Blood, Dreams, and Olive Drab (Pride & Promise)
Page 24
In the night Sarah awoke and found herself confused by the darkness that was plastered around the room, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. The room was strange and a musty smell lingered in the darkness. The room was very cold. As she cleared her eyes from the crust of sleep, she remembered where she was.
A loud blood-curdling scream shattered the silence. And then another. And she sat up quickly in bed and realized the front door was wide open. Her eyes moved to the couch. All that lay there in the black of night was the blanket, now perfectly folded at the end. Sarah stood and made her way to the front door and peered outside, looking up and down the length of the street. All she saw were the buildings and a few rays of moonlight that managed to seep through the rough tumbling high clouds.
Another scream pierced the night but it came from behind her. She jumped and stepped outside and for a moment she wanted to flee, to make her legs start churning and let her feet take her away from this place. Her heart pounded with a growing fear. In the distant part of her mind she could hear a voice, a beckoning no louder than a chirp from a lark, and yet as soft as the voice was, it screamed with no mercy upon her feverish mind.
"Run! Run free!" she heard. "Escape! Leave this tortured place now." The plea hammered inside her skull until she could hear nothing but the growing urgency that suddenly filled her head. She could feel her arms shaking enough that she could not even hold her arms at her sides. Once again she looked up and down the street and there was nothing but freedom and a chance to escape.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye and could see nothing but darkness inside the little apartment as only the shadows slithered about the floors. The light of the moon sliced through the rooms as if it were a strobe and then the room was black again. Sarah stepped back inside and closed the door behind her.
Then she realized where the scream had come from, for she could hear whimpering emanating from the bedroom. She walked slowly through the living room and entered the bedroom and could feel someone in the room. She could hear the groaning getting increasingly louder. With cautious and somewhat regretful steps, she crept into the room, and there on the other side of the room between the bed and the dresser was a large dark outline.
She took another step forward and the hazy mass of black began to take shape. She could see arms and legs folded over one another. It was rolled into a ball with the head tucked near the knees and it rocked back and forth. Her mind struggled with her next step. She wanted it to be Henry, but there was another part of her that wanted this to absolutely not be Henry. With another step, a flash of moonglow was brought into the room which was bright enough so that she could make out features and shapes. It was Henry and a part of her was relieved.
"H-H-Henry," she stammered, feeling for the railing of the bed to help guide her to him. She let her hand run down the cool crook of the metal and it brought her down next to the quivering mass that was her husband. "Henry," she whispered, slowly reaching for his arm as if he was on fire and she was getting too close to the flame.
She touched his sleeve and he jumped and tried to push himself closer to the wall even though his back was flat against the plaster. His head suddenly lifted up and she could see the fright in his eyes, living and breathing as hard as he was, and she kept her hand on his arm as she felt the tremble in his quaking body. "It’s okay." She inched closer to him, but like a beaten dog, he started to accept her coming closer. His tremble subsided until instead it was just a shudder that ran through him every couple seconds--as if electricity continuously jolted through him.
"Henry," she began, soft and serene, "it’s me—Sarah. It’s Sarah." Her voice was as gentle as the falling snow. This was not Sarah’s first time she had seen a drama like this, and most folks would have run and hidden and never looked back. She had seen her mother coax her father from the darkness a dozen times. During each occasion she had wondered what kept Angela at Paul’s side and maybe for the first time in many days, she thought her mother was not as crazy as she seemed. Sarah slipped her arm around Henry and cradled him in her arms and kept time with him as he rocked to and fro.
"Welky, Mary, Elmer," Henry muttered to himself, his words barely able to be heard or understood as he teetered back and forth.
"It's okay, Henry, it's okay," Sarah whispered, and she could feel awkwardness within her. Had she now become her mother?, she thought to herself. No, this was different. Henry was strong and stable. This was the right man for her, she could feel it. She held him tight and told herself this love would make all things right.
But she did not think about the fact that love does not know right or wrong. It is merely a small word that encompasses the mysteries of the heart. It’s a rainstorm, and lilac kisses on spring breezes, and it is a frightened girl wandering aimlessly in the dark.
Dedication
Dedicated to my wife and children. In life, it is hard to recall when your heart and soul come alive, but my moment was the second I met my wife, Lindsey. Then, just as I thought my life couldn’t get any brighter, I was blessed with two children: Graham and Evelyn. It’s not ironic that they are twins. They are like my eyes, and I see the world through them . . . and everything is new and beautiful . . . .
Letter to my readers
Thank you for taking the time to read Blood, Dreams, and Olive Drab. I hope it has enriched you, delighted you, and challenged you. My intention was to mingle beauty and darkness in a weave of fabric created by the best and worst of the human spirit.
In all my writing I try my best to pour myself into the words, beauty, and power of the story. If you enjoyed the book, I would greatly appreciate it if you could write a positive and heartfelt review. My dream is to reach as many people as possible with my stories and eventually, to make a living as an author. Your positive reviews will allow others to be attracted to my books. If you ask a thousand people what they see in a sunrise, a room of shadows, or a person’s face, you will get a thousand replies, and that is why I ask each of you to write a review of Blood, Dreams, and Olive Drab.
In the near future, please look for the sequel to Blood, Dreams, and Olive Drab to be entitled A Fawn In Winter. It follows Sarah and Henry and the subsequent turmoil of their love story. Henry’s spiral of madness ensues as Sarah desperately tries to hold their vastly growing family together. Angela offers her assistance with Henry and the growing Schott clan. Sergeant Welky makes numerous appearances as Henry's mind is sullied with alcohol. The gruesome images of the cruel and hateful sergeant appear at the least opportune times and haunt Henry, driving him further into lunacy.
In the next couple months A Fawn In Winter will be available for your review and enjoyment. You will always find depth of story and characters silhouetted against images of light and dark as the foundation for my novels.
Respectfully,
Michael A. Meissner
Special thanks and acknowledgments
From the outside the beauty of a house is created by stone, mortar, and timber, but it is the emotions, ideals, losses, and triumphs under the façade that make it a home. Likewise is the creation of a novel. The author tells a story and those he involves in the development help the tale come to life.
Some people would call it toiling, but JoAnn LaMuth ventures into editing with gusto and panache. With a keen eye and creative mind, she was able to take a rough piece of clay and develop a finished sculpture. She will also be working with me on the sequel to this book, A Fawn In Winter. Many thanks.
Understanding my creativity and transforming my ideas into a cohesive and exact pictorial image could not have been an easy endeavor, but Jan Marshall was able to decipher my vision and develop a wonderful book cover. She can be contacted at:jan.marshall@btinternet.com
A novel is truly a team concept, and from inception to final version, a book is many parts that work together to please all the senses and make the mind wonder and grow.
Thank you to all my friends and family who lent support for my dream of publishing m
y first novel.
Table of Contents
Henry
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
Sarah
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
SARAH AND HENRY The Beginning
1
2
3
4
5
Dedication
Letter to my readers
Special thanks and acknowledgments