Mon, 29 August 2005 Chapter 2 - The Darkest Group (Where?)
A sixth floor elevator door slowly opened to reveal a rather quiet sixth floor at an hour passed five as a man made his way out and past the empty secretary's desk. The man steadily bobbed and weaved back and forth through office desks and down hallways on his way to his predetermined destination, which was a corner conference room on the side opposite the elevator lobby where he had entered.The man, who was in his late forties, was built very strong, and appeared quite sturdy for a man his age. He had olive skin, and a thick dark full beard with bits of grey creeping through. He wore a suit of rather high cost and quality, and shoes of the same likeness. A serious look upon his face seemed to tighten with every step he took. He continually clenched his fists bringing his hands to a white knuckle, and then would release the clench along with, ever so slightly, loosening up his tensed expression. All while continually whispering, "Take this to the limit... Take this to the limit... Take this to the limit..." As he approached his destination he successfully calmed himself and slowly pushed open the door of conference room 217, as if to announce his arrival. He peered through the crack of the slightly opened door and scanned the contents of the room. He saw his brother and partner Chief Hector Priam of the city police department, and several other familiars all assembled at the table with the western sunset barely breaking the top of the hill where California St. splits the two luxury landmark hotels at the cusp. Like so many sunsets on the bay are, it would have been something to sit back and take in, but the night before had brought several issues to the attention of the group. There was one, more specifically, of the highest importance. "Franc," one of the fellows calmly acknowledged. "Mayor," Franc acknowledged in return. "I'm sure," another one of the men, dressed more professionally than the rest, burst out, "that you picked six at night because I love coming into work after all the rest of the workforce has already gone..." Franc interrupted abruptly, "It looks like the only piece that is not on our side of the board is the King." This quieted the room immediately. Franc slowly closed the door behind him. He had a collective presence now, somehow able to shrug off his previous white-knuckled tension for the sake of the meeting. "So Robert...," Franc began with the tone of a teacher speaking to a bothersome student, "I picked the only hour that we could possibly meet so that we may discuss my proposal on how to proceed without the king." "I don't see how that is at all possible Franc," said a man, who was more fashionably dressed than he was professionally. "It is Giovanni." replied Franc, "The reason we are unable to even court him about the issue is that he has such strong religious beliefs. This is why I think..." "I don't agree." Giovanni refuted, "Religious beliefs are not impassable, and I don't think they're the issue here. That's just an excuse." "I agree Giovanni-Paulo." Franc stressed the pronunciation of the names, "Religion is not impassable, and it is just an excuse." The statement rolled off of Franc's tongue to the extreme discontent of Giovanni. Since the beginning of the "pact" Giovanni had noticed that Franc and he did not mix well other than issues related to their work. Franc seemed to hold some sort of scrutiny towards Giovanni. Giovanni continually noticed Franc treating another member of the group with similar prejudice. That man's name was Juan-Pedro. Juan was the group's representative in South America, Columbia specifically, and he seldom visited the States. He was rather attractive and suave, but he never gave credit to himself due to his good looks, and mostly acted quite humble; almost in disregard or disagreement of them. Juan did not, however doubt his own personal power, or cut himself short and except less than anything he set out to make. Back in Columbia, and to a certain extent in the U.S., Juan-Pedro was a well known and often times feared man, and he did not attempt to hide it. Giovanni noticed and related to this quality of Juan's. For Giovanni had an extremely similar reputation within the U.S., and had the very same grasp of his own abilities. This was the troubling part for Giovanni. Both he and Juan were very powerful men that would neither accept disrespect nor give up an inch of their power. They were quite at ease with themselves, yet they both received and continually accepted Franc's mistreatment. It was common for Franc to disregard both Juan and Giovanni's opinion, and sometimes completely unacknowledged their statements altogether within the group. Franc seemed to have his ulterior motives just like the rest of the group, but at times it seems that his motives were almost combative to anyone else's, and Giovanni was quickly becoming uneasy of the forward motion of the group led by Franc. He thought to himself that he should speak privately with Juan-Pedro about this matter. Now Franc continued, "Gentlemen, we are now at a fork in the road. We have a major decision placed in front of us, and it is crucial that, with this, we are all in agreement to take this to the limit. Once agreed upon, set in motion, and executed there is no putting the breaks on this. As I had begun before; I picked the soonest hour that we could possibly meet, Mr. Baron, so that we may discuss my proposal on how to proceed without the President... tomorrow." Thanks, 'Brad the Dad' Copyright ©2005 Bradley Harris; Anonymous Category: novel text -- posted at: 11:47 PM Comments[2] |
Mon, 29 August 2005  Chapter 2 - "The Darkest Group"Comments[0] |
Wed, 10 August 2005 Chapter 1: Father and Son (Where?)
As Bradley secured his three-year-old son in his high chair, he finally sat down at the dinner table, and lowered his head in prayer. His son did the same.Little Gregory was obviously too young to comprehend the full meaning of prayer, and what power it held, but he gathered from his father's behavior that it was, without a doubt, an extremely important ritual that was conducted during specific events of focus. Bradley started, "Bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord; Amen." Bradley finish the nightly traditional prayer, and in an out of the ordinary act, he proceeded with a personal plea, "and dear God," Gregory raised his brow as to peak quickly at his father, "please bless my wife Elizabeth; Gregory's mother, and bless little Catherine. Both Gregory and myself wish they were both still with us. I know we both miss them terribly." Bradley raised his brow as to peak quickly at his son. Gregory had his eyes closed, and seemed to be rightfully in deep meditation, "Also, Lord, please help both of us to be strong like you, so that we can deal with our hardships. Forgive us for our sins, and thank you for everything you have given us," and in closing he made the sign of the cross. Although Bradley tricked himself into believing that the last bit of prayer was for his son's sake, he himself needed the strength more than anyone. Brad's wife and daughter were killed almost a year ago in a car accident coming back from Catherine & Gregory's daycare. That day Gregory was at home with his father. They were both home sick from their normal daily schedule, with the exact same flu. Bradley and Gregory laid on the couch all day long enjoying an array of shows ranging from the lovable Bear in his big blue house to watching the Giants win a pre-season game against their buddies across the bay. When Bradley received the awful phone call, about five hours after the accident actually happened, he was already terribly alarmed and worried that his girls were not already home. It was the storybook phone call. "Mr. Harris, this is Chief Priam from the S.F.P.D" He open-endedly introduced himself. Bradley replied, "Yes." "Are you Bradley Harris, father to Catherine Mary Harris, and husband to Elizabeth Mary Harris?" "I hope so," Bradley answered. The officer let out a slight breath in reaction to Bradley's response. " Sir, I regretfully have to inform you of some very unfortunate news." At that moment Bradley had all the confirmation he needed to know that he would never kiss his wife or daughter ever again. The informant on the other end of the phone also knew of Bradley's awareness to the fact that his girls were gone, but he continued anyway, "Your Wife Elizabeth, and daughter Catherine were killed this afternoon in a car accident." Chief Priam waited for a split second for a reaction. There was none, so he continued, "The accident was caused by a criminal who was being chased by another officer through downtown. The criminal was crossing Van Ness, and did not have the green light... I'm afraid your wife and child did sir. Your wife's car was blind sided by the criminal's, and the coroner stated that they were both killed upon impact." The rest of the phone call followed typical police protocol. In the end they wanted to know if Bradley would like a public servant to come over to the house to help emotionally and physically. He denied the gesture, and didn't want to ask any questions. Chief Priam asked one more favor, "Mr. Harris we will need some one to come down and identify them." Bradley took a while to mentally process the request and responded, "Catherine is the one next to my dead wife, and Elizabeth is the one next to my dead daughter." The phone call ended. Elizabeth's best friend identified the bodies. Before that, Bradley's only family was Elizabeth and the kids. His parents had died his first year in college. He was now alone except for his son and after that he kept close to Gregory all night long, and every day after that. That day was a turning point for Bradley. What he was from that very day, that very phone call, was nothing like he had ever been prior. Back in Marin, the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge, Bradley grew up well off with little material worries. His father managed a law firm, and made a handsome salary. While Bradley was in high school most of his worries were mainly social. He was well liked among students, peers, and parents. He had a very personable way about him; very cheerful. He seemed to be the universal peer; never associating with any one group of people, but rather being equally accepting by all. After the phone call he had lost all the joyfulness which he was characterized with, and became jaded. While father and son finished their blessed dinner, Bradley noticed that Little Gregory was not as hungry as he usually was. Bradley inquired, "What's up? You're not hungry right now?" Gregory rested his tired head on his fist as he slowly chewed the bite that was in his mouth as though he was forcing it down. He shook his head. "Are you sure, because I made you your chicken fingers, annnnd I remember the dip that Mommy likes to get you." Bradley was capitalizing on the fact that he had remembered the main ingredient to Gregory's favorite meal that he didn't realize that he mentioned the woman who never forgot it. Now as a footnote it was less than a year since the death of Elizabeth and Catherine. Little Gregory still held a solid grasp of his mother and sister, and when a child loses his mother and sister at an age where he can consciously hold onto their memory there will never be a right time to tell him of their passing, because he will learn it everyday. "I want Mommy dip." Since the dip in front of Little Gregory, and the dip that Elizabeth used to get for him was exactly the same, and in the exact same mini-container, and from the exact same grocery store, Bradley understood what this meant. Now Gregory is not mentally challenged in any way. Far from it actually. Bradley knew this, and also knew that when Gregory wanted "Mommy hugs" when he was sad, or "Mommy pillows" when he was tired, that he included a physical item in an attempt to say anything besides, "I want Mommy." In the past Gregory had said, "I want Mommy," and he was also unfortunate enough in the past to see his father's reaction after he had continually repeated it too many times. You could say that when he wanted "Mommy Dip" that he actually was reminding Daddy that there were two boys who missed Mommy and Catherine. Bradley rested his forehead in his palms as he drew a deep breath of composure in through his nose. As his inhale came to an end, Bradley's head and eyes rose to meet Gregory's. In the time of about three seconds of direct eye contact, and what seemed like complete silence, Bradley reminded himself that he needed to be there for his son. He said to himself that there was one young boy who couldn't deal with what life had dealt him without his father. After Gregory's comment Bradley wasn't very hungry himself, and took his time picking at his food, and feeling like not-quite-enough of a parent. Gregory imitated his father, and periodically looked up at him so he could further mimic. Bradley didn't really understand how much unconditional love and trust his son had for him. Gregory looked up to his father more than anything in the world, but for Brad everything seemed a struggle, and it was hard to notice the affection. Dinner was over and Bradley knew he had to rock Gregory's memories out of his head. He took Gregory out of his high chair and brought him up to his chest into a big fatherly bear hug. Gregory laid his head on his father's shoulder, and tried for a while to keep the thought of his sister and mother in his head by keeping his eyes open. But the fluid motion of his fathers swaying sent him to sleep. Bradley was aware how long it took to rock Gregory to sleep after the mention of Mommy, but Bradley also was aware that he still had a good amount of work to do before the night was over. As always he chose the importance of his son's well being over the work at hand. Bradley slowly and silently took Gregory to his room and gently laid him down in his bed. When Gregory touched down on the bed he, as always, rolled onto his stomach, and tucked his knees up to his chest into a tight fetal position. His eyes broke open slightly, and father and son made eye contact. Dread came over Bradley's body, at the thought of having to pick his son up and rock him to sleep all over again. Bradley had a habit of getting short tempered when Gregory acted stubborn about going to bed. Gregory noticed this in his father's reaction, so he decided to not anger him. "Daddy I miss Mommy, and Sissy." First off, that was one of the most complex sentences to come out of Gregory's mouth to date, and usually Brad would praise him for his progress. This moment Bradley had too many emotions running through his heart to commend Gregory. All he could respond with was, "I do too Greg. Big time." Gregory's eyes closed and he seemed to immediately fall into deep sleep. Bradley exited the room, and closed the door behind him. He leaned his back up against it, and rubbed his face with his hands trying to stop the crying. Tears rapidly fell down his face, but Brad held back any sound of sadness. He didn't want Gregory to wake back up, or to hear him crying in general. As the tears streamed down his cheeks, Bradley walked back toward his office. He knew he had dreadfully neglected his work in order to comfort his son, and that meant a lot of catch up. Bradley had placed a picture of his wife on the wall to the left of his office doorway, and a picture of his daughter Catherine on the opposite. He looked at both of the pictures trying to recoup, and did for the most part. He rubbed the remaining tears from his face, and pushed the door open wide. As he looked through the door his heart stopped. On the other side of his "office" he could see his computer screens blinking red with warnings that both the humidity had dropped, and the temperature had risen to a hazardous level. Bradley slowly scanned the two hundred marijuana plants that lined his office, and fell to his knees in despair upon the layers of newspaper which lined the floor. He now could not hold back the loud sobbing. His emotions took over, and an incredible feeling of hopelessness and defeat came over him. He clinched his teeth and pressed his palms against his face as hard as he could in angered release. He began to pound the thin newspaper covered hardwood floor, and he finally let out a savage scream. Shortly after all went black, he fell to the floor, and his bloodied fists soaked the front page of the Chronicle.
Category: novel text -- posted at: 11:14 AM Comments[0] |
Wed, 10 August 2005 Chapter 1 - Father and Son: for chapter in text visit www.attheappointedtime.com Please continue to stay tuned until end of the third chapter.
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Fri, 5 August 2005 Greetings brothers and sisters, please listen to my message. I am Brad the Dad and I will be the narrator of the podiobook, and I am really honored to be chosen by the author to do so. At the Appointed Time is an anonymously authored book, but is composed by an author who has written some of the most well read books in current circulation, and I'd be willing to bet that you've at least heard quotes from some of the older works which have been made into movies. I have contributed small bits to the book; mainly to modernize the language of certain younger characters. Stuff like slang, and other mostly unnoticeable things. I am actually really new to the book in general, and continue to be humbled by my unique involvement. I'm still not sure why the author thinks I'm qualified for this. The authorship of the book should not be of focus though. There are more important things you need to be aware of. Thank You, 'Brad the Dad' Category: novel text -- posted at: 2:50 AM Comments[4] |
Fri, 5 August 2005 Introduction - At the Appointed Time. www.attheappointedtime.com Comments[0] |
