Read Online Clouded Rainbow by Jonathan Sturak - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jonathan Sturak
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destruction were a lucid dream, the mind’s way of exploring his faltering memory synapses. As he returned to the world, banging erupted. Roger sprang to his feet and realized that someone was at his front door. He grabbed the picture of the couple in the park lying on his chest and pushed it into his back pocket. Acting on instinct, he moved to the intruder.
In the entryway, a rhythm of bangs hit the front of the closed door. Roger tiptoed to the peephole, careful to refrain from any fast movements that could signal his presence. He looked through the hole. Distorted like a fisheye lens, he saw two figures who were barely visible. Even with the extreme wide angle, the hat and badges of the trespassers explained their intentions.
“We know you’re in there!” barked the officer at the door.
Roger jumped back in fright.
“Shit,” he mumbled.
He spun around and noticed the kitchen light still shining brightly as a beacon for the encroaching officers. Roger flipped the switch off and scurried to the rear door. He peered out, checking for any sign of the invading force. The moon lit the backyard as lawn furniture and animal ornaments sprinkled the grass. Roger stepped out as his footsteps vanished into the soft, supportive lawn. He paused, pondering his next move.
The front is blocked , he thought.
To his side was a six-foot cement wall that his overprotective neighbors had constructed.
“No way,” he muttered at the immense structure.
To his other side was a waist high, chain-link fence. He concluded that it was a more manageable feat for his body running on a mixture of adrenaline and alcohol. He moved toward the fence, but kicked a hiding flowerpot, toppling it onto the concrete sidewalk. The noise filled the backyard. Roger bit his lip in anger. He didn’t waste any time as he plowed over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. His momentum continued as he fell into hanging clothes on the line, clutching them for balance. Roger focused on his fingers as he rubbed them together from the noticeable dampness. The neighbor’s house was dark and lifeless; the residents seemed to be out-of-town. The middle-aged couple that lived inside traveled frequently for their respective jobs, and often both were away at the same time.
Maybe they forgot their clothes , he thought, but as his memory focused on the swaying fabric, images of last night’s action filled his mind.
Roger remembered his sarcastic comment while standing in front of the window. “Her clothes should be dry soon,” he had said. Then he remembered Lois’ response, “I didn’t even know it was supposed to rain today.” The thought of rain filled his mind. He remembered the stormy weather from his drive home from work yesterday and his dash from the car holding his umbrella. Fragments of clear thought began to fill a few of the cracks. His after-work shower, dressing in a suit, and Lois’ red lipstick all pointed to one fact that was vividly clear to him now.
He murmured his newly recalled fact, “Last night, we had dinner reservations downtown.”
9
While Roger had embarked on the most disheartening journey of his life, Lois remained comatose inside her secluded hospital room. Although she lay physically inside the confined room filled with the sound of electronic beeps and scheduled blood pressure pumps, she was actually far, far away. Her mind did not think; it did not react; it did not dream. It was simply dark, but not like the darkness of a cloud-covered night or a lightless room. It was more like the darkness of a bottomless hole, deep in the void of a distant part of the universe where all minds traveled when the lights had gone out.
The door screeched open, adding a new noise to the rhythmic chamber.
“Here she is, sir,” the soft voice of Nurse Ann said.
The floor was polished in a high-gloss and, since this particular patient didn’t receive any visitors, it remained that way. Nurse Ann’s dainty, size six
In the entryway, a rhythm of bangs hit the front of the closed door. Roger tiptoed to the peephole, careful to refrain from any fast movements that could signal his presence. He looked through the hole. Distorted like a fisheye lens, he saw two figures who were barely visible. Even with the extreme wide angle, the hat and badges of the trespassers explained their intentions.
“We know you’re in there!” barked the officer at the door.
Roger jumped back in fright.
“Shit,” he mumbled.
He spun around and noticed the kitchen light still shining brightly as a beacon for the encroaching officers. Roger flipped the switch off and scurried to the rear door. He peered out, checking for any sign of the invading force. The moon lit the backyard as lawn furniture and animal ornaments sprinkled the grass. Roger stepped out as his footsteps vanished into the soft, supportive lawn. He paused, pondering his next move.
The front is blocked , he thought.
To his side was a six-foot cement wall that his overprotective neighbors had constructed.
“No way,” he muttered at the immense structure.
To his other side was a waist high, chain-link fence. He concluded that it was a more manageable feat for his body running on a mixture of adrenaline and alcohol. He moved toward the fence, but kicked a hiding flowerpot, toppling it onto the concrete sidewalk. The noise filled the backyard. Roger bit his lip in anger. He didn’t waste any time as he plowed over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. His momentum continued as he fell into hanging clothes on the line, clutching them for balance. Roger focused on his fingers as he rubbed them together from the noticeable dampness. The neighbor’s house was dark and lifeless; the residents seemed to be out-of-town. The middle-aged couple that lived inside traveled frequently for their respective jobs, and often both were away at the same time.
Maybe they forgot their clothes , he thought, but as his memory focused on the swaying fabric, images of last night’s action filled his mind.
Roger remembered his sarcastic comment while standing in front of the window. “Her clothes should be dry soon,” he had said. Then he remembered Lois’ response, “I didn’t even know it was supposed to rain today.” The thought of rain filled his mind. He remembered the stormy weather from his drive home from work yesterday and his dash from the car holding his umbrella. Fragments of clear thought began to fill a few of the cracks. His after-work shower, dressing in a suit, and Lois’ red lipstick all pointed to one fact that was vividly clear to him now.
He murmured his newly recalled fact, “Last night, we had dinner reservations downtown.”
9
While Roger had embarked on the most disheartening journey of his life, Lois remained comatose inside her secluded hospital room. Although she lay physically inside the confined room filled with the sound of electronic beeps and scheduled blood pressure pumps, she was actually far, far away. Her mind did not think; it did not react; it did not dream. It was simply dark, but not like the darkness of a cloud-covered night or a lightless room. It was more like the darkness of a bottomless hole, deep in the void of a distant part of the universe where all minds traveled when the lights had gone out.
The door screeched open, adding a new noise to the rhythmic chamber.
“Here she is, sir,” the soft voice of Nurse Ann said.
The floor was polished in a high-gloss and, since this particular patient didn’t receive any visitors, it remained that way. Nurse Ann’s dainty, size six
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