《Meredith》


 Drunkard

    ¡°Could I have a pen?¡± I ask.


    Only things visible through the gaps between these iron bars are the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling and the other cells just a few feet across from me, blinding white everywhere else. Besides the few hours of recess we get to stare endlessly into the sky. Some color in the place wouldn¡¯t hurt, would it?


    ¡°Request denied, step away from the door.¡± I hear from the side, just outside my cell.


    ¡°What am I going to do? Stab someone with a pen? That¡¯s not the reason I''m in here¡­¡± I grab onto the bars. ¡°Look¡­ officer? You''re an officer right? My request for a journal was granted. I can¡¯t use it, if I have nothing to write with.¡± Prepping for what¡¯s to come, I look to the padded floor.


    ¡°I said back away from the door, senile old man!¡± No hesitation and with a swift whip and firm SMACK! from his baton. My already swollen knuckles once again pulsating with pain.


    I kneel from it, clenching my hands together. The officer now at my door looks in through the bars, towering me, gazing at me, places a dark blue tinted pen in the gap between two of the bars.


    ¡°You have 30 minutes with it.¡± He states and walks away.


    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± I mumble under my breath. Taking the pen and retreating back into a corner of the padded room. With jittery, bruised hands I open the leatherbound journal and with a satisfying click I begin to write.


    My name is, Ike J Harbor.


    Pain seizes my hand even from such a tiny amount and I¡¯m forced to let the prussian, silver highlighted pen fall into the crevasse between the backside of the cover and the first page. I stretch out my shaking hand, clenching and unclenching it, getting the muscles moving no matter how much my knuckles scream in pain. Moments later, I grasp the pen once again and continue.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    I am 61 years old and I admitted myself here 30 years ago. I used to be a private investigator for a police station with a soft spot for liquid courage and stupidity as a constant demon clung to my every move. I made the worst decision of my life, driving drunk continuously, endlessly until it led me to...her.


    30 Years Ago


    It was a damp cold night, the rain trickling like a drunk man¡¯s piss. Having just been thrown out of my third bar for being too ¡°disruptive¡± I lay in the middle of the street, next to a shattered bottle of whiskey.


    Wobbling my way back up on to my feet, I tower back and forth towards my car. Slamming the door shut and revving the engine, I began to drive to find another bar. Multiple honks and flashes of passing headlights later I vividly awake to an airbag to the face.


    Still mildly drunk even after the apparent crash, I fall out of my vehicle passing out once again.


    Ironically, probably the calmest awakening I¡¯ve had in¡­ a long time. I leisurely make my way onto my feet, with beer in hand. Which I got from somewheres. Taking a sniff, I realize it¡¯s my piss bottle. Disgruntled, I chuck it into the woods.


    ¡°Aw, man¡­¡±


    My vehicle, stabbed by a sign. The engine has gone cold and is seemingly out of gas.


    I¡¯m stranded.


    Padding myself down to check for my phone, to see if I have any sort of a signal.


    ¡°No signal and 5% left, you¡¯ve got to be¡­¡± Highly annoyed, I slam my fists onto the top of my vehicle. ¡°FUCK!¡±


    With a heavy sigh, I put my phone back into my pocket for later use. I sweep the inside of the car to see if there¡¯s anything else that I might want before I begin to wander in hopes for a bar. Finding my wallet, the now useless keys and a pocket knife that I don¡¯t remember having.


    ¡°The spare¡± I mumble, popping the trunk and opening the floor. I grab my spare 9mm with two rounds of ammo.


    Never know what I¡¯ll run in- speaking of which, where the fuck am I?


    I spiral around taking a glance at my surroundings. Heavily wooded area, cracked concrete road with brown pine needles layering the grass. Not to mention the obvious, which is my severely fucked car and the sign, which did the fucking.


    I finally decide to take a glance at the sign, which is seemingly old, wooden, damaged from various things, with remiments of paint still residing, the sign reads¡­


    Meredith.

 Silence

    The woods producing majority of the noise around me, my footsteps as a secondary constant and seemingly double at times, as I follow this barren road.


    As a safety measure or habit, I keep my hand near my holster.


    Hours pass, clouds having conquered the sky thus It¡¯s only getting darker out. I¡¯m unsure of the time of day or what day it is in general. I primarily blame that on my drunken stupor. It¡¯s painful to remember when last I was this sober.


    A while later I reach a steep hill and after trudging my way up to the top. I note a small harbor town just at the bottom of it.


    ¡°Finally...¡± I sigh.


    Making my way down the hill, nearly falling on ass in doing so. A crisp breeze wafts my face as I enter town, sending shivers down my spine.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I call out. ¡°Anyone around?¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The woods having gone silent. All that remains are the gentle yet unnerving sound of the dorment boats in the harbor creaking due to the ever moving ocean. The high screech of a screen door being opened and slammed shut by the breeze and not a single person in sight. All combined with the faint whistle of the wind.


    I saunter further into town passing a general goods store, a bar, bait shop and other typical vendors. Some windows of those retailers being boarded up, others seemingly abandoned entirely. It¡¯s like the town was abandoned or forgotten¡­ considering where it¡¯s placed I wouldn¡¯t be surprised at the latter. But what would make everyone up and leave?


    I halt my curiosity and inspection of the town, with the noise of my foot crunching a piece of paper¡­ I glare down at it as it¡¯s something I easily recognize and something I never wanted to see again. I lift my foot up and just wait for the wind to blow it past me.


    ¡°Deep breaths...¡± I exhale ¡°Is anyone there? Hello?¡± I nearly shout. No reply, no sudden opening of a door or a person coming into view. Nothing.


    Okay¡­ what the fuck is up with this town? My nerves building and my patience on zero. I take out my 9mm and start going from building to building, up the street and back again.


    BASH! I kick in a door ¡°Hello?!¡±


    SLAM! Another one ¡°HELLO?!!¡±


    Nothing.


    Nothing but silence.

 Demons

    Hard cider, cheap whine, generic beer, really? No hard liquor? like whiskey, gin or tequila. I question while searching through what remains in the abandoned bar. Which smells of musk, carbonation and beer with the only light coming from the front door I left open.


    I suppose I never checked to see if the electricity worked here. But the behind the bar ice freezer which is holding about a gallon of water is indicator enough. Also an indicator of no ones been here for quite some time. Which I find incredibly unnerving while sober, especially surrounded by all these lifeless buildings.


    Not a single bottle of hard liquor, so strange. I stare out to the rest of the bar venue with a few tables and chairs, a singular billiards table and a stage to the left towards the entrance for karaoke nights. Nice place, overall.


    I leave the bar, unsuccessful in my quest for some smooth liquid courage. I take a seat on the curb, sighing on the way down. I reach for my phone, but think otherwise. It¡¯s probably dead anyways... just like this town. HA HA


    Hands over my face, I regather my thoughts. Middle of fucking nowhere, with a dead phone, no electricity and nothing to drink.


    ¡°FUCK me¡­¡± and all because I drove here haphazardly wasted as-


    Prior to finishing that thought, I notice a noise I hadn¡¯t heard before. Something creaking, not as loud as the screen door or as high pitched but still notice-able. A soft creak and consistent, like in a rhythm.


    I hustle my way down the street, looking at all the buildings I had been in. While also looking past them using the little alleyways in between, filled with nothing more then garbage cans, bags and in general, garbage.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Then I see it, a few houses down and past the initial row of buildings I had inspected. A fella, creaking his happy ass in a rocking chair.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I call out, while making my way through the absolute trash pit of an alley. ¡°Oh, god¡­ that¡¯s vile.¡± I gag and rush through the rest of the alley. I take a minute to regain my composure, then I notice the creaking had stopped. Looking back at the man in his chair. No longer rocking but just sitting there, glaring at me.


    ¡°Um¡­ hello?¡± I say, his gaze like daggers piercing me. Wearing overalls and a cap, his green eyes are seemingly caved in. Nothing around them but darkness. That combined with his fucked up nose, he isn¡¯t the best looking of fellas. ¡°Um, you don¡¯t happen to know where I can charge this, do you?¡± I ask, phone in hand.


    The man, statue esk in his movements begins to move. Slowly placing his old fragile looking hands on the arm rests of the wooden chair, and slowly pushing himself up to a standing position. Creeping forward towards the railing of the porch, and grabbing a cane that I had only just noticed. With one hand on his cane, he points towards the direction of where I entered town. His bone thin, crooked finger and his shaky hand noticeably move with the slight breeze.


    ¡°Um¡­. yeah that¡¯s where I entered town.¡± I stare towards where he was pointing. ¡°Look, I just need-¡± I look back towards the rocking chair and he¡¯s just gone.


    ¡°What the fuck? Hello?!¡± I call out. Taking out my 9mm I head towards the house. Each step of the worn porch groans as I apply weight to it.


    ¡°Sir¡­ I just want to know if there¡¯s maybe a payphone I could use¡± A payphone in 20XX that¡¯s hilarious. ¡°Or a place with some electricity so I can charge my cell phone.¡± I reach the second step as I near a noise, a voice.¡±


    ¡°Leave. Just go back to where you came¡­¡± A soft, tired, old voice leaks from the walls of the home and the cracked window.


    ¡°I want too, but I-¡± BANG!


    An ear wrenching, sound tears through the air. Stunned with ears ringing, I lose balance and fall on my ass down the two steps. The birds crying out from the loud noise, fly away from their nests nearby in panic.