distance hours the hidden truth : mystery

by Jason Wood

  Chapter three

  “I don’t know what got into you last night, Michaela. Could it be that you came home after being excited by those guys. I thought that I might have to put the hose on you. You were a little bit too affectionate and that’s the reason why I had to sleep in the guest room and lock the door behind me. If I hadn’t, you would have found a way to slip into my bed and make you forget about my values and morals.” It wasn’t the guys that had made me feel like jumping his bones. It was that feeling of death in the air and that brief taste of what I could have if I only I let myself go.

  “You can’t blame a girl for trying. I know that what I did last night was wrong and I apologize for that profusely. I don’t want you to think that I don’t value you as a human being. I know that you don’t want to do anything, until we get married, but I’m not sure how much longer I can wait. You have the ring somewhere hidden in this house and I’m just waiting for you to pop it out and show me what your commitment is all about. I know that eventually we will find a way to be intimate, but not until we actually walk down the aisle in the presence of all of our friends and family.” I didn’t have any family to speak of and maybe that was the reason why I didn’t have anybody to hold me back from what I had to do.

  There was nobody to teach me that I was wrong and it took a moment of therapy to open up my eyes to the possibility that what I had been doing was destroying what little humanity I had left. By breaking free of the chain of therapy, I was opening myself up to the possibility of taking matters into my own hands. If the person had asked that I kill that woman named Michelle Storm again, I probably wouldn’t even hesitate for a second.

  I considered therapy to be my death row pardon and a governor stay of execution. I was starting to see that I had always been trapped behind those metaphorical bars. My last meal would have consisted of a lobster poached perfectly with a garlic butter that would melt in my mouth. I had waited my whole damn life to find what was considered normal. I didn’t even know if such a thing existed, but there were always inklings when I was doing my jobs. Seeing the family sitting and eating a meal together and laughing cordially at each other’s jokes. Seeing a man and woman hold hands and walk along the beach with that love in their eyes.

  Ever since I went into therapy and started the electroshock treatment, I was vividly aware of those things that I had swept underneath the rug. I didn’t want to believe that I was capable of such tenderness, but with Neil it was like he was showing me a different side of myself. It was a side that I thought was never going to come out and I had Emily to thank for that. I wasn’t lying when I said that I cursed her name sometimes when I woke up in a cold sweat to the realization of what I had done to those people back in the day.

  I felt like it was raining all the time and there was this gloomy cloud that followed me around everywhere I went. The first moment of electricity through my brain made me see the sunshine for the first time. I didn’t feel shut off from the rest of the world. I wanted that feeling back, but for right now I was going to have to deal with the possibility that my killer instincts were right there for me to reach for.

  “I was this close to allowing you to have my body last night. It took everything in my being to turn you away. Your soft skin and kissable lips were almost too hard of a temptation to stay away from last night. I should probably stay at a hotel any time that you go to one of these insane women’s only activities. You’re right, I do have the ring, but I’m not sure that we are exactly ready for that kind of leap of faith. I feel that there’s a certain part of you that pushes me away.” I didn’t think that I was that transparent and I thought all men were oblivious to a woman’s feelings.

  “I guess I’m just nervous about taking the plunge. I wonder if I’m going to be a good wife and possible mother to your children. I want that more than you can ever know, but there are things in my past that need to remain buried. I don’t even know if I could say the words and it scares me to think of what you might think of me if I were to slip one night after having too much wine. I avoid getting drunk for that precise reason. I avoid taking medication that will make me act strangely or blurt something out in a mistake. I don’t want you to know the woman that I was in the past.” He put his arms around me and it felt a little foreign. It was like a part of me wanted to shrink away and run for higher ground.

  “The one thing that you don’t have to worry about me is telling the truth. There’s nothing that you can say that will ever make me change the way that I feel about you.” I almost laughed in his face at the absurdity of what he was saying. Had he known what I did in the past, he would definitely put on his walking boots and leave me in the dust. I had no delusions that his love was predicated on the woman that I had become and not what I was. “I think that you think that I don’t mean it, but trust me I do. I have my own past, but you know practically everything there is to know about me. I still feel that you are hiding something. Until you are able to open up entirely, I don’t think that we can be that one big happy family.” It hurt me that she was there inside me telling me that it was a good thing that he had seen through me like a cheap suit.

  “I know that you probably think that, but trust me my past will make anybody go screaming into the night. A priest would hear my confession and they would most likely throw holy water on me to get rid of the demon inside. A hell’s angel would listen to my stories and probably be on the edge of their seat until I had finished my tail.” I knew that I was born free and having that unnecessary family had made it possible for me to wreck a certain havoc on those that considered themselves to be normal and happy. It always gave me a jolt of adrenaline when a married woman would want to get rid of her husband or vice versa for one reason or another. It always revolved around either money or their promiscuous nature. They either needed the insurance money or they wanted to make sure that their respective spouses kept it in their pants.

  “I don’t expect you to be the perfect woman. Nobody is perfect and if anybody claims to me, then they are only lying to themselves. Everybody has flaws and it just a matter of how badly you want to change. I know that I have given up my wandering eye. I’d never acted upon those feelings and my desire for commitment outweighed my need for physical interaction with the female species. You might be the exception to that rule, but so far I’ve been able to keep you at arm’s length. Even when we are in bed, I have this desire to touch you. I want to run my hands down over your porcelain skin, but I don’t do it.”

  “I would like to say the same thing, but I have on occasion looked at you while you were asleep. That might seem creepy, but I can’t help the way that I feel. I like your body and the way that you lie there so innocent makes it almost too much for me to avoid touching you. I haven’t done anything of the sort, so you can stop giving me the look.” I could still see the maestro and there was going to be a huge vacuum where his attention was needed. He kept us all in line. We were moving forward instead of backwards. He was one that taught us that killing could be an art form and not just some destructive nature inside ourselves.

  “That is a little creepy, but it also makes me know how much you care for me.” He turned me towards him and made me look at him. This was a bad place to be and that vulnerable feeling was not one that I was used to. “You need to get it off your chest. I know that you’ve told Emily everything. Don’t you think it’s about time that you show me the respect of doing the same thing?” He was putting me on the spot. He probably didn’t mean it, but he was making me feel like a trapped animal that was ready to gnaw my arm off to get away.

  “I think that it might be time for me to tell you. I won’t blame you for wanting to pack your bags and leave. I know that I would if I were in your shoes. You have asked for this and I guess I have no choice but to show you the courtesy of letting you see a side of myself that I’ve tried to put to rest.” I was about to open up my mouth, but then I saw that his eyes were drooping and the color of his lips had turned blue.

  T
he glass of wine in his hand was tainted. The killer had come this close to home. I wanted to tell myself that I could deny those compulsions, but killing Neil was only forcing the issue.

  THE END

  (FREEBOOK)

  Romance

  Chapter 1

  Miss itchy feet

  10/3/2005

  Dear diary,

  I am Samantha Hurlock from a small town if you must know my origin in a conventional manner. I cannot say any more about it and mind you even this I have written very reluctantly. Why I am so reluctant to introduce myself is a simple matter of choice. My choice derives its logic from my unconventional opinions about the origin. I don’t want to be defined by my hometown, my lineage, my language or even by my name. I had rather be known for what I do and what I think, that is what I am.

  I have written a poem about this. Do you want me to write it for you?

  I am not what I used to be,

  I am not what I will be,

  This moment what I am,

  Is really who I am.

  The moment lasts only,

  Depart till we.

  Yet you can capture,

  If you wish,

  A glimpse or a glim of me.

  For even though the time has passed,

  That bit will still be me

  I am here, right here at this moment, the past and the future is not my concern. I have no roots because I am not a tree, but I have legs, a brain and most importantly a heart! They take me where they like and I happily oblige. The uncertainty is what makes my life worth living! Uh-oh! Write about the devil and there he comes, my uncertain life doesn’t allow me to write any fu—

  The chief of the caravan shouted again for me to listen loud and clear that I was not welcome on board anymore. I was in the middle of the desert at the back of a slightly small camel, the journal in my hand half opened and my index finger resting between the pages that I had been staining with the ink of my feelings. I looked around with difficulty as my eyes failed to cope up with the strain despite the shades and the cap that I was wearing. It was all gold, the desert, and the sun. I had no choice but to get down the camel that I had begun to get attached to even though we were together for only two days. I was half dead when I joined these people or when they rescued me would be a more accurate expression. I patted Mohini, the she-camel on the back and she gave me a slight nod. Somehow she knew that I was to depart now and surprisingly she seemed to be very understanding about it. Maybe she was accustomed to being forsaken in the middle of the deserts then I realized that it was I who was being forsaken and not her.

  I was not being ungrateful to these people. They had helped me a lot, but now they were to head in a different direction and my purpose was to cross this desert that seemed to have no end at all. I saw the chief coming towards me. I put the journal inside my backpack, checked my goat-skin water bottle which as I expected was empty. I looked at him innocently and he ordered someone from his clan to fill it with water for me. He did not know English and I did not know Arabic, but we understood each other on the grounds of common sense. I thanked him profusely and he accepted it. Then he looked perplexed, he wanted to guide me through it without wasting much time which was kind of impossible with the great language barrier. Suddenly, he looked around and said something in Arabic and the boy who had been handling Mohini for me came. He was wearing a large checkered scarf on his head like the rest of them but his face was not visible and I suddenly realized that I had not seen his face at all. I had not even noticed this because he seemed so insignificant but as it came out he knew both the great languages and could act as an interpreter for us. With his help, I understood how to cross that terrible desert. As I was about to turn around, he said, have a safe journey, Signorina and as I moved away I caught a glimpse of his intriguing blue eyes!

  Chapter 2

  The comfort zone

  21/3/2005

  Dear diary,

  I am sitting in my warm bed in the hotel around the corner of the street with a cup of tea at the side table. I have just eaten a delicious breakfast of bread, butter, scrambled eggs and an orange. My room is small but looks rather roomy because of the use of cool colors for the paint and minimal amount of furniture. There are two windows in this room. One is in front of the bed and the other is westward from the bed. The front window shows the busy streets and the city as the humans have developed it, but a single glance from the other one takes my breath away every single time. From there you can see how God had made the beautiful city, green, blue and golden. I can see my half-unpacked luggage in the corner beside the cupboard. I never unpack completely because I never know when I would leave my accommodations for the next journey.

  I have seen so many places now. I don’t belong to my hometown only, anymore. If I must be compared to a tree than I am this giant one with the trunk protruding out on the surface, but my roots have spread all over the world. I am a traveler and love what I do. I have witnessed so many cultures and made so many friends but more than the people and their ways, what has inspired me really is the beautiful and varying shades of nature which despite differing so much still shares a commonality. In the versatility, I have experienced the universality.

  Yes, I am different from other people around me but no so much. While other people are slaves of money, knowledge and lust, I am a slave of my wanderlust. If I can resist from scoffing at their desires, they should do the same for me. How is it possible that society defines our wishes? I cannot make myself love the things that are desired by a majority only because it is the norm. So I keep moving around the world and even when I am at a place I am also somewhere else too.

  This is me and I am comfortable with it.

  Love,

  Samantha

  Xoxo

  Chapter 3

  The unforgettable encounter

  She was standing on the gallery of an old mansion in front of which were grilled. It was around 1:00 AM and all the valley was engulfed in the darkness. The weather was not in its senses today. The wind was blowing making such strange noises as if it is a wounded animal unwilling to die or ready to kill. There was a thunderstorm and the rain was falling on the wet leaves continuously as if the fire has been opened and there will be no way out for anyone. The light was striking illuminating the dark sky as if it would snatch the light out of one’s eyes. She was wearing a black scarf that covered her face except a slit through which her large green eyes were protruding out.

  Perfect weather just according to the forecast, for a change. She thought. This was the only time the weather was supporting her. Otherwise, it had always hindered her in her plans. She knew it was necessary to carry out the business right now. It was now or never. She had never liked her missions very much lately, but this one was interesting. It was last! It was personal!

  She could not help but remember the face of her savior. She had always loved how that smiling calm face comes in front of her eyes whenever she was about to set the right what was wrong in this great world. He was handsome, too old for her but still appealing. She would have died that night and if she did survive, she would have been broken and bitter which would be even worse than being dead, but he had calmed her.

  She smiled at the thought and checked her pockets for her revolver and her boots for her favorite weapon; knives. She loved knives. It was a host of knives that had attacked her in the valley on that dark night. It is all about sides, she knew. Being on the right side of the weapons makes all the difference. She loved to use what had been used on her.

  The lights in the sky were a distraction, but she knew how to distinguish between a real and an artificial light. She recognized the signal; a green light deeper than the shades of her eyes as her cue to come into action. She turned around and checked her image in the puddle of water at her legs; a woman of mid-forties all clad in black stared at her with her sharp green eyes. Are you ready? She asked her and found the willing approval in the image.

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  His orders were to shoot at sight, but he had himself to answer to before anyone else. A conscience is a terrible, terrible thing, he realized. So many times he had been told to just follow the orders, but it did not work for him. He just couldn’t bring himself to shoot people. It was his preference was to catch them. Sometimes, it frustrated him. Why can’t I just let it go and make life simple for me?

  Today, his task was even more peculiar than usual. This time it was a woman, a young woman of 25 who he needed to kill at the spot. She was supposed to be very dangerous. Actually he had been looking for her for a while and though he is sure he had encountered her a few times but did not dare touch her or even confront her at those occasions because he was never sure it was her.

  She was reported to roam around in different disguises and he had suspected about three women to be the criminal. This time it was confirmed that she will attack this place. He was not sure if he even wanted to stop her. He had been posted here to protect a famous social worker. Until recently, I had respected him a lot too. Although some of his ideas were different from what he had believed but he did not dislike him, but his posting here has shown him the real face of this man who was considered as an icon of love, peace, and mercy among the people. This man was corrupt and lived off the money of innocent people, but there was no evidence against him because he was protected by the government.

  It was strange for him to feel for a nation that was foreign to him. His stay here was only for the purpose of catching the woman who has been involved in killings all around the world because she was reported to be a citizen of his own great country, the Great Britain. The people here was so different than his own people, but it was okay for him to adjust as he had been trained for this.