Dead End at Promise Drive

Brian threw a quick, nervous glance at the clock, the second-hand ticking down the moments of his life. His pale freckled forehead dripping perspiration, his normally red hair now auburn in color as each follicle was plumped up and coated with nervousness and fear. BOOM! The ticking of the clock thunderously resonated in his ears and head. BOOM! The clock seemed to be mocking him almost as though it knew tonight would be his final night. BOOM! Another second ticked by as Brian tried to calm the images, sounds and smells that started to flood his senses. BOOM! The clock struck again. Brian knew he could not stay here forever but could think of nowhere else to be. BOOM! He stood up. His well muscled body, an impressive six-foot five-inch frame, started shoveling newspapers, books, printed articles and magazines inside his book bag. The bright cheery blue color of the bag was in stark contrast to his black clothing –  black jeans that fit snugly and a black t-shirt that clung to his body from sweat. He rushed out the library door setting off its alarm. His pace moved from a swift walk to a full-out terrified sprint for his life. The librarian chased him out the door but Brian was lost to the fog of the night. His heart was pounding in his chest as the cool night air bit at his nostrils and lungs with each breath and he shivered. He found his motorcycle right where he had left it hours ago. In the daylight the parking lot seemed safe but at nearly ten pm it felt alien and dangerous to him. He fumbled in his jeans pocket trying to loosen the keys.  He could hear the snapping of twigs from somewhere nearby. The rustling of branches and leaves seemed to grow closer. Brian hurriedly ripped the keys from his pocket with such violent force that the flesh on his thigh was ripped open too. He shoved the key into the motorcycle ignition which made the red and black machine roar to life. As he put the kickstand up he could hear someone or something calling his name, he didn’t want to find out why.
Brian tore through the empty parking lot still hearing someone call his name. The cool air chilled his body creating goosebumps over his damp flesh. He pushed his motorcycle faster than he had ever before dared, the moonlight casting occasional flares of light when reflecting off the chrome words “Harley Davidson” tattooed on his gas tank. He shot out of the parking lot shoving through the gears as he sped down a nearly vacant street. His headlight caused more problems than it helped as it reflected back at him through the thick fog. The fog curled around his body as his speedometer climbed ever higher…. 60, 70, 80 miles per hour and he still felt as though he was being watched. Dread began to fill his body starting with his feet and legs which seemed like they were filled with lead, climbing up into his thighs then abdomen and finally settling into his arms and chest. Wispy tendrils of fog curled behind him as he cut through the night, his only thought was to make it home. Brian could make out the tail lights of a car up ahead and he slid towards the middle of the road and slipped right past the car. In less than a heartbeat Brian heard the sound of a siren and could see the dancing of the red and blue lights from behind him. He knew he should stop but fear drove him onward …. 80, 90, 95 miles per hour. He could tell the siren and lights were fading behind him. He took a hard left on Promise Drive. He was close to home now.

 

Leo Calletti, a heavy-set middle-aged man was out walking his dog. The all black poodle had been a gift from his ex-wife for his 43rd birthday. She had left him later that year for a 27-year-old Latin bartender named Raul. Leo had decided to name the dog Puddles due largely to its initial resistance to house training.  He bent down to pick up Puddles’ mess which he called ‘rauls’. He tucked this ‘raul’ in the pooper scooper when from the corner of his eye he could see something sliding on the ground, sparking as it slid past him on the concrete. Leo dropped the leash that held Puddles and instinctively began looking for what he had seen. Several hundred feet away in the pitch black fog of the night he stumbled over something metallic. It was a motorcycle. Leo began shouting “Hello” loudly and frantically but got no reply. Over and over Leo called but no response was forthcoming until one of his neighbors shouted back at him. “Call the police!” Leo demanded, ” there’s been an accident!”. Leo, in his black pajama pants and navy blue robe continued to quickly search for any sign of the rider but found only a tattered blue backpack and a set of keys. He began to head back to his yard when he heard the loud and distinctive yelp of a dog in distress. Puddles popped into his mind but once again the night had gone silent….