” she said apprehensively, while shaking her head. “Oh, by the way, we’re all set for tomorrow!” Corey said, in a much happier tone.

”What time’s your flight?” I asked, as I cringed with stinging sensations of her medical endeavors.

“Eight fifteen. That means we should—”

“Wait a minute, eight fifteen at night?” I interrupted.

“Yeah. I told you we would most likely be leaving sometime tomorrow night! Is there a problem?”

If she only knew, I thought to myself. “No—no, there’s no problem. I just thought maybe you’d be leaving tomorrow, during the day.”

“Why Joshua, are you trying to get rid of us? Got a hot date or something?” she said as she smiled and gave my bandage a light tap to show she was done. Then, giving me a soft kiss on the lips, she stood up and left for the kitchen.

I stayed seated there for a few seconds longer, still taking in the absurd events of the evening, before giving an answer to her last question… “Something” I whispered.