tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13945274676862436402024-03-12T18:45:46.961-07:00Ray's BlogRayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394527467686243640.post-61372243480552309362011-05-13T23:11:00.000-07:002011-05-13T23:11:04.464-07:00Sorry...Good NewsHello my good people. I am so sorry for the long silence. I've been inundated with school work.<br />
Ok.<br />
Whispers of the Sandman is undergoing major changes on my System now, as I am working overtime on it. It is coming along great. When the time is right, I will share some of it again. Meanwhile, I hope to start another story here very, very soon. Or, is there any particular type of story U would want me to write? Ur suggestions are welcome in the Comments box.<br />
<br />
Alright, for the Good News.<br />
Whispers From The Nether-Realm, a collection of Short Stories, is out. And the best part?<br />
I am the author. Finishing touches are being made to the Facebook Fanpage and the like, but U can view, and purchase (oh yes please...*wink*) both the Softcover and the e-book at the websites below:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/">www.amazon.com</a> (U.S.)<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/">www.amazon.co.uk</a> (U.K.)<br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/">www.barnesandnoble.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.xlibrispublishing.co.uk/bookstore/bookdisplay.aspx?bookid=301804">http://www.xlibrispublishing.co.uk/bookstore/bookdisplay.aspx?bookid=301804</a><br />
<br />
So, click away, get a copy, and spread the word!!!<br />
<br />
Thank you very much!<br />
<br />
See you soon....Very soon...Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394527467686243640.post-29831912531219041702011-02-28T08:56:00.000-08:002011-02-28T08:56:39.692-08:00WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 8<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>8</u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry pulled up in front of Mary’s now-deserted family house in his plant-green Toyota Camry. He’d had his mechanic drop off his car for him at the station, sparing him a trip to the greasy mechanic village. The house looked battle-weary and desolate. The family had evacuated probably a couple of hours ago; he’d made sure of that. He didn’t want them there for a while, due to work-related reasons, as well as the fact that staying there would be hell for them. He’d wanted them to leave until things returned to normal.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Jerry doubted things would ever return to normal, at least not for a long while. He only hoped the family would stay strong during this trying period. It was going to be damn hard but hell, when were things ever easy?</div><div class="MsoNormal">“ So,” Jerry began, breaking the silence in the car, “ I’ll go in there. I want you to stay here and wait for me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“What? In this heat?” James protested.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jerry smiled. “Okay. Who called the police last night?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“The neighbours.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">You know the particular house?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">James pointed behind them, to the right of the Okoro residence.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Okay. Now go in there and ask them some questions. Try and find out more. Then come here and wait for me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Why?” James asked, still protesting.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Look, you want to learn, right?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Then I suggest you direct your questions to the family you are about to meet instead of at me. Now go.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grumbling a bit under his breath, James got out of the car. Jerry smiled to himself, then rolled up his windows, cracking them open a bit to let air in and out. He had to fix his broken A.C. Sighing, he got out of the car and made his way to the house, putting on his sunshades.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What secrets will you yield to me?</i> Jerry asked the house.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No answer.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t expecting any.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>9</u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry closed the door behind him, putting his sunshades into his breast pocket. He had already put on latex gloves and checked the door for signs of forced entry, and he hadn’t found any. He was aware of the fact that the door had been checked before, but he always preferred to see things for himself.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The interior of the house was dark. The furniture were just shapes in the darkness of the room. The place felt...heavy. Heavy with pain, sadness, loss. Heavy with death...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry pulled the shades open to let in the sunlight. He also turned on the lights, and was grateful that power was on. He walked around the sitting room slowly, soaking in everything, trying to get a feel for the family. On the TV stand, beside the 21-inch screen, he saw a small family picture. On the wall directly above the TV hung a larger family picture. They were all smiling, all dressed in matching traditional attire. Mary stood behind the parents who carried the other children. She seemed to be a happy person; her eyes were shining playfully. On the wall beside that one hung a portrait of Mary, sitting and smiling demurely, looking at the camera from beneath her eyebrows, her eyes telling Jerry that she knew something that he didn’t.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The picture was so right.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only Mary knew how she died.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry made his way to her room and stood in the doorway. The room was dark too; the shades were drawn and the light was off. Took a deep breath, then reached in and turned on the light. The light bulb bathed the room in its pale yellow glow.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jerry stepped in, pulled open the shades, and then looked around, taking in everything. When he was satisfied, he proceeded to walk around the room, first one way-front, back, move a little, front, back, till he got to the end, then the other, in a crosswise pattern, eyes peeled, looking for nothing, anything, everything. When he was done, he stood and looked at the bed frame. The bed had been stripped bare by prior to his coming, with everything, including the bed carried to the lab for analysis. He looked at it for a while, then looked at the dried bloodstains on the walls.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the umpteenth time, Jerry asked, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>really happened here?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just didn’t know what to think or say; to say that he was baffled was the understatement of the year. Usually, crimes had a specific pattern. Robberies were all the same basically, as well as murders. The criminals always left something behind, always. And the criminals in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Nigeria</st1:place></st1:country-region> were not that sophisticated.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, this one was different. It felt different too. Usually, he could sense the emotion in crime scenes. Here, nothing. It was as if Mary had just died on her own; like no one had killed her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Strange.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disturbing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry opened the wardrobe and skimmed through it. Saw the basic make-up kit and stuff. Nothing fancy. As if she didn’t spend much on make-up. He closed the wardrobe, and then sat down on the single stool in the room. He looked at the small cupboard at the foot of the bed. Pulled out the first drawer. Nothing but some cards. He picked them all up, flicked through them. Some birthday cards and two romantic cards. A guy named Chris. Jerry put the cards in his jacket and pushed the drawer shut. Pulled the second one. A waterproof jacket containing some photos. He pulled them out and glanced at them. A few were of Mary and her family, Mary and her friends, and Mary alone. Some were in another waterproof jacket. He pulled these out. Three pictures. All of her and a guy. Probably Chris. He was handsome, looked obviously older than her, though not by much. In one of the pictures, Chris’ eyes seemed to mock the camera. Jerry looked at it for a while, then slipped the three photographs of Mary and Chris into the waterproof jacket, and into the inner pocket of his Blazer. The remaining pictures, he replaced in their jacket and back in the drawer. He stood and turned, and his gaze fell on the cot in the room.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nkechi had watched her big sister die in a horrible manner. He wondered about the effect it would have on her. Would she remember it? Would she forget?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For her sake, Jerry hoped she would forget.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry pulled the drapes shut and left the room, switching off the light. In the sitting room he did the same, throwing the whole house into darkness. Then he left the house.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sound of the door closing had with it the finality of a coffin slamming shut.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>10</u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>James relaxed against the car, sunglasses on, looking at something down the street. The sound of the door snapped his head around, and he watched Jerry from over the roof of the car as he made his way down. Waited for him to come and unlock the car. When they were in the coolness of the car, James removed his sunglasses.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“So?” Jerry asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Well, I learned nothing new. Same old story. They heard screaming in the night and called the police. They didn’t see anyone climb the fence. You really have to fix your car A.C.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I’ll do that soon. Any sign that the killer could have come and gone by climbing the side or back fence?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No. It’s laced with broken bottles at the top all around. No signs of any broken bottles, and no, they haven’t swept their compound this morning. The events of the past hours have not exactly let them do that.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry let it all sink in. Then he compared what he had heard with what he’d seen. Nothing measured up. He stared out the window at the house. James watched a mother look at her son as he played beneath a mango tree, waving a plastic toy, laughing and lurching in ungainly steps.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pace was strangely quiet and subdued. Normally, people would have been playing around, sun or not, and kids would have been making a racket. However, it seemed like the death had shut down everybody, temporarily.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I found these pictures of her, and these cards” Jerry said, bringing out the pictures and giving them to James. He took out the cards and tossed them onto the back seat, then took out his keys and inserted them into the ignition while James took out the pictures. Jerry rolled down the windows.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Who is she leaning on here?” James asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Could be her boyfriend. I found a card from a guy called Chris. That could be him.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Who?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Chris. Her boyfriend apparently.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“But there’s no one here. She’s alone.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry turned to look at James, his eyes asking, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What do you mean by that?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The picture widened his eyes instantly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry’s mouth went dry. He shook his head, closed his eyes and opened them again; perhaps he was seeing something else.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Wrong picture man,” Jerry said, chuckling “It must be. Lemme see.” He took the pictures, flipped through them. “This isn’t funny James.” James just sat there looking at him as he flipped through the pictures again and again, then turned to the backseat, scattering the cards and looking amongst them. Nothing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry turned to look at James, fully incredulous now. “It can’t be”, Jerry whispered. He fumbled out of his car and ran back into the house. He almost broke the key getting in, but he didn’t care; things like this didn’t happen at all, not now, not ever. He blew past the sitting room into her room, and switched on the light. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe you put it somewhere else and can’t rem-</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry squashed that thought. He rushed to the drawers, opened them. The card drawer was empty. The other one; he took out the pictures. Went through them frantically, twice.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No no no no no.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry opened the wardrobe and searched.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing under the bed either.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry felt as if someone had taken the ground from beneath his feet without his knowledge; he felt like he was in free-fall. He stood for a while, trawling his memory for the face he knew he’d seen. All he could see were a pair of mocking eyes swimming in the darkness.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What is this REALLY all about? What is going on here?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Feeling fifty years older, James turned off the light and trudged out of the house, locking up after him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>James watched him walk down towards the car, shoulders slumped. He was visibly disturbed. He kept quiet, knowing that he would speak.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry got into his car and fell back with a sigh, staring out through the windshield without seeing anything.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I know what I saw James, and trust me, she wasn’t alone in that picture. She was with a guy. She was leaning against him; you saw the way her body bent.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“But people don’t just disappear from pictures J,” James said, puzzled as well. What Jerry said made sense and didn’t make sense at the same time.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I know, but I know what I saw James. I really saw someone there. Shit.” He turned and took the cards from the backseat. Selected the one he was looking for. Opened it.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Shit.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked at the cover and back of the card, just to be sure. It was the right card.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Shit.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“What?” James asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Here.” Jerry passed the card to James. “Take a look at this.” He went back to staring at nothing as James opened the card and read what was in it.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“This is a romantic card,” James said.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“So?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“It was from Chris. Her boyfriend.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“How do you know? Nothing’s written here.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Exactly.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The silence weighed a ton, then two. Then James spoke. “What exactly do you mean to tell me Jerry? What did you see? What is going on?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heaving a great sigh, Jerry spoke. “I saw the card inside, with Chris’s name and handwriting on it. I saw the pictures and saw him in that one you showed me. He was present then, but now he’s gone, and for the life of me, I can’t seem to remember him anymore, except for his eyes. They seemed to be mocking me.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Now, every trace of him is gone.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry turned to look at James. “It’s like he was never there.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>11</u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took note of everything, every detail. He’d gone over everything before, but he was a stickler for details. He only had one chance to get it right.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just one chance to get into the Senator’s house.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just one.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the Mobile Policemen (MOPOL) on duty at the gate looked out the window, suddenly convinced that someone was watching the house.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one was there.</div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394527467686243640.post-85048922194861746142011-02-21T17:11:00.000-08:002011-02-21T17:11:02.143-08:00WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 7<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>7</u></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry sat at his desk, slowly massaging the bridge of his nose. What he’d seen back in Mary’s house would not let him be. Yes, outwardly he was the personification of the word ‘cool’, but inside, well, that was another ball game. Inside he roiled and toiled; asked questions that led to more questions.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flash of images; blood, blood, and more blood.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do I do this stuff?</i> Jerry asked himself for the umpteenth time. He closed his eyes. He looked out the window blind from his cubicle, and saw some of his lesser colleagues staring at him. Seeing his eyes, they quickly went back to boring themselves over whatever case they were studying at the moment.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ice man.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was what they called him sometimes behind his back. Of course he heard them, but it wasn’t just worth it trying to stop the name-calling; total waste of time. Yeah, he was Jerry ‘Ice Man’ Onuorah. The most unpredictable guy on the block. And the best investigator too.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The body, looking like black and red Swiss Cheese.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many punctures, so many.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who’d done that?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What</i> had done that?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The face.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The eyes; gone. Nothing but jelly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is too much, </i>he told himself,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> even for the Ice <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Man.</st1:place></st1:state></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do I do this?</i> He didn’t know. Some of the other Detectives thought he enjoyed it. Some even said he enjoyed seeing the blood of dead people. Jerry snorted at that thought. Yeah. Jerry the Cool guy. The Ice <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Man.</st1:place></st1:state> Eats brains for breakfast, dines with killers.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bunch of no-good, two-faced, back-biting scared creeps. I’ve seen enough death to last me two lifetimes!</i> That internal war again. It was that time of year again. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I don’t want this, but I have to do it. You want my place? Here, take it. Take everything; my nightmares, my troubles, my loneliness, here, it’s yours. Take everything. EVERYTHING!!!</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outwardly, Jerry sat as still as a statue. Then he stood up and looked out of the window of his second-floor office in a weak attempt to clear his head. The FCID had been going through some sort of ‘Rebranding’ or something, and they had built new offices and the like for them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should just quit. Maybe get another job.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But…deep down, Jerry knew he couldn’t leave this job. Not the way he was now. Where would he work? How would he fit in? Nowhere, that was where he would fit in. Nowhere. Jerry stared out through the window, unseeing. Below, life moved on usual.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know you can’t leave J. Not just yet.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes the salary was not much (which Government work ever paid well apart from the dishonest kind?) but truthfully he didn’t need the money. He owned four sizable boutiques and three super-markets that did pretty well. They’d been left behind by his father, an astute businessman in his time. Actually, his dad had left one boutique and two supermarkets. His dad’s sister had been managing the businesses, and had expanded them over time. Probably the business acumen stopped with him; he’d lost all appetite for business after what had happened that day…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now he was here to exorcise his demons. He’d spent a little over ten years trying to exorcise those demons, with no tangible success. If anything it had cost him, robbing him of the one thing that had somehow made everything bearable.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gunshots.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Screams.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Screech of tires.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gunshots.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blood.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More gunshots.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Her face.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Holes.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Images swirled in his mind, and he was helpless to stop them. How could he-</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A knock on his open door gratefully brought him back. He turned and saw Sergeant James. He was the only guy here who really understood Jerry’s inner turmoil, though he had no idea as to the cause. But he was a reliable guy to have in a pinch. James with his sleeves rolled up, was holding a pink folder. He walked to Jerry’s desk and placed the folder on it as he sat down. Jerry took his seat opposite James and picked up the folder. Weighed it.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“That’s it?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes it is,” James answered. “I have to warn you though, it is creepy. If you had been in the mortuary, you probably would have added your breakfast to her blood.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry chuckled lightly, then opened the folder. The first picture made him suck in breath sharply, then his face went blank as he looked at the photos of Mary-he couldn’t bear to think of her as a corpse. It drove him when he thought of the victims by their birth-names. He read the accompanying preliminary report.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You read this?” Jerry asked James.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry read through it again, still asking himself questions. Then he closed the file. “I need to go back there now.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">James nodded. “I’m coming with you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No James, I need to go alone,”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Jerry, if you like go, in a taxi, I’ll still follow you. You have been procrastinating this thing for too long. I want to learn from you. You promised me this. I believe it’s long overdue.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry looked at him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What the heck.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal">“Okay. You can come but-” Jerry said, cutting off James’ pumping fist, “first, you have to do exactly as I say.” James nodded. “Then, you have to watch my back.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Ha. You be TV?” James asked. They both laughed.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Meet me downstairs,” Jerry said, checking that his Beretta was loaded, before putting on his jacket as James left the office.</div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394527467686243640.post-59717922298932809562011-02-03T11:45:00.001-08:002011-02-03T11:45:47.271-08:00WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 6<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>6</u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jennifer flashed a smile at the security guys at the gate as they opened it for her.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Madam Jenny, how U dey naa?” one of the guards asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I dey fine Timi. This one wey U hide for inside your office sef, the sun no dey smile abi?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“As in ehn?” the guard answered, as the two other guards inside the security room smiled. It was a two-story structure, with the main controls upstairs on the first floor. The other guards would probably be upstairs, she thought, staring at the glowing screens. Well, nothing like ‘too much security’ for the Secret Service. The guard Jennifer had been speaking to nodded at one of the other guards, who pressed a button, and the gate buzzed open.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Thank you,” Jennifer said. “I’ll be back soon.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">Outside, she saw Ahmed. She smiled to herself. She knew what was coming.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ahmed turned his head as he heard the gate open. He saw who it was, and smiled mischievously. “Aaah…Madam Jenny Jenny. How you dey?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Ahmed, I am fine oh. Isn’t the sun too hot for you?” Jennifer asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I just felt like coming out here.” Ahmed got off the twenty-feet high, twelve-inch thick fence he’d been leaning on, and straightened his jacket. He slung his AK-47 across his shoulders and took off his sunglasses. He looked her up and down. “Kai, Madam Jenny, you fine oh!” he said, smiling.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jennifer smiled. “Thank you.” And with a face which would make most models go green with envy, skin the colour of light chocolate, brown eyes that seemed to lighten or darken with her mood, and a full and shapely figure which she carried with ease on her five-feet nine-inch frame, she really was a beauty. Used to being the cynosure of all eyes wherever she went, she was actually easy-going, which was why most people liked her. But one thing she was most grateful for was her boss, who had never made a pass at her. She wasn’t sure how she would have dealt with that.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I need to go and get some lunch, I’ll be back later.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Ah, no takeout today?” Ahmed asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No Ahmed, I feel like eating something else. You know whether that bolé woman don comot?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes oh. And she get better plantain today, with plenty fish. I think you need to go now, before other customers just finish am there.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Okay. Thank you.” Jennifer walked off. Five minutes later, she was greeting the owner of the bolé stand.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Aaah, Jenny, long time. How now? U just forget my roasted plantain abi?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Ah ah, Mama, no naa. You know it’s not like that. Na work no dey gree me chop again oh.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Okay oh. Wetin you want? The usual?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes ma.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No wahala. Just siddon for there, Chichi go bring am for you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Okay.” Jennifer found a seat at a table beneath the canopy. At least her table was empty, and the canopy beneath the mango tree provided adequate shade. And nothing was better than natural breeze…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Five minutes later, she was washing her hands and digging into the hot roasted plantains and roasted fish tail, all covered in hot, peppery sauce.</div><div class="MsoNormal">And death watched her a few meters away.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Death had known her, a lifetime ago…</div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394527467686243640.post-34628258692870500802011-01-14T07:12:00.000-08:002011-01-14T07:12:09.044-08:00WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 5<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ansi-language:#0400;
mso-fareast-language:#0400;
mso-bidi-language:#0400;}
</style> <![endif]--> <br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><u>4</u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Jerry drifted outside, not really seeing anything; he was on autopilot now. The crowd had thinned considerably. Maybe they’d decided that they were wasting their own time, waiting to see a dead body. Whatever the reason, he was glad. The sunlight warmed his face and he looked up. Most of the clouds had dispersed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Jerry turned left at the gate and walked away from everything. He let his subconscious do its work, like always. He thought without thinking. He tried to piece together the puzzle in his head, and he discovered that he didn’t have half of the pieces…or maybe he had them, but didn’t realize it yet. No worries, he was sure it would come.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>But something…something kept bothering him about this death. What had happened back there?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Jerry shivered as dread drew a cold line down his spine. Something was giving him the creeps, and the worst part was that he didn’t know what it was.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>He felt somehow…just somehow…something big was about to happen.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>His mind could not come up with anything to contradict him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><u>5</u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Like it or not, Chris felt good. Absolutely good. Fine as paint. He stood up in the gloom of the closet and inhaled deeply.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Aaaahhh…He sure loved the darkness.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Chris stepped out of the closet and walked to the light switch. Flicked it on, and walked towards his bathroom. Caught sight of his reflection in his and stepped back till he was standing in front of it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>At 6 feet 3 inches, he was quite tall, and not bad looking either. He stepped forward till he could stare directly into his eyes. In his opinion, his face was his most endearing quality…and his most potent asset. His eyes were a deep shade of brown, which was what most people saw when they looked.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>They didn’t see it when the brown turned to black. Anyone who did, did not live long after that.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span> </span>It’s all coming together now. Soon…</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Chris smiled, chuckled low in his throat.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Well, he had to go to work now. He would have preferred people working for him but, he just couldn’t choose now, could he? Besides, this situation suited his purpose here. Soon, none of these things would matter anymore.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>In the bathroom, Chris turned on the cold water shower.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>As the water splashed on him, steam rose from his body…</div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394527467686243640.post-76839908618895315752011-01-11T19:58:00.001-08:002011-01-11T19:58:56.365-08:00WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 4<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><u>3</u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"> Jerry made his way carefully around the people in the room, about four of them; there was a flash from a camera and he blinked. He glanced at their feet, and cursed silently. Now there was no way they would be able to pick out one clear footprint from this place. Why didn’t they wear something to differentiate their footprints from the others, like a rubber band? Well, thank God for small mercies; at least they wore gloves. Dismissing this, he stepped slowly to the bed. The air in the room reeked heavily of violent death. Had that little girl seen this happen?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><i>Jesus…</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"> The body was covered with a white sheet, but even that wasn’t helping much. What little blood that was still coming out was soaking the sheet slowly. They would need another one.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">“And I thought I had seen it all,” Jerry said softly.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">James nodded silently beside him, his jaw clenched. “Who,” he began, then thought the better of it, and corrected himself. “What did this?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">Everywhere Jerry looked, there was blood. The walls, the floor, even the ceiling. The bed was a forgone issue.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">And he had not even seen the body yet.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">His stomach turned to ice at the thought.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">James signalled for one of the men to pull back the sheets, and Jerry inhaled sharply, then let it out slowly. He could barely make out the blue stripes on her pyjamas which was now thoroughly soaked in blood. It seemed as if someone had gone to work on her with a hammer and a million nails – that was the only thing he could think of now.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"> But the worst thing of all…was her face. Or what was left of it…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"> The nose was pretty much non-existent, and the mouth was…not right at all.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"> And the eyes…well, the eye-sockets were just filled with drying pulp-like stuff that traced down tracks to the bed…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><i> What the hell is this?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"> This was the stuff nightmares were made of, and it seemed this girl had experienced a killer of a nightmare, literally. This nightmare had obviously followed her into reality.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">“Bogeyman,” Jerry said softly.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">“What?” James asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">“Nothing.” Looking at James, he said, “Look. I need to go. I think I’ve seen all I need to see for now.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">“Think so?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">“Yes. I’ll-”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">“-come back when everyone is out. Yes I know” James completed his sentence. “See you later then.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">“Okay.” Jerry tapped his friend on the shoulder. “Make sure they get everything right.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"> Nodding, James said “Will do.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"> As Jerry left the room, something told him these people would find nothing there.</div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394527467686243640.post-59688038898221562242011-01-07T14:36:00.000-08:002011-01-07T14:36:07.599-08:00WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 3<div style="text-align: center;"><u><b>2</b></u></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"'Scuse me.Excuse me," Jerry said, pushing his way through the little crowd. They paid him no mind as they all strained their necks, heads bobbing left and right, most on the tips of their toes as they tried to see what was going on. Voices, murmurs, questions, accusations, suggestions in the air.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Excuse me people, Police coming through." He struggled and shuffled his way to the front where he was vomited by the crowd. He lost his balance and used a hand to steady himself. Standing, he turned his blackest stare on the crowd as he dusted his hand.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Fat load of good it did him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> He shook his head, wondering why these people would pack here. Well, Death had come, they would feast their senses as much as they could, so that they would have interesting stories to tell anyone who would care to listen for the rest of the day, maybe the whole week. A Constable strode towards him, holding his baton, shouting "HEY! HEY!!! WHO SAY MAKE YOU COME HERE? GO BACK! GO BACK NOW OR-"</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Jerry brought out his ID holder, flipped it open in his face. The Constable stopped as if hit by a car as he read FCID on the card.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Sor-sorry sir," the Constable stammered, saluting smartly. Jerry paid him no mind and strode up to the timid-looking yellow bungalow that was the center of a gruesome attraction today. Glancing behind him, he saw the last of the News vans leaving. Good. They always were too much trouble for him, with their silly on-the-spot interviews and stuff.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Their was a red Volkswagen Passat, one of the older models, parked beside the house. The Constable at the door opened the door wordlessly for him after saluting. He entered into a parlor that felt cramped. It was also gloomy inside, despite the light bulb being on, and it wasn't just on account of the closed curtains. Jerry would later recognize the problem as grief; the place had been made dark by grief. On the sofa directly across from him he saw the victim's family; mother holding and slowly rocking the smallest one, father holding twin boys-Jerry placed their ages at nine, maximum. They were all crying. He couldn't blame them. From what he'd heard, the smallest one had seen everything. Well, not a reliable witness.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Besides, he was no monster, despite what people thought about him. He would never put any kid through the ordeal of having to relive the death of a loved one...or anyone for that matter.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> A smart looking lady in a black suit left the family's side and walked to him. Her eyes were moist. Hmm...</div><div style="text-align: left;"> She stuck out her hand, introducing herself. "Inspector Amaka Okoro."</div><div style="text-align: left;"> "Jerry. Detective Jerry."</div><div style="text-align: left;"> "I know. They said you were coming. I'm glad you did." Her voice wavered for a bit and she fought for control of her emotions. Jerry let her. "I know the family. I knew the-the-I knew Mary."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Figures,</i> Jerry thought, confirming his suspicions about her tears. Well, life...</div><div style="text-align: left;"> "I'm sorry."</div><div style="text-align: left;"> "Well, I think you can tell that to the family. They need it more than I do."</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Nodding, Jerry moved towards them.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Hey, Jerry." He looked. It was his friend and colleague, James; Sergeant James. A Detective in the FCID too. He raised a hand in greeting as James motioned for him to come. He made a pausing gesture, then went to the family. He was always uncomfortable in these kinds of situations. How did you tell the family that everything was gonna be alright, when you all knew that everything stopped being alright the second their loved one died? Worse, they would start looking to you for closure, and if you didn't give it to them, you became the bad guy; you were just like the person who stole their loved one from them. Or even more worse, if you didn't catch the culprit, they would begin to think you knew all about it; that you had been 'settled' and you had let them go. Crappy.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> In the end, he muttered some apologies to them. They didn't really listen, and he was grateful. He went to James, leaving them with the lady Inspector.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Good morning James."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"More like, bad morning eh?" James said, handing Jerry a pair of gloves outside the door.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Just tell me why they would request for the FCID on a case like this? Why they would request for me?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Trust me buddy," James said, his face suddenly somber, "when you take a look inside, you'll see why. It's a real mess in there."</div><div style="text-align: left;"> James was right.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> It was a mess.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> And yes, they would need him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <i>Shit.</i></div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394527467686243640.post-18593863173220631092011-01-07T05:49:00.000-08:002011-01-07T05:49:03.145-08:00WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 2<div align="center"><em>In your dreams, anything is possible...</em></div><div align="center"><em>-Anonymous.</em></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><strong><u>1</u></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Jerry woke up with a bloody headache, quite the substitute for his alarm clock which he'd permanently set at 5.45 am. He opened his eyes to the darkness in the room. Power had been cut sometime in the night; no wonder he was sweating like a Christmas goat. By the way, why the-</div><div style="text-align: left;">BAAAAAAAAAAH!!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Huh?</em></div><div style="text-align: left;">BAAAAAAAAAAH!!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Oh snap, the alarm.</em></div><div style="text-align: left;">BAAA-</div><div style="text-align: left;">Cursing, Jerry reached out and slapped the button on the little clock on his bedside drawer, clattering it to the floor for the umpteenth time in its insignificantly significant lifetime. At least it stopped making that noise.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Shit.</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"> He sat up, peeling back the sweat-soaked sheets that were glued to his body. His body felt clammy; he could feel a thin rivulet of sweat make its way down his spine.</div><div style="text-align: left;">AND THE BLOODY HEADACHE JUST WOULDN'T STOP!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Jerry gritted his teeth, hoping the day would-</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Blink!</em></div><div style="text-align: left;">"AARGH!" he exclaimed, hands flying to cover his reflexively shut eyes. The stupid Power company had decided to restore power now ehn? Stu-</div><div style="text-align: left;">The cool breeze mercifully stopped all thought as it cooled him down. Sighing, Jerry shrugged out of the damp covers and lay back down, letting the breeze wash over his body, down his sweat-wet boxer shorts and his legs. After a while, he turned over and let the breeze do the same to his back.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And the breeze was also doing wonders for his headache as well.</div><div style="text-align: left;">When he was feeling marginally better, Jerry got out of bed and went to his bathroom. Relieved himself. At the sink, he splashed cold water on his face, then rinsed his mouth-he felt like he'd eaten a whole bunch of bitter-leaf vegetables over-night. Back in his bedroom, he saw the Heineken can lying on the ground. Grunting, he walked to it and picked it up. Went to his kitchen and dumped it in the trash, then began rummaging in his kitchen cabinets for his electric boiling ring, cursing when he didn't see it in the first drawer, the second. He found it in the third, and then a buzzing sound drew his attention to his sink; the dishes from yesterday's breakfast, and the dinner before that. He went back to his bathroom in search of a bucket, filled it with water and took it back to the kitchen; he really had to change his accomodation. No heater here, But he had to see out his contract here. In the kitchen, he plugged in the water with the boiling ring and went to the sitting room. Turned on the TV and went to the news channel. Nothing new or interesting after 2 minutes, so he changed the channel to Discovery. Picked up the empty beer cans-so unlike him, had he really had this much to drink?-and took them to the trash in the kitchen. Washed the dishes. Put water in his electric jug, plugged it in. He went back to the sitting room and sat down in front of the TV, looking for anything to lift him out of the black mood he'd been in since yesterday. So far, nothing was helping. He looked at the clock. Almost 6.35.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> He was risking lateness.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Jerry went back to his kitchen and checked his fridge, took out his beverages, the half loaf of bread left. Turned off the jug and poured some hot water into a mug. Made some tea. He bit into the bread; no time for butter now. Gulped some tea without tasting it. Took another bite of the bread, then gulped some more tea. Finished his breakfast, and threw the leftover bread in the trash. The water was now hot enough to bathe with. He took it to his bathroom where he brushed, then took a shit.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Five minutes later, after having his bath, he was dressing up; blue jeans, black T-shirt, black jacket, All Star Converse sneakers. Very unlike a Detective, but who gave a hoot?</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Certainly not him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Snatching his phone from the center table in the sitting room, he left the apartment, locking it behind him, and walked briskly to the road to hail a taxi. His car was at the mechanic so...</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Jerry's whole life was about to take a left turn.</div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394527467686243640.post-52226220958990452332011-01-06T14:43:00.000-08:002011-01-06T14:43:51.472-08:00WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 1<div align="center"><strong><u>WHAT MARY SAW</u></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"No Chris, I don't want to do it!! I can't! I can't do it!" Shaking her head "Don't you understand that I JUST CAN'T DO IT?!", she shrieked, her voice shrill with terror.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"But we have to do this Mary baby," Chris said, his voice smooth and oddly soothing even in this place of danger. But it did nothing to stop her terror. "I can't move her alone. She's big and heavy, and she's YOUR mother."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"I know, I-"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Is Mum that big?</em></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I just can't do it Chris. I mean, you know very well that I'm afraid of snakes."</div><div style="text-align: left;">The snakes paid them both no heed; they continued to slither around Mary's mother in a well-defined circle, like they were afraid of going an inch closer. Mary's mother lay on the floor, eyes closed, her left leg obviously broken. Their was a cut on her arm, another on her head, but thank God they weren't bleeding so much. She probably was unconscious. Maybe she should try n shout her name, see if she would wake.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Chris, please help me, I can't do this. Mum. MUM!"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Careful Mary, you don't wanna disturb the snakes, do you?""</div><div style="text-align: left;">Yelping, Mary shuffled backwards a couple of steps, eyes wide; she could barely think coherently. "Chris hold me please hold me come please."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Look," Chris said, stepping over the snakes to where Mary's mother was. "I told you they were not gonna do anything. We just have to lift her out of this place, and we can leave here quickly." The snakes continued their circular movements, lazily slithering over and under themselves. Not one seemed to take notice nor raise its head to strike Chris as he crossed. They continued their obscene parody of a Merry-Go-Round; round, round, round we go, high, low, take a go.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Oh God please help me please</em></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Ar-are you sure?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Mary."Chris was on the verge of losing his patience now.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Okay okay."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Look," Chris said, his voice becoming softer, "just imagine you are crossing a gutter, okay?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mary nodded, eyes large, heart hammering away in her chest so loud that she was surprised she heard Chris. She looked at her hand; she was shaking badly. She walked forward, raised a leg...and almost fell in among the snakes.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Shrieking, she ran back.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Mary!" Chris's voice stopped her from running and not looking back. She turned, crying now. </div><div style="text-align: left;">"Please don't make me do this Chris, please help me bring her over here. PLEASE!!!" Was there no one else that could help them? But then again, they were all alone here.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Come on Mary, jump. I'll catch you. I promise. Jump baby, jump."</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mary looked at her Mother again (<em>she still can't believe her mother is this big, but there is no mistaking it; this is her mother. What would people say when they know she could have saved her own mother and had run away instead?</em>) and prayed for strength.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>This is your mother girl. The quicker you do this, the faster you can leave here. Now go.</em></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Okay," she muttered to herself, although she could not figure out who or what was talking to her. But it was enough. "Crossing a gutter, crossing a gutter."</div><div style="text-align: left;">She ran forward.</div><div style="text-align: left;">She jumped.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Everything happened in slow motion.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Her mother sat up abruptly and opened her eyes-<em>WHAT?!</em>-and then she wasn't her mother anymore; she was some unreal being, rippling this way and that. Then she burst open and snakes spewed forth, all kinds, most of them unknown to her.</div><div style="text-align: left;">She felt like she was spending forever in the air...and she prayed she would never land.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>And Chris? Oh no God, why?</em></div><div style="text-align: left;">Chris's eyes became flaming orbs of fire, and then he opened his mouth-<em>was he smiling?</em>-revealing teeth so sharp their points were indistinct. Steam poured out of his nose and ears, and his tongue flicked out, only it wasn't a tongue anymore, it was a forked thin strip of black muscle.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He stretched his arms.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>Come to me darling!!!</em></div><div style="text-align: left;">She heard his voice, but his lips were still stretched in that smile of his and Mary was on the verge of going mad, so mad she forgot about the snakes-</div><div style="text-align: left;">THE SNAKES!!!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Her terror catching up with her, Mary screamed as she looked down. Every one of them had their heads up and fangs out, waiting. And they were everywhere.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mary was swallowed in the sea of snakes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mary lived with her family in a three-bedroom flat. Everyone was asleep...</div><div style="text-align: left;">...until her screams woke them all up. While their sleep-befuddled brains were trying to come to terms with the source of their sudden wakefulness, it stopped, as suddenly as it had begun.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Nkechi, Mary's three-year-old sister whom she shared a room with, watched writhed in bed, fear and pain on her face. Nkechi was scared, but she was held firmly in place by what she was seeing, and she couldn't climb out of her cot. So she could only watch as her elder sister's pyjamas punctured in several places, blood spraying everywhere, the walls, the bed, blood staining her hands as she held onto her cot in a death-grip, her face. She looked at the blood, not understanding what was going on, why her sister was in pain in her sleep, why nobody was coming, why-</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mary's eyes flew open and her mouth opened in a soundless scream, her eyes fixed on Nkechi. Then they burst with little <em>popping</em> sounds.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Nkechi screamed.</div>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208568788875264137noreply@blogger.com0