Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Tag: fiction

  • Alone – Chapter 1

    Leaving

    A group of scientists had finally accomplished what we long hoped for – the ability to travel through the universe and back home without losing our most prized commodity – time. The media were calling it warp drive when it was first announced but it wasn’t really akin to what we had seen on old Star Trek episodes at all. I don’t understand all the techno speak on it I just knew it worked and we were going to be able to save everyone after all. The tech guys called it Ushering – as it wasn’t so much a piloted or driven program but one that we directed to the precise place in space we wanted to go.

    The Earth was doomed. Resources on planet had dwindled, despite the decades of warnings that it was likely to happen we just kept consuming as fast as possible. You couldn’t convince the majority that their every action had consequences; they always assumed it was the other guy. I’m guilty myself: two showers a day, leaving my electronics plugged in and taking the Betram two blocks to the store when I could have walked. (more…)

  • Hope for Christmas

    He’d been trying this “AA thing” for months now – years if you count that time the court made him go after the DUI, like a month of sharing his feelings was going to make a difference. He shared all the time with his friends at the bar and they really understood him.

    “go through the book” they said. There is no way a book written that long ago could help him – he’d read on the internet all the cult like behaviors and the pushing of the book on people. He refused to be brainwashed that easily, he wasn’t stupid.

    They also said get a sponsor but all the girls he asked said no, so when he found that guy with a Harley, now that was something he wanted, wanted real bad. But that guy just wanted to go through the book too, and all that talk about God – no more preaching, thank you. So the latest guy didn’t say much at all and just listened when he whined about how awful life had been treating him – that’s all he every wanted. But why go to meetings for that… One more drunk and he was back again, there has to be a trick to this thing. Sponsorship, meetings, sharing… ugh…

    One night at the speaker and potluck meeting (he only went for the really great Swedish meatballs that pretty girl made) he heard a guy from share about being of service making all the difference. “Great,” he thought “now they want me as slave labor” But he volunteered that night for the Christmas Alcathon, just to see if this would make a difference.

    (more…)

  • Newcomer

    Here we go again, I think as we stand and grab hands. We sure do pray a lot here, but at least everyone doesn’t hug me here like they did at the NA meeting I attended.

    “Who keeps us sober?” comes a voice from across the hall and then the chanting begins:

    “Our Father who are in heaven, hallowed by thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory for ever and ever. Amen”

    I try to let go of the hands but this group does another ritual – “Keep coming back, it works if you work and you’re worth it” they say while pumping our hands in unison together. The man next to me has sweaty hands and I try to wipe off my hands without him noticing, I don’t know why it matters, he must know he has sweaty hands. Try as I might every time I hear that prayer and any of the chantingI picture a Borg Cube talking about assimilation. (more…)

  • I can feel them downstairs…

    I can feel them downstairs.

    I know they are rifling through the papers on the end table, planting listening devices in the phone and drugging the milk. They are there every night and every night its the same, I pretend I can’t feel them and hear them whispering. The whispers are the worst I can almost make out what their saying and it makes my skin crawl when I get so close to interpreting the words but then realize it’s gobbledygook.

    I think the cat knows they’re there too, sometimes she’ll glance sharply over at the stair case, eyes wide sparkling her dangerous green. I wonder if they’ve been here long enough for her to be used to them, perhaps they’ve even pet her when I’m asleep – I know they do other things, but can the cat tolerate them – whatever they are? I hope she’ll be like an early warning system for me, if she jumps off the bed and heads to a hole I may have a chance to defend myself, I might even have a chance to run – if they let me.

    Sometimes I awaken from a deep sleep and know one of them is standing over me. I lay perfectly still  – if they know I know they are there they would be more likely to hurt me or something – its the something that is the most frightening, trying to figure out what they want with me. After a while when I can hear their heartbeat, almost feel their breath on my face I cannot stand it anymore, sometimes I moan or yawn and very slowly roll over on my side  and as much as I want to I don’t breathe a heavy sigh of relief, I just freeze like that. One of two things usually happens, if I’m lucky I just pass out from exhaustion if I’m not I can lie there all night wondering when they’ll leave me alone or if this is the night they take me.

    I somehow know they want to take me, I can feel it in my soul a deep need for them to take me with them wherever it is that they go and I know that would be a bad thing for me, the worst thing I’m fairly certain.

    I can feel one behind me as I write this. I can’t see his reflection in the screen but I can feel him standing in the doorway and I know he can read all of this. That frightens part of me and relieves the other part – perhaps the fear can end it’s the anticipation and not knowing that are the worst for me. Not knowing what they’re looking for, when they will take me and especially how much it will hurt.

    Tonight when I turn off the light and pull the sheet over me I know I’ll hear them again downstairs – a scritch scratch of papers moving here and there, a creak in the floor board and like I heard the other night a foot step or two on the stair.

    I can feel them downstairs…