Arturo’s Story - part 1

The bag felt heavy in his hand.  This was a great responsibility and he knew he had better not screw this up.

“Si, Jose.  I can do it.  Don’t worry about me.” He said with a sureness he didn’t really feel.

“I know you won’t fail me.” Was Jose’s response.

With that Arturo quickly left the room and headed towards the front door.  He was acutely aware of his surroundings.  The smell of the burritos and rice that was cooking, the sounds of laughter from the other room, the dimly lit hallway with little shafts of light from holes in the shades highlighting the dust motes swirling lazily in the heat.

He opened the door, glad to be away from that presence, but knowing that he had a great task ahead.

The boards creaked as he descended the stairs and he almost jumped at the noise.  He was trying to blend into his surroundings, to avoid drawing attention to himself.  That was his special talent.  He could walk through a crowd without being noticed – that is as long as he belonged there.

He remembered trying to use his special talent over in the rich neighborhood, among the socialites.  It had failed him miserably and he had drawn too much attention to himself. So much, in fact, that he caught a charge for the blunt he’d had on him that day. It was an important lesson – keep to the streets where he belonged.

That’s where he was today – where he belonged. 

The only problem was that he wasn’t himself.  The package he held made him nervous and that made him stand out in the crowd. His talent was failing him.

“Get ahold of yourself” he thought. “Calm down and go with the flow. This is a day like any other day.  You are just cruising through from point A to Point B. Relax.”

His internal mantra was working.  He was starting to relax and as he did he faded from people’s consciousness.  If you had asked anyone he passed, they couldn't tell you if he was there or not.

“Three more blocks.  Just three more blocks and I can be done with this mess.”

He desperately wanted to be done, to know that his mother would be OK.  She didn’t even know she was in danger, but she was.  That was the threat, the power Jose had over him.  If he failed to deliver the package, then his mother would be hurt.

The next block was the hardest to get through.  It was his old block, but now it was enemy turf. He had lived here a couple of years ago, but that was before he met Jose and started working for him.  He had been so young and dumb and full of himself then.

Halfway down the block he saw her.  She was just getting out of the car and had her back towards him, but he knew it was her – Angela.  She had been his first major crush and they had hooked up but that was before she met Rodrigo.  He had been crushed when she dumped him, but thought he was over it.

Apparently not as his heart suddenly ached for what might have been.  This in turn blew his cool and started making him nervous.  He might as well have started shouting and flashing lights as he stood out from his surroundings.

People started to notice him – the guy doing the yard work on the corner, the kids playing basketball halfway down the block and lastly Angela turned and saw him.  She knew he was working for Jose.  She knew he was the enemy.  What would she do?

She gave a quick glance to the car and then turned away not saying a word as he passed.

He looked at the car and saw the reason for her glance. Sitting in the drivers seat, on his cell phone was Rodrigo.  He was preoccupied with the call and not looking in Arturo’s direction.  Trying to regain his calm, Arturo maintained his pace and started his mantra again, more fervently to himself.

“you can do this.  No big deal. Nothing to see …”

He heard the door open he had just walked past.

“ain’t no way he’d be fool enough” he heard Rodrigo say but he stopped mid sentence. “Hey. Fool,” he shouted and grabbed Arturo’s arm.

Not expecting the touch Arturo jumped and lost his hold on the package.

He desperately tried to grab it as it fell, but all he succeeded in doing was knocking it into the street by the back of Rodrigo’s car.

The Load

It was a struggle, but he was going to keep going.  Sure he heard the voice in his head that said he was too big, that it was too hard, that he would never make it, but he wasn't going to believe that voice.  Giving up was not an option.  He paused at the top of the first flight of stairs and caught his breath. Only for a moment and then he was off again.

He could smell the fumes now, the smell overpowering even the stench of the trash and rotting food. As he climbed stair by stair he looked up to see if he could tell how far he had to go.  He missed the next stair and fell to his knees, gashing them on the metal edge of the stair and nearly dropping  Leah in the process.  Blood began to drip down his shins from the cuts but there was no time to assess the damage.

He resettled his burden and pushed himself to stand up and move forward.  Three more steps and he was at the next landing.  There was a door, the paint long faded and covered in filth.  Was this the exit?  He didn't know.  His hand reached out for the handle, but even before he touched it he knew, this wasn't the way out.  He was still far below the street level.  He tried the door anyway and the noises from beyond were deafening.

Quickly he closed the door and started up the next flight.  His legs were starting to burn and he was feeling weaker by the second.  One step at a time.  Left foot. Right foot.  Left Foot.  he made it to the next landing and had to rest, just for a few precious seconds.  He stood there his breath coming in gasps.  he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.  The fumes didn't help, nor the mucus collecting in his throat as his nose ran down his face.

His shoulders and arms were burning now as well, holding his load.  He tried to see if she were still alive but in the dim light he couldn't be sure.  He knew there was no way he was leaving her behind and with marginally renewed strength, started moving forward once again.

As he struggled up this flight he noticed that the air was slightly fresher, a little cooler.  he almost felt a breeze on his face.  looking up to the next landing he saw a sliver of light coming from under the door.  This had to be it, this had to be the exit he had been fighting to find.  5 more steps.  He struggled his legs getting wobbly and weak.  It was all he could do to make it up the last stair.

He pushed on the door and it moved slightly then hit something.  It wouldn't open any further.  He tried again, pushing with what little strength he had left and it moved another inch.  He collapsed on the floor, still cradling Leah.  His breath was coming in gasps.  in the sliver of light from the door he looked at his love.  He face was ashen.

He refused to admit what was obvious, the falling debris had done too much damage.  she was gone.  He still hoped for a miracle but it wasn't to be.  The last 3 hours of digging and climbing hadn't been enough.

An anguished cry broke from his lips as the truth of the situation filtered into his exhausted brain.  his love was gone.  he hadn't saved her.  he heard a pounding on the door and voices yelling.  His cry had alerted the mob outside.  More noise and the door was flung open blinding him with the intense light.

Looking up he thought he was looking at an angel as a young woman with wild hair was framed in the doorway with blinding light behind her.

That was the last thing he saw.  The blast from from the second bomb incinerated him, Leah and the woman in less than a tenth of a second.

The chore

"Man I just can't shake this feeling.  I need to do something, but I just don't know what."

"Was it work related?  Was it something for your family?  Does it have to do with your trip?" Mani asked, trying to be helpful.

"I just don't know," was John's muttered reply as he lost himself in thought once more.

He knew there was something he had to do, something he had to create and it felt very important. No time to worry about it though, the truck had arrived and it was time to work.

As they opened the rear doors to start unloading the trailer, there was a thunderous crash as the rear most crate came crashing to the ground.  It was followed by the tinkling of broken glass from inside the crate.

"aww Shit!  Why the hell didn't they stack it right?" roared Mani.

"'who knows.  I'm just glad it didn't hit me!  Hey Dumbshit, who loaded this trailer?"

"Your mama!" yelled George in his pathetic attempt at humor.  No real answer was forthcoming and it really didn't matter.  They would have to clean up the mess created by someone else as usual and face the bosses' wrath for the broken equipment.

"...do it?" asked Mani.  John had missed it lost in his own thoughts.

"Do you think they will do it?" he asked again noticing John hadn't been paying attention.

"Do what?"

"Announce who gets promoted to the next level today," was Mani's exasperated reply.  He sometimes wondered why he tried at all.  Most conversations with John were predominately one sided on his part.

The promotion.  John had successfully blocked it from his mind for the last few minutes, but now it was back.  The idea that he could, somehow move up to the next level filled his every waking moment since it had been announced last week.  His longing to move up, to improve his life was almost too much.  He wanted it so bad it hurt.

Before the announcement he never even dreamed that something like this was possible.  He had been happy with his station.  Now, it wasn't enough.  He had to have more.  More power. More privilege. More money. More of everything.

As they removed and stacked the last box from the truck, Mr. James pulled up in his jeep and was yelling at them before he even got out.

“Why isn’t that put away yet?  I don’t pay you to stand around looking pretty, I pay you to work.  Get those boxes stowed in the locker and get this mess cleaned up.  Who broke this one?  Do you have any idea how much that is worth?  That is a years’ wage smashed on the ground…”

Mr. James went on and on, but having heard it all before, John once again tuned out everything but his own thoughts on the promotion as he went about his work, moving and stacking the crates.

He fantasized how he would buy his new bride everything her heart desired.  New furniture, new clothes, flowers everyday.  He would spend his free time hunting the biggest game and bring her the finest skins.  He could see himself stalking his prey and driving home his blade.

Wait, something had changed.

John came back to the present and noticed everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him.  Looking down he realized he had acted out his fantasy of hunting.  At his feet lay Mr, James with a knife in his throat.

At that moment his life changed.  All hope of advancement was gone.  All he could do was to run. So run he did.

He ran out of the compound and into the wilderness. He could hear the guards raising the alarm, but he was intent on nothing but escape.  He was just about to make the jump into the river when the bullet found him.  I pierced his back, dead center and smashed through his spine, exiting from his breast in a spray of blood.

He crashed to the ground. Aware of the commotion as the guards ran over to him, but unable to move as his lifeblood poured from his chest and soaked into the ground.

His last fleeting thought was regret that he would never see his wife again.

The clock says 4:08. 

“Man am I tired.  What am I doing this for?  Oh yeah, to get healthy.  To lose weight.  Better get to it.” These are the thoughts that go through my sleepy brain as I head out to the garage to get in my morning ride.  A few quick stretches, I buckle on my helmet, put on my gloves and I’m ready to go.

I mount up on the bike and push off on my way.  Like magic as I turn the first few cranks of the pedals I come fully awake.  As the wind starts whistling by I realize that all of the other reasons, while valid, don’t compare to the magic of flying along under pedal power.

While it is early, the sun is starting to spread color to the sky.  The peace and tranquility call me back every day.  This is why I ride.  To experience something I’ve not found anywhere else, a sense of accomplishment and pure joy at moving along under my own power.

They're here!

Dave couldn't believe others didn't see it.  It was so obvious to him.  There are aliens visiting us.

It was all over the news if one could just understand the stories behind the stories.  Flocks of birds found dead, having met with trauma in mid air and fallen to earth.  Fish dead in the millions in calm water with no biological reason.  It is so obvious.

Time to call Janet and let her know the truth.

His fingers tremble as he pushes the buttons on his phone.  Just as the phone starts to ring he hangs up.

What if I'm wrong.  What if she thinks I'm crazy.  What if there is some other "logical" explanation?

No, there isn't.  Just like in the scene in Star Trek IV where the birds littered the park next to the cloaked bird of prey, there were cloaked alien spacecraft causing these incidents.

He dials again.  This time he doesn't hang up.

"Hello?"

"Janet, its Dave."

"Hi Dave."

"Janet I have some thing important to tell you. Can I come over?"

"Dave, now isn't a good time.  I was just on my way out."

"Janet are you coming?" he hears in the background on the phone.  He recognizes Steve's voice immediately.

"This is important.  I really need to tell you this before you go anywhere."

"Sorry, Dave, now is not a good time.  I'll call you la" and the phone went dead.

"Janet?  Janet?  Can you hear me?"  He looked at the phone and it showed Call Ended.

He hit the buttons to redial, but it wouldn't go through.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

He looked out the window and noticed the day had gotten dark.  Then he saw the reason why.

Economics

“Hey! Wake up.”

“What??”

“You were snoring!”

“I was just resting my eyes. Seriously, I wasn’t sleeping!”

“Jill heard you on the other side of the room.”

“Its just my sinuses in this a/c.”

“Yeah, OK. Say whatever you want, but she called me to wake you up!”

“Crap. Did the big guy hear?”

“I don’t think so, he’s been in that meeting with Chris from the app team.”

“What are they meeting about?”

“Some problem with the app, I think. It sounded like the billing was screwed up and customers were complaining.”

“Shit that means its going to be a long night.”

“Not for me. I’m out of here – now!”

“You suck.”

The door opens and Chris walks out, not looking at me. “Mr. Smith, got a minute.”

“Yessir. What do you need?”

“Close the door.”

I close the door and nervously sit in the chair. Its still warm from Chris.

“There’s no easy way to say this. You’ve been a valuable member of the team but with the current economic situation and the tight budgets…”

I start to think, “Oh no, here it comes. He heard me snoring and now I’m out the door. Shit, what am I going to do. Sheila is going to kill me!”

“...so, congratulations!”

“What?”

“Congratulations on moving over to Chris’ team as lead designer.”

The Traveler

OK, I have been thinking about the last contest and my entry. Now that I’ve had time to think, I’ve put together a second story which I think is more what was being looked for.

Let me know what you think…

---

The old man stumbled. A hundred pounds must surely be what his pack weighed with the obvious effort every step took. His legs trembled, the sweat beaded his brow. His shirt was stained dark from it dripping.

He visibly gathered himself as, after a pause, he set off once more. Struggling to reach his destination. No one else paid him any heed. The other patrons in the cafe didn’t seem to see him at all.

I couldn’t watch him struggle any further as he started to pass. Getting up from the table, I quickly put out my hand grabbing his soaking tunic as he practically fell into the street. He started to shrug off my help but collapsed into a heap. The only thing keeping his head from being split was my grip.

His breath was shallow and quick. I sat him on the curb and bent to put my mug to his cracked, bleeding lips. His face was covered in dirt and as he swallowed some of the ale he seemed to reanimate. He grabbed my arm as he coughed and spewed a mixture of blood and ale onto my shirt. I noticed his nails were manicured. His hair, while filthy was neatly trimmed as was his beard.

Something wasn’t right. My head exploded in agony.

I realized as I fell my cargo was lost. My employer would be extracting a heavy price for not delivering the stones. Stopping for an ale was to be my ruin.