Music to my Ears

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

When Shelly thought about it, she realized the real mistake was agreeing to keep the secret in the first place. That is where it all started, with that stupid secret. Ever since she heard it, that was all she could think of. If anyone else knew… but they would still find out, there was no way they wouldn’t find out, unless…

Shelly walked into the living room, saw Maddy, and immediately turned and walked out. Shelly had been avoiding everyone all day, she was afraid of being cornered, of being questioned. How much did they know? It was too horrible to contemplate, she ran back up the stairs to her room, where she was safe.

She hid in her room the rest of the day, trying to keep herself busy, but she couldn’t avoid family dinner. She picked at her vegetable beef soup, not because she was nervous, more because she didn’t really like vegetable beef soup. The fresh baked bread was good though, and she downed three slices, dripping with butter.  This was why vegetable beef soup was her favorite dinner, even though she hated vegetable beef soup. She was just savoring her last slice of bread, when she suddenly remembered, the secret. She put the last bite of bread down on her plate. She suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore.

It was then Shelly noticed her dad had left the table, she was about to ask her mom where he had gone when he reappeared, holding a pink cake box. I large lump formed in Shelly’s throat, and no matter how hard she swallowed, it would not go away. Then her dad started to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” he bellowed, taking one step with each line, like he was walking down the aisle at a wedding ceremony, “happy birthday dear Maddy, happy birthday to you.”

He finished the song and set the box on the table. “Even though your birthday was yesterday, I think even leftover cake deserves a song,” he said with a big dad grin.

He was about to open the lid when Shelly cried out “wait, I have a secret!” Everyone turned to look at her. “Well, it’s not really my secret,” she stuttered, suddenly shy, “its Eddy’s secret, he made me promise I wouldn’t tell!”

“Eddy’s secret?” Shelly’s mom was looking at her with one eyebrow arched.

At that moment Eddy walked into the room, and a shower of pink vomit erupted into a puddle on the floor.

“Oh no, my cake!” Maddy cried out, as she stood from her chair and flung open the pink box to reveal nothing more than a few stale crumbs and some sad greasy streaky remnants of pink frosting.

“I’m sorry, Eddy ate it this morning and made me promise I wouldn’t tell!” Shelly screamed, as she ran back up the stairs to her bedroom, with the dog following closely behind.

 

A Bird in the Hand

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

The worst thing about mornings was the fact they were so darn early, and she was so not a morning person. The good thing about not being a morning person is it was easy to trick herself into getting up and doing things, as long as she set the alarm early enough, the grumpy part of her wouldn’t be awake yet to protest.

The sun was just rising at her back as her feet pounded the gravel to the rhythm of her breath. She didn’t like to admit it, but she loved these morning runs. It was how she meditated on the day to come.

There weren’t many of the regulars out on the trail this morning, probably because of the rain that passed through the night before, but it was kind of nice to have the path all to herself. Just her thoughts swirling in the lapping waters of the Bay Shore as she was serenaded with the morning calls of the birds. Actually, there seemed to be quite a lot of birds. As she rounded the bend in the path, she discovered why. Ahead of her was a man, walking down the trail with a swarm of birds fluttering about him. She contemplated the strange scene, all of those birds, swooping down on the man, and then she saw why. He removed his hand from his pocket, and stretched it out in front of himself, a half dozen birds swooped down and accepted the seed from the palm of his hand. She smiled at the scene as she jogged by.

She saw the man a few times that winter, always the morning after the rain, always on a lonely stretch of trail, but as spring set in and the sun started rising earlier, the trail became more crowded, and soon she forgot about the bird man. That was until late summer. She had been working on her endurance, running a bit further down the trail each morning,  until one morning she turned a corner and found a bench overlooking the bay, and sat down to take a rest.  After a few minutes, she stood to leave just as a woman approached her and asked if she could sit.

“Of course,” I said, “I was actually just leaving.”

But as a rose she noticed a plaque on the bench “For Jim, the bird man of San Leandro.”

“Oh no,” she sucked in her breath.

“Dearie, did you know my husband?” The older lady said, noticing the expression on her face as she looked at the plaque.

“No, not really, I just saw him a few times, out here feeding the birds,” she stuttered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you dear, but it has been ten years now, still I like to come out here and sit with him.”

“Sorry, ten years? Well that couldn’t have been him then, the man I saw was out here a few months ago.”

“Tall, white hair, green jacket and a purple baseball cap?”

“Yes, that’s the man I saw.”

“How lovely, it was him! It’s been a long time since I met someone who has seen his ghost!”

“Oh,” she said, stunned, “well, I should probably go.” And she turned and jogged back down the path toward home.

The worst thing about mornings was the fact they were so darn early, and she was so not a morning person. The good thing about not being a morning person is it was easy to trick herself into getting up and doing things, as long as she set the alarm early enough, the grumpy part of her wouldn’t be awake yet to protest.

The sun was just rising at her back as her feet pounded the gravel to the rhythm of her breath. She didn’t like to admit it, but she loved these morning runs. It was how she meditated on the day to come.

There weren’t many of the regulars out on the trail this morning, probably because of the rain that passed through the night before, but it was kind of nice to have the path all to herself. Just her thoughts swirling in the lapping waters of the Bay Shore as she was serenaded with the morning calls of the birds. Actually, there seemed to be quite a lot of birds. As she rounded the bend in the path, she discovered why. Ahead of her was a man, walking down the trail with a swarm of birds fluttering about him. She contemplated the strange scene, all of those birds, swooping down on the man, and then she saw why. He removed his hand from his pocket, and stretched it out in front of himself, a half dozen birds swooped down and accepted the seed from the palm of his hand. She smiled at the scene as she jogged by.

She saw the man a few times that winter, always the morning after the rain, always on a lonely stretch of trail, but as spring set in and the sun started rising earlier, the trail became more crowded, and soon she forgot about the bird man. That was until late summer. She had been working on her endurance, running a bit further down the trail each morning,  until one morning she turned a corner and found a bench overlooking the bay, and sat down to take a rest.  After a few minutes, she stood to leave just as a woman approached her and asked if she could sit.

“Of course,” I said, “I was actually just leaving.”

But as a rose she noticed a plaque on the bench “For Jim, the bird man of San Leandro.”

“Oh no,” she sucked in her breath.

“Dearie, did you know my husband?” The older lady said, noticing the expression on her face as she looked at the plaque.

“No, not really, I just saw him a few times, out here feeding the birds,” she stuttered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you dear, but it has been ten years now, still I like to come out here and sit with him.”

“Sorry, ten years? Well that couldn’t have been him then, the man I saw was out here a few months ago.”

“Tall, white hair, green jacket and a purple baseball cap?”

“Yes, that’s the man I saw.”

“How lovely, it was him! It’s been a long time since I met someone who has seen his ghost!”

“Oh,” she said, stunned, “well, I should probably go.” And she turned and jogged back down the path toward home.

The End of the Line

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

“Did you know they define breakfast as the first meal of the day that is eaten within two hours of waking up?”

“Um, okay?” she replied as she sipped her coffee.

“Yeah, so that means what you are eating now is not breakfast.”

“What do you mean it’s not breakfast, its eight am, of course it’s breakfast.”

“Yes, for me, but you woke up at five. It’s been three hours, this isn’t breakfast for you!”

She looked up from her eggs to see he was grinning mischievously at her.

“Alright then, so what am I eating?”

“Hmm, I suppose we’ll have to make up a different word.”

They were both quite for a minute, trying to think of a new word when their contemplations were broken by the shrill scream of a siren. He looked at her and she looked at him, and without a word they got up from their table and walked out of the café, leaving the rest of their breakfast untouched.

They drove in silence to the old Navy base. The tsunami warning siren was still screaming, but the whole world seemed to otherwise stand still. No one seemed to be panicking yet.

As they drew closer to their destination the roads started to get busier, word was getting out. She clicked on the radio, but every channel was filled with the same warning message “evacuate now, disaster imminent, head to higher ground.” Blah blah blah. They knew it wouldn’t help, now with what was coming. The good news was, everyone was heading the opposite direction, a long line of cars snaking toward the bridges.

Finally they reached the edge of the island, with nothing in front of them but water they parked the car, walked out to the end of the old broken dock, and sat down. It was a beautiful morning, the water was calm and still, the sky was blue, and there wasn’t a hint of the imminent disaster.

“We should have brought our coffee.” She sighed

“Oh well, nothing we can do about it now.”

“Yeah, so how long do you think this will take anyway?”

“Any minute I would imagine.”

She reached out and held his hand. A half an hour passed.

“What do you think is taking so long?” she asked, “Shouldn’t the wave have been here by now.”

“No,” he said, “look”, and he pointed across the water to one of the old runways.

“What?” she asked as she peered in the direction he was pointing, but she didn’t wait for his answer because she saw what he meant, there on the runway, a blue car was driving, but before it reached the end it disappeared, only to reappear and start its journey again.

“See, we’re glitching, now they will need to reboot the whole thing again, come on,” he stood up and reached out to help her to her feet, “now they will need to reset, I guess the world won’t be ending today after all.”

 

Ships That Pass In The Night

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

He crouched low and peered over the top of the ridge to the flood light filled valley below “well, there’s the problem” he whispered.

“What?” she said, creeping up to join him.

“Aliens.”

They both were quite for a minute, absorbing the reality of the situation as they watched the scene below them unfold.

She turned away first, and pressing her back against the rock they had been peering over she lowered herself into the dirt and gazed out to the horizon. The sun had just set and the sky was ablaze in a brilliant shade of pink.

“Hey Adam” she said, poking him in the ribs.

“Yeah,” he replied as he turned around and sat down next to her.

“Does this mean we are going to have to do it again?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “just like last time.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Dawn,” his voice grew concerned as he turned to face her.

She met his gaze, “I know.” She was trying to sound confident, but she was worried too.

“It’s just that we nearly lost each other last time, and I can’t do this alone.”

“I know.” She whispered. She wanted some profound declaration, like “I can’t live without you,” or “If I lost you again, it would be the end of me,” but she would have to settle for “I can’t do this alone.” She knew he loved her, after all it had been 958 years, but still, a girl likes to hear it sometimes. Especially since sometimes she worried that the only reason they were still together was because of the connection they shared as the only two time traveling immortals on earth.

As the .last whispers of pink faded to inky black in the sky, he spoke again. “Okay, so here’s what were going to do. We’ll hold hands, facing each other, and I’ll transport us back 100 years. In my estimation the aliens got here about 83 years ago, so that should allow us enough time to regain our memories, find each other, and then find the aliens before they get too ingrained in the Republican party to bring about the end of the world again.

“And how will we find each other?” That was the hardest part about time travel, it erased your memory. Oh sure, eventually it comes back, or at least it has so far, but the farther back we travel, the longer it takes. What if someday it doesn’t come back at all?

“Just like last time, we’ll decide on a meeting place, we’ll both think of it as we travel back in time, and then hopefully we will be drawn there, I estimate about 15 years after we go back, and when we see each other, we’ll know. That will still give us two years to prepare before the aliens get here.

“Okay,” she said clasping his hands, “see you in 15 years in Pershing Square.”

“Okay,” he replied, and with a flash of light, they were gone.

 

 

On Second Thought

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

I would recognize that handwriting anywhere, the illegible scrawl that covered dozens of sheets of yellowed notebook paper that were still in the bottom of my closet. It could only belong to one person, my high school sweetheart. I never thought I would see that writing again, and certainly not on a loan application that had appeared on my desk at First National Bank in Galveston.

I peered at the form in disbelief. Obviously it couldn’t actually be him, it was just a coincidence. Eastern Texas was far from the California town we had grown up in, and the last time I had heard, from a friend of a friend, he had relocated to somewhere in England. I flipped over the form. Yup, sure enough, Ben Tsobanakis, but could it actually be? Well come Monday morning at 8 AM I would find out.

Of course the first thing I did when I got home that night was Google him, but the results were inconclusive, and his Facebook was set to private. I would just have to wait.

By the time Monday morning rolled around I’d imagined the rest of their lives together. He would walk in through the door, our eyes would meet, and we would suddenly be 18 again. We would laugh about fate, and then I’d have my co-worker take the rest of my clients for the day. We’d go to Pleasure Pier, eat cotton candy and ride the Ferris wheel… and live happily ever after.

I was lost in my daydream when I heard the buzz signaling the front door of the office had opened. My heart was racing as I slowly rose to my feet and peered over my cubicle wall. I couldn’t believe what I saw. That same sandy hair, those same brown eyes, that same smile. It was him, it really was him!

I popped up and quickly smoothed down my skirt, I started walking out of my cube, but then I thought better of it. It would be more surprising if he walked into my cube, and I nonchalantly looked up from my computer. I hurried over to my desk and sat down. That was when I heard it, a female voice, asking for me by name. I popped up from my cube again, and that is when our eyes met. Not the brown puppy dog eyes I was expecting, but the piercing blue eyes of some strange woman.

“Hi,” she said, “are you Sarah? I’m Shelly, my husband Ben is just in the restroom, but we have an 8 AM appointment with you.”

“Oh,” I stuttered, “yes, though actually I’m not feeling well, so my colleague Mark will help you today.”

I hustled her to Mark’s desk, he looked rather surprised as I hastily shoved Shelly into his cube before I bee-lined for the back door. I texted Mark to apologize as soon as I was safely hidden in my car. He sent me back a winkey face and texed “anything for you.”

 

 

Until the Cows Come Home

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

“I’m a time traveler.”

She stopped mid bite, and looked up at him “A what?”

“A time traveler, I’m a time traveler.”

“Okay,” she snorted, “so that’s how you got here, you traveled through time?”

“No, I’ve never actually traveled through time, but I’m sure I’m a time traveler.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She replied as she returned to her breakfast.

“No seriously, I am.” He insisted.

She stopped eating again, and shot him a glare, but something about the look on his face, the way he was staring at her with those big, brown eyes, she gave in. “Fine, fine, you’re a time traveler, so, prove it.”

“Oh, no, it doesn’t work like that, I can’t actually travel through time, yet, but I will be able to, as soon as I find the one.”

“The one, what does that mean?”

“My partner I can’t travel through time without her.”

“Hmm, so who is your partner?”

“I don’t actually know, but when I find her, it’ll be obvious.”

“I see” she replied, and turned back to her breakfast again.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short when he spotted some movement out of the corner of his eye. “What’s that?”

“What?” she demanded as she looked up from her breakfast yet again, “oh, it’s just the farmer, he’s probably moving us to a new field.”

He stood and watched the farmer as he made his way across the pasture, until he found himself running in a herd with the all the other cows. Many hooves skimming across spring grass drenched in morning dew, the herd thundered down the hill, but when they got there, instead of an open gate leading to the next field, there were large metal boxes.

He had never been so frightened in his life. Here he was, crammed into this metal box, packed in so tightly he couldn’t even move. And even worse, the box was bouncing up and down, side to side. He was afraid he would fall down and be trampled.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the box stopped moving, and then suddenly one of the walls opened and they were being shuffled down a wooden ramp into a place like nothing he had ever seen before. Instead of green grass and rolling hills, there was mud, and fences, and cows standing shoulder to shoulder as far as the eye could see. And the smell, and the cries of the other cows, and the misery that hung, laced with death. He could smell it somewhere nearby, a lot of death, and it seemed to be emanating from a building across the way, the building they were now shuffling towards.

That’s when he spotted her, and she spotted him.

“It’s you!” she bellowed

“It’s you,” he cried back.

“Well there is only one thing left to do now!”

“Yes,” he mooed softly, “shall we?”

Their noses touched, and in a flash they were gone, two puffs of dust where there once were cows.

 

 

Sign of the Times

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

Jim had to admit there were some good things about this, for instance, at this very moment he was flying down the freeway, going the speed limit, at 5 pm on a Thursday afternoon. He was pretty sure he had never seen the city fly by at this speed before. He could get used to not wasting all of his time inhaling the exhaust of perpetual gridlock. He would probably fall behind on all of his podcasts though.

Today was actually the first day he had been back into the City since it happened. As he was driving in this morning, he was surprised to find he actually felt a bit nervous as the metal crags and peaks of the skyscrapers emerged on the horizon, would it be the same as he remembered? But as he drove through the streets he found nothing had changed. Well, there were no people to be seen, but the buildings, the statues, even the trash, was the same. He actually found the silence downtown to be peaceful, it allowed him to get the job done quickly and get out.

It was still an hour before sunset when Jim pulled in his driveway. His roommate, Marlene wasn’t home yet, but he was sure she would be back soon. He settled into the couch and to watch the shadows creep across the living room floor when the door flew open.

“It’s about damn time,” he exclaimed over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Marlene answered as she stomped into the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Don’t forget to lock it!” Jim grumbled.

“Duh,” she replied, “hey, what’s that?”

“What, the sign?”

“Yeah, the big fucking neon sign that is now taking up the whole living room wall.”

“I got it downtown today, it’s the sign from the bar I used to own.”

“Oh, does it work?”

“Of course it works, not that I am going to turn it on right now.

“Come-on, just for a second, please?”

“Fine,” he sighed and plugged the sign into the wall, the neon flickered to life, filling up the room with a red glow.

“Wow,” she said, but before she could finish her sentence, there was a pounding at the door.

“Shit,” Jim exclaimed as he yanked the chord from the wall.

Jim and Marlene briefly made eye contact before they fled from the room, through a trap door in the hallway, and down into the basement. The thick metal door slammed shut behind them and Jim slid the lock closed.

“I told you we shouldn’t have turned it on,” Jim sighed

A second later the splintering sound of the front door giving way echoed through the house. Then there were footsteps, a dozen at least, shuffling across the floor above them.

“So I guess we’re spending the night in here.”

There was a long silence, and then Jim replied, “I knew we shouldn’t have turned on that light, it was too close to nightfall.

“Sorry,” was all Marlene replied.