Serial Sunday Part 6...

Finally starting to figure out a schedule and where this thing is going...

Enjoy!

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You Lost Me...

A serial story

By MiddleMan

Part Six

The corner drugstore was not much different when he spent long afternoons standing around when he was younger. He remembered not having too much of a reason to be standing in front of this store aside from being where most of his friends hung out. It was also owned by the Bitch's family.

He looked around and at his watch. It showed 6:23. He was torn between feeling bad at cutting his visit with Linda on the pretense of needing more rest and kicking himself for being so damn curious as to what the Bitch wanted to talk about. Hell, he needed to get away from the craziness that Linda was going on about. She had definitely threw him for a loop by letting all of her dreams of going to college go out the window for no better reason than... Well, she really didn't have a real reason, if he thought about it...

"Crap, I bet she left," he said into the air. The Bitch was crazy as well, but not the kind he found himself hanging out if he could help it. He started to remember the girl he used to know, but he couldn't get past the abrupt change she went through all of a sudden when they were younger.

A sound came from the alley behind the store, stopping any train of thought. He walked towards it and was surprised by the sudden appearance of the Bitch. "Hey!" he gasped, "Where did you come from?"

She gave him a look of disbelief, "Uh, from the side entrance, Stupid." Again, he forgot that she would have the keys.

He was about to defend his intelligence when she grabbed his arm and said, "Come on! Let's get inside so we can talk!" He followed with the reluctance of a chastised dog on a leash.

The side door led into the storage area behind the shop.The lights were still on, so he managed to miss tripping on the empty boxes left to be broken up for recycling. The place had a claustrophobic effect on him, with the shelves of medicine so close together to save space. He stifled a sneeze as dust was blown into his face as he knocked an old box of alcohol wipes in trying to avoid it. If the Bitch wanted to do something crazy to him, this would be the best place to do it, he thought to himself. He wouldn't make it to the door before...

And then she did the crazy thing...

She stopped suddenly, in front of him, spun around, grabbed his arms and kissed him so quick on the lips he worried that she might have chipped a tooth!

"What the hell, Carrie!?!" He pushed her away and felt his mouth for any blood he was sure she was trying to feed off from him.

"NOTHING!!!" She screamed,"Nothing! That was weird!"

"Really!?!" He rubbed his lip, "I would've called it fucking crazy! Bloody bonkers! ANYTHING but weird!"

She gave him the same dismissive look she'd given him many times before. "No, I meant that kiss had nothing to it! It was like we had nothing between us."

He started to speak, but found himself stuck trying to figure out what he was mad at. "Were... Were you expecting something?"

Now it was her turn to stop and think about what to say. She looked at him, then at her feet, finally looking back up to meet his eyes. "Well, uh, the other night. I mean that kiss... There was something different about it..." Her words dropped off as she looked down at her hands. Craig hoped that she wasn't going to cry.

"Look, Carr," again, he went to the old nickname, "If you had wanted to talk to me about that, you didn't have to drag me across town to play 'Seven minutes in Heaven' in your father's store."

She looked up with a combination of anger and indignation. "Don't be an arrogant ass! I mean, the last time we kissed, it was like it was... All right, or something like that." She acted like she was trying to conceal something in her actions as she said that last part. "But this time, it was like kissing just for kissing sake."

Still feeling his sore lip, Craig found himself feeling sorry for her oily little boyfriend. Using that last thought, he decided to change the subject, "Where's your 'other half'?"

"Oh, yeah," She looked like now she was coming back to reality, "I think I know where he is. That's why I need you to help me. There are more things going on around here. Mr. Pearson attacking you and Jeffery missing are both a part of it."

He found himself biting his already sore lip upon hearing that last part. "What? What do need me to do?"

"I need you to borrow a car," said the Bitch as plainly as you please, "We need to make a road trip."

Craig grabbed his much-abused head. This was not good...

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More next week...

Later,

MiddleMan

PS - Hit the "publish post" button before going to bed.

Serial Sunday Part 5

Finally getting things back under control. Life is good, the Mid-Wife and I are checking out houses now, being that we've been talking seriously about raising a family.

Yeah, even I'm surprised at that one.

Also, I've been extremely fortunate to get back in touch with one of my oldest friends, Joe and his wife Toni-Ann, who I haven't seen in more than ten years. Between what hasn't changed and was has, taking time to catch up has been a big breath of fresh air. I'd be remiss not to mention that one of the biggest changes has been their two sweet, adorable kids, Victoria and Vincent, both of whom are quickly becoming part of my small group of favorite people on the planet.

A very small group, maybe, but important none-the-less. ;)

Let's get back to the story...

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You Lost Me...

A serial story

By MiddleMan

Part Five

Craig felt like the world was screaming at him all at once, his head was in a spin and nothing could help him now...

"Carrie! We haven't seen you here for years!"

Except his mother.

"Oh, come in dear!" his mother pleaded with the Bitch, "How's your mom? Craig's girlfriend Linda is here as well!"

Or, maybe not...

"Oh, Detective! I didn't see you there. You come in as well, can I get you something to drink?"

"No, I think maybe Craig needs some more time to heal." Dakins replied. His big hand grasped Craig's hand before he could react, and pressed a business card into it. "Call me when you get the time, OK?" He turned his large frame to the Bitch and handed another one to her, "You look like you may need this, too."

"Uh, sure, huh, thanks," she said while still trying to avoid Craig's stare. "I think I should leave, too," she said to Craig's mother.

"Nonsense! Come in! Why, you haven't come around here since you and Craig were little!"

This was true. He and Carrie had been good friends when they were younger. She was the neighborhood tomboy and was the best "bottlecaps" player. Unfortunately, Craig couldn't see that young girl he once knew, just the Bitch she became.

"Mom? Can you give us a minute?" he deplored to his mother, "She, uh, just wants to ask me something quick."

His mother looked a little disappointed, "OK, but don't forget Linda." She walked away leaving a faint smell of developer in her wake.

Craig screwed up his nerve and looked at Carrie. "Are you crazy, Bit...," he caught himself before finishing, "I mean, Carr?" He surprised himself by using his old nickname for her.

"No. I mean maybe. I don't know," she looked more stunned than he was by the name, "Look, somethings going on around here and I think it's affecting us and everybody else!"

Craig took a step back and looked at her. She seemed serious, but he hadn't seen that look in some time, so he wasn't sure. "Are you talking about the party? Look, that was... I don't know! I don't want to talk about it now!"

"Talk about what? Oh, that. Look, that may be part of it or not, but I'm not concerned about that," She said more rational than Craig would've given her credit for. "Meet me later at the corner drug store downtown, if you don't want to talk here. I'll be there until six."

He wanted to tell her off, but she turned around and strode away with a determination better left alone. He rubbed his head and tried to understand what just happened. Was something really going on, or was the world just going crazy?

"Uh, what was she doing here?"

Linda's voice snapped him back into reality with a cold feeling in his stomach. "She's crazy, nothing new, Hon," he turned to face her and was met with a stare that would've frozen a bull in it's tracks, "She's, uh, looking for her oily boyfriend or something. I told her I didn't know anything."

She looked at him like she didn't believe a thing that came out of his mouth, but she just said, "Fine. Let's get back to what we were talking about, right?"

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about colleges and why it suddenly wasn't a good idea for her to go anymore. She said that maybe he was right, maybe she needed to take time off to "find herself". She recently came to the decision that all of her planning for college may have been crazy, and there was something else waiting for her.

Craig tried to understand where she was coming from, but this was so different from what she was normally that he found himself confused. All he could say was that maybe she should think about it, maybe she was just letting her fears get the best of her. All this did was make her mad that he didn't understand where she was coming from.

Also, his constantly checking the time didn't help...

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Finally, another one done! More soon, staring to make multiple post ahead of time.

Later,

MiddleMan

Serial Sunday Part 3...

So sick today, but posting anyhow. Yeah, me. Sorry for the late posting...

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You Lost Me...

A serial story

By MiddleMan

Part Three

His reality coming back slowly in-between sharp stings of pain: Craig found himself echoing the same questions he heard before the attack.

"Do I know me?"

"Am I OK?

"How many fingers am I holding up?

Wait, those questions weren't what he heard before. He was also pretty sure the voice asking them had a different accent than his normal internal voice. He slowly focused his eyes, and asked, "Fingers?"

"Oh good, you're coming around," he heard the now human shape in front of him say, "We were worried you took a harder hit to the head." It was Jim's older brother, Kyle. He was part of the town's small paramedic force.

"I... what... head?" Craig tried to look around for a large pool of blood and brains that had to have leaked out of the hole in his head that was causing him such pain, but another set of hands held his head steady. "My bike! Linda! She's going to kill me!" He started to sit up way too quickly for his bruised cranium to tolerate.

"You're not going anywhere, Craig. We need to take you in to make sure that you're really OK," Kyle grabbed Craig's arm, "Someone will contact Linda and your family to let them know where you'll be."

Craig tried to argue, but a head full of sharp edged thoughts made this an exercise in futility. They carried him on a backboard to a waiting stretcher which was wheeled into an ambulance. As they took him to the local hospital, Craig struggled to think of what had happened and what he did to deserve this.

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His mother's hand stroked his as they waited for the results of the examinations and tests that had filled Craig's last few hours. "You'll be fine," she repeated every few minutes. This seemed to be more of a mantra for her own self-reassurance than Craig's, but he knew she was only concerned and feeling helpless. It did make him feel better that he wasn't the only one.

His sister walked into the exam room with a bottle of soda for his mother, "Is he going to be OK? Or, am I getting his room?"

"Kelly, don't say things like that!" their mother admonished her. She stopped petting Craig's hand to grab the soda bottle with one hand while smacking his sister with the other.

The doctor walked in a that moment, saving Kelly from further scolding. A man in a dark suit jacket followed him in. "Craig, it looks like you suffered a nasty concussion and need stitches for that gash on your head. Thankfully, no fractures or any other injury, but we are going to need you to stay overnight of observation." His bald head looked as shiny as the glasses he wore in the lighting of the emergency room. He took off the glasses and pointed at the man behind him, "Detective Dakins would like to talk with you about the attack, if you feel up to it."

"Can it wait, Detective?" Craig's mother asked, "He's still feeling achy, and he needs to rest."

"Wait, Mom," Craig put his hand on her arm, "I want to ask him some stuff too."

"OK," she looked at the rest of the room, "Your sister and I will wait outside. Let us know when you're done," As they walked out the door, Detective Dakins told the doctor to stay, he wasn't going to ask many questions. He agreed and grabbed Craig's chart to make some notes.

"What do you remember about what happened?" He asked Craig in a surprisingly deep voice.

"Not much," Craig shrugged while responding. He related the glimpse of gray he saw and the qusetions he heard before he hit the ground and the world went black. "All the rest is coming to and ending up here."

"The person who attacked you was a Mr. Hugh Pearson. You have any issue with him?"

Craig was shocked. Mr. Pearson was an older man from the neighborhood; he had known him from his bike route when he was a paperboy. The worst problem he had with him was being late with the paper a couple of mornings. "No, I barely had any contact with him. He seemed OK. What else did he...?"

He was cut off in mid-sentence by some commotion out in the hallway. Not a few seconds later the noise made its way into his room: it was Linda, with his own father walking behind her saying, "See? He'll be OK. Just needed to be seen by the doctor." His mastery of understatement did little to make Linda stop crying.

"I'll talk with you later, when things calm down," Det. Dakins said as he walked back out the door, nodding at Craig's parent and the doctor.

It took another half hour before Linda was calm enough to talk about how he felt and how bad she was for being mad at him earlier. They talked a for a while before she left with his family when the nurse told them they were going to take him to an observation room and get him ready for bed. Craig was somewhat thankful for the silence.

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Afterwards, that night, he could have sworn he saw a red-headed nurse move about in his room.

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That's it for now...

Later,

MiddleMan

Serial Sunday Part 2...

I hate to say this, but I'm glad that the first part is over.

My biggest problem with writing has always been the beginning and the end. I have (what I believe) is a good story, but I'm always unsure of how to start, and how to finish. The Mid-wife even had to yell at me last week to, "Leave it alone!", and "Go to bed!" as I was sitting there, fretting over the keyboard. But, I did finally let it go and publish it as is.

I say this but I'll still check it over again after this post...

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You Lost Me...

A serial story

By MiddleMan

Part Two

Climbing out of the shower, Craig nearly found the floor the first time he stepped onto the tile. He grabbed a towel, and, as he dried himself off, he glanced around at the steamy bathroom, trying to remember something...

It was when he saw the now soggy and slightly-but-still-vomit-covered shoes that he remembered that he still had work to do. He grabbed the sneakers and a scrub brush and attempted to not let the smell make him spew again as he got them as clean as he could.

He was almost done when he was interrupted by his sister, banging on the door and asking him to, "Get his ass in gear!", again. Making sure that his towel was cinched up around his waist, he grabbed the sneakers then opened the door to see his sister about to scream again. At that point he caught her by surprise by shoving the now soaking sneakers right into her arms. She was so shocked, all she could squeak was, "Did you shower with these?"

"Yes, I thought it'd thrill you to imagine them near my nude body!" he said right before slamming the door in her face. That didn't help his headache, but he didn't care.

The stunned silence lasted less than he'd hoped. "C'mon and get out! I need to use the bathroom!" It was sure that she wasn't going to back down just because her shirt was now wet.

"Use the one downstairs," he answered.

"I can't, Mom's using it to develop film again!" her whining came through the door.

"All right, hold on," he groaned. He put himself together, quietly seething about his mother's new hobby. It had taken over a good part of the other bathroom, and, since it was only a month old, probably going to grow in coverage.

He opened the door, about to say something witty on the way out, but he suddenly found his head being used as a makeshift shoe rack. "You're not finished! Put them someplace sunny, so they air out!" she snickered as she ran past into the bathroom. The door slammed shut before he could put them where the sun didn't shine.

Walking back to his room, he realized that he was never going to win with his sister, as he dropped her sneakers near the cat's litterbox.

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Later, he walked out of his door and regretted that he never bought a pair of cheap sunglasses. The day was bright and clear; the only storm was slowly abating in his head. He looked at his bike, which looked like he had just left it to its own means after he rode it home from Jim's house last night.

"That's it! This all Jim's fault!" he reasoned to himself, "If I hadn't gone to his party, none of this would have happened." Why Jim also invited that Bitch was another thing he couldn't fathom. He hopped on his bike and pumped as fast as he could deal with over to Linda's

He had spent most of the party trying not get in "glaring contests" with her, but had little luck. He was without Kelly, due to her parents dragging her away on a day trip, and the bitch seeming to be without the morbid little sycophant that usually clung to her leg like a greasy tick.

He remembered that the living room they sat in was suddenly empty of everyone else but himself and her. (Apparently, someone had mentioned something about dares and skinny-dipping, and that; along with the combination of too much alcohol; had caused a mass exodus out to the swimming pool.) Both of them tried to ignore the other's existence until the quiet made her speak.

"Soooo, where's Linda?"

"Out with her parents, looking at schools," he stated as coldly as he could, "Where's your extra appendage?"

"Asshole! His name is Jeffery, and he'd kick your ass if you said that to his face!" She sneered at him, then suddenly got almost sad, "I don't know where he is."

She got up and walked to the window. Craig thought he should leave the room and give her space, but he found himself walking towards her. It was only when he found his hand reaching up to touch her shoulder that he shocked himself with his actions. Why was he feeding her call for attention so blatently?

Before either of them could speak, he held her face and brought his head down into a kiss. He felt her lips part slowly as they merged with his, gradually starting follow each other's curve of the mouth. Her smell of lilacs and musk captivated his nose, as he flet her suddenly grab a hold of his bottom lip with her teeth. At this, she suddenly stopped and said...

"DO I KNOW YOU!?!" screamed the grey blur that tossed him from his bike and onto the grass, "AM I ME?"

Before he could answer he found his head assulted with the rear tire of his bike, then watched as the lights went out around him...

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More to come next week...

Later,

MiddleMan

Sunday, Sunday...

Had a good day with the Mid-Wife and her family. We went into Brooklyn for a family get-together and a side trip to a neighborhood street fair. I ate too much, spent too much, and had a great end to a damn-near perfect weekend.

So, where to go from here? Well, as I said before, I decided to start a blog for a number of reasons; the major one being that I wanted to work on my writing skills before going too public with any story or article. I have been told by more professional writers than I can shake a pencil at that the best way to get good at writing was to write every day.

So here we are at day two... and I've decided to try out something new for me. Two of my biggest problems in writing is how to start an article/story and when to end it. I always admired writers who could break things up into discrete chunks without losing the story for the reader. By that I mean, the serial story.

I know there are tons of serial story blogs out there, and I don't expect this to be the best of them, but I want to try this out and see what people think. I will be happy to hear what think.

So, I'll just start it off right here...

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You Lost Me...

A serial story

By MiddleMan

Part One

He felt relieved to remember how to open his eyes, but disgusted that his current state made the need for remembering necessary and painfully unrewarding.

He glared about his room from his bed, but the no matter where he looked, everything seemed to packed in cotton and glass shards as far as his eyes were concerned. Even his normally sedate bookshelves screamed with every color that graced each spine.

"At least it's quiet," he told himself as quietly in his mind as he could muster. He was grateful for that, considering all of his senses were as sensitive as they were shredded.

What did he do last night? What was his crime? He scoured all of his most recent thoughts until he came up with two that seemed to make the most sense: he drank too much (no shit, Sherlock), and he kissed...

"That bitch!" he said more over than under his breath than intended. She was the reason he drank so much. That red-haired, eternally pissed-off... Wait... Did he kiss her while he was drunk, or before? He suddenly grew doubtful that he had done the former, and feared that he had done the second. That he had kissed her sober.

As this was doing cartwheels in his head, he found himself musing over what other stupid things he may have done...

His ears made sure that any more thoughts were long in coming when they painfully reported that someone was hammering on his door with sharp little knuckles. "Craig, get your ass up and get out here!" Crap, his sister, Kelly. What could she possibly want?

Jumping out of bed with more might than he thought he could muster, he lunged for the door, almost tripping over the pile of clothes that he could have sworn moved directly in his path as he dodged them. He opened the door, and just got out, "What's the matt...?" before a pair of sneaker were thrust into his arms. Recently vomited on sneakers. Sneakers which looked a lot like his sister's favorite pair - only now vomit colored in spots.

With a kick to his shin, she ended this conversation with, "Clean this up, jackass! If you ever do that again, I intend to kick higher next time!", and strode off into the hallway like she was going to find another target for her wrath. Craig felt he got off easy.

With one mystery solved that he really could have lived without; he limped down the hall to the bathroom to clean the sneakers, and his now matching vomit stained undershirt. He got about halfway before another voice broke his concentration. His mother's.

"Craig! Linda's on the phone!" she said in her way-too-matronly-nice voice she used when acting as the family answering machine.

Tossing the sneakers into what he hoped would be the direction of the tub, he made an attempt to collect the upstairs phone without breaking his stride. He picked up the phone and said as clearly as his tongue would let him, "Hi, Honey! How are you this morning?" His headache made this less sincere than he meant it to be.

"Don't 'Honey' me! Get your self together, and meet me NOW!" came the voice on the other line. This was followed next by the four words no man wants to hear: "We have to talk!"

He meekly agreed and hung up the phone to continue trudging to the bathroom. He had hoped that he wouldn't have heard from her until later in the day, but the grapevine worked so much quicker than drunken reflexes.

His only thought right before hitting the shower was, "Is it a bad thing to make something up about a bad thing? Especially when you can't remember what it was?"

This enigma was soon drowned in the sound and sensation of hot water cascading down his aching body.

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Sorry this post is long and late, but I wanted it to be just right before I posted it. I will pick up this story next Serial Sunday.

Until tomorrow...

MiddleMan