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It was another sleepless night. With each passing week, Jarod seemed to be sleeping less and less. Life was getting so hard for him. Each day, he played a new person with a perfect life. He helped people. Helping people was all that mattered. It was all he knew to do. It would take several life times to atone for his innocent sins, but it was a penance he didn't mind suffering. He gave people some peace. In trade, they allowed him into their lives, at least for a little while. They trusted him. Then, he would leave their lives and return to his hotel room . . . alone. And he awoke alone. His dreams were silent and empty. His voice echoed off walls bare of pictures of loved ones. When he read books, there was no one to share his new knowledge with other than those lives he played a part in and even then, he was expected to already know these things. His life was meaningless and empty. He picked up his cell phone and slowly dialed.
"Hello, Jarod." Miss Parker greeted in her usual cold voice.
"Where's Sydney?" He demanded.
"Sydney's dead."
"No." He said simply.
Jarod very carefully placed the phone on the night table beside him and stared at the wall before him in confusion. Sydney dead. The words flashed through his mind over and over again, attempting to absorb the meaning from them. Dead. Oh God no. Dead. Oh God no! his mind screamed. Lost. He was lost. Sydney was the only one who gave a damn about him. To everyone else he was no more than a rebellious project which needed to be corralled back into Hell. Without Sydney, he was completely alone. He was his only family, even though they were of no blood relation. He was his only teacher. He numbly packed his overnight bag and set it on the edge of the bed. Then he dialed his cell phone again. He realized he had been crying when his vision blurred as he rested the phone against his cheek.
"Jarod." The cold voice returned. Jarod heard passion, though, and love which had been beaten down by deep-set anger, frustration, and guilt.
"I am at a crossroads, Miss Parker."
"Life is a cross-roads, Jarod." She paused to puff on her cigarette. "What do you want?"
"I don't know."
"Do you remember the castle?"
"Yes."
"Very good, Wonderboy." Another pause. "You win a cookie."
The castle was once a magical, mystical place. As children, they had found a picture of it in the computer files when they were looking where they shouldn't. It was dark and vacant. Hiding in the shadows were frog princes and faerie-like princesses, wizards and goblins, dragons and unicorns. If one squinted his eyes, he could watch them run free. The two children often talked about running away to the secret place and ruling it forever. Over time, though, they forgot about the castle. People weren't the only thing to disappear at the Centre. So did dreams.
Now, as Jarod stood before the castle, he realized it was nothing more than an old, abandoned building. The towers were mere chimneys. There were no faeries or goblins. He couldn't hear stories being sung or laughter. There was no magic. He could do nothing, but stare as the world crumbled around him. He knew he could keep going each day . . . running . . . saving others . . . living each day as long as his castle kept standing and Sydney kept believing in him. And now, they were both dead.
"Still as cheerful as the picture." Miss Parker commented behind him while lighting a cigarette.
"Gonna turn me in?" Jarod asked, a hint of arrogance in his voice.
"Haven't decided yet. Why don't you turn yourself in?" She asked, her voice bored.
"Then, what would you have left to live for?" His arrogance dissolved into sadness.
"Where was he when he died?"
"In his office. He was gone before we were able to reach him."
He nodded and turned to face her. It took every ounce of strength in her body and mind not to gasp. His face was very handsome, but it wasn't his face which attracted her. It was the look in his dark eyes. There was such deep pain and loneliness. He was so tired. That was their connection. She knew his pain. She hid her pain in anger, though, and blamed her loneliness on him for leaving even if she would never admit it, not even to herself. She knew his exhaustion. Each night, she lay in bed unable to sleep, blaming him for that also. Her search for him consumed her, giving her nothing and taking everything. There was another emotion shared: fear. Fear of finding each other. And, now, here they stood face to face, before their castle.
"Then he was alone." He said quietly.
"Yes. I'm sorry. I remember losing my mother." She met his eyes in a rare moment of sincerity, then headed towards the building. "Funny. Isn't quite what I imagined. Just an old dump."
She walked through the dark rooms. The scent of mildew hung in the air. Newspapers were piled in the corners. Boxes were tossed about. The few pieces of furniture were rotted. Jarod silently followed her upstairs. He turned to the left and she to the right. The rooms he inspected were no different from the ones below.
"Jarod!" Miss Parker called and he quickly approached her.
Miss Parker was standing in the doorway of the furthest room. Tattered lace curtains still hung in the windows. Dim sunlight bathed the room in an almost ethereal glow. A painting of a beautiful mountain scene with a hawk flying in the background hung on the wall. A dresser stood against one wall. On the center of the dresser stood a picture of an older couple in each other's arms. Their faces were bright with smiles. Miss Parker stared at the picture as if spellbound. Complete shock covered her face. Her eyes were wide. It was as if she were seeing a great fantastical beast and if she closed her eyes, it would be gone forever. Jarod realized she was seeing a great fantastical thing: perfect love. He touched her shoulder and she jumped.
"This is still a castle." He whispered into her ear as he looked over her shoulder at the picture.
"Go." She ordered suddenly. "I told the Centre you would be here. They'll arrive in a half hour. You have to leave now."
He pulled her to him and kissed her softly on the lips. It wasn't the kiss of passionate lovers, but the kiss of chaste love. "It isn't an impossible dream, Jade."
"Yes, it is." She shoved a manila envelope to him. "Now, get the hell out of here! Please, Jarod." Her eagerness became a plea. "Please."
Jarod spared her one last desperate glance and was gone. Miss Parker fell to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. She felt like a lost, helpless child. She felt like she had the day they had pulled her away from her best friend after their first kiss twenty years ago. Tears spilled across her cheeks. She needed him back. She needed his arms around her again. But she didn't need anyone!
"Damn you, Jarod!" She screamed. "Damn you."
In another nameless hotel in another nameless city, Jarod laid down on the bed and opened the manila envelope. A father's day card fell into his hand. He stared at it in shock for several minutes. Jarod had made the card for Sydney when he was just a child. Although young, he understood family and love. He knew he loved Sydney as his father and he wanted a way to show him. He had worked hard, yet quickly on the card so as to keep it hidden from the others. Proudly, he had given the card to Sydney. He would never forget the blank look on Sydney's face as he said he couldn't accept it. He wasn't his father. Then, he simply tossed the card in the trash where Jarod was led to believe it had remained. But it hadn't. Sydney had kept it. He opened the card and a picture sat within.
Sydney was sitting at his desk with a ten year old Jarod at his left knee and nine year old Miss Parker at his right. Everyone was smiling. The two children were holding hands. All was perfect. All was still innocent and untainted by the true nature of the Centre. He turned the picture over to see a message scribbled on the back in Miss Parker's script.
-It is said there is a place for
everything and everything has its place.
This is also true for people and time.
Don't give up.-
Jade
Please tell me waht ou think : cwhisper@mindspring.com
"Hello, Jarod." Miss Parker greeted in her usual cold voice.
"Where's Sydney?" He demanded.
"Sydney's dead."
"No." He said simply.
Jarod very carefully placed the phone on the night table beside him and stared at the wall before him in confusion. Sydney dead. The words flashed through his mind over and over again, attempting to absorb the meaning from them. Dead. Oh God no. Dead. Oh God no! his mind screamed. Lost. He was lost. Sydney was the only one who gave a damn about him. To everyone else he was no more than a rebellious project which needed to be corralled back into Hell. Without Sydney, he was completely alone. He was his only family, even though they were of no blood relation. He was his only teacher. He numbly packed his overnight bag and set it on the edge of the bed. Then he dialed his cell phone again. He realized he had been crying when his vision blurred as he rested the phone against his cheek.
"Jarod." The cold voice returned. Jarod heard passion, though, and love which had been beaten down by deep-set anger, frustration, and guilt.
"I am at a crossroads, Miss Parker."
"Life is a cross-roads, Jarod." She paused to puff on her cigarette. "What do you want?"
"I don't know."
"Do you remember the castle?"
"Yes."
"Very good, Wonderboy." Another pause. "You win a cookie."
The castle was once a magical, mystical place. As children, they had found a picture of it in the computer files when they were looking where they shouldn't. It was dark and vacant. Hiding in the shadows were frog princes and faerie-like princesses, wizards and goblins, dragons and unicorns. If one squinted his eyes, he could watch them run free. The two children often talked about running away to the secret place and ruling it forever. Over time, though, they forgot about the castle. People weren't the only thing to disappear at the Centre. So did dreams.
Now, as Jarod stood before the castle, he realized it was nothing more than an old, abandoned building. The towers were mere chimneys. There were no faeries or goblins. He couldn't hear stories being sung or laughter. There was no magic. He could do nothing, but stare as the world crumbled around him. He knew he could keep going each day . . . running . . . saving others . . . living each day as long as his castle kept standing and Sydney kept believing in him. And now, they were both dead.
"Still as cheerful as the picture." Miss Parker commented behind him while lighting a cigarette.
"Gonna turn me in?" Jarod asked, a hint of arrogance in his voice.
"Haven't decided yet. Why don't you turn yourself in?" She asked, her voice bored.
"Then, what would you have left to live for?" His arrogance dissolved into sadness.
"Where was he when he died?"
"In his office. He was gone before we were able to reach him."
He nodded and turned to face her. It took every ounce of strength in her body and mind not to gasp. His face was very handsome, but it wasn't his face which attracted her. It was the look in his dark eyes. There was such deep pain and loneliness. He was so tired. That was their connection. She knew his pain. She hid her pain in anger, though, and blamed her loneliness on him for leaving even if she would never admit it, not even to herself. She knew his exhaustion. Each night, she lay in bed unable to sleep, blaming him for that also. Her search for him consumed her, giving her nothing and taking everything. There was another emotion shared: fear. Fear of finding each other. And, now, here they stood face to face, before their castle.
"Then he was alone." He said quietly.
"Yes. I'm sorry. I remember losing my mother." She met his eyes in a rare moment of sincerity, then headed towards the building. "Funny. Isn't quite what I imagined. Just an old dump."
She walked through the dark rooms. The scent of mildew hung in the air. Newspapers were piled in the corners. Boxes were tossed about. The few pieces of furniture were rotted. Jarod silently followed her upstairs. He turned to the left and she to the right. The rooms he inspected were no different from the ones below.
"Jarod!" Miss Parker called and he quickly approached her.
Miss Parker was standing in the doorway of the furthest room. Tattered lace curtains still hung in the windows. Dim sunlight bathed the room in an almost ethereal glow. A painting of a beautiful mountain scene with a hawk flying in the background hung on the wall. A dresser stood against one wall. On the center of the dresser stood a picture of an older couple in each other's arms. Their faces were bright with smiles. Miss Parker stared at the picture as if spellbound. Complete shock covered her face. Her eyes were wide. It was as if she were seeing a great fantastical beast and if she closed her eyes, it would be gone forever. Jarod realized she was seeing a great fantastical thing: perfect love. He touched her shoulder and she jumped.
"This is still a castle." He whispered into her ear as he looked over her shoulder at the picture.
"Go." She ordered suddenly. "I told the Centre you would be here. They'll arrive in a half hour. You have to leave now."
He pulled her to him and kissed her softly on the lips. It wasn't the kiss of passionate lovers, but the kiss of chaste love. "It isn't an impossible dream, Jade."
"Yes, it is." She shoved a manila envelope to him. "Now, get the hell out of here! Please, Jarod." Her eagerness became a plea. "Please."
Jarod spared her one last desperate glance and was gone. Miss Parker fell to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. She felt like a lost, helpless child. She felt like she had the day they had pulled her away from her best friend after their first kiss twenty years ago. Tears spilled across her cheeks. She needed him back. She needed his arms around her again. But she didn't need anyone!
"Damn you, Jarod!" She screamed. "Damn you."
In another nameless hotel in another nameless city, Jarod laid down on the bed and opened the manila envelope. A father's day card fell into his hand. He stared at it in shock for several minutes. Jarod had made the card for Sydney when he was just a child. Although young, he understood family and love. He knew he loved Sydney as his father and he wanted a way to show him. He had worked hard, yet quickly on the card so as to keep it hidden from the others. Proudly, he had given the card to Sydney. He would never forget the blank look on Sydney's face as he said he couldn't accept it. He wasn't his father. Then, he simply tossed the card in the trash where Jarod was led to believe it had remained. But it hadn't. Sydney had kept it. He opened the card and a picture sat within.
Sydney was sitting at his desk with a ten year old Jarod at his left knee and nine year old Miss Parker at his right. Everyone was smiling. The two children were holding hands. All was perfect. All was still innocent and untainted by the true nature of the Centre. He turned the picture over to see a message scribbled on the back in Miss Parker's script.
-It is said there is a place for
everything and everything has its place.
This is also true for people and time.
Don't give up.-
Jade
Please tell me waht ou think : cwhisper@mindspring.com
