《sAlmOn tRee》 Ch1-KingFisherhood Welcomed 11:39 pm, Friday, October 12. Dear Diary, [Update: It''s 2:54 am, something strange just happened.....and I am adding that at the end.....] It is quite chilly today and I don''t feel quite as nervous as yesterday. It seems that the medicines are working quite right. Daddy seems more freaked out than me. Gosh! I am 16 and I AM NOT A CHILD ANYMORE!! As I look outside the window, I see our town covered in leaves, BLOOD RED and a hint of mustard layered in the spaghetti that our town has become, you know, curvy roads, tall trees, and the standard stuff of a typical northern town way up in the mountains. With all the fishing boats lined up the ''coast'' of our town, everything seems stationary, because fishing after all, is our main occupation. The King''s Lake has saved us from harsh winters since times immemorial. And it''s one hell of a big lake! I ate my garlic bread, because that''s practically my breakfast! and hopped onto my daddy''s jeep. And off we went to the wreck of a school, up the St. Anthony''s mountain. But first, someone''s gotta take care of my icecream, or else it would be crying in the corner. Salmon cone, a local specialty, where the cone is shaped like a salmon, is right up Joe''s alley. He makes them extra soft and fluffy, and he''s nice to me too. It is not terribly sunny this time and.....Oh God! here we go again. Why? Why is it always that I get freaked out by the gates of our school? It''s literally two big dogs, straight out of hell, perched on the pillars, but who cares! You are strong Alice, STRONG!! Anyways, I hate my school. It literally eats up two-thirds of my day, and Ms. Mason isn''t helping. She''s a zombie. Would show up at the school even if it''s doomsday. Speaking of doomsday, the rallies are becoming quite a nuisance, eats up traffic. People really are buying into this nuclear apocalypse thingy. I hear some kids whispering in the corners, preparing for God knows what. The tension is quite widespread, in fact, even the library nerds are discussing, which includes myself. Lunch Break is my favourite time. I get to talk to Mary, my sister. We are very close. In fact, we are best friends. But, if only I were that lucky, so as to avoid a jerk like Bob who routinely shows up to grab our lunch. I can bet, his record of showing up at lunch time is probably way better than his attendance record. His theatrics are diverse like our local fauna (I am sure he will fit right in with them) but the one that tears me apart is his attitude towards Mary. It''s like she is not even a human in his eyes! "To hell with your Mary, gimme some of that sandwich!! ", barks Bob when he''s hungry. I swear if it weren''t for my Mom, I would kick his nuts! Sometimes, I feel like I am growing tired of this place. Tired of Ms. Mason and Bob, Mom and Dad. No offense but they are unkind. If only they showed me some kindness like Mary does, always smiling and listening patiently. I guess it''s that rich parents attitude. "You must teach your child etiquettes, must teach him eloquence, and most importantly a disciplined attitude". Honestly, it''s either that or complete neglect. You either get the whole package or end up with the butlers. Speaking of butlers, our Tom is quite a nice guy. "And how was your day, princess Alicia?", he kindly calls me. I wish I had better things to say to him, but the answer was always a vague ''fine''. The truth is, I wanted out. I wanted to get to bigger shores, bigger dreams, bigger purpose. And for the first time ever, it felt like, I was nearer than ever to achieving just that. I love writing, always did. I wrote whenever I felt like, wherever I felt like. The most conducive of a place was an old big tree near the Kingfish reserve. By the lake, head against its old bark, I could write poems that would make Shakespeare retire (just kidding!). But yeah, it did really do wonders for my writing. In fact, I am working on a masterpiece right there. It''s a thriller about a young girl who gets kidnapped and has to survive otherworldly odds. This piece would go into the regional story writing contest, and if I get selected, it would be my ticket out of here, to some city, some dream city. Some kinda exchange program I guess, where I would get a scholarship and learn writing better. Perhaps this feat could convince my parents about my skills, and maybe then they would send me off to study and live at some aunt''s house (we have many of those aunts! you can never get enough!!) If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. I guess owning half of the fishing business in town and a hefty family heirloom has its perks. Half the kids are either jealous or follow you around thinking naively that you might write their name on your will! You are in a way, never alone and always alone. Anyhow, it was time and I was waiting patiently as ever for one of my ''responsible'' parents to pick me up, hopefully, so that I don''t have to spend the rest of the night on the streets with God knows what roaming these streets. Add on top of that a nuke! NO SIR!! I think I am fine by my fireplace. "Alice, AAALICE!! quit staring and hop in, it''s getting cold out here", roared my mom. I must have lost track of time again. It''s happening more often now a days. I hopped in, as my mom drove through the streets like a maniac on booze (she sucks at driving). This one time, she ran over a family of squirrels enjoying picnic by the roadside. Poor souls. "I got some stuff to buy, come along", commanded mother and I complied. You see, being from a small town, rich or not, we take care of personal needs and chores ourselves, so it ain''t a big deal. As my mom explored the alleys for her stuff, I fixed my eyes on the big glass wall of the store. You could see through it, see beyond. I could see the stars. It was a clear night. The stars twinkled, the wind whistled and the leaves of this autumn night sang. But was it a happy tune? or a grave one, hiding the cries of lost and damned souls? I didn''t know, but the guy next to me sure did. He had the look of a crying soul and he was doing something with his hands, as if to point. "What? What''s that?", I asked. "Your cart miss, you ran over my toes!!", cried the stranger. "Oh, I am really sorry". He seemed irritated. "Tell that to my toes!", moaned the stranger. "I am sorry", I replied to his toes. Boy, you should have seen his face, even the hot sauce on aisle 4 would have a tough time beating that look. He left without saying a word. He was clearly pissed. "Yeah, what a jerk", I told myself. We returned home, had dinner and parted ways into our rooms. We never talked during dinner. Father forbids it. Mary and I sleep in the same room. So we went up the stairs and into our room. I took my pills and grabbed a novel from the shelf by the window. That''s when my eyes rolled onto our garden below. That''s where we used to play hide and seek. Paul, Jack, Martha, Mary and I would play all day, and whoever was caught quickly, was required to give a treat. What fun we had, from summer to winter, smelling the flowers in spring and stomping on those very same withered ones in autumn. But it was only a matter of time before each season would claim its own flower, and we would be left with crosses on the ground and an empty garden. Each of them died young, taken from this world, from us, and the reason was left for us to figure out. I miss them very much. And I don''t go there anymore. Novels at night are my favourite pastime. Funny ones actually, to forget the silent nights. To forget the pillow fights. It''s just Mary and me now. I finished two chapters, then started on my usual diary entry at then end of the day. When it ended, I wished Mary a good night. Switched off the light, to sleep. [But...I had forgotten to close the curtains of my window, and it was about to pay me heavily.] 2:52 am, Saturday. I was pulled back from sleep. Can''t quite explain how. I....I think I saw something....in my dream. Something disturbing. Really disturbing: The place I don''t go anymore.....I was there... ...... digging up Paul, Jack and Martha... I was digging them...digging them up from their graves. Piece by piece. They....they had fish all over their graves! Salmon, rotting along with their bodies. Oh God!! I woke up. But the sound of rain followed me from my dream. It was actually raining. Can''t even explain why, I got up to close the curtain, the lights were out, I tried. What I saw next, believe me, if there was anything even holier than the Trinity itself, I would swear in its name: I saw myself out there, beyond the garden, standing inside a newly dug grave. Dug beside my siblings''. And I was pointing to me, I...I mean that ''me'' was pointing towards me with ''its'' hands outstretched and I think, I...I had...I had....Was it Jack? Oh God! Noooo!! Please God noooo...not him..... I had his head in my hands!! Poor Jack, why did it have to be you!? I was too shocked to cry. Mary was in deep slumber. I couldn''t wake her. I closed the curtains and lit a candle, and I just sat there, staring the wall for like half an hour. My heart felt like it would burst open. I was wheezing, but no tears were there. I couldn''t wait to sleep, but whether I liked it or not, I had to write something this disturbing down in my diary. Old habits die hard. As I write this down under my sheets, holding a candle, I feel... I don''t know. This is too much. I am done. I could only jot down what I saw down there and in my dream but my mind had seen too much to comment on anything. Something has to be done about this, in the morning. Good night or should I say.....Safe night. Candles out. Ch2-One Hell of a Report 4:00 pm, Saturday, October 13. { } refers to radio chatter (Stereotypical 80s music) (Nom, nom, nom.....) (more stereotypical 80s music) {(over radio) nom, nom, nom...} {Dude, this soup is killing me....you gotta come over here sometime! Admit it, I make it better than you} "Shut up Shawn, let me finish my meal in dignity. I cook it alright." {Mr. Edward Warren, aged 20, finished schooling from St. Paul''s School somewhere in Arizona, knows how to repair vehicles, worked as a waiter down at Portland, Oregon, avid camper and outdoorsman, worked security at Wrenson Reserve.......Boy! you''re all over the place. That''s quite some CV alright!} "Stop reading my ''resume''." {Dude what''s wrong? You hungry? Need some of that hot, spicy, juicy, finger licking, delicious soup that I can make way bette....} "Cut the crap Shawn" {Ok, ok, little boy''s angry, leave him alone} {Now, remember to keep looking for miscreants off the trails and any signs of smoke in places they aren''t supposed to be. And yeah, don''t forget the weather report before you sleep. Take care of all these things and you can survive one more day in paradise. And yeah keep some logs in reserve and extra batteries, it gets cold this time of year} "Yeah I hear you, and thanks again for this job, I owe you one." {No, no...Had to make it up to you....you practically saved my life out there in the woods. I can''t understand how you got that rustbox of a car to work, it''s like magic} "Yeah, me neither. You were just another stranger and I, another drifter, who drifted into this place, I mean look at this, this is huge, this is enough." {Uh, enough for what?} "Ah, nothing, just talking to myself over getting a decent job and settling for a while" {That''s quite specific and to be honest, you went out of our way to ask me, for this. I mean, look at the coincidence of saving the very guy who''s gonna get you the job you want. And in no time, we became partners. Tower 9 and Tower 10. Kingfish Reserve. Favour''s a favour in my books, even to a life saving stranger but....Why did you want this job anyway?} "..............." {It''s not upto everyone though, living like this, I mean I rarely get time to shop and get into town. Speaking of town, How was Kingfisherhood?} ".............." {Ed? You still there?} "...Huh? Yeah, yeah, I was just finishing my scan. What were you saying?" {How was the neighbourhood?} "Oh yeah, it''s a nice little town you have, nice lake, nice food, nice view, but do you come with really annoying kids?" {what do you mean?} "Ah, there was this young girl I ran into in the depot. She ran her cart over my toes. Had sarcasm written all over her face. Quite annoying. She seemed strangely preoccupied with something." {Ah, kids these days, I guess she''s one of those nut jobs who''s deep into this nuke thing. They can be really creepy} "Huh. Tell me about this reserve, any specialties, any thing that stands out?" {This piece of paradise stands in the middle of nowhere, but it is one of the largest national reserves with a sizeable population of diverse and endangered species, and is pretty prone to wildfires. That''s why the watch is tight, don''t want them nut job campers barbecuing the entire forest. Fires start quite a lot. Nine times in the 60s, nine again in the 70s, and I think, this time all hell''s gonna break loose. Apart from that, this place''s a charm, my Pa has been in this job, so was my grandpa, and so am I. Nature is our family''s middle name. And yeah tower 9 has a stream nearby, we got loads of those along with undiscovered caves and.....mishaps} "Mishaps?" {Yeah, accidents, at least according to reports, but campers gone missing and discovered in random places with no idea how they got there, is sketchy, ain''t it? If you take my word for it, I would say, it''s one of them doomsday cults. Me and some other folks been hearing chatter on this. We surely have no evidence, and we are spread thin in such a place. Take our towers for example. I can see you from here but it would take me at least an hour to get up to your place, and serve you some of that hot, juicy, spicy, finger licking....} A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "Oh come on! not again." {Sorry, sorry.....} "Hey, How do I get this ane..analo....anemo..." {Anemometer, just click the button on left twice and then the one at the center, right one to turn off} "Gee thanks." {You got the room set?} "Yep, got everything I need in here, books, food stock, logs, flashlight, extra batteries, a flare gun, binoculars, bed''s well made, got a set of them warm blankets down at the town, for a good price, all the instruments and maps kept in a corner, a few VHS tapes, a boom box, yep, I guess I can call it home." {Hey, I don''t see any smoke from your roof, you light that thing up yet? It''s getting cold} "Hold up."
"Done." {Great, hey, I am gonna hit the loo, catch you up later} A few (and quite long) hours later...... Nightfall (Sips of coffee) Nothing beats a cup of coffee, a chilly wind on your face, and........a few violent gunshots in the distance. ?????? Pretty sure we''re in America, but should I call Shawn? "Shawn, hey Shawn, you copy?" {radio static} "IF YOU NEED ANY HELP, DON''T HESITATE TO CALL ME UP", he said. So much for help. Alright, calm down, what would Shawn do in this situation? (He would hide under his bed, bad example), I gotta investigate this. Out of 22 towers, it had to be me, huh? Okay, I have the flashlight, emergency radio, flare gun, I guess rookies don''t get guns. I am taking this fire poker to insure my life, in the events of unexpected and "Oh, you don''t need any combat training, it''s pretty chill out here" events. The sounds came from west, near the stream. Let''s go! (Few minutes later) (Grunting, panting, ROOOAR!!!) (BOOM, ROOOAR!!) Kid: "Take that you furry piece of crap!! Yeah that''s right, nobody trespasses Roywood Jr''s emergency campsite!" Huh? All I see is a kid, a retreating bear, and lots of wasted flare gun shots. Ed: "Hey kid, what are you doin..." Kid: "Whoa stay back, I said stay back....(BOOM!!!)" Ed: "Goddammit kid!! What the hell is wrong with ya? I am a ranger, I am here to help." Kid: "Whaaat?" Ed: "I SAAAID I AAAM HEEERE TO HEELP YOOOU!! NOOOW IF YOU WOULD PLEASE COOPERATE!!" Kid: "Oh...Okay Sir, I am coming out, and I promise that there ain''t no drugs here" Ed: "Who said anything about drugs? Whatever....what are you doing here?" Kid (in rapid speed): "I am kinda lost, I have been camping in different places, but I am new here, I didn''t know when I went off the trail, you know, first there was this Jefferson guy who told me that I should definitely check out KingFish Reserve, but there were no transports and I had to literally hitchhike my way up here, oh my God, it''s so beautiful and I have like camped in two places already!! but I heard some crickets, and I thought I should check it out, because it''s kinda weird to have...." Ed: "Woah, woah, alright, slow down, which way are you headed?" Kid: "Umm.....whichever''s the nearest camping ground?" Ed: "Alright, follow me" (A few minutes later) Ed: "Here we are, taking left from this crossroads will take you to Buckfin Campsite, about 35 min walk." Kid: "Thank you sir, you saved me. I am Roywood Jr. by the way...." Ed: "I am Ed. Now, you be safe out there. Go on, it''s getting late." We two parted ways. Phew! Quite the night eh!? Back at Tower 9 {Ed, Ed, you copy? Have you been calling me?} "Yeah, Where have you been?" {I was still in the loo. I guess I put a bit too much of that hot chilly sauce in the soup. Anyways, I am fine, thanks for asking, What''s wrong?} "I didn''t ask you how you.....(sigh) anyways, I had a little trouble..." (Proceeds to explain the entire encounter) {Hah, I gotta say, most rangers spend their first week bored, but you are already getting a head start} {Did you work on that report yet?} "Oh wait, I forgot, wind speed, sky, temperature, and?" {Write your observations, like tourists assisted, or should I say no. of tourists who scared the bejesus out of you...Boy! that would be one hell of a report!} "Shut up Shawn!" (A few minutes of ''trying to figure out how to use the anemometer'' later....) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tower 9, King''s Mount, KingFish Reserve- 23:10 hrs, October 13 Tower Personnel: Edward Warrens Weather Report Wind: Windy, NW at 15 mph, gusts to 20. A bit of moisture. Temperature: 39.2¡ãF, Chilly weather. Fire Danger Index: Medium -A bit cloudy. -Leaves crunchy under foot, dry ground. -Visibility clear. -No smoke trails found. - No signs of lightning. Observation: One tourist found towards west of tower 9 near a stream, engaged in a grueling battle with a bear for ownership of land near the stream. Flare gun shots fired in a desperate attempt to scare the beast. Tourist open fires on me, with the same said weapon. Differences cleared while taking cover behind a rock. Tourist identified as Roywood Jr, who was lost and in search for a camping ground. Tourist duly assisted. Present state around Tower 9 normal, with the usual sound of wind, stream of water, a few owls hooting, dry leaves rustling in the wind , and some crickets. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Phew, I am done." {Hey, it''s your first one, read me the report} "Okay" (Proceeds to read the report) {Hahaha! duly assisted, hah!!} "Wait, wait lemme finish....and ''with the usual sound of wind, stream of water, a few owls hooting, dry leaves rustling in the wind , and some crickets''." {...............} "That''s it. I am done. Tired. I am gonna go to bed now, you do the same, Shawn. Good night, this is Tower 9, over and ou..." {Wait...........} {Did you say crickets?} "Yeah, Why?" {We don''t have crickets here.....} Ch3-Blurry Evening 12:11 pm, Saturday, October 13. Dear Diary, It''s afternoon and I am sitting. Sitting still. Mother is picking some oranges from the garden. Mary is by my side. And I am bored. Dad is off to his usual meeting up by the lake. I always insist on going up with him but he denies me that opportunity. I guess it''s really important work, otherwise I won''t be seeing the fine lines having a fine time on his forehead. Anyways, I am bored. I usually am during afternoons. So, I divert my mind towards writing. And great news! My story is coming up pretty good. In it-
The girl goes to a party with her friends and they are having a blast, until of course the power gets cut and one by one, every girl disappears. The character wakes up in a dungeon, and she is hearing footsteps, sharp and loud coming her way.....
Good, ain''t it? Well, mother thinks otherwise. "This won''t put food on the table, honey! " I hate that woman. It''s always been like this... I never did see a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Ever.... Since the start of time. Cold, lifeless. Sometimes, I do wonder, ''Does she even lament her crushed legacy brought by the death of her progeny?'', ''Does she even cry at night behind pillows?'' But it''s okay, right? Mary''s with me at least. None of that, however, addresses the elephant we have been so eloquently hiding behind these pages. And I am tired of it. Let''s cut to the chase. The real reason I am sitting here is because I couldn''t sleep and my mother is scared shitless. Trust me, I know that as a daughter. I know how to read a dead mother''s face. Especially when it''s fired up. She is rushing in and out of the house. She believes her ''tonic'' made out of orange peels will soothe my mind. Quite a strange way for an educated woman to react. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. All the unspeakable things witnessed, felt and forgotten last night, are coming back slowly, whispering in my ears. At first it feels surreal, as if the voice of angels has come to summon me, but the sudden and swift jerk that accompanies such said voices put me down to my misery as quickly as it lifts me up. My mind is playing games with me. God I need a rest... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------------- 4:00 pm Evening The last rays of sun touch the curtains as my mother walks towards them, putting them to sleep, cutting off the light to this place. My mind is still dizzy. Nausea has had its course twice till now. I am in a bleeding dream, narrowing my vision. My focus is fidgety. Mary is gone. I can''t find her. All is see is a blurred world, dark. The connect between this realm and the one outdoors is bridged by a sound quite foreign. Crickets. Buzzing quietly here. There. And here.....Everywhere. I am thinking something but I can''t fathom what. I am holding something, but I cannot know what. I am seeing something, but I don''t know wh.....wait.... That''s my father''s car. I see a shadowy form emerging from it and flowing towards me. We make contact with eyes. The shadow towers me with its muscular, tall form, dressed in a woodsman special and trousers. It speaks, and the earth trembles beneath me, "Honey, honey, are you listening?"
Honey............................................................................................................... HOney............................................................... ................HONEY................. !!!!OHYNE!!!!
(Snap) "Honey, are you okay? It looks like you are asleep again with your eyes open....come on. We have an invitation. Get ready." It was Father standing in front of me. I don''t know what happened. Something has gone wrong with me. I look around but everything has gone back to normal. Mary is by my side, concerned. The diary is wide open with the full account written on it, in an unrecognizable handwriting. There is a bowl with sucked up orange peels in it and flies are flying over them. Cautiously. The garden is quiet, with the mountain wind blowing over it. And of course, daddy is standing in front, expecting me to behave. And so I do. I get up, rush to my room and get dressed in a partywear. And top it off with a hat. I look around my room to see if anything needs my attention, and then move towards the door. But.... I take a step back, turn around, retrace to the other side of the room, and close the windows. Shut tight. You know why. I come down, Mary is sitting still. She looks uneasy. Perhaps she doesn''t wanna go. But dad insists, with or without Mary. So, I take her with me. And my dear diary. "But where is mother?", I ask my dad. "She''s already there, arranging the feast with her friends." "But what''s this party about?", I continue my line of inquiry. "Someone''s getting promoted. And we should be there to celebrate." "Who?", I ask. "You''ll see." So will I see, and so will you. I don''t know it yet, but do you? Am I marching to my own rhythm? Or is there a crescendo hidden underneath, awaiting the conductor''s call. "You''ll see."