SUSPENSE STORY

                 "UNESCAPABLE PAST,INEVITABLE FUTURE"

In came his trusted manager, Johnny, and opened the blinds of the window. The pale rays of the evening sun splashed on his disordered bed and he felt his brain began to jump eagerly inside his skull. He squirmed on his bed wanting to extinguish the piercing pain in his head and that tremendous brightness outside his sheets.

“Wake up Ronnie! We have to prepare for that gig tonight. We have four hours man. It’s four in the afternoon for God’s sake!” Johnny reprimanded.

“Damn… Johnny what happened yesterday?” Ronnie asked as he fought to get untangled from the thick strings of sleep.

“You got drunk… again and started performing on top of the table for those people you invited. They were drunk as well. Oh, and you fell like five times off that table.”

“I hate when I don’t remember anything. I feel like I missed the entire party.”

“Yeah, well the whole living room is trashed with broken bottles and vomit in the carpet and all sorts of trash. We had a lot of people in here, man. I hope this hotel won’t charge us so much for that.”

“Relax…We’re getting good money for the concerts.

“Yeah, but if you continue trashing every hotel we stay at we won’t have any profit.”

“Just let me sleep one more hour… And stop speaking so loud… My head’s throbbing.”

Johnny left the window blinds opened and respected Ronnie’s request. He knew that if Johnny requested something it was because he truly necessitated it. He adjusted his fedora and left the room stealthily on his way to arrange tonight’s performance.

After the hour Ronnie had prepared his image superbly. He had styled his long orange hair back and his extensive beard rested on his chest dignified. He wore a black suit and tie. His shoes were lustrous and glamorous. As Johnny arrived to the hotel to drive him to the location of the concert he noticed that Ronnie was carrying his blue electric guitar. He wondered if perhaps the guitar served as a talisman, for he utilized it at every performance. Talisman or not, the guitar was a stunning beauty on Ronnie’s arms as it glimmered from the parking lot of the hotel.

“Hey, Ronnie! Get in, man!” Johnny yelled from his green 1970 Cadillac El Dorado soaked in gleam.

Ronnie tranquilly entered the car and solemnly said, “Let’s get out of here. The hotel manager is furious for our mess.”

Johnny turned on the radio and hastily drove out of the hotel’s parking lot and into the highway. Ten minutes after the tune in the radio ended Johnny asked, “Which song are you going to sing first tonight, Ronnie? Sweet Girl, Daily Day, Eternal Fire, or Golden Life?” He was truly curious for the answer.

“I guess I’ll know when I glance at the crowd.” Ronnie said gazing through the passenger window at the glistening green leaves of a great forest under the warm touch of an omnipotent sun. Indian blue robins were perched on each branch commodiously as if they had accomplished their life long journey and now enjoyed the soft rustle of the leaves. The trees swelled with them and the leaves seemed surreally blue. He noticed how the car swiftly passed by the beautiful landscape. “Don’t you ever think of how swiftly life passes by…Without us ever getting the chance to enjoy its beauty?”

“Yeah, like my childhood. I remember it as being so adventurous but I feel like I didn’t enjoy it completely. It just happened so fast, man.” Johnny was not at all dismayed of the rapid change of subject, for that was a common characteristic of Ronnie. He never wondered of Ronnie’s pensiveness because he believed he was of a different world, that his soul was mistakenly transferred to a mundane human body. He was just so different and Johnny liked traveling with someone he could not figure out; someone with spontaneity on a demeanor that was never masqueraded. Ronnie was rare.

Ronnie smiled at the epitome and began tuning his electric guitar as the conspicuous car ran with the freedom of a furious river in the highway utterly lacking of transit. The radio set to full volume accommodated the bolt-like speed.

In the backstage of the Edmund Theater there commenced the party of the wildest sort. Glasses of brandy glimmered in each of the inhabitant’s hand. All of them in utter joy as if the brandy was nothing more than pure jubilee. The music of rock and roll galvanized their bodies to dance. The laughter of women joined the music and the many aromas of perfume and cologne mingled with the powerful scent of alcohol. All were admirers of Ronnie. Some were music businessmen desiring to substantiate his talent to wealth. Others were gallant fanatics willing to do anything in order to inhabit the theater’s back stage amid their idol. Few were friends of Ronnie. None the less, Ronnie celebrated amid them without contempt. He danced and drank as if the world had never permitted him to be happy in his life. In his mind the people were mere projections. All that existed at the moment was the marvelous music and his savored brandy.

Johnny wedged himself through the crowd around Ronnie and gazed at him dancing with his companion: a green bottle of brandy. He stood their knowing with a certainty that this interesting man was attempting to forget a terrible fragment of his past, something which left him to resort to liquor in order to enjoy such parties. He did not possess the temerity to ask him what it was, afraid it might be a story located in the part of his mind where the saddest of memories are pushed back to never interfere with his daily thoughts. A potent attempt used to continue living.

“Ronnie the people are starting to come inside. You have to get ready to go out there, man!” Johnny said increasing to volume of his voice in order to be heard.

Ronnie ceased dancing instantly and drank full gulp of brandy. “Oh, my people. They deserve the best.” The crowd around him simultaneously began clapping in admiration. One of the assistants handed him his blue electric guitar. He walked towards front stage and Johnny following his trail. The people in the backstage stepped aside opening a pathway for their rock star. The roar of the excited horde of people resonated throughout the whole building. An assistant hooked up an electric guitar amplifier to Ronnie’s guitar. He finally stood on the stage with the bottle of brandy in one hand and the blue electric guitar in the other. The screams of fans relinquished. They grew tense with anticipation. A mist of silence spread throughout the immense theater. Ronnie threw the bottle high in the air and automatically commenced playing the guitar in animated tunes. The bottle cracked on the stage and with that, the people grew excited once more, dancing and screaming with joy. Small fireworks burst in the background accentuating Ronnie as he approached the microphone stand. He opened his mouth and a magnificent soft voice protruded, hypnotizing all. The immense numerous speakers that were stacked around the stage extended his timbre, winning all. After what seemed an hour of continuous glory Ronnie decided to take a break. He walked back stage along with the roar of his fans with sweat escaping every pore of his body.

“You were great, man!” Johnny screamed.

“Johnny, I am afraid I’m dreaming,” said Ronnie.

“Yeah! This is your dream come true!”

“No I mean I’m having a lucid dream again. You see, I should have known from the beginning. Remember those blue robins in the road? “

“Yeah…”

“Well, that was a dream sign. It indicates this is mere fantasy.” Ronnie awaited to see Johnny’s reaction.

“What? How?”

“Indian Blue Robins can only be found in South Asia. Now, this is a weird lucid dream for the very reason that you are present. You are never present in my lucid dreams.”

“But I remember waking up today, man.”

“As do I. Now, don’t panic because if you do you are going wake up… I think both of our dreams have somehow merged into one.”

“Does this mean YOU are my dream sign?” Asked Johnny not a bit skeptical and his vision rapidly clarified. His surroundings grew more detailed. He observed all the cords around him all leading to the stage, the immense velvet curtains obscuring them from the audience.

“Since I am informing you that you are dreaming you are now aware that this is not real. Now you are lucid. So, yes.”

“But listen to all those people. It sounds so REAL.”

Ronnie nodded his head. “This is incredible. It’s more detailed than any I’ve had. Come one let’s see what this dream has to offer.”

They both took steps dubiously towards the stage and emerged from the curtains. The scene was yet to be ratified. All was the same; fanatics roaring for more fun. They both stood on stage searching for another dream sign. Johnny’s palms began to sweat. The entire scene was too realistic and he feared he could not tell if this really was a dream or not. But he turned his head to the right and saw Ronnie reaching his arm towards the audience, all five fingers spread apart. There was deep concentration on his face until he suddenly stopped and screamed to Johnny, “I am not capable of controlling this lucid dream!”

Johnny’s eyes blurred again and a throng of Indian Blue Robins soared into the theater. All alighted in each of the people’s shoulders. He felt as if he was about to fall asleep when Ronnie claimed, “You’re dreaming!” Ronnie’s words were like an electric current and suddenly everything clarified once again. He glanced down his feet and saw with a tremendous surprise that they were both standing on the stage covered entirely by orange caterpillars. The audience seemed oblivious to the whole situation and merrily screamed Ronnie’s name.

Then a shrill feminine scream of horror sustained in the clamor. All the audience simultaneously turned toward the scream as if all controlled by the same controller. Ronnie remained attentive to see what would unravel but Johnny was on the brink of total terror, the idea that everything was nothing more than a dream dispensed some of the fright. The crowd spread apart in a perfect circle and revealed a tremulous woman pointing to a delirious man coughing blood.

Then, the entire crowd was infected with hysteria. People ran into one another with a desire to avoid contact with the Asian man. One of them was attempting to climb on to the stage but Ronnie was somehow obtained his blue electric guitar and smashed it on his head but there were a horde of them after him. The stage rapidly became over populated and Johnny was immobile. He just wanted the dream to end so he succumbed to it yet Ronnie wanted answers. “What does this mean?” He screamed. But the horde of people grew thicker and thicker until both of them where close to suffocation.

***

Ronnie’s bedroom opened suddenly. In came his trusted manager once more.

“Did you dream the same thing I dreamed?” He said anxiously.

Ronnie’s head again felt as if his brain was jumping in order to escape from his skull. He managed to sit upright and noticed he was covered in a mantle of sweat. “Yeah…The people…The caterpillars…The Indian blue robins…The man coughing out blood…All of that…”

“Yes! All of that I dreamed! What happened?”

“I think we better turn on the television.”

It was perhaps not a coincidence that at the precise moment Johnny turned on the television a woman newscaster was informing the public about a spontaneous epidemic in South Asia. “Nagpur and several other cities in India are currently suffering an epidemic caused by an unidentifiable virus. Indian government has spoken to the press and they are informing us right now that the virus is being extended from thousands of caterpillars known as the Common Crow who have a diet of oleander leaves. Experts speculate the virus has originated from oleanders. This virus is contagious. The virus has claimed the lives of more than a hundred Indian citizens. Representatives from NATO have also spoken and said, and I quote, ‘The situation will be constrained.’ All airports in India have been closed and the borders are restricted. We will have more information from this live coverage after the break.”

“What the hell, man!” Johnny said amazed

“How did we dream that? Why would we?” Ronnie asked.

“I don’t know but I’m really freaked out.”

“This age is about to change.”

“You don’t really think that will reach us right?”

“I think that dream has bought us time. I think that dream warned us from an inevitable calamity. We must use this time wisely. I say we have about four months before the end.”

“How do you know that?”

“I recall that in our lucid dream you awakened me at four and then you said we had four hours for until I performed. I interpret that something our times will change drastically at April four.

Johnny sat on the bed and attempted to absorb the news. “I know it is true…but I don’t want to believe you.”

“Take it as you may but if I were you I would spend all this time with the ones I love. Pack your stuff, Johnny. It was good having you as my manager. You leave tonight.”

They both stared at each other, both with solemnity in their eyes.

“What are you going to do?”

“I have to face my demons.”

***

Johnny departed that night on a bus to Atlanta, shredding a single tear. Ronnie knew it was time to confront the worry that had corroded his life. If time was fleeing from him, he would not flee from it. In the verge of destruction all demons must be slayed. For the past four months one question had tormented his sleep: should he kill the man who murdered his wife? He had paid great money for the murderer’s address. Justice never found the man but Ronnie found him.

In all his lucid dreams Ronnie searched for the answer. He knew that the guilt would end him but wondered if avenging his wife would save him. The serial killer had chosen Ronnie’s wife as his prey. She had been his manager then. The psychopath assassinated her on Ronnie’s tour van. Ronnie had seen the man exiting the van. He had seen his face. But the man rapidly escaped. When Ronnie entered his van it was too late.

That memory flashed in his mind as he began to prepare himself to meet Thomas Van Koeverden. He stowed a Cold Cobra revolver in the back of his trousers and wore a long black coat. It was four in the morning when he arrived at Thomas Van Koeverden’s two-story house located in a middle class neighborhood. Ronnie protruded from his green 1970 Cadillac El Dorado stealthily. He knocked twice on the door. After four minutes, Ronnie checked his watch, Thomas opened the door. Ronnie drew his revolver and punched Thomas with all his force on the nose. That caused Thomas to step back and fall. Ronnie entered the house and closed the door never leaving Thomas’s sight.

“You have come at last.” Thomas said on the floor clad in a gray sleeping robe.

“Yes, you’ve been dead since the moment you killed my wife.” Ronnie said impervious to any of Thomas’s words.

The revolver burst. Ronnie shot Thomas Van Koeverden four times. He walked back to his car and rode back to his hotel suite. The moon the only witness of his crime.

Four months left for the world to collapse and he felt closer to peace.

__END__

                                                                                               SOURCE BY-CHRISTINVAZQUEZ77

PUBLISHED BY-OURHELLO.COM