Scene 2, Without Knowing

Without Knowing 

      The light from the patrolling guard’s plasma torch flowed around the corner as I put my back against the wall my partner mimicking the move not a nano-second later.  The matte black of the Tronian Blastworks armor I was wearing were of a special make, not just to blend in with the shadows but to actually absorb light.  Like nearly all things worthwhile, nothing lasted forever.  After enough lumens had been absorbed, the suit would burn out and it would be no better than black cloth with ceramic tiles sewn into it.  There was no point in absorbing any unnecessary lumens.
      The guard swept the light across the hall a couple of times in the uninterested manner of someone who has done it a thousand times before and no longer saw the point in doing it.  The blue electrical hiss did not give the guard sufficient warning to turn back before the stun bolt hit him in the neck and he fell to the floor with a soft clatter.
      “Thomas,” I said, shaking my head.  “That was unnecessary.”
      “Now he certainly won’t be bothering us.”
      “While that may be true, somebody will probably know we have been here now.  Let us have no more and certainly no casualties.”
      “As you say, Antony.”
      The rest of the path through the subterranean labs left Thomas no further chance break his word as the pair of intruders encountered nothing larger than a mote of dust.  They found their way into the server room and began pulling devices from their pouches that looked significantly more functional if somewhat less elegant than the pristine boxes and tied off cables.
      The ease with which they connected their equipment and began their hack didn’t concern Antony in the least.  He and Thomas had been doing jobs of this nature together for more than 15 years and while born of different parents, were more brothers than many of the biological siblings he’d met over the years.
      Everything went smoothly until he felt a wisp of wind a moment before he felt the barrel of a blaster pressing against his spine.  Next to the enlarged eyes, a slight tensing of all his muscles, silence was his only response. 
      “Sorry, old friend, but Cynthia said—“  A lightning bolt went through me.  My former fiancée was dead.  She had died while I was away doing a job.  How is it she could tell Thomas anything, let alone something that would turn him against me?  “—and so it is with a sad heart, my friend that I leave you with this parting gift.”
      Thomas pulled the trigger.

Scene 2, Lies, Lies and More Damned Lies

Lies, Lies and More Damned Lies 

      Fade in from black to the opening strains of “Star Spangled Banner” as a montage of patriotic photos commences.  Pictures like the raising of the flag at Iwo Jima, an Eagle, Washington (probably several), Lincoln and what not.  As the patriotic tableau ends with the end of the national anthem, so silence begins.
      Enter a picture of the White House.  After a few seconds pause it changes to a picture of the oval office, two files can be seen on the desk at a distance.
      A few moments more and the scene zooms in on the files.
The files read NATIONAL BAILOUT PLAN & NATIONAL HEALTH CARE PLAN.  Visible at the bottom of both is Barak Obama’s signature.
Fade to black.

Scene 2, Untitled

“I trusted you!” Lisa screamed, throwing her hands in the air.
“That was your first mistake,” Tim replied.
“What is that supposed to mean? Why wouldn’t I trust you? You’re my brother!”
“Am I?” Tim sat down on the park bench, running his hands through his unkempt hair.
“Are you serious?!” Lisa yelled, standing in front of Tim. “What, because we were adopted? Mom and dad adopted us both when we were babies. Yes, we were from separate parents, but what difference does it make? They raised us and took care of us.”
“I’m not questioning mom and dad or their parenting techniques. They are amazing parents. We just don’t share the same blood.”
Lisa stepped back. “So we have to have the same blood coursing through our veins to be related? That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.” Her breath caught. “Not to mention extremely hurtful.” She tried to fight back the tears but one escaped, running slowly down her cheek.
Tim leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just being honest. There are things you don’t know. Things you don’t understand. You don’t want my blood.”
“Why don’t you tell me what in the world you are talking about and then maybe I will understand.” She sat down next to Tim and placed her hand on his shoulder. He immediately pulled away and stood up.
“You will never understand. Neither will mom and dad. That is why I left.” Tim hesitated, shoving his hands into his jean’s pockets. “I’m not like you.”
Lisa tucked her hair behind her ear and looked Tim in the eyes, clearly expecting more. Tim took a deep breath and opened his mouth. After a few seconds, he snapped it shut and started pacing on the sidewalk.
Lisa looked up at the stars shining brilliantly on this warm summer night. It was the first clear night in months. She leaned back against the bench, trying to focus her thoughts. She never thought Tim would ever betray her like this. That he would rat her out to their parents when she confided in him. She made one mistake over a year ago and now it was coming back to haunt her.
“It was my one chance, Tim,” Lisa sighed, “to get out of this town and explore the world. Mom and dad have canceled my trip because now they can’t trust me. Just like I can’t trust you.”
“You’re safer here.”
“Safe from what? Don’t give me the whole parent lecture that I’m too young to be out ‘gallivanting around the world’. I’m 18. I’m graduated. I was given the opportunity of a lifetime and you took it away.”
“I’m helping you,” Tim answered, barely holding on to his temper. “Trust me.”
“Ha! You have some nerve asking me that! Why do you get to leave and I can’t? I don’t want to be stuck in this town forever.”
“You won’t be. I just … I just need some time. There are some things I have to take care of first. Once I know you are safe, I will talk to mom and dad and smooth things over.” The temper had left Tim and something else replaced his eyes that Lisa couldn’t quite figure out.
“What are you talking about? What do you have to do? Why am I not safe?” Lisa asked. Tim didn’t answer.
“Did you do something, Tim? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Lisa stood up and walked over to him.
“I can’t explain it. It’s too dangerous. Listen, I know you are mad at me. But I felt like I needed to tell mom and dad what you did so they wouldn’t let you go on the trip. Lisa, you have to trust me now.”
He was pleading. He had never acted this way before. He was the strong one; nothing could ever break him.
“Please,” Tim whispered, putting his hands on Lisa’s arms. He gripped her tight. “Please.”
“You’re scaring me, Tim.” Lisa tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. Much too strong. “Let go of me.” Lisa tried again, but Tim kept his grip firm. “You’re hurting me!”
Tim’s eyes were glazed over almost as if he wasn’t himself. He started to twist her arm back, pulling hard.
Lisa screamed. “STOP IT!” Tears were running down her checks, falling in big drops on her shirt. Tim twisted until the bone broke. Lisa screamed in agony.
Tim’s eyes came back into focus and he looked in horror at Lisa who was lying on the sidewalk, screaming out in pain.
“I’m so sorry.” Tim’s words were barely audible. He bent down, reaching out to touch her arm. Lisa scooted away, staring at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. 
“Please let me touch you. I can fix it,” Tim said as he started to reach out.
“Stay away,” Lisa said in a firm voice. Tim reached down again and put his hand on her broken arm. She tried to move it away, but he was too strong and she was in too much pain. There was a sharp jolt through her arm and then suddenly the pain was gone. She started to move her arm around, feeling nothing. The bone was healed. Lisa gasped. “How did you do that?”
“I told you I was different.” Tim stood up and backed away. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It was an accident. I am having a harder time controlling my … temper. I’ll leave now, but you have to promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Stay home with mom and dad until I contact you again.”
“Tell me what is going on. Who are you?”
Tim ran his hand through his hair again. “I can’t tell you. Not yet. Maybe one day, but not now. Can you trust me?”
“No.”
“Try.”
Tim turned around and ran off in to the night.

Scene 2, Just Go Now

Just Go Now 

      The sound woke Horace up, though he didn’t quite know it.  It felt more like something very large had been dropped on him from very high up.  He laid in bed feeling like his whole chest had just been crushed.  He lay with his eyes wide open, the small cabin room coming to him blue in the darkness.  It was a cold night, even though it was mid spring, which wouldn’t be good for the newly planted wheat crops.  A scarce crop meant scarce work for a miller, which he was.  But he wasn’t thinking about the wheat crops.  He was thinking about the sound that woke him up.  Was it a sound?  He put his feet on the cold wood floor, and quietly sat up.  Next to him his wife slept soundly.  He stood, and lifted his rifle from where it hung on the wall, just high enough that the boys couldn’t get it until they were old enough to use it-- which, when they were, he’d be sure they did.  Good boys both of them.  And though they were still young, 11 and 9, he taught them to work.  They worked beside him in the mill, fetching things for him, and watching him crush the wheat with his millstone.  He taught them too.  Showed them the smoothness of the millstone.  Taught them precision and tried to imbue them with a sense of pride in the work of their hands.  They worked plenty around the yard and house too.  They helped plant and tend the large gardens and fed animals.  They ran themselves ragged fetching water from the spring to the house and cleaning barns and stables.               Augie, almost 12 now, was getting close to that age where he should start learning how to chop wood and use a gun.  But he was such a thin boy and so shaky-handed that when he’d put the axe or the gun in his hand, it sent Augie’s knees to shaking, and his arms quivered and bowed all over.  So he’d taken them back quickly and let the boy go on to do his chores and play in the barn and along the endless open land that spread around their farm.  Nathaniel on the other hand, was only 9, but strong as a bull.  He had a thick body on him since he was a baby.  He had a bull’s head too, unswayable if he put his will to a task.  He’d get in his head that he wanted to carry two buckets of water from the spring to the house like dad and he’d drag and drag them up the grassy hill, sweat beading all over his soft face.  His wispy blond hair would get thick and wet and stick to his forehead. 
      They were good boys and he found a joy in them that he hadn’t found in any others he’d ever worked with, or known, not even their mother.  He’d found a different joy in her.  A joy that seemed to change year to year, season to season, day to day as they changed.  A change so gradual and so natural that he didn’t see it, only felt it.  The way that they’d come into each other and had stood next to each other and held each other up through work and storms and long days and short nights and cold and hot and the peak of sorrow twice, as two babies were born still.  That woman who he’d held as she wept over their tiny bodies that he’d put in the ground up the hill, which had become a holy place.  The woman who had held him, worked next to him and laughed with him in that wide-open empty land.  His help-meet, her help-meet.  The wonder and weirdness of creating three out of two, and then a fourth--children, and the weirdness and wonder of growing all of them up together in this place. 
      With his legs under him he felt the fatigue of the previous day.  He rocked a moment with the cold stock of the gun in his hand.  Then he looked at his wife sleeping without a care one more time, still feeling that slice of panic in his guts.  He opened their bedroom door, and walked quietly on bare feet over cold wood out into the great room where they ate and sat at night.  The fire was cold in its place.  It was late.  Over to one side was the kitchen, with its cold black stove.  Off to the other side was the door to the boys’ room.  He walked quiet as he could over the creaking boards.  The house of his labor that he’d built himself seemed uneasy around him in the dark blue of the night.  His arms felt heavy but as he stepped and stepped again he began to relax.  Nothing here, nothing out here so far away from anyone else.  I just had a bad dream he told himself.  I’ll just step outside to make sure, so I’ll be able to sleep easy again.  So he went to the door at the front of the house, and pushed it open with the nose of his gun.  It swung easy.  The latch wasn’t latched.  The panic in his stomach came back, like a brick of ice in his belly, melting and steaming.  Did he forget to latch it?  Maybe the wind took it and that’s what woke him.  He poked his head out the door looking into the moonlit night.  His springhouse stood dark just down the hill, and his mill sat just beyond.  The cool wind pushed against the door and he let go of his gun with one hand to hold it open. 
      A hand came from behind, crashing down on the hand still holding the gun, sending it to the floor with a thud.  Another arm, wrapped around his neck from behind, and the dull moon-glint from the blade of a knife caught his eye.  He swung a hand up in time to deflect the knife in time, and dropped to the ground, spinning and rearing his legs up ready to kick.  The man with the knife jumped back. 
      For a long moment, one that seemed to last forever, Horace didn’t know what to do.  The man was tall, thin and wiry.  He had long arms and tousled dark hair.  His face was dark in the night, but Horace could see it was dirty and the man had a patchy beard.  The man’s eyes were large dark coals that glowed white-almost in the sickly moonlight.  Horace slowly stood, rolling onto his feet in a squat and then raising up.  The man with the knife stood still, perched like a cat ready to spring, expressionless.  Before Horace could say anything, the man moved forward again--slowly, toward the gun.  The man’s eyes flitted toward the boys’ door.  The ice and steam and all of his twisted up insides lurched when Horace saw those dark eyes move, even briefly, toward that door.  He saw in those eyes danger and knowledge.  He saw in those eyes two more mounds at the top of that hill.  Fear and rage burned in his head, and tears blurred his eyes. 
      Horace pounced toward the gun, but he didn’t bend down for it.  Instead he went for the man, using his bare foot to stomp at his arm as it extended down to pick up the gun.  The man dropped the knife, yelping and clutching his stomped on arm.  Before the man could finish the cry Horace had him around the head, holding his strong hand over the stranger’s mouth.  His other arm hooked around the stranger’s back, and up toward his neck.  Horace could see his fingers digging into the stranger’s face, and pushed harder, and harder trying to hold this man’s mouth so he couldn’t bite down.  The man’s eyes bulged from his face, and he flailed in Horace’s grip, beating against his back, and shoulders; kicking Horace in the shins with his boots. Fear and rage burned in Horace like a bellows.  He pushed the man to the floor pounding his head on ground.  The man’s eyes lolled and he went limp for a moment in a daze.  Horace loosened his grip—his stomach hurt so bad.  When he let up, the man wriggled and slipped out from under him like a snake sliding sideways.  And now the panic in the man’s eyes was replaced by murderous rage.  And he came in every direction at Horace with booted feet kicking at him and his white clenched hands shivering and stabbing.  The man’s mouth was open wide and his tongue curled inside.  Horace saw his teeth like fence posts in shallow soft ground, leaning into each other.  He got his arms up, and rolled to his back as the man got to him.  He curled up his naked legs and tried to find purchase on the stranger’s stomach or chest to push him away, but the stranger was too quick and slender.  His fists beat Horace in the face and arms, and the man’s boots found his hips and ribs.  Horace rolled away.  The man was crazy, and continued to pummel at him.  The stranger lolled at him while he rolled and bit into Horace’s back, just under his left shoulder blade.  It didn’t sink deep, but it sent a shot of panic into him. 
      He rolled over onto his back and caught them man by the arm.  You just git, he said to the man quietly.   You just git on out of here and we’ll have nothing else to do with each other.  The man twitched a bit--thinking maybe.  But then Horace saw him pull the knife up.  They must have tussled over toward it, and the man smiled.  Horace grabbed his wrist and pushed up with his naked feet.  The man flew up in the air, but being held by the wrists, he came right back down on Horace, leading with his knee into Horace’s belly.  The wind rushed from his lungs and his vision went for a moment.  He didn’t know anything except that he had to hold tight, and he tightened his grip till he felt something give. 
      Horace came back to himself a moment later lying on the floor.  The stranger’s knife was lying next to him, but the stranger was up on his feet backing slowly toward the boys’ door.  Horace’s throat caught.  I’ll tell you one more time he said, you go now and we’ll have no more business.  You just go now.  But the man said nothing, and backed up slowly toward the door, one arm stretched toward Horace, hand open, the other hand moving back behind him.  Horace knew he couldn’t wait any more.  He couldn’t let the man move another inch toward that door.  The ice melted away and the last burning steam seemed to fill him up.  He felt the knot inside him shift and the power of that shift lifted him off the floor.  His eyes burned with rage and tears.  And in no time he was to the man, pulling him with a hard tug by the shirtfront away from the door.  He didn’t say it out loud, but he said to himself, you just go now.  You just git and we’ll have no more business.  The man squirmed, and loosed his joints and tightened his muscles and flailed like a tent in a gale. But Horace gripped him so tight he felt his fingers become detached from his hands, popped right from their sockets.  And He felt them close around the stranger’s throat and he felt them pulse with his racing heart as he squeezed and squeezed, all the while saying behind his teeth you just go now, you just go now.  He felt a pop.  Not his knuckles, but outside himself.  He was on the floor, kneeling on the stranger.  He felt the man pop in his throat and then lay limp.  His twizzling limbs thumped to the wood of the floor, and he lay still.  Horace tried to let go, but his muscles couldn’t loosen up.  His tears dropped onto the man’s filthy shirt, and still he couldn’t let go.  He couldn’t let go of the man.  He couldn’t breath he was so tight all over, until finally he got a breath into his body.  A spasm deep down in the instinct part of him that yelled BREATHE you fool.  And he filled his lungs and finally let go of the man. 
      He slumped to the side, onto his backside, and huddled over his knees.  Exhaustion, and stupidness made him feel like he’d fallen outside of the world somehow.  He sat huddled there forever, the rest of eternity, for a moment.  Then the cold air finally brought him back to himself.  His hands ached, and his legs were jelly, but he pulled himself up, gripped the stranger by the collar and pulled his body outside the house, out onto the porch.  Pulled him down the hill and put his body in the millhouse.  Then he went back up the hill, almost crawling from his tiredness.  He shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. 
      There in the boys’ door, stood Augie.  Fright pulsed through Horace for a second.  No, it’s just Augie.  It’s just Augie he said to himself.  What’s the matter Pa, the boy asked.  Horace said nothing, but walked toward the boy as straight and tall as he could until he was next to him.  Even as a boy who was about to become a man, Augie seemed so small to him at that moment.  So thin, and Horace cupped his head in his aching hand, and ushered the boy back into his room.  You hush up or you wake your brother, he whispered gently.  The boy climbed back up into his bed.  What’s the matter pa he asked again.  Horace knelt down by his bed.  Nothing he said.  Everything’s just fine ok?  I just had to check on some work I forgot.  All is well, you just go on back to sleep.  There will be no slacking tomorrow just because you was up late you hear?  I thought I heard you tussling out there.  No, said Horace.  I just stubbed my toe and was jumping about trying to get the smart out of it.  The boy was quiet a minute, and Horace was quiet too, just looking into his son’s eyes.  He fought the tremble that threatened to rend him and expose his lies.  But then Augie smiled a small shallow smile, and put his hand on his dad’s shoulder.  Ok, he said, and rolled over, pulling his blankets up over his shoulders.  Horace lingered a minute trying to find the strength to stand.  I killed a man tonight he thought.  I killed a man and hid his body.  I hid him behind my millstone because I was ashamed.  Just go now, he thought.  Just go now.    

Scene 2, Husbands, Love Your Wife

Fog rolled in the background as a light drizzle danced off of a heavy cover of thick, green leaves. Flashes of light could be seen for split seconds from one area in the background and then another, followed quickly by rolling waves of concussions and rat-a-tat thumping. Music swelled while Private First Class Martin looked down at his Sergeant, and friend. Cooper was strong. He had led this squad for the last few months, often going weeks at a time without word, or supplies, from base. Surrounded on three sides by hostile forces, Sgt. Cooper had lead his squad to overcome insurmountable odds time and again. His strong jaw line was almost like a line the enemy could not cross.
Now his body was broken and torn. The man who had never needed anything before now needed Martin. Martin held his friend and leader as he lay bleeding into an unforgiving jungle.
“Promise me one thing, Martin, before I go,” Cooper sputtered.
“I’ll do anything I can, Sarge,” Martin answered.
“Take care of my wife, Alice, and Joey,” Cooper struggled to get the words out, his breathing becoming more ragged.
Martin looked away, his eyes unable to meet Coopers steely gaze. He took too long to respond.
“What … is it?” Cooper coughed, blood frothing at the corners of his mouth. His body jerking with anxiety and worry about his family.
“I’ll take care of them, they will be safe. You have my word,” Martin promised, squeezing Cooper on the shoulder.
Relief flooded Cooper’s body, and his ever hard steely eyes turned soft losing their focus. Sergeant Cooper’s spirit left his body.
Martin reached into his pocket, pulling the written message that had been transmitted to their base just hours before.

Sergeant Cooper, you are hereby directed to report to operations for transport home to respond to a family emergency. At 07:30 one Alice Cooper, and Joseph Cooper were killed in an automobile accident. Deployment Immediate.

Soft music wailed its mournful song, and everything went dark, with the words on the page leaving a faint glowing outline.


***


“Wow, that was some great movie, wasn’t it?” Rod asked eagerly.
“Yeah, I think I liked it,” Samantha responded. “I think the book was better though.”
“Oh yeah, the book really was great, it was a really good read, wasn’t it Sam?” Rod turned to Samantha, looking to catch her eye as the credits rolled.
Samantha studied the credits intently. Her feelings were a little bit of a jumble; she felt overwhelmed. She had been seeing Rodney for several months now. In fact, it was probably closer to say years rather than months now. She had never intended to date Rodney, certainly not exclusively, but over the months her options had started to thin out. But Rodney was always there when she felt lonely or needed to get out.
She turned to look at him. His hair was a dull brown and he had never learned how to tease it just a bit with product to make it look great, despite her numerous subtle hints. His clear complexion was probably his best feature, but he hid it behind glasses with far too thick of rims, and one ear was clearly higher than the other. His wardrobe reflected his personality, safe and a little out of date. She knew he liked to watch to the end of the credits to support all the people who went into making a movie.
“Come on, let’s go,” she said, pulling playfully at his hand.
“Okay, yeah, you’re right.”
They walked out under the green glowing EXIT sign to a parking lot. The spring twilight filled the air with the heavy aroma of blossoming trees and flowers, with just a slight nip in the air to make her shiver.
He put his arm around her, and led her to the bench beneath the cherry tree. He motioned for her to sit down while he paced in front of her.
“Do you remember, about a year and a half ago, when we first met?” he asked.
She smiled, but said nothing.
“You were sitting here, and I came up and sat next to you,” he rushed on.
She smiled as he went on, talking about their first meetings and eventual dates, but the smile didn’t touch her eyes. Inside her mind was racing. Where was this going? Could it really be what she thought? What were her options? Devon at the gym, but he had barely spoken to her. Rick at the Deli, but did she want someone who smelled of pickles? Could she do any better? Rodney did have a really good job. She could probably quit her job and stay home. Thoughts of Days of our Lives and BonBons danced in her head.
Rod knelt before her, lifting a small felt wrapped box to her. “Sam, I love you. Say you love me too, say you will marry me.’
Samantha took the ring and put it on her finger. It was a perfect fit. She paused, looking at how even the faint evening light made the diamond sparkle.
“Oh Rodney, I love you too. Yes, I will marry you,” and she threw her arms around his neck.

Second Scene

Just a quick reminder, you may comment on the scenes posted, if you have something constructive to say, regardless of whether or not you submitted one of the scenes. We welcome all comments, even if it's just to say, 'This was really good.' hey, we have egos too.

Also, you may contribute, even if you haven't contributed before, so for our second scene, please join in and send in a scene to dchadcluff+shortscenes [@] gmail.com (yes, really do include the +shortscenes].


The second scene is this:


Write a scene in which an honest person lies to someone who trusts them.


Please send in your scenes by Friday, April 23rd. I will be posting the scenes on Saturday the 24th.

Scene 1, The Party for Perry

They stood in the door, both of them looking into the large, tall-ceilinged room.  All the tables had been pushed to the walls, and sweet things had been layered upon them, wrapped in twisting red plastic and cloth table covers.  Streamers drooped along the ceiling, coming together in the center at the big glass light fixture where green and red balloons hung limply.  Inside people milled and mingled.  Some vapid and others maudlin as they stood in groups gossiping and drinking punch from small plastic cups. 
"Are we going in?" asked Teri.
Perry looked at Teri.
"Yeah, I'm just looking to see if I know anyone.  I don't want to just walk in and then stand in the middle of everyone like a silent awkward thumb."
"Well, who do you know?"
"I know that guy," Perry said pointing to a man with a tight white beard and a large round, red, cratered nose.
"Him?" aked Teri.  "Well, lets go talk to him."
"No.  Carl is weird."
"Well then who?" Teri breathed.
They stood with a small space between their shoulders, pushing against each other in the doorway. 
"I'm going to get something to eat," Teri said and walked into the room.  She was wearing a long red velvet dress.  She looked tall and slim as she went into the room.  Fearless, thought Perry.  His own dark sport coat seemed too shabby to him and he wondered if he should hang it up, or carry it draped over his arm.  He'd spent a good deal of the evening trying to decide if he should bring it at all. 
"I don't know what the dress standard will be.  I've never been to a Christmas party here.  The only other party I went to was a BBQ last July, and that was obviously informal.  The only reason I went was because I was already at work when it started, and so I grabbed a burger on my way out."
"Just put your sport coat on." Teri said.  "You'll only look awkward if you feel awkward.  Here, "she said tugging his jacket straight, and then putting her hands up to his cheeks, "you look great, babe."
"I do?" he asked looking at her.  Her eyes were clear pale green, soft and undeniable.  Her smile was crisp, and warm and natural.  She nodded.
"I don't feel great-looking," Perry said.
"UGHH" Teri pulled her hands down from his face.  "Lets go.  I'm starving." She said, grabbing her purse and heading out the bedroom door.  Perry stalled a second, and then followed. 
In the car Perry put his hand across to Teri's hand which rested on her lap.  "Don't be mad" he said.
"I'm not mad." Teri replied curtly.
"This is going to be even worse if you're mad."
"I'm not mad," she said angrily.  "Lets just get there."

Perry watched his wife pick a few of the light pastries from the table and put them on her plate.  As she did a man Perry hadn't seen before began talking to her.  She laughed, and then shook her head.  Her dark hair bounced in the back.  She turned and pointed at Perry.  She motioned for him, but he pretended not to see her.   He finally saw someone he knew-- Kyle, who he'd worked with a couple of times and had gotten along with.  He walked toward him without looking at him.  By the time Perry near enough to say hello, Kyle had turned and began talking to someone else.  Perry continued past, and stood at the table in front of the eggnog.  He began to draw some into a cup with the large hard-plastic ladle. 
"It's probably alcoholic" Teri said behind him quietly.
"oh" Perry said quietly, and finished slopping it into his cup.  He turned around and held his cup with a bent elbow. 
"How come you left me stranded over there?"
"What do you mean?" asked Perry, and he knew he wouldn't convince her with his tone.
"Whatever," Teri said.  "Have you found, anyone, that you know yet?"
"Kyle's cool," Perry said, nodding toward Kyle, who was now surrounded by several people and seemed to be telling a story.
"Let's talk to him" Teri said.  Perry grabbed her arm with his free hand.
"No.  He's busy." Perry whispered.
"So, what.  Are we going to just stand here all night and talk me and you?  That sounds like a barrel of fun.  I'd rather not have gotten dressed up if that's the plan. 
"You're the one who wanted to come to the party.  I said that I didn't want to go when the invite came in the mail, and you're the one who said, 'oh, come on hun.  It'll be lots of fun.'  Well, I don't know, maybe you're having fun.  Are you?"
"I just thought.  Oh forget it.  How long have you worked here, Perry? How come you still don't know anyone?"
"I told you, I know Kyle.  And it's only been a few months."
"Seven.  Seven months.  More than half a year.  That's as long as I've been working my new job, and I know everyone.  I only work one day a week and I know everyone."
"Well I'm sorry I'm not as social as you, dear.  I'm sorry.  Why don't you go make me some friends if you're so good at it.  I'm just trying to survive right now."
"Survive?  Why.  Are there snipers here?  Are you going to get shot if talk to the wrong people?"
"When you get laid off, then you tell me it's not a matter of survival," Perry snapped.
It's all in your head.  Just talk to someone.  Anyone.  How about him?" Teri said pointing to a man in a well-cut suit with accurately gelled hair. 
"No, no.  That's Rick.  He's management-level."
"You pick then."
"mmm, ok.  How about her?"  Perry nodded toward Sophia who was wearing a low cut dress, and obviously leaning forward to talk to a couple of men.
"You're impossible," Teri said rolling her eyes.  Then she looked at him and smiled.  "Ok.  Lets go talk to her." 
Perry flushed. 
"That's what I thought," said Teri.  She grabbed his arm and walked toward Kyle.  She tapped him on the arm.  "Are you Kyle?  Perry and I were just talking and he was telling me that you have the best stories in the office."  Perry blanched inside, and smiled, lifting his cup of warm eggnog. 
 "Oh yeah?" Kyles said.  "I don't recall telling any stories."  They all looked at Perry.
He shrugged and grunted a "huh" before a half chuckle.
From behind a strong hand clasped Perry's shoulder.  Warm breath fell on his right ear as a man began to speak with a deep voice. 
"Ah, Perry.  I'm glad you're here.  I haven't seen you at any of our other functions.  And this must be your wife.  It's a pleasure to meet you, Teri."  The man smiled and shook Teri's hand.  He was tall and wide-framed.  He was older, closing on 60 maybe with a softly lined face and hard features.  His soft white hair was cut close, and had begun to bald just a little in the front.  He wore a dark suit and blue tie.  His hand rested on Perry's shoulder heavily.  Perry stood as tall as he could, resisting the tremble that threatened inside him, and smiled.  "You are absolutely lovely,"  He said to Teri.  "You're a lucky man Perry." He said, and then turned to Teri. "We're pretty lucky too.  You're supervisor speaks very highly of your husband."  The man turned toward Rick and Rick nodded with a smile holding his cup high.  "I've been looking at your work too-- It's very good.  Fascinating actually.  Well, carry on here.  I didn't mean to interrupt."  The man released Perry's shoulder and walked away. 
"Who was that?" Teri asked. 
"My boss," said Perry.  "Graham Clark.  The CEO."
Teri smiled.  "You wanna go?" she asked.
Perry nodded.
"Lets get out of here," and they left.

Scene 1, A Christmas Blast

Christmas was always spent at a family party, held every year on the 23rd. Five years ago, was when I was approximately 16 years old, the Christmas Party fell on a particularly crisp, cold night. My parents had just been killed in car accident only a few weeks before and I was left to tend Alex. The situation was difficult on me, but I can't even imagine how it was for Alex, going through the loss of your parents and finishing middle school has got to be hard. Yes, we had a relative who "had custody" but the only thing she really ever cared to have custody over was a whiskey sour.

Over Christmas break we were attending the Family Christmas Party. This was the first time I ever remembered having the Christmas party professionally catered. Caterers in pressed black uniforms carried warm dinner foods from the kitchen area into the Cultural Hall where tables were setup and families requisitioned seats. I was talking to Grandma and Grandpa about the Christmas party a few years ago when my mother and I had sang for Grandpa. I wish now that I had spent more time singing with my mom. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the a commotion, I turned to see the East doors blow open wildly with such force that it knocked the serving tables on their side. A moment later I felt a concussions from multiple directions hit my body while bright lights popped and shimmered every where I looked. The hall was filled with high pitched howls, screeches and pops until you couldn't hear or see anything.

As my eyes cleared I saw with disbelief as one of the catering staff reached to his side and uncovering his shirt pulled out a small pistol, firing it in the same motion as he brought it up. As quickly as he raised the gun his body was thrown backwards, leaving a misting of fine red particles. I turned and saw helmeted men entering by each door way, rifles raised and firing. Everywhere I looked our catering staff lay dead or wounded. Families ran, crouched over, in terror. But it was all in vain. Anywhere peopled moved they were mowed down by the silent assassins.

This can't be happening, I thought frantically to myself. I saw Alex jump up and run towards the stage from where he had been knocked over when the doors had blown over. I saw the nearest attacker raise his weapon, pointed straight at Alex's back. 'NOOOOO!' I thought and screamed in rage, 'Not Alex!' I couldn't bear to look, my eyes clenched shut. After a moment I realized I hadn't heard a shot. Slowly I opened my eyes. Alex stood not 10 paces for my, eyes wide in shock. Behind him, the man who had been about to shoot him lay motionless on the floor. I looked all around me, everywhere I looked, black helmeted men lay fallen.

Scene 1, Another Untitled

"Do I have to go?" Derek asked while swinging his ear bud in the air.
 
"Yes you have to go. It's the family Christmas party. It's at our house!" DeAnn yelled as she took another tray of sugar cookies out of the oven.
 
"Mom, the party is always lame. It's just a bunch of people thrown in a room together for a few hours and having to pretend like we know and like each other."
 
"It's your family, Derek. Deal with it." 

The door bell rang as DeAnn was arranging the sugar cookies on a platter in the shape of an Angel. She frantically looked at the clock. "It's already 6! I'm not done! Derek, please go get the door and then go find your dad." 


Derek placed his ear bud back in his ear, walking out of the kitchen. "Whatever." 
Thirty minutes later, the house was packed with every family member Derek could think of. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, in-laws, and cousins (some of them twice removed). Even Uncle Joe's ex was there. Derek tried to hide in a corner where no one could see him, his music blaring to drown out the chatter.  


Aunt Mindy soon saw him, ran up and threw her arms around him, knocking out his ear buds. "Kyle! Oh, how you've grown! Look at you, what are you twelve now?" She put her hand under Derek's chin, turning his head side to side. "Acne. What a pain, right?" 


"My name is Derek. And I'm 16. Kyle is Barbara's son. He's 9." 


"Oh, you all look the same! Have you met my new flame? He's quite the catch." Aunt Mindy winked her eye, getting her false lashes stuck together. "Oh dear," she said, pulling them apart with her fake nails. A young Italian guy with a leather jacket walked up to them, slapping Aunt Mindy on the butt. He turned her around and pulled her in to an intimate kiss. Derek took this grotesque opportunity to get away.


“Derek, there you are!” DeAnn cried out. “Have you seen your dad? I told you to find him!”


“No, I haven’t seen him,” Derek said with a bored voice. “I checked every room in the house. I checked outside, too. His car is gone.”


“WHAT?! Well, when you find him you send him straight to me!”


Right then a car flew through the front of the house, landing in the middle of the room. Screams erupted as the glass from the windows shattered and pieces of furniture went everywhere. Panic and confusion filled the air.


Once the initial shock wore off, Derek looked down to see Uncle Joe pinned underneath the car. The driver side door of the car squeaked open and Derek’s dad stumbled out.


“I’m here!” he stammered, waving a liquor bottle through the air.


Derek turned to his mom. “I found him.”

Scene 1, Untitled

The lights were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that the party guests soon would be there.  Okay, corny I know.  Especially since it was more like egg nog (no rum too many people driving home after this) was ready, the glade pine scented candle had give the room a faux pine smell, the stereo was softly playing Christmas music.  Most importantly the clock, yes the clock.  It kept ticking and tocking.  Or perhaps it was more of a snicker-snack as I waited in uffish thought.  I expected that some guests would be late, but that not one was early or had arrived at all was something of a surprise.


      At half past the hour I was more than a little surprised, I was concerned.  Nobody had called, nobody had buzzed, nothing.  I set down the ginger beer I had opened a few minutes ago and went to the door.  I peeked out into the hall and saw nobody.  I opened the various locks and put my right foot out, put my right foot in, put my out and shook it all about.  After doing the hokey-pokey I was in the hall.  The silence was palpable.

      How is it in an apartment complex that all 4 tenants on the same floor decide to have their Christmas parties on the same night?  Should make for one frabjous day, calloo, callay!  Instead, it is making for an eerie night.  I wouldn't even mind some whiffling and burbling in the tulgey wood right now.  ‘Twas then I noticed that each front door was open.  Combine that with the silence and it was not just a shiver down my spine, it was outright dread.  My breath caught in my throat as I inched my way toward my apartment with my back to the wall.

      Once the door was shut and the locks secured, the sounds of “Silent Night” ironically breaking the silence that had filled me with such deep seated fear.  “All is calm, all is bright/ Round yon virgin, mother and child” when I heard the voice behind me.  “Fear not!  I bring you good tidings of great joy!”  The room began to fill with a white light brighter than noonday sun and I heard a new voice, the most peaceful and loving I have ever heard say, “Come to my arms, my beamish boy!”

      And suddenly there was a multitude of friends, family, neighbors and more praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest.  There is now peace on earth for 1000 years.”