OUT OF THE INVISIBLE

The clock ticked like a repetitious drum in the cramped cubicle belonging to museum security guard Chester Murrow. His eyes moved lazily back and forth between the glow of the perpetually switching monitor in front of him and the engrossing spy thriller propped on his lap. In between sips of overcreamed coffee, he flipped a page. The ticks were getting on to Chester’s nerves. If only I could… he thought, and then thought otherwise, as he, like he had many times before, resigned himself to the fact that the clock was the true measure of freedom in his job where he was assigned to do, basically, nothing…. Nothing but guard a few measly artifacts and jewels that were already heavily alarmed and which would draw out a SWAT team upon the slightest tickle of the bulletproof glass. He looked up at the ticking annoyance, and sighed. Three hours left.


He awoke from his reverie with a start. He had heard a faint clatter in the distance, down the hall. Probably a rodent, he thought, but knew he had to check anyway. He struggled to get up from his rolling office chair, nearly falling on his pudgy butt when it slid out from under him. Patting the weapon at his side, a trusty Beretta, and the nightstick on his other side, he trudged forward with a Mag lite into the blackness ahead.
Soon he saw the source of the noise, or at least the result – an umbrella rack near the door to the Rare Jewels collection was tipped over. He propped it back upright, and shone his flashlight in broad circles, hoping to catch the culprit in action. The critter couldn’t have gotten very far. He stepped slowly into the Jewels room, turned to the security access switch, and punched in a few numbers to temporarily deactivate the lasers that protected the amazing wealth within. He cast light on the tile floor, noting a few dust bunnies that the early evening janitors had missed – the miscreants – but little else. Resetting the security as he left the room, he glanced backward and felt reassured by the gleams and sparkles emanating from the display cases… all intact. Resigned to success, perhaps in at least scaring the nasty rodent back into the dirt hole it came from, he settled back down for his last three – he smiled – no, make that two and a half, hours.
Unseen, something watched Chester from the shadows, waiting for daylight and opening time. This something was carrying a small black bag with the real blue diamond in it, replaced in its case by a fragment of a blue glass vase he managed to find at an auction for a much, much cheaper price.
The shadow had made quite a hefty profit.. minus, of course, some scores he had to settle downtown.

The door leading to the dimly lit, highly air-conditioned office shuddered as someone entered the lobby outside. A thin, pale individual wearing bottle cap glasses waited for the expected buzz from the doorbell… and there it was, as harsh as ever. Pressing a button underneath the top drawer of his desk, he got the door to magnetically unlock. It opened, and closed, but it appeared that nobody had entered. Appeared, yes. But Sam Lockhart knew otherwise. Upon entrance, a visitor had to enter a narrow gateway ringed with cameras of different sizes and shapes and multiple flashing red LEDs. Sam switched on his computer monitor and typed a few commands. An image of the gateway popped up on the screen, a tall, stocky figure taking shape. Soon, computer processing power enhanced the image, and the face became recognizable. Satisfied, Sam pressed another switch on his desk, and the high voltage electrical field guarding the exit from the gateway switched off.
He cleared his throat and drawled into the loudspeaker, “Come on in, Josh.”
Infrared cameras trailed the Josh figure as he moved to a reception window. Sam moved over to the window. “So….” Sam asked, “Was it all it was cut out to be?”
A voice, seemingly out of the blue, replied, “Piece of cake. Though it’s hard to get used to, you know, figuring out how to grab stuff and maneuver, you know? I couldn’t see a dang thing I was doing.”
“You get used to it,” Sam replied.
“Yeah, well, the sooner I get back to the real world, the better. I never thought I would have ever said I was more impatient to get a stupid shot.” A black bag materialized out of thin air.
Sam glanced at the bag. “I see you got what you wanted,” he said, “You got the money?”
“Yeah,” Josh’s voice replied, “As soon as I cash this in, I can get you your ten grand.”
Sam scowled. “You obviously didn’t read the contract. We’re expecting more than that.”
“What do you mean? I signed for the ten thou deal.. one day of complete invisibility. What gives?”
Leaning forward toward the thick glass partition separating them, Sam replied, “You didn’t read the fine print. Let me refresh you.” He pulled out a legal size sheet of paper and slowly read from it. “It says here, ‘An additional sum may be incurred in the event the invisibility is used or involved, directly or indirectly, in the commission of a crime.’”
The voice heightened, obviously increasingly nervous. “A crime – how did – what-“
“What, you think I don’t read the papers? That’ll be fifty grand, in my hand, or no shot.”
“You – you – can’t do this! I need to be able to get the heck out of town. What about my girlfriend.. my –“
Sam smirked. “Dude, that’s not my problem. It’s in your hands now. Get me fifty grand, you get your shot. Until then, have a nice day.”
Panic. “But-“
The microblinds pulled down over the partition window and snapped shut. The invisible man banged and banged but came nowhere near even budging the reinforced glass.
“I’ll get you!” Josh-thing screamed. “I’ll find a way, trust me!” In seconds, the door leading back out to the lobby swung open and slammed shut, rustling the clipboard of papers hanging by the door.

Josh panicked. Without fifty thousand dollars, how was he even going to begin to cash in the jewel? He slumped against the concrete outer wall of the office building he had just stormed out of – confused, angry, and now alone. He had to get back in somehow and get to that weasel, find a way to make himself visible again.
Yes. He came to a realization.
Invisible. Unseen.
He would wait until dark, just as he had in the museum.

Right on schedule, the lanky Sam Lockhart trudged out the double doors leading to the office building, keys in hand. Looking both ways, he stepped out into the night, seemingly oblivious to Josh’s invisible figure coming up behind him with a shard of broken glass picked up from a nearby alley. Josh pounced. Both tumbled to the ground in a mass of dust, Sam appearing to struggle with himself and a solitary piece of sharpened glass. “What, what do you- you want?!” Sam screamed, as he found himself on the losing end of the battle, dagger pressed firmly against his neck.
“You know exactly what I want, idiot,” the invisible voice growled. “You’re going to make me visible again right now.”
“I – well – don’t hurt me, or else you’ll never be, uh, visible again,” Sam whimpered, caught in an invisible chokehold from an obviously larger, stronger man.
“Well I suppose that’s true,” the voice replied mockingly, “But then – you wouldn’t want to be in serious, chronic, bleeding pain for the rest of your miserable life, now would you?” The glass dug deeper into Sam’s neck, drawing blood. “Give me the shot or you’re in some serious pain, twerp.”
Sam suddenly managed to squirm away from Josh’s vicelike grip and stumbled to the ground, breathless. “Alright, alright,” he conceded. “I’ll take you up and give you the shot.”
He looked decidedly resigned as he walked slowly back to the building, through the double doors, and into the elevator. He pressed the button leading to the seventh floor.. the door closed, and after a few minutes, they were in front of the nondescript office once again. It was only by word of mouth and reputation that Sam turned his miraculous invention into a modern-day novelty, for pure profit. He had amassed many thousands of dollars sending the wonder of invisibility, not questioning the motives or ambitions of his clients… but they always managed to repay him kindly with gratitude. Until now.
He walked slowly through the lobby, slid a key card through the reader on the wall, and swung open the entry door after it clicked itself unlocked. The electrical field had also disengaged, and he walked straight through the gateway to the door leading to his office. Swiping his card through another reader, he walked the invisible Josh into the dim, chill, cramped space that was his laboratory.
Sam looked around. “Have a seat,” he muttered, pointing to a chair that vaguely resembled a dentist chair. He opened a small white cabinet, glancing to his side as indentations appeared on the chair, letting him know that Josh was now sitting down awaiting his injection.
He returned to the chair with a syringe and a small vial of brown liquid. He poked the needle into the vial, which sipped up the liquid into its barrel-like tube, tapped out the bubbles from the syringe, and stood over the reclining invisible man. From his right pocket he pulled out a pair of what looked like sunglasses.
“Here,” Sam said, “Please put these on. One side effect of rematerializing is that your eyes will become sensitive to any and all light for a few hours.”
The glasses popped from his grip and floated in midair above the headrest.
“Please put your arm on this brace.” Sam pointed to a circlet sticking out from the chair. “This is where I will make the injection.”
Raising the syringe, Sam bore downward on the arm brace, felt a little resistance, and pushed more firmly. A small sigh escaped the chair. A minute passed. Then Sam spoke.
“Josh, you can take a look now.”
Josh looked down over himself and grinned with satisfaction… at last, visible again! And nobody would ever suspect him in the biggest jewel heist in the state… no, certainly not if nobody saw anything. Slowly, though he was having trouble maintaining his balance, he lifted himself out of the chair. He turned to Sam, who, clad in a white lab coat, was grinning fearfully, and extended a hand out to him. Sam returned the handshake.
“Thanks, Doc,” Josh said, making his way toward the door. “You’ll get your ten grand in the morning.” And he walked out, whistling all the way to the elevators outside.
Sweaty and trembling, Sam stumbled out of his office, following the gleeful man at a distance. “Indeed I will,” he mumbled.

The open door, the fresh air, the freedom was the last thing he remembered before – PAIN. Intense, spiking, throbbing pain. First, in both arms, then spreading inward to the chest, convulsing, contracting, twisting his heart like a dishrag. Josh collapsed weakly to the pavement, very near to where he had stalked the good doctor just an hour earlier.
Bright lights, blinding, flashing – searing his brain, etching like fire, as he watched his limbs pulsate with untamed energy. What was happening.. what did the guy give him now? If he ever got through this, he would rip off the man’s skull and eat his brain… unnhh…
Light. Heat.
Black.

Waiting patiently inside the entryway, Sam casually walked outside. He was wearing glasses much like those he had given Josh. Ah, yes, those were very valuable, he thought, and gently lifted them off of his face. They were much more so, in fact, than the invisibility serum… one needed a way to see the invisible, just in case. And in this case, he simply didn’t want to waste any of the valuable serum, so the glasses bought some time for the fatal drug overdose to work. Ah, he noticed. Don’t want to forget the bag. He removed it from the dead man’s grasp. Humming to himself, he continued the much-delayed walk to his car, and the short ride home.

A teenager, bouncing a basketball on his way to the courts a couple blocks down, passed the dull gray building. He was making his way alongside the entry doors when he tripped on something and fell clumsily, sending his ball bouncing away into the hedges surrounding the building. He pushed himself up on his hands, trying to see what it was that tripped him. He saw nothing but a sharp piece of broken glass. Shrugging it off, he gathered himself, looked around to see if his aura of coolness was disrupted, and gathered his ball, double-timing it to the basketball court so he wouldn’t be the last one there.

FACES PAST

As the frost licked at the panes of glass like a silent predator seeking entrance, I rubbed away the sweat from the inside of the window and waved goodbye to my dad as he backed out of the driveway this chilly morning. His taillights faded into the distance, swallowed up by the stark black pavement surrounded by the chill whiteness of the fresh snow. I sighed, clasping my hands, letting the curtain drop as I stood and contemplated the day’s schedule.


It was a monumental occasion; for the first time ever, I was given the privilege of staying home alone for more than six hours at a time. Dad had to go away on an important business assignment, one that might find us the beneficiaries of a new job position or a grand-scale pay raise. Neither mattered more than the freedom I was bestowed this weekend.
I scurried up the stairs in my slippers and plaid pajamas (rule number one of home-alone-ness: don’t bother to get into your decent clothes) and plopped into bed butt-first to catch a few hours of late-morning Z’s before I tackled the dilemma of what to eat first from the newly-replenished pantry. Closing my eyes, hands behind my head, I settled down atop the covers and dazed off into whatever dream world I could conjure up.
BRAAAANNNNGGGG! The phone rudely interrupted my nap and reminded me futilely once again to turn the blasted ringer down. I coughed, rubbed my eyes, and sat up before the next ring grated my senses. I reached over to my nightstand and picked up the phone.
“Hello?” I mumbled blearily.
No answer, just a few clicks. “Hello? Anyone there?” I repeated. Nothing.
I replaced the phone, and dropped back down, annoyed, but not thinking much of it.

In dreams, you don’t know what to expect. Nor do you expect to remember the sublime. I did, this time, but only in pieces.
Blue sky, cold chill much like today.
In an unfamiliar car, strapped to what appeared to be a child seat. I was young.
Exhaust leaving steam trails that faded slowly as they dragged skyward.
In front, driving… who was that man? Black haired, close-cropped, eyeglasses. Friendly-looking. Glancing back at me with a smile. Who was he? He started to say something as he looked behind…
“David…”
And I awoke.

It wasn’t the phone that woke me; this time it was definitely pangs of hunger. On a normal schedule, one that I had complied with ever since I remembered, dad would have woke me a couple hours ago to get ready for school or camp or whatever we needed to do together, then he would fix a nice breakfast of bacon and scrambled eggs with a little bit of chopped mushroom and onion inside. Beat the heck out of me how to cook something like that so efficiently, but I was going to try. I raced downstairs into the kitchen, tore open the fridge, and got out some eggs, milk, an unopened package of bacon, and a can of mushrooms.
First, I went to work frying the bacon gently in our cast iron skillet; its familiar scents and crackling sounds of its little packets of fat being released made my tummy twinge even more forcefully. I pressed on, whipping up the mushrooms and egg together with a little bit of milk, keeping an eye on the bacon so it wouldn’t get too overly crisp.
Soon I had the eggs going, and within minutes I had a delicious breakfast, not unlike the meals that my dad had made for me, but certainly not as skillfully prepared as his, either. I took a Mount Everest-sized heap for my plate, then sat down in the dining room near the bay window to enjoy my concoction.
I was in the middle of a bite, when I caught sight of the car in my peripheral vision. I turned, and dropped my fork with a clatter. Squinting, I moved the curtain framing the window further aside. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There, parked and idling in front of the house, was the car I had been dreaming about, and that man with the short black hair inside it. He was definitely looking into the house.
I eased around the table slowly, trying not to catch the man’s attention. Was this a family friend? Why else would I be dreaming about him? He looked oddly familiar, yet I wasn’t sure what to make of his actions. It aroused my suspicion enough to grab the wall-mounted cordless phone from the kitchen and run to the front door.

If you see any strangers, my dad had warned, give me a call right away. I decided to wait, just a second. I cracked the door ever so slightly, peering out the crack with one squinting eye. The car was still there. It no longer had the car seat in the back, like I had dreamed. Gathering whatever foolish courage I had, I swung the front door open slowly and walked outside. The man’s eyes caught mine… there was a gleam, a movement in his facial features…. And then the car sped away before I could get any closer. There was definitely something going on. I decided right then to call dad and let him know what was up.

“Did you see what he looked like?” asked dad, frantically as I related the incident outside with the car and the black-haired man.
“Well, yeah. He looked kind of short, with short black hair and glasses.. kind of chubby face,” I replied.
There was brief silence, and a soft gasping sound at the other end of the line. “Da-David. You need to lock all the windows and doors right now. Make sure they’re completely secure.”
“What’s wrong, dad? Do you know this guy?”
“Yeah, sorta… David, you’ve got to trust me. Don’t let anyone in the house. Anyone. Understand me?”
“Should I call the police or something?”
“No,” he insisted, “If this guy gets wind that we called the cops.. he could do… anything… David, just promise me you won’t let anyone in until I get home. God, I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
Aw, crud, I thought, selfish pig that I was; so much for my alone time.
Dad continued, “I’ll be home as soon as possible. Give me a call on my cell if anything happens, k?”
“Alright, dad. I’ll be okay.”

I checked all of the locks in the house, to make sure everything was locked tight. It was. Breathless from the circle around the house, I slouched back in the dining room chair where my plate of half-finished eggs and bacon had gone cold. I glanced back outside to the snowy lawn and road beyond. There was no car there anymore. The birds were chirping merrily, oblivious to the chill surroundings.
I closed my eyes. I usually did not forget a face. I remembered that man. I remember his smile, which seemed genuine in my dream… the way he looked back at me. Someone from long ago and far away… a friend… gone bad?

I jumped. There was a loud knock at the door!
Again… it was commanding, very loud, like it was the..
“Police. Please open up!”
… the police!
Sure enough, when I looked back up and out the window, a white cruiser with flashing blue and yellow lights was parked askew on the front lawn, an officer waiting beside it.
Don’t open the door for anyone…
Anyone? No police?
“Hello? Anyone home? This is the police! We need you to open this door!”
The knocks were louder and more demanding.
I crept slowly to the front door, not knowing exactly what to do. Surely the police wanted to help. Maybe dad had called them. Yes, that had to be it.
“David? We know you’re in there. Please open the door. We need to talk to you.”
Yes, maybe they knew about the stranger that was stalking the house, and had picked him up.
I reached over to the latch, and cautiously turned it to the unlocked position.
I opened the door to a large police officer, whose face looked deathly serious. He stared intensely straight at me.
“David,” he said hurriedly, “You need to come with us.” He glanced around, as if looking out for something, or someone. “Quickly.”
He grabbed me by the arm firmly; it hurt a bit. They didn’t need to do that, really. I turned to the officer and asked, “Did my dad call you and tell you…?”
As we scooted to the patrol car, he looked back at me and replied, “Well, yes, David… but not exactly. We’ll explain it to you when we get you to the station.”
Station? Was I being arrested or something? What was going on?
My mind racing as I was being escorted inside the patrol car, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that car again… and the man with the glasses, not smiling this time, but somber, almost to the point of tears.
“He’s here! He’s here!” I wanted to say but couldn’t, I was so confused and scared, and tired.

Dark.
They had taken me to a dark room, and explained to me what was going to happen.
It was imperative, imperative, they said that I try as hard as I could to cooperate so they could figure out what was going on.
How, when I didn’t even know was going on.
A short, bald man with a graying goatee stepped in the room, temporarily immersing the barely furnished room in yellow light. He smiled, and sat in the chair in front of me. I was in the more comfortable of the two chairs in the room, a plush easy chair that reclined slightly. I was afraid, but at least I was comfortable.
“I know you don’t understand what’s going on,” the man said to me warmly, as he brought out what looked like a tiny penlight from the pocket of his sports jacket. “Probably less than we do. That’s what we’re here to do.”
I nodded. “I just want to know why I’m here,” I said meekly.
”You’ll know soon enough. First I want you to tell me what you know about that man you’ve seen following you in recent days.”
They know! My skin tingled. Perhaps they’re just trying to find out who this guy is and what he wants. My dad came through after all… but why don’t they ask him? I blurted, “My dad… where is he? Did he call?”
The man frowned. “Actually, he did not. We were concerned about your safety.” Moving closer to me, he continued, “You will have to trust us on this. We have been looking for you for a long time.”
I didn’t know much of what to say, except the whole thing was overwhelming. I felt like a rat in a maze, being led along with a small bit of cheese that kept moving away from me as I felt secure that it was in my grasp. Yet I thought something positive might happen if I complied. I was uncomfortable, but somehow I trusted these people. Again, I nodded positively.
“Good,” he said, switching on his light. “Then, let us begin. Please focus on the light.”

He led me down the dark, murky corridors of my memory. I did not remember much about my childhood. Our family had survived a major house fire with little. Sentimental treasures were lost. As I journeyed back, I did not see the fire. I saw remnants of things buried of which I only had vague recollections.
A lock ahead. You have the key. Remember the car. Remember the strange man.
The lock is opened, the gateway swings ajar, white winter light floods into my vision.
I’m back in the car on that chilly day, strapped in my car seat.
Man with black hair and glasses is looking back at me, smiling. I look closer. He’s wearing gloves he squeezes my knee gently.
“Be back in a second, ok Brian?”
Brian Brian who is Brian that’s not my
The man turns back around to face forward in his seat, and opens the driver’s side door. The car is parked around the side of a brick building, which looks like the entrance to a corner store. The road is icy, and the man nearly trips scooting around the bend, winter overcoat flapping around him. Then he’s gone.
The man I know that face he’s not a
Quiet. Alone.
Then I see someone out of the corner of my eye come from behind the building on the right. Tall. Curly hair.
Dad?
No smile, just determination. He walks around the car, passing the driver’s seat, to the door near my seat. He peers in.
Dad? NO
“Daddy!” I scream. “Daddy!”
He opens the door. I scream louder.
“Daddy!” The belt is unlatched, and he grasps me firmly and yanks me out of my seat.
I kick. He holds my feet.
Man with black hair comes around corner.
Dad.
“DADDY!”
Daddy sees me. Horror. Bad tall man with curly hair runs swiftly into small green pickup.
Shoves me into pickup.
Daddy…. Growing smaller. Curly haired man speaks.
“I’m your daddy now.”
My daddy now my daddy now no strangers my home my home
My home for 10 years.
I awake, screaming, mouthing the exact same words I had when I was four years old.
“Daddy help me!”
This time Daddy is here to help me. Sitting beside the hypnotist, he finally smiles, wiping away the fountain of tears streaming down his cheeks. He gets up, takes me by the hand, and pulls me up, practically throwing me into his trembling arms.

I knew it was going to take some time to adjust.
Ten years was certainly a long time.
As my Dad – my REAL Dad – and I walked closely together out of the police station, I noticed a picture hanging above the desk sergeant’s head. The sergeant looked where I was staring, noticed the picture, and pulled it down. He handed it to me, saying, “I don’t think we’ll be needing this.. you can have it.”
I looked down at those innocent eyes, those eyes completely unaware of what was to come, my eyes in better days. Perhaps there were more pictures to look at and piece together the life I truly should have had for so many years. Looking back at Dad, I knew there would be.

I never saw the man I called my dad for a decade ever again.

RULE BOOK #1

Unlike ee cummings, there's going to be some ground rules for postings here. Nothing repressive or inhibitive, just a few things to make the site look uniform.
This applies to posters only, not to those who care to visit the site and leave comments. Offenders will be subject to a loud dose of onomatopoea.

1. Remember to fully categorize each story submitted, using the Multiple Categories option near the title. This includes author, form, and genre.
2. The general rule for posting is if your writing is longer than a short-form poem or paragraph, insert the first paragraph in the entry body and the remainder of the text in the Extended Entry section. This will allow readers to skip past EXTREMMELY long entries to get to what they wish to read.
3. For the most part, I'd prefer it if frequent profanity/erotic/adult content were kept to a minimum. I know most consider it as art, and on a creative level, it may give the author a unique form of expression. However, I would suggest that its overuse detracts from the finished product and the goal of this blog, and thusits use is implicitly discouraged.
4. For all intensive purposes, this is a fiction blog. Opinion is what the rest of the blogosphere is about. Keep it outside of the realms of reality, if you can. Critique belongs in the comments.

Hopefully, these won't discourage anyone from volunteering. There's a lot of gray matter left unused out there.. and hopefully this will allow blogizens to use more of it and give people impetus to use their imaginations and share them with others a little.