I am just looking through my blog and I have noticed two things...
1. I don't really remember writing some of the stuff I have written, but it is cool to go back and read it. I mean, I remember writing them, but I don't remember saying some of the stuff that I did...I must have been in that "writer's zone".
2. I have realized that the majority of my blog now is this book thing. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy writing it, and, at one point, it won me some steady readers.
But it is not the reason I started this blog.
I started this blog to express my opinions about things, and maybe get people to think more about some things. The problem is I don't seem to have many opinions to express anymore. I have covered many topics already in this blog and can't seem to come up with another one at the moment. I have the desire to write, but don't know what about.
So, in a nutshell, what I am trying to say is bear with me. One day I will come up with something to write about aside from "The Book".
Chapter 4
The white was blinding. But everything was white. Sam squinted and attempted to make out his surroundings.
There was not much in this white room. He was not on a bed, but rather on a metal operation table-like table. There were no windows, just white walls.
Where was he?
This couldn’t be a hospital. There was no bed, no cheap furniture, not even a bedpan. Not that one was needed.
What had happened?
Sam strained to remember, but the side of his head hurt. He reached up and felt a long row of stitches that stretched from about an inch above his ear down to where his neck began.
He remembered the red liquid…blood. He rolled over and let out a pain filled yell.
His side was bandaged, his ribs must be broken.
What happened?
He remembered the screaming.
Dear God, the screaming! There was so much pain in it, so much confusion.
What happened?!?
Max had turned. Sam began to follow, and then…
The other car, it was so familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
The screams. He knew the voices.
No, it couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. IT CAN’T BE!
It was so clear now. The blue Dodge Durango. His wife’s beautiful face. His daughter’s innocent eyes which were then filled with terror. The breaking glass. The screams.
What were they doing there? Where were they now? Please God, let them be ok!
He had to stand. He had to move. He had to find his family!
After much effort and pain he was able to stand.
A sound came from the other side of the room. It sounded like…clapping. He looked to the area that the sound was coming from and saw a man dressed in all white.
“Very impressive,” said the man, “very impressive indeed.”
“Who…are you?” Sam asked short of breath.
“Jonathan Nells,” said the man proudly, “I am the man that saved your pathetic life.”
“Saved my life? It was just some broken ribs.”
“Yes, and a cracked toe, which is why it is impressive that you are standing.”
“That’s still not life threatening.”
“No it is not, but the blood you were losing from that gash in your head was.”
Sam touched the stitches again, “So you’re a doctor?”
“If that’s the way you want to see it, but as you have probably already noticed I do not work in a hospital or a clinic.” He motioned to the room around him, “This is my workplace. It’s not much, but it works.”
“So you are not a doctor?”
“I am who you want me to be.”
Sam studied the man. He had green eyes and a balding head. What hair he did have was white and most of it made up his beard, which didn’t contain much hair either. He looked to be in his early sixties.
“What does that mean?” Sam asked.
The man, Jonathan as he called himself, did not answer the question but instead said, “Your wife and daughter is fine. The airbag saved them, along with their seatbelts. It looks like you received the most damage from the wreck.”
“My wife and daughter? How do you know about them? Where are they?”
“Now that I couldn’t tell you.”
“What do you mean?!?”
“I mean, knowing the people that are after you, they could be safely in the hospital, or at home, or somewhere…else.”
“People? What people? And what do you mean somewhere else?”
“I can’t say anymore, not now. We will meet again. There is a silver Silverado outside, the keys are in the ignition. Take it, drive home. Let intuition guide you after that.” Jonathan started walking towards the door. When he reached it he turned and said, “Oh, yeah, the stitches will come out in a few weeks, the femur will be fine, and so will the ribs just keep some ice on them.”
He opened the door.
“Wait!” Sam yelled, “Who are you?”
“Take care of yourself Sam, we will meet again.”
With that Jonathan walked out of the room. Sam moved as swiftly as he could to pursue him, but by the time he reached the door any evidence that someone had been there was gone.
Sam stepped outside and looked around. He was outside the store that Max had robbed.
What was going on?
He turned and saw the Silverado.
Should he take it? Did he have a choice?
He limped to the pickup and got in. The door was unlocked and the key was in the ignition. Sam cranked the truck and started the drive to his house.
There was not much in this white room. He was not on a bed, but rather on a metal operation table-like table. There were no windows, just white walls.
Where was he?
This couldn’t be a hospital. There was no bed, no cheap furniture, not even a bedpan. Not that one was needed.
What had happened?
Sam strained to remember, but the side of his head hurt. He reached up and felt a long row of stitches that stretched from about an inch above his ear down to where his neck began.
He remembered the red liquid…blood. He rolled over and let out a pain filled yell.
His side was bandaged, his ribs must be broken.
What happened?
He remembered the screaming.
Dear God, the screaming! There was so much pain in it, so much confusion.
What happened?!?
Max had turned. Sam began to follow, and then…
The other car, it was so familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
The screams. He knew the voices.
No, it couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. IT CAN’T BE!
It was so clear now. The blue Dodge Durango. His wife’s beautiful face. His daughter’s innocent eyes which were then filled with terror. The breaking glass. The screams.
What were they doing there? Where were they now? Please God, let them be ok!
He had to stand. He had to move. He had to find his family!
After much effort and pain he was able to stand.
A sound came from the other side of the room. It sounded like…clapping. He looked to the area that the sound was coming from and saw a man dressed in all white.
“Very impressive,” said the man, “very impressive indeed.”
“Who…are you?” Sam asked short of breath.
“Jonathan Nells,” said the man proudly, “I am the man that saved your pathetic life.”
“Saved my life? It was just some broken ribs.”
“Yes, and a cracked toe, which is why it is impressive that you are standing.”
“That’s still not life threatening.”
“No it is not, but the blood you were losing from that gash in your head was.”
Sam touched the stitches again, “So you’re a doctor?”
“If that’s the way you want to see it, but as you have probably already noticed I do not work in a hospital or a clinic.” He motioned to the room around him, “This is my workplace. It’s not much, but it works.”
“So you are not a doctor?”
“I am who you want me to be.”
Sam studied the man. He had green eyes and a balding head. What hair he did have was white and most of it made up his beard, which didn’t contain much hair either. He looked to be in his early sixties.
“What does that mean?” Sam asked.
The man, Jonathan as he called himself, did not answer the question but instead said, “Your wife and daughter is fine. The airbag saved them, along with their seatbelts. It looks like you received the most damage from the wreck.”
“My wife and daughter? How do you know about them? Where are they?”
“Now that I couldn’t tell you.”
“What do you mean?!?”
“I mean, knowing the people that are after you, they could be safely in the hospital, or at home, or somewhere…else.”
“People? What people? And what do you mean somewhere else?”
“I can’t say anymore, not now. We will meet again. There is a silver Silverado outside, the keys are in the ignition. Take it, drive home. Let intuition guide you after that.” Jonathan started walking towards the door. When he reached it he turned and said, “Oh, yeah, the stitches will come out in a few weeks, the femur will be fine, and so will the ribs just keep some ice on them.”
He opened the door.
“Wait!” Sam yelled, “Who are you?”
“Take care of yourself Sam, we will meet again.”
With that Jonathan walked out of the room. Sam moved as swiftly as he could to pursue him, but by the time he reached the door any evidence that someone had been there was gone.
Sam stepped outside and looked around. He was outside the store that Max had robbed.
What was going on?
He turned and saw the Silverado.
Should he take it? Did he have a choice?
He limped to the pickup and got in. The door was unlocked and the key was in the ignition. Sam cranked the truck and started the drive to his house.
Chapter 3
Sam was lost in thought when he heard the door close. Max had left. This caught Sam off guard.
Sam was a thinker. He thought things through before he acted. After Max had informed him of his knowledge of a proper target, Sam had closed his eyes and begun to think, only to open them to the sight of an empty room.
Sam was not sure what to make of this. Had Max suddenly become determined? Was this not the same man who said earlier that he could not do this?
Then again, if it was Sam’s daughter’s life on the line, he probably would have done the same thing.
So now Sam was left with a decision. Should he follow Max? Where did Max go? He never did get the name of the place that max planned on robbing, but he did know of a small convenience store that was nearby which is probably where Max went.
Option number two was to sit and wait for Max to return. This option did not hold much interest, so Sam walked out of the office and got into his car.
It appeared that Max and Sam had the same place in mind because when Sam pulled up Max burst through the door with a plastic bag in his hand.
Something was wrong though.
Max was still facing inside, and unusually loud sounds could be heard accompanied with screams.
It took Sam a minute to register that Max was shooting, but when it did it registered with a bang. The third bang to be precise.
Sam was frozen. What should he do? Was Max just wanting to scare the people in the store? Had he shot somebody? If so had he killed somebody?
Sam had to confront him. Sam knew it. Max, however, not only had a gun, but he had Sam’s gun. This meant that Sam was without a weapon. Sam did not believe that max would shoot him, but when confronted about things such as this people tend to do unpredictable things.
Sam did not like the unpredictable.
It was something that could not be conquered by the human mind, and, therefore, posed a threat to Sam’s entire being.
Staying in the car was definitely not the right thing to do either though, but he had to do something.
Sam suddenly realized that he was looking at the floorboard of his car. He looked up just in time to see Max jump in his car and speed away from both the store and the office. Sam threw his car in drive and pursued him.
***
The red Chevy Impala that Sam drove may not be the sportiest car with the most horsepower, but it did its job well. Besides, Max’s black Ford Explorer was not exactly built for high speed chases. Sam kept up with Max: swerving between cars, changing lanes, turning left, then right, and the occasional U-turn.
For a moment, Sam was waiting for a random person to pull out a gun and shoot his tires, and, by doing so, send his Impala rolling into the ditch engulfed in flames.
This never happened, Hollywood lied again.
To begin with this chase was a rush of adrenaline, but that had worn out now. Now it was almost just a normal drive, so Sam began thinking.
Where is Max going? What is he doing? What did he do? What should I do? Wha…
The noise was so loud, the pain in his side excruciating, there was a warm red liquid flowing from where he thought his ear was supposed to be, there was yelling, and then there was only blackness.
Sam was a thinker. He thought things through before he acted. After Max had informed him of his knowledge of a proper target, Sam had closed his eyes and begun to think, only to open them to the sight of an empty room.
Sam was not sure what to make of this. Had Max suddenly become determined? Was this not the same man who said earlier that he could not do this?
Then again, if it was Sam’s daughter’s life on the line, he probably would have done the same thing.
So now Sam was left with a decision. Should he follow Max? Where did Max go? He never did get the name of the place that max planned on robbing, but he did know of a small convenience store that was nearby which is probably where Max went.
Option number two was to sit and wait for Max to return. This option did not hold much interest, so Sam walked out of the office and got into his car.
It appeared that Max and Sam had the same place in mind because when Sam pulled up Max burst through the door with a plastic bag in his hand.
Something was wrong though.
Max was still facing inside, and unusually loud sounds could be heard accompanied with screams.
It took Sam a minute to register that Max was shooting, but when it did it registered with a bang. The third bang to be precise.
Sam was frozen. What should he do? Was Max just wanting to scare the people in the store? Had he shot somebody? If so had he killed somebody?
Sam had to confront him. Sam knew it. Max, however, not only had a gun, but he had Sam’s gun. This meant that Sam was without a weapon. Sam did not believe that max would shoot him, but when confronted about things such as this people tend to do unpredictable things.
Sam did not like the unpredictable.
It was something that could not be conquered by the human mind, and, therefore, posed a threat to Sam’s entire being.
Staying in the car was definitely not the right thing to do either though, but he had to do something.
Sam suddenly realized that he was looking at the floorboard of his car. He looked up just in time to see Max jump in his car and speed away from both the store and the office. Sam threw his car in drive and pursued him.
***
The red Chevy Impala that Sam drove may not be the sportiest car with the most horsepower, but it did its job well. Besides, Max’s black Ford Explorer was not exactly built for high speed chases. Sam kept up with Max: swerving between cars, changing lanes, turning left, then right, and the occasional U-turn.
For a moment, Sam was waiting for a random person to pull out a gun and shoot his tires, and, by doing so, send his Impala rolling into the ditch engulfed in flames.
This never happened, Hollywood lied again.
To begin with this chase was a rush of adrenaline, but that had worn out now. Now it was almost just a normal drive, so Sam began thinking.
Where is Max going? What is he doing? What did he do? What should I do? Wha…
The noise was so loud, the pain in his side excruciating, there was a warm red liquid flowing from where he thought his ear was supposed to be, there was yelling, and then there was only blackness.
A Poem (I was bored)
The sands of time slip through my hands,
I watch the memories fade.
Once I knew where to stand,
But a different choice was made.
I stare in the mirror at my reflection,
But it is so strange to me.
I wonder who made this selection,
And pain is all I see.
I walk these winding roads of lfe,
I see the smiling faces.
But everytime I turn around,
My eye is filled with disgraces.
The world is burning all around,
Yet I don't really care.
I want to fly above the ground,
I want to escape into the air.
Life is tough, thats what they say,
But there is no greater teacher.
Whenever I try to run away,
It only makes me weaker.
So why even try to pretend,
That life is great to me?
I want you all to understand,
It's not what it seems to be.
I watch the memories fade.
Once I knew where to stand,
But a different choice was made.
I stare in the mirror at my reflection,
But it is so strange to me.
I wonder who made this selection,
And pain is all I see.
I walk these winding roads of lfe,
I see the smiling faces.
But everytime I turn around,
My eye is filled with disgraces.
The world is burning all around,
Yet I don't really care.
I want to fly above the ground,
I want to escape into the air.
Life is tough, thats what they say,
But there is no greater teacher.
Whenever I try to run away,
It only makes me weaker.
So why even try to pretend,
That life is great to me?
I want you all to understand,
It's not what it seems to be.