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Excerpt for Looking for a Style in my Shorts by , available in its entirety at Smashwords









Looking for a Style in my Shorts

Four Short Stories

By Forester de Santos



Copyright 2019 Forester de Santos

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents





Prologue

Acknowledgement

Dedication

Introduction

I DON’T EXIST HERE

MYSTERY AT GRANDMA’S

THE TRANSFORMATION

HAMMER IN THE HEAD

Something about the author

Discover other titles by Forester de Santos:

More about this Author Beloved

Who am I?







Prologue

From a word which is an empty vase becomes a complete verse which is a complete man!







Acknowledgement

I would like to give all thanks to my writing instructor who inspired me to continue studying writing despite the ninety-nine mistakes in my writing class!

Thanks, because in truth, there are ninety-nine mistakes which I have remembered not to do by simply remembering the first mistake that a writer must never do, never stop writing!







Dedication

These four short stories are dedicated to those who seek the truth with all honesty, but with all honesty find not the truth because they know not that they are but the truth!







Introduction

Looking for a style in my Shorts are truly four short stories about style search, truly more like what to write about because the very simple writer has talent but he does not really know where to focus his talent, non-fiction or fiction or some other genre?

But after Looking for a style in my Shorts, the simple writer knows with all his heart and pen what to really write about and the great reason is for the sake of all humanity because the writer knows that by seeking the truth and then writing about the truth, the writer will truly be better off as well as humanity!

Now, writing about the truth has not as of yet made anyone eternally famous or even rich beyond any dream or any fantasy and the reason is because no one as of yet has come close to the truth to the truth feel and to the truth know and to the truth become.

But that does not keep this writer from seeking the truth to the truth feel and to the truth know and to the truth become and once he has become the truth, he has not only become the savior of God but also he has become the savior of the world and of humanity!

Now then, the writer would had not written the above statement unless he is very certain of some truth and if he is very certain of some truth, then some truth he has come to know and because of known, he will see the truth when he becomes the very truth and when he becomes the very truth because of seeking the truth thus his reward will be very grandiose indeed!







I DON’T EXIST HERE



Table of Contents



Acknowledgement - to my writing instructor!

Dedication - to those that seek the truth

Introduction - nameless characters

Chapter 1 - three against one

Chapter 2 - Yesterday is what is

Chapter 3 - two for a fight

Conclusion - a name means many things

Thank you!







Acknowledgement - to my writing instructor!

I would like to give all thanks to my writing instructor who inspired me to continue studying writing despite the ninety-nine mistakes in my writing class!

Thanks, because in truth, there are ninety-nine mistakes which I have remembered not to do by simply remembering the first mistake that a writer must never do, never stop writing!







Dedication - to those that seek the truth

This short story is dedicated to those who seek the truth with all honesty, but with all honesty find not the truth because they know not that they are but the truth!







Introduction - nameless characters

This short story has nameless characters but that does not make them less alive!

In fact, these nameless characters are more alive than most living peoples!

And I am glad that there are readers because readers are not only an extension of the writer and thus the reader completes or the reader makes the writer but also the reader truly gives form to the characters!







Chapter 1 - three against one

I am leaving this place! I no longer exist here. There are three against me and the advantage also is against me. If it were not for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.

There is no space here for me to reflect or to dream or to plan toward something better or meaningful. The three only look for me to erase their insignificant needs.

The house is mine. It is—actually, it was—a comfortable house. Three bedrooms with ample space; a large kitchen with a large dining room, and the living room is also pretty big.

The laundry room is also big. The garage has room for two medium-sized cars. The house has also a front and back yard, which seems to increase in size when it is time to mow the grass or pile the leaves.

The living arrangements were simple. She wanted to move in with me after two years of something called romance. She said that she loved me and that she wanted to take care of me, and that no man should be alone or by himself, that no one person alone is worth anything.

I liked the way the last sentence sounded. Somehow it made sense to me. I asked her who besides her would be living or moving in with us, since she had three children. She said only one daughter, but only because her daughter couldn’t take care of herself.

But the woman lied. Just before she was ready to move in with me, her beloved son left his wife and he returned to Mom. I thought that she had spoken to him about our new situation, but I was wrong.

There was a time when he came running and yelling into the house. I was sitting in the living room reading the daily newspaper. He ran across and into the kitchen where his mom was. He began to curse at the heavens and earth. When she asked him to settle down, he began to curse at her too. He began calling her bitch and told her to suck his meat. He argued that since she was responsible for bringing him into the world that she was also responsible for supporting him financially until one of them died.

After a short while, he left the kitchen and passed by me again into the front yard. I waited a few minutes and asked her why she allowed her twenty-three years old son to curse her. She looked at me and said, “Did he cursed at you or say anything to you?”

“No,” I said.

“So, what is the problem?” she asked me.

“The problem is that this is my house and you are my wife, and I get offended when someone, including your son, walks in as if he owned the place and calls you all kinds of names right in front of me,” I said.

“Don’t let it bother you, honey. I will speak to him sooner or later,” she said.

“Sooner, I prefer. Actually, you should have spoken to him when he left his wife and two kids, and moved in. What is worst is that you didn’t even let me know until I walked in and saw him already moved in,” I said and went back to reading what I was reading.

But I couldn’t read. I couldn’t concentrate. I began to think. How can a healthy man who has everything, care for nothing? How can a man that cares for nothing have everything?

How can he want more so that he can just waste it?

How can a young man, even any man, poison himself with so many tattoos and with daily drunkenness and with drugs?

And then complain that mother or father is not fair with him?

Why make life for everyone shorter than it actually is?

It takes at least two of everything to do or not to do. How can I love or even hate if it were only me in existence?

Obviously, those who love the least know somehow that they are loved the most.







Chapter 2 - Yesterday is what is

Today belongs to yesterday and yesterday is what we have for tomorrow. Foolish heart, foolish as thought. How the heart makes us lonely and insignificant, making us in search of something unknown and suddenly making us jump into a fire so that we can’t suffer that lousy loneliness.

And when we temporarily come out of that painful prison, too often we fall into a worse predicament. The people we now associate with are lonelier than we are, so lonely that they don’t even know it and so they find or create habits.

And they live their lives as if there were no tomorrow, walking over the good people and the good things.

I am leaving so that I can exist, but to exist I must first create a space in my mind so that I can first exist there and thus always have my own place in reality.

The girl, who is not my daughter, but is her daughter, takes out her anger and frustration on me.

She kicks me. She hits me on the head and face and pulls off what is left of my gray hair. Her mom tells me it is because the girl has trust or confidence in me.

What does the mom mean?

The girl was traumatized by her abusive father. That is what I got from her family and friends. The father would often get drunk. He would walk into the house with a machete and harass everyone in the house. Then he would walk into the little girl’s room and begin to hit the rails of the crib with the long and sharp machete.

The child at the beginning of the torture screamed her head off, but one day the screaming stopped. When the father got tired, he would leave the machete stuck in one of the rails and then he would go to sleep. The next day he would get up as if nothing has happened. He never got punished or charged for his acts. In fact, the man now had a gun. He would shoot in the house when he got home drunk.

How can a mother stand so much abuse for years?

When the little girl began school, the teacher asked her mother to take the child to the hospital. The hospital found lots of bruises and cuts on the child. Mother argued that the child would keep falling because she was always running around. “Won’t be still a moment,” she said.

After many tests, her listening was higher than normal. In other words, her hearing was better than perfect.

That is the reason she hears cars pass by our house thirty seconds or more before I could hear them. Often, she recognizes whose car it is before the car approaches the driveway.

After many more tests, the hospital performed a brain scan with one of those magnetic tunnels.

The hospital discovered that one side of the child’s brain was under developed. I can imagine that it was that part of the brain that controlled speech. The hospital recommended speech therapy. But after many years, it was useless. The child only spoke a couple of words.

Then one day, someone recommended a psychologist. The so-called professional recommended that the child be scared or frightened. This perhaps would cause the child to scream and perhaps get her speech back.

Perhaps being concerned for her daughter’s mental health and even physical safety, the mother took the doctor’s recommendation. One night the child and her mom were alone in the house. Mother had borrowed a Halloween mask. She turned off the breakers to the electricity. She put the horrible mask on and called the child.

The child was about nine years old at that time. When the child saw the mask, she began to run as fast as she could in the dark. She hit her forehead with the edge of an opened door and she dropped to the floor. Her mom stopped calling her and turned on the breakers to the electrical power.

Now there was a lot of screaming, but the screaming was coming out of mommy when mommy saw her little girl shaking on the floor with her forehead open and a broken and bloody nose.

Where did the doctor get his degree from, a butcher shop? I would like very much to get these hands on that doctor! Wouldn’t you also like to get your hands on that doctor?

The child today is twenty-five years old, half my age. She is still in the past, perhaps in the same moment of time that she was traumatized.

Occasionally, she sits watching television with the volume down. She also sits down with many books and notebooks as if studying or grading homework. She scribbles as if writing a novel.

What could have become of that child if she had never been tormented by her father?

Would she have become a teacher?

Would she have become a doctor or a lawyer or a scientist or perhaps the mother of a couple of genius?







Chapter 3 - two for a fight

It takes at least two for a fight. I am not a fighting man. I am more of a reasonable type; perhaps that is the reason that most people take advantage of me. But that is who I am: reasonable!

And I like myself. In the beginning, not that I have become religious suddenly, one single man killed one-fourth of the human population. It seems that there are more bad people than good people because of that simple one time act. Perhaps that is because there are so many suckers as myself.

She wasn’t warm any more with me—perhaps she never was! She doesn’t even sit next to me when watching television. We don’t have dinner together. She serves me, but she goes to the living room to eat. She doesn’t even kiss me when we have sex or even I depart to work. One day I asked her why she was cold with me. She said that it was my fault. She also said that I was the cold one. I told her that I gotten tired of hugging and kissing a stone or a block of ice. She asked me if I still loved her. If I did, she would change a bit.

At that moment, the phone rang. It was a good thing it did. I was about to tell her off. That I would be leaving soon. But the last two times I tried telling her that I was leaving, she threatened me. She threatened to kill herself because she loved me and she couldn’t live without me.

After a couple of weeks, I decided to move out. I got myself a small apartment two towns away, near my job. When she wasn’t home and I was alone at the house, quietly and quickly I began to move some of my personal stuff to the apartment. I was only taking my clothes, some books, lap top and pictures of my two boys from my previous and very unsuccessful marriage.

I returned home to say goodbye, hoping before she got home herself, but I was wrong. She was already at the house.

“What is going on? she asked me.

“Exactly what you once predicted,” I said.

“Where are your clothes? she asked.

“Like I said, I have moved out.”

“What about me?”

“You and your kids can stay in the house as long as you please,” I said.

“That is it? Two stinking years? she asked.

“Did you really expect me to have more of the same or worse? Obviously, when I accepted you to move in with me, I wanted more than sex. I wanted companionship and love. I wanted to put meaning back into my life.

But every time I confronted you with a situation, mainly concerning us, you always put the blame on me. In a living or marriage arrangement, as I have told you countless times, both parties are responsible. And when I confronted you with a situation, it was to improve and not to complain,” I said.

“I knew this would happen,” she said.

“And yet, you did nothing.”

“But I love you,” she said with a tear in one eye.

“How can one love, but not show it? The hardest part of loving is feeling, not showing,” I said.

“That is the way it is,” she said.

“Not for me. Well, at least we have a winner?” I said.

“What?” she asked.

“You got the house,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she said wiping her tears.

“You can keep the house if you leave me alone,” I said.

“But I want you to stay,” she said crying.

“Funny, very funny! For someone who wants me to stay, you tried the impossible to make me leave. Go see the lawyer next to the doctor’s office if you want the house. All that you have to do is sign the papers,” I said.

I told her goodbye. I called the child and went to her. She was playing on the grass with her dog called Shadow. I hugged the child and kissed her on the forehead. I left, but before I got far, I wept. I cried so hard that my tears soaked my face and chest.

And for the first time in my life, I called God. “God, I have never asked You for anything, and I asked in tears, crying like I never cried before: God, I ask of You, help that child; make her well again; let her speak once again!”

And I walked away; I walked through the long road and I walked until I got to my parked car. I got in, drove away, and didn’t look back!







Conclusion - a name means many things

A person with a name means many things, such as that he was born or that he was adopted into life. But a name can be a double edged sword because the very name may not allow the name bearer to be something more in society.

But the bearer must know or must understand that he was given a name for being born alive and for being born alive thus the bearer brought knowledge of life and of what he was going to do in life no matter what his name, limiting or not!

And even though his very name may have limits, the bearer does not because as soon as he learns or understands to ask, he can ask for the very heavens and the very havens are truly his, with power and all!







Thank you!

Thank you so much for getting this far in your reading. I truly hope that you truly enjoyed reading this short work as much as I enjoyed writing it. I was born in the Caribbean Island of Puerto Rico, where I am living with my youngest of two sons.

In my spare time I sit with pen in hand and release my stress and my emotions on paper. I mainly write in English, American English, as my thoughts are in English, even though the language of my fathers is Spanish and my loving father asked me not to speak to him in another language for he said that he cannot remember very well that other language.

I am no Shakespeare or John Keats, but it is great to sit down to think and to write as the American that I am!

###

MYSTERY AT GRANDMA’S

THE TRANSFORMATION

HAMMER IN THE HEAD







MYSTERY AT GRANDMA’S



Table of Contents



Dedication - to those who enjoy a good mystery!

Chapter I - a very cold and windy after noon!

Chapter II - a very long bus ride!

Chapter III - dinner was ready!

About the author







Dedication - to those who enjoy a good mystery!

This short story is dedicated to those who enjoy a good mystery.

But the biggest mystery is the truth, because the truth puts you right between two crossings.

And when you look for the truth in the truth with all honesty, the truth will let itself be found and when that happens, you will really be mysteriously mystified because in that day you will be but the very truth!







Chapter I - a very cold and windy after noon!

It was a very cold and windy afternoon. I cannot remember when it was this cold or this windy in March!

Perhaps I have being away too long. I had an exhausted trip home. I wondered if there was anyone home. I rang the doorbell and after a short while the door opened.

“What the hell are you doing here, Jonathan?”

“Hi, Mom! It is so nice to be home!” I yelled, and then I kissed and hugged her.

“What is wrong? Why are you here?”

“Nothing is wrong, Mother.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“I needed some time off from school.”

“You too?”

“What?”

“Your brother also quit school after three years of accounting!”

“Very funny, Mother. He could never write letters!”

“Write? What do you mean?”

“Mom, I wrote Siegfried countless letters, but he never wrote back.”

“Siegfried is too busy, especially with his pregnant wife, new job and new rented house and not to mention the baseball and all.”

“How can someone be too busy to write to a loved one?”

“Why don’t you ask Siegfried that question, son?”

“Do you really believe he will have time to answer me? By the way, how is Dad?”

“He is better?”

“What do you mean better?”

“Your father suffered a stroke.”

“What? I felt chills run up my body. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t get excited, son. We didn’t want to keep you away from your studies,” she said.

“Where is the old man?”

“Don’t let the old man catch you calling him old man. He is upstairs.”

I ran as quickly as I could upstairs, knocked on the master bedroom door and went in.

“Hi, Pops!”

“What in the hell are you doing here, Junior?” yelled Father.

“I am glad that you’re better,” I said.

“Answer my question!”

“I just took some time off from my studies, Dad.”

“For how long?”

“Just a semester,” I said.

“A semester goes pretty fast, especially if you are just wasting it!”

I sat next to my Dad. I hugged him and kissed him on the forehead. We spoke for a little while. He told me about his job, something he had never done before.

Obviously, he was worried about something. Was this the cause of his stroke?

The next morning Father was leaping around the house. Three months with the left side of his body numb. When he tried to straightened or move his left arm or tried putting pressure on his left leg, he would feel severe pain.

At first, he lost his speech, but he recovered kind of quickly. Father was only forty-three years old. He was healthy and strong. Why the stroke?

My future, as you well can see, could be numb. There’s a good possibility that one day I would also suffer a stroke: a very stressful situation. Stress, whether physical or emotional or even mental, is very dangerous. The brain at any moment may shut off the part that causes the stress.

If it is a physical stress, the brain will shut off that part of the brain that controls that part of the physical body.

If it is an emotional stress, the brain will stop or act upon an organ such as the heart or the pancreas or even the stomach.

But the worst kind of stress is the stress that you are not even aware that you have. You are worrying about something, but you are not even aware of it!

You are feeling sick or fatigued or losing weight or even getting bald spots behind your head, but the doctors cannot find the problem.

So, should you worry about something that you are not aware that you are worrying about?

Be careful or your brain could shut off or you could turn to stone!

How does it feel to know that your brain is really a Medusa, the most famous monster known?

So be careful, extras careful how you look at yourself or how you reflect your emotions or how things are reflected back to you.

You don’t want to live a hell before you die, do you?







Chapter II - a very long bus ride!

After three days and plenty of rest, I decided to go for a very long bus ride. Father offered his car, but I turned him down.

“What about your brother?” asked Mom.

“I’ll see him when I return,” I said.

Mother dropped me at the Authority and we said goodbye. I purchased a two-way bus ticket to Reading. I was in luck. I only had to wait twenty minutes for the bus. With more luck, I would get to Grandma’s by or before dinner.

There were not too many people waiting for a bus. Was everyone in church? Or has everyone else their own method of transportation, besides walking? Finally, I got on the bus!

Now I could sit back and relax. But thinking of Dad would not give me peace.

How does one escape from oneself? Drugs? Alcohol? Crime? Suicide? Sex?

When the brain begins to shut off parts of the body or even parts of the brain itself, the brain is telling us something. There is lack. There is a problem.

But why run away from ourselves in the dark or with our eyes closed if we ourselves are the cause and cure?

It’s funny or ironic how I have being studying human behavior for over three years in the hope of becoming a doctor, but now I find the subject matter more interesting. Some of my studies required me to work in a mental institution.

It was a horror at first to see people imprisoned by their emotions or lack of emotions, by their stress or the stress of their loved ones, and not to mention being imprisoned by their own brain!

How horrible and terrible it was to see people from all walks of life, young and old, woman and man, sister and brother, mother and father, children and sweethearts, rich and poor being wasted away like a leaf fallen from a fruitful tree.

But worst, doctors couldn’t really do anything for the mental patient.

Yeah, it was a patient waiting but not patiently for death. It was a battle between two horrible monsters, the brain and time; and time has itself as an allied and no emotion.

The brain was running scared. How ironic that the creator of time has also created hell and has allied itself to it.

And is now running scared and out of time, but not before it lives in a living hell of its own creation!

I am not much of a philosopher; but I know that where ever man is, there is hell also. I cannot remember who wrote or said that, perhaps that is the reason for so much hell!

Hell is a repeat of things forgotten. It is a lack of memory and half a memory is no memory.

This little school break or pause which I have taken is doing me some good.







Chapter III - dinner was ready!

When I got to Grandmother’s house, she had dinner ready. Mother had called and told Grandma that I was going to surprise Grandma. I had no idea how, since Grandma already knew.

Grandmother was very pleased to see me. There were a lot of hugs and kisses, mostly from her.

Immediately we went into the house. Grandma started to serve dinner. We spoke about our families and about my now uncertain future.

“Are you really going back to school?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

But the thought of going back to Europe wasn’t pleasant. I missed the States, although I visited on vacation. I missed my friends and family. I missed the old neighborhood. The friends that I made outside the country would one day be strangers. They too, after graduating as doctors, would return to their countries. I wonder if I could finish my studies in the States.

“You have gotten quiet all of a sudden? asked Grandma.

“I was just enjoying this lovely and delicious dinner in silence,” I said.

“That is sweet. How about more wine?” she asked.

“Yes, but first let me use the bathroom.”

“But of course,” she said.

I got up from the dining table and went into the bathroom. I couldn’t remember the bathroom being so big. I heard water running inside the shower. I thought that the shower was left open.

I tried shutting it off, but the more I turned the shower handle, the more water ran from the shower. I tried once again turning the shower handle, but now water was coming from inside the wall behind the shower head and the handle!

The more I turned the handle, the more water came out. I began to look around the bathroom for a shut-off valve, but I couldn’t find it. The wall around the shower crumbled and now water was falling into the basement. I ran out and called Grandmother.

“Grandmother, the shower head is leaking!”

“Yes, I know. But it’s only a bit.”

“No, it isn’t! I tried tightening the shower handle and it’s leaking like never before!” I yelled.

“Don’t worry,” she said.

“Grandmother, where is the shut-off valve?”

“It’s in the basement. But I will shut it off myself before the next door neighbor gets wet,” she said.

Grandmother turned off the water to the entire house. There was no water running out the wall, but there was also no water for the heating of the house!

I borrowed a couple of screwdrivers and a pipe wrench form Grandmother and took the shower handle apart. I then took the shower faucet apart, dried it and put it in my pants pocket. What I needed now was an open hardware store.

“Grandmother, is there a hardware store that is open at this time of night?”

“Yes, of course. It is open until nine o’clock. And it only opens on Sunday. It is behind the old city hall. You shouldn’t have trouble finding it,” she said.

“O. K, let us see if I can fix the leak before we freeze!”

“Your kind heart will find the new part,” she said.

I borrowed Grandmother’s car and drove off. It was about a twenty-minute ride to the old city hall. It was still standing, that old but significant building, I found a store behind the old building, but there was no sign of any kind; but only a very long line of people.

Was everyone in town with a water leak? Or were they confessing to the plumber’s friend?

I got by the door to see if the place were a hardware store. I looked in but I couldn’t see what kind of store it was. I saw more lines of people, at least three. A man in line and outside the door began to shout.

“Hey, this guy is jumping the line!” he yelled.

“No, I am not. I just want to see what kind of store this is.”

“Hey, this guy is jumping the line!” repeated the man.

“No, I am not! Chill!” I said and got in line behind the yelling fool.

Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind. I was held very tight by my shoulders and I could not move or see who it was. I tried to bite his hand holding my right shoulder, but I decided not to for fear of something worse. Now I was yelling.

“Hey, let me go! What is going on?” I yelled.

“Just settle down and keep quiet. You will get a chance to go in. All in proper time,” said the man holding me.

But the man behind me wouldn’t let me move forward. At least ten people got in front of me before I was let go. When he finally let me go, I asked him why he was holding me. He said that the guy in front of me was his brother. And that he didn’t want trouble for his brother.

There was now a different man in front of me. When we got past the door, there were three more lines of people. Each line had about ten or more people. The guy in front of me and I turned right inside the store.

But I couldn’t see any merchandise, only a counter and a counter person.

When I got to the counter person, I showed him the part of the old shower faucet that I had in my pocket. He pointed me to a door and said for me to go through it and that I would find what I was looking for on the other side. The man in front of me was also going through the same door.

I went through the door and suddenly found myself standing on a ledge!

The door behind me was gone! There was nothing but stone behind me and to my left and to my right. There was a lot of rain and wind.

“Hey!” someone yelled.

“Jump! You have to jump!” yelled the guy who was in front of me.

I quickly looked around. My heart pounded like it never pounded before!

I could not see far. I saw a big black dog. The biggest dog I have ever seen! The dog from hell!

And next to the beast, I saw three dead bodies. One of the bodies looked like the yelling fool!

“Jump!” You have to jump before the rain gets worse,” yelled the guy hanging by a cliff.

“How can I jump with that beast in my way?”

“Maybe he will like you and won’t hurt you,” he said.

“Why don’t you go to him and see!” I said.

“You go first!” he said.

“Like hell!”

I looked around. I looked down. I looked around the cliff. I saw a log sticking out downward from the cliff, away from the beast.

Below the log were running dark waters. I decided to jump to the log.

As I jumped, the beast ran toward me; but I got to the log and the beast couldn’t get me. I was slipping. I couldn’t get a hold on anything. The guy in front of me made it up the cliff and was now caressing the black beast!

I fell into the dark and thick waters. I couldn’t feel my legs. I began to sink. I moved my arms, but I just couldn’t move. I began to sink further and swallow water.

Suddenly, I awoke!

I was sitting in bed, but I didn’t have the strength to get up and walk. I was fully clothed. My entire body was aching.

Was it a nightmare?

When I finally got the strength, I straightened my body and got up.

There was something hard in pants pocket. I took it out. It was a brand new piece for the shower faucet!







About the author

Thank you for getting this far in your reading. I truly hope that you enjoyed reading this short work as much as I enjoyed writing it. I was born in the Caribbean Island of Puerto Rico, where I am living with my youngest of two sons. His name is Fred.

As a child and most of my adulthood, I lived in the States. I mostly lived in the City of New York, mostly in the South Bronx, sometimes called Fort Apache! I went to Marist College in the town of Poughkeepsie, Up State New York; and later transferred to Hunter College, in the City of New York.

In 2008, I moved here back to Puerto Rico and took two writing courses in English and began to write, mostly short verses.

I also wrote some short stories, such as Mystery at Grandma and the Transformation and a few others, but writing fiction was not my thing even do I have style and so I began to write inspirational and spiritual works and also some science, such as the origin of the universe.

###

THE TRANSFORMATION

HAMMER IN THE HEAD







THE TRANSFORMATION



Table of Contents



Acknowledgement - thanks father!

Dedication - to those in struggle

Introduction - life and crudeness

Chapter 1 - a very frustrated man

Chapter 2 - four months of rent

Chapter 3 - treated like a lady

Chapter 4 - before the hour

Conclusion -when fantasy begins







Acknowledgement

I would like to give all my thanks to he that acknowledged me as son and who I have acknowledged as father!







Dedication - to those in struggle

This short story is dedicated to all those that passed or still are in a very difficult situation or in a battle or in a struggle without victory and who still may be at point zero, also called point of impact!

But life continues and life continues with or without one. But it is very preferable that life continues with one as one with life, because only in life one can become victorious to understand to revive in life alive!







Introduction

Life can be very crude, especially very crude to those that are simple minded, simple minded because they are humble and they truly enjoy peace and the good and true knowledge that peace truly brings.

But when chaos suddenly strikes and the peace is broken or practically destroyed, that knowledge that they possess is also destroyed and chaos takes over their once very simple but very peaceful lives.

And every step that they take to fix or to understand their new reality, takes them deeper and deeper to the new reality and they cannot leave that new reality no matter how many drugs or doctors they see.







Chapter 1 - a very frustrated man

Bobby Richardson was a very frustrated man. He lost his engineering job at the chemical plant when it exploded, killing eleven co-workers and four close friends.

After one year, Bobby was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress. He had nightmares. Almost every night he dreamed of standing on ground zero and seeing the disassembled bodies lying around him. He would also see other co-workers run by him with missing ears and skin melted right off their faces or arms. And the smell, that rotten smell, of human hair and skin burning! He saw all of this in slow motion, as if time had stopped.

Time had stopped at 7:35 A.M, but Bobby didn’t know it. The greatest time machine in all of existence had been damaged. He would dream the same dream over and over again, but with different camera angles. He also dreamed of a bodiless arm grabbing him. He would wake up screaming. He couldn’t sleep.

The so-called specialist in the field of psychiatry couldn’t fix the greatest time machine or greatest healer in all of existence. The only thing that they could do for Bobby’s ever increasing agonies was to put them on paper for further analysis, take the health insurance’s money or Bobby’s hard earned cash, and prescribe him pills of all colors and sizes to put his mind into very deep sleeps and keep it from thinking or dreaming or even sensing in the hope that the mind would forget ground zero or would be mangled enough to stop torturing itself.

Bobby had problems with his short-term memory. He couldn’t handle the simplest of jobs. He had over seven different jobs in less than a year. Every time he picked up a tool, he would forget the reason for the tool in the hand. If he needed a ladder, as soon as he grabbed it, he would forget why he was holding it. He would also forget simple instructions, addresses and new people faces and names.

Occasionally, Bobby would meet people on the streets, bars, restaurants and even on the bus. They would call him by his name, but he couldn’t remember who, what, when, where, why or how he had met that person.

Of course Bobby would try to smile and greeted them, but he would walk away, trying to remember to no avail. The simple lost of short-term memory caused him great anger, frustration and lots of fear.

The scent of burning or even boiling water put Bobby’s bodily hairs on their edge and his heart in rapid motion. He was afraid to cook or heat something up for fear of forgetting there was fire on the stove and causing damage or injury to someone.

He lost his girlfriend because he wouldn’t go out or he lost interest in sex. She believed that he had someone else. She didn’t know or refused to believe that flashing lights, groups of people and even indoors made Bobby very anxious and very nervous: that those simple things took him back into a bed of nightmares and sleepless nights.

Even the simple ringing of the phone or the simple knock on the door, kept him from remembering where he was standing or what he was doing.

“Bobby, why don’t we move to Florida?” asked Elizabeth.

“What is in Florida?”

“My mother’s house. We can live there,” she said.

“No.”

“Bobby, I am leaving within a couple of days. I am leaving with or without you.”

“I am not going.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I just don’t want to go.”

“What about Maryland?”

“What is in Maryland?” asked Bobby.

“My sister.”

“Why move at all?” asked Bobby.

“Bobby, you need a change of scenery.”

“I need more than that!” shouted Bobby.

“Yes, but it’s a big start.”

“I am not going!” he shouted.

“Bobby, I need you. I know since the lousy explosion things have being rough for us. We rarely hang-out together. I can’t remember the last time we made love.”

“Sex isn’t everything.”

“It is if you are young! Sex is the best stress reliever I know.”

“Elizabeth, can’t you see that I’m broken. I’ve died inside. My desires, my dreams and my friends burned that day. I am a walking zombie,” said Bobby.

“But it has being many years now. When are you finally waking up?”

“If I knew that, I would have awakened a long time ago!”

“Anyway, I don’t want to continue on like this. Here is the phone to my mom. Call me when you wake up, only don’t take much longer,” she said.

She left. Bobby realized that no one wanted to help someone who had nothing. But it wasn’t only Elizabeth. He had other friends and family members who didn’t bother to help him. In fact, they turned their backs on him when he began to have problems.

“I hope that in find in Florida what you are looking for, Elizabeth. I also hope that you find a decent size,” said Bobby in a low voice.







Chapter 2 - Four months of rent

He owed four months’ rent on his small one bedroom apartment. He began to drink, thinking that he would find lady hope in a bottle; but the sad joke was on him. When Bobby emptied the liquor bottles, the emptier he himself became.

Too often he would find himself in the toilet on his knees trying to empty his guts in it. Bobby began to drink heavily when a psychiatrist told Bobby that Bobby was an alcoholic since Bobby drank on the weekends.

Bobby argued the matter, but the doctor said that it only takes a drink to be an alcoholic. The doctor also told Bobby to stop drinking, if not, the doctor would not see Bobby. Bobby began to see another doctor, but the doctor told him that Bobby had depression.

The one day, Bobby Richardson passed by a used book store. He saw a sign outside the store’s window: “the book that will improve your little life.” Having nothing to lose, he walked in. Within seconds, Bobby forgot his many problems, as if he entered another dimension of space and time.

He began to browse through the books, old and new. The clerk sitting in the middle of the stored asked if Bobby needed any help.

“No, thank you. I am just looking for something to hit my eye.”

“O. K., said the clerk.

Bobby kept walking deeper into the bookstore. There were magazines and even old newspapers of all colors, sizes and languages. After a couple of more minutes, the clerk asked again if Bobby needed any help.

“No, not just yet.”

“O. K. But don’t forget I am here,” said the clerk.

“How can I? said Bobby.

Bobby now began to feel very uncomfortable, but he still wanted to look at the good books: the titles, the colors, the sizes, and even the smells. He spent about forty minutes in the bookstore, something he hadn’t done in years.

Once again, the old and annoying clerk asked if Bobby needed any help. Bobby felt very uncomfortable once again and started to walk out the store.

As he opened the door, on the left side was a table. On that table were mostly old manuscripts, books that were not published, but were typed or even hand written. Bobby stopped for a couple of more minutes.

He began to look through the manuscripts. One typed manuscript read: “this is the thing you are looking for.” Bobby took it. He could not read it because it was taped-shut. He took it to the clerk.

“Why is this book taped?” asked Bobby.

“For starters, this isn’t a library. It is a bookstore. Second, this is a manuscript. It has never being published or even read, but it is for sale as is. It is here for anyone to buy it and to read it afterwards. The manuscript is for five little dollars, but the total is five little dollars and eight big cents.

“Why the extra eight cents for something used?” asked Bobby.

“The good Governor needs to eat too.

Bobby took the manuscript and walked out the bookstore.

“If you want to return the script, I will give you three dollars for it.”

Bobby turned his head toward the old clerk, but didn’t answer. He kept walking. A crossed the street was a city park with a couple of benches under some maple trees. Bobby crossed the street and went and sat curiously on one of the benches and began to read.

“Welcome! You have made the right decision to read these simple life improving words. And thank you very much for letting me make a very significant change in your very valuable life.

The human mind is really the only organ in all of existence that can control space and transcend through time and other dimensions. The human mind will one day keep the universe from collapsing. The human mind is also the only organ in all of existence not only capable of knowing or understanding it exists, but also it is capable of healing itself as well as everything else.

Have you personally wondered why the other guy has exactly what he does not really deserve just as you have exactly what you do not deserve? What makes this so? Read on!

When a person receives a sudden impact in his or her very valuable life and that sudden impact separates the outside world from the inside world and that person survives the sudden impact, that person is no longer the same person. The worlds, both in and out, are not the same. Most people come through and when then do, they are much better and they see both worlds with a better or a new perspective.

Other people are not so fortunate. They have fallen and stay crawling until the day they die. Which are you? If we wish to improve our living or condition, then improve our thinking! Improvement and change are not the same thing, although the former makes the latter.

Changing a condition or situation is very difficult or next to impossible. Staying with the flow is easier and practically less resistance. The path of less resistance is more attractive, even if it is the path to nowhere or to doom!

Also, change is very personal, very emotional and very demanding. But change or improvement is only a continuation of things to be. Change is an improvement of the same. Change is a simple improvement of the same thing. Change is not changing one thing for another, but improving a condition or situation.

How do we improve our condition or situation? Read on!

First, we must admit or know or understand that we have a problem because the first solution to any problem is knowing or understanding that we have a problem! Do we have a problem?

Secondly, the only requirement in change is desire. Desire is power! If we really desire to improve, then we will definitely improve! We have to have that simple desire to improve or change because that is what starts the healing or improving process. Not too many medical doctors, not even good ones, will tell us this very simple but very significant and thus very powerful secret.

Obviously, when you chose to read this manuscript, you, my very good person, have chosen to improve or change yourself or you would not be here right now.

In fact, once you took this manuscript into your mighty hands, your life has already changed. Now, you have to be in a continuous process to get to where you want to get.

Let’s continue. You are doing very well. We are almost there!

Believing is thus creating. Belief begins to create and that creation makes change not only in our mind, but also in our physical body, the outside world and the spiritual world.

Let’s believe, for example, that we have taken a lemon. We cut the lemon in half and we have now put half the lemon in our mouths and begun to suck that half of lemon.

Can we taste the half lemon? What is happening? Have our gums become filled with secretion as if we were actually sucking that half and juicy lemon?”

Bobby paused from reading for a few seconds to stop thinking of the half lemon. He began reading again. Suddenly, Bobby drops the manuscript and grabs his head as if in severe pain.

Bobby’s severe head pain left him as quickly as it had come. He got up from the park bench, picked up the manuscript from the ground and began to look around as if lost or confused. He began to feel himself. He began to check his pockets. He found his New Jersey State driver’s license.

“Let me see now how I look? Not bad, but why the cardboard face? No need to now worry. The body and the face will begin to take shape as soon as the good thoughts sink in the mind.

Finally! Doesn’t anyone read from books anymore? Doesn’t anyone know that reading expands the mind and gives freedom to the soul? Where, when, what, how and who am I?” asked Bobby.

Bobby walked through town as if he had never been there before. He now greeted people and smiled at them. He even wished then well.

After a couple of hours, he asked for directions to his own apartment! What was going on with Bobby?

He arrived at twenty-five Milosh Street, next to the Lexington Diner. He put his hand in his pants pocket and took out a pair of keys. He tried them both and one opened the front door. He walked in the building and went up two flights of stairs to apartment number two. Before he put the key in the lock, he knocked on the door and asked if anyone were there. There was no response. Bobby opened the door, but before he went in, he heard someone calling across the hallway.

“Hey, you!”

“Yes, were you calling me?” asked Bobby.

“You are the only one in the hallway.”

“Actually, there are two of us. What can I do for you?” asked Bobby.

“I know that you have a brain problem, but you still owe four months’ rent; and unless you pay, out the door you will go!”

“Do you have a problem with my name?’ asked Bobby.

“No.”

“Then say it,” said Bobby.

“Mr. Richardson.”

“Good! Now I understand. Give me, sir, a couple of more days, three at the most, and I will pay you in full,” said Bobby.

“That is more than good news to my old ears!”

Bobby opened the door and cautiously walked into the apartment. He walked in as if he had never been there before. He began to touch and to feel things. He stared at the black television set.

“What kind of mirror was this? You could barely see yourself,” said Bobby.

He spent quite a deal of time exploring the small apartment. He touched the closed laptop, the printer with paper and the mouse on the desk, as if not knowing what they were. What is going on?

A couple of days later, there was a knock on the door.

“Go away!” shouted Bobby.

“It’s Elizabeth.”

“Who?”

“Stop playing, Bobby. Open the door.”

“If you are looking for Richardson, he is not here,” said Bobby.

“Bobby, I am sorry I left.”

“Left? I didn’t even know you were gone,” said Bobby.

She walked in. She tried to kiss him, but he turned his face away. She was young, very beautiful and tall. She was also blonde with long hair and blue uncertain eyes. Her puffy lips as if wanting to be kissed. Her yellow dress wrapped around her body as if it were part of her skin. Her breasts and her rump firm and very attracting as if fruits ready for the harvest.

“So, Bobby, how have you been?” asked Elizabeth.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Bobby, stop being silly.”

“Ah, what’s your name again?” asked Bobby.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, but let’s play a little game. Elizabeth, let’s pretend that I lost my memory and that you are the only person to really help me.

“I don’t know. It sounds like a weird game to me,” said Elizabeth.

“Do you want to help me or no?”

“O. K.”

“Is that a yes? asked Bobby.

“Yes.”

Great! Afterwards, we can go out and have dinner at your expanse,” said Bobby.

Elizabeth spent a couple of good hours telling Bobby who he was; what had really happened to him and how he acted until four months after she left.

“Thanks you for filling me in. Good. We can be friends now, said Bobby.

“Friends? asked Elizabeth.

“Yes, just friends.”

“But I thought we were more than friends? said Elizabeth.

“You walked out one this miserable guy’s life four months ago. And now you drop in, hoping to be more than friends?”

“All of this time I have being waiting for you to call me at Mom’s.”

“How about dinner, sweetheart?” said Bobby.

“So, you finally awoke?”

“Something like that.”







Chapter 3 - treated like a lady

Bobby treated her lady-like and she liked that. He opened doors and pulled chairs for her to sit. They sat at the table opposite one another. Bobby couldn’t keep his eyes from her. He also couldn’t stop from talking. Bobby was no longer the stranger he had once become.

“The Bobby I knew four months ago was friendly, but you are friendlier. In fact, you talk and walk and even smile different,” said Elizabeth.

“I am not Bobby. I took over his skinny little body,” said Bobby.

“Yeah, right.”

“I am glad you believe me,” said Bobby.

They ate a good and hot meal. They had a couple of stiff drinks and after a little while left the restaurant. They walked the quiet and still streets.

They arrived at Bobby’s apartment. He wanted to take Elizabeth to her girlfriend’s house, but Elizabeth insisted in staying with him. And so it was done.

The next morning, Elizabeth prepared breakfast. She had a wide smile on her pretty face.

“Bobby, I didn’t know that you were that hungry last night.”

“Didn’t we eat before going to bed?’ said Bobby.

“Bobby, I mean the love making. It was great! You went for a second and even a third time! I had so many orgasms, I missed count!”

“So, it was good for you too?”

“Yes!”

“Elizabeth, my sweetheart, I hate asking things from you; but I have no choice right now,” said Bobby.

“Don’t be shy now, ask away!”

“I need to get to Lancaster,” said Bobby.

“Pennsylvania?”

“Yes.”

“What in the world for?” asked Elizabeth.

“Remember the lost memory game?”

“Yes.”

“The game is still on. We will play it for a while and I will do exactly as you want or as you say later,” said Bobby.

“That sounds more than fair.”

“So how do we get from here to there?” asked Bobby.

“We will rent a car. Let me have your driver’s license.”

“My what?”

“Let me have your wallet.”

“Here,” said Bobby.

“Bobby, you have a lottery ticket in here.”

“A what?”

“Maybe you got lucky and won some money,” said Elizabeth.

“We can use the money to pay the rent.”

“We will see,” said Elizabeth.

“Don’t forget to get some good maps of Lancaster.”

“I won’t and get dressed. I will be back soon with a car,” she said.







Chapter 4 - before the hour

Elizabeth returned before the hour was over. She had no problem renting a car. She bought some food and drinks for the long trip. She was very happy, especially now that she had more good news.

“Bobby, I have more good news. That ticket was a five thousand dollars cash winner. I cashed it and paid the rent. And here is what is left of the money.”


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