To Touch The Sky Chapter 4: Homeward Journeys
#4 of To Touch The Sky
And here is a chapter 4 I found constructed of parts written during several different time periods. I think this one would be the strangest for me to read as far as to see how my writing has changed over five years. In any case, this shall be the chapter 4 for now, and I will eventually get to chapter 5 and beyond.
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16 years earlier
The rain hit the window, drop by drop, leaving tear-stain trails down the pane. The only sounds that could be heard in the dark office were that of an old fashioned clock ticking away on the wall, and the shallow breathing of someone asleep. The blinds were drawn tight, only small streams of the scant storm sun coming through the shutters.
Just outside the door, an up and coming executive paced, trying to compose his thoughts before the confrontation. The horse's white mane was combed back to give off a "slick" effect, and the classic palomino gold coat disappeared just under a well ordered dress suite. His hooves clopped impatiently on the floor whilst his hand rested wearily on his brow, his long muzzle showing just the barest signs of worry.
Finally he let his arm fall back to his side, instinctively mirroring with his other into a perfect example of business. He let out one last breath to calm his nerves, stared long and hard at the golden plaque that adorned the wall, then knocked forcefully on the door---no turning back now.
Inside there was the sound of someone stirring, that cliché intake of breath that everyone makes when they're woken up in the movies. Several things could be heard falling to the floor, probably from off of the desk: a small "chink" of pencils, and something heavier too, probably metal. A confused "huh?" came from behind the oak then a few seconds later a firmer and more oriented "Come in."
The Horse, who had been fighting the urge to roll his eyes at the cacophony inside took hold of the doorknob and twisted, letting the door swing inward on its well-maintained hinges. The inside of the office was now lit with bright halogen lights, their buzzing already annoying the horse. In a swivel chair behind the desk a disgruntled wolf sat. He had obviously been sleeping, and he had jumped up in a hurry to turn on the lights, that's why everything on his desk was a mess. His name plaque was still face down on the ground, along with a few pens and an ornate paper weight.
"Oh, Mr. Baklow, I wasn't expecting you." said the wolf in a respectful but dutifully annoyed tone.
"You should have been," came the sharp reply, "you're production has been nearly nonexistent, and you know as well as I that you were sleeping just now." Baklow gave the wolf a contemptuous glare before returning to his apathetic-businessman's posture.
The wolf glared back, eyes in slits, trying hard to get the anger in his voice under control, "Look..." he paused just for a second to calm down. His breathing slowing down after the near outburst, "I know I may not have been the model of a "perfect" employee lately but..." his eyes glanced down briefly as he fumbled for an excuse, "things have been hard on me recently." The wolf's eyes filled with that pity-garnering sparkle that pups get when you tell them they can't have cake for dinner. On anyone under the age of twenty that might have looked semi-genuine, but in its current settings it just seemed fake.
"I'm sorry, but this order came straight from the stop, and I am in no position to affect it, you are to clear out your office and leave the premises within two days." With that the horse turned and left the office, closing the door in the process. From inside there came muffled curses and the sound of an ornate paperweight shattering against the wall.
Inside the wolf sat down in his chair, still fuming, but gradually getting himself under control. He snorted once through his nose, then again, soon he was flat out laughing: that kind of laugh that actors make in movies when they've just been punched and they find it incredibly funny; a laugh rimmed with pain and tinged with hatred.
"Fine. They don't want me anymore, then so be it! He turned back to his computer and closed the windows he had left open: The stock market, some well easily accesable documents that made it look like he'd been working, a few less appropriate sites...then he ran to the mail room, grabbed a few boxes, packed up his things and left.
Finally he was free of them. He had enough money saved up he could stay content for a long while, and thanks to the growing importance of software developers like himself, he had been paid handsomely. Now he simply had to play the stocks right and he might never need to work again...then again that never -really- happened, but he'd find something to get by on. He was free now and he had the rest of his life to do everything he always wanted to... which meant first things first.
He took all the boxes out to his rickety old sedan and piled them in the back, getting himself and half of his belongings thoroughly soaked in the process, then he hopped in the car, started it up, and headed down the road, ready to begin his new life, and this time, live it his way.
Sarah Laughed as she watched Hannah Running around on the playground, the young vixen beaming as the other children hurried around her, off to entertain themselves elsewhere. She sat in her bright pink gown, grains from the sand box running off the sleeves back to the ground. She looked up and smiled back at Sarah, all the joys of spring shining through her eyes, she laughed as another child ran head over heels into her and together the two of them sprinted off.
Sarah could still vaguely remember those days, back when everything was a game---of course she knew better now, there were too many things to worry about, and nothing seemed like a game. There was laundry to be done when they got home, then she had to send Sarah off to bed, she would already be hyper enough as it was; then there was the dishes, bills---ooh so many bills---until she owned a house she hadn't realized how much money actually went into them: Utilities, insurance, HOA dues, trash pick-up...and of course there was the mortgage...she was amazed at how they were still managing to scrounge by---oh well, there was the tropics in a month, finally a well deserved vacation from the hectic hustle and bustle of life, if only she could make it that long.
She snapped back to the playground and her children, letting the thoughts of palm trees float away on the breeze of a well prepared cocktail; that would come soon enough---if only it were sooner...Her gaze drifted away from the energetic children and came to rest on the carriage next to her. Inside was the latest addition to her family, he was such a cute little ball of fluff; well... when he was asleep that is. He was a handful to say the least, but she couldn't be happier that he was her little handful.
Her ears perked a little instinctually as she heard the fall, but she had heard enough of them that she wasn't immediately alarmed, but then there came the screams; not the normal irritated child but true and sincere pain; before she even knew it she was up on her paws and sprinting towards the ring of assorted little ones as they looked on at the small skunk in the center. He was lying awkwardly on his side, cradling his arm and screaming bloody murder. She was soon on her knees looking at the injured limb, he had fallen from the monkey bars and now there was a small piece of scarlet tinted white protruding from his forearm, a tangled mess of fur turning darker and matting down to the wound.
Sarah jumped up and looked around at the crowd of wide-eyed parents, searching for the child's---then she saw her, struggling through several walls of bystanders, rushing to the sound of her kit, she had been across the street buying food from a vendor. "Move!" Sarah shouted to the shocked observers, urging them to get out of her way running over and helping the small mother-skunk through them.
Everything moved in a blur...
Sarah sat down on the bench, physically and emotionally exhausted, she could still hear the whimpers of the little child in her mind. The ambulance lights were just now fading over the horizon, the warm pavement still bending the image till it looked like a dream in the fading light. Hannah was sitting right next to her, holding on to the edge of her skirt for comfort.
"Mama...is Trevor gonna be okay?"
Sarah smiled and looked down at Hannah, the cute innocence of her daughter lifting her spirits after the tiring ordeal. "Of course he is honey. They're gonna take him to the hospital where some nice men are just waiting there to fix him up, and just you see, he'll be back here to play with you in no time."
Hannah grinned a sleepy little smile and pulled in tight to her mother, content with the answer---at least for now---snuggling in against the comforting warmth. Sarah wrapped an arm around her little kit and pulled her closer, reminded once again of the wonderful gift her two little ones wer--- where was it! The carriage, where was it?!?
She jumped up off the bench, suddenly panicked, the small yelp coming from her daughter barely noticed as she desperately searched for the familiar black Stroller.
"James!" She cried, the fear in her voice immediately evident to those in the vicinity. " James, where is my James!!"
Several hours later, after the sun had finally dropped behind the urban scenery, and the streetlights had all lit up to bring morbid hope to the brick-laid wasteland Sarah walked inside her house, hearing the sounds of pattering feet as they ran towards the door.
"Mama, mama!" Hannah screamed in joy, running up and grabbing her mothers leg. Sarah smiled, the very action tearing at her heart, and a tear fell unbidden to the floor. Hannah looked up in childlike wonder ad a side of her mother that she had never before witnessed.
"Mama...? Mama what's wrong? Did you fall and get hurt?"
Sarah sobbed once before dropping to her knees and pulling her kit into a deep hug, holding onto her for dear life, now crying in full, the tears leaving darkened trails down her muzzle. "Hannah...it's...it's your brother. He...he might not be coming home for awhile..." Sarah grasped for words to explain something to a little one who still believed in monsters in the closet.
"Why not mama? Why won't James be commin' home?"
"I---it's hard to explain...someone...we think someone took him...and...and we don't know where they went...or if..." she could barely bring herself to say it out loud, somehow saying it made it more real, "...if he'll ever come back..."Another sob wracked her body
"Are they playing hide and go seek?" She said innocently, a tinge of fear on her voice.
"No honey." Sarah smiled sadly, tears still wetting her fur, running now war-torn paths down her muzzle, "They aren't playing a game...they...I..." She drifted off, completely out of things to say, just wanting to hold onto her daughter and never let her go.
Present
It had been two weeks, merely a blur to some as normality returned. The mustang was insured, and soon a newer model could be seen cruising through the streets, it's flashy silver paint-job blinding the same poor convenience store cashier daily, the golden retriever driving it completely oblivious to those around him once again. The bus was dissembled, and its parts were used to make sports sedans, porch umbrellas and several hundred watch-bands. Of the two deaths only one had any monumental effect, the family stricken with grief, the wife on anti-depressants; the other hadn't been discovered till later investigation, a homeless feline opportunist had been attempting to break into the unlocked Mustang when the bus had hit and as such ended under a pile of twisted metals; the police stepped up their monitoring of vandals and thieves on the street for a week or two to appease the bureaucrats, and a television special had been held about the brakes systems on city busses and whether or not they were of adequate power for such a large vehicle. Several witnesses went to psychotherapists, professing emotion scars and lasting nightmares, but in general life continued as always...save for three friends and their new acquaintance...
Nathan had been catatonic since the incident; he wandered around Matt's apartment with no goal in mind. Most of the time he sat and stared out the window, watching nothing as people passed, never once showing signs of recognition that the fursons below were even there, claws scratching gently at the window-sill in an aimless manner. Jaysen continually tried to reach him, talking to him for hours after classes were done, rings beginning to form under his worry laden eyes. Richie merely watched saying there was nothing he could do to help, duteously maintaining his GPA and not sleeping, opting rather to stare out the window with Nathan till both their heads drooped from exhaustion; he never let it show, but everyone knew he was eventually going to collapse, and soon Jaysen had one more to worry about.
Matt tried to ignore the fact that he had guests in his apartment daily. He cleaned up the vomit stains from the first night and steamed the carpet. When he arrived at home he would walk upstairs and work on his next advertisement deal, coordinating artists and inventing slogans, having already eaten at some restaurant. He occasionally talked with Jaysen, still unnerved by Richie and disturbed by his behavior; soon Jay and him were able to chat easily as friends, even though they rarely did so. Matthew attempted to maintain bystander status in this, but he knew he was much deeper than that already and had trouble sleeping worrying about the poor wolf downstairs.
And Nathan...he did nothing. He stared out the window, but in truth nothing was working behind his eyes as they watched furson after furson pass. He was vaguely aware of Richie's presence at night but he forced that thought from his mind with the rest of his thoughts. He tried to not think, afraid of what it might mean, of what he might conclude, of what he might feel, and he couldn't face that. He stayed awake because when he fell asleep he couldn't stop from dreaming, the visions drifting hazily over his eyes and drawing them down. Not nightmares, never nightmares, but dreams of life as it was, dreams of a normal day---now more painful than anything he had ever imagined:
He was walking through a forest, the trees on either side blurring as his focus left them. Tall trunks reaching up into the sky forming twisted patterns of light and darkness across the ground. The varied hues of brown, green and white stretching together as he travelled down the cleared path in their center, becoming one solid scene on either side of him, pictures of nature snapped in a second and left to hang at the edges of his periphery to guide him through an endless forest. Children laughed and ran from frame to frame, dodging through the trees, their laughter an echo carried on the rays of light through the ceiling of leaves, the padding of their paws rhythmic and light. Softer sounds of unseen creatures also filled the air, the dampened flutter of wings, the quiet cry of a foreign bird nestled comfortably in the matted bark of nearby oaks and firs.
Shadows passed by beneath him as they flitted about, their shape melodious and formless, their origin unknowing and unsure. His footpaws set down step after step on soft grass that grew everywhere in the peaceful scene, tinged lightly with yellows and whites but still a blazoned green.
He was sitting down in a small room, the walls completely white and the ceiling too far away to be seen. In front of him on the otherwise blank walls lay two photos of a pleasant forest, he vaguely remembered the scent of mist and damp moss, and mysterious life. The photos grew wings and flew off into the bright white sky. The wall in front of him split and through it was a long hallway, the sides adorned with cracks and vines, each creeping over the other in a tangled dance. The cracks spread to the floor, hairline fractures creeping down the hallway, stopping just as they touched the tips of his footpaws.
He sat there on the plain black bench, feeling its smooth surface press into his fur. He stared at the cracks for a moment more, tracing their progress as they reached out down the hallway, the floor now a muddled mess of shattered ivory. He lay down, and rain started to fall, a gentle warm rain that ran through to his skin and left him content. He glanced to his side again and saw Narren in the white, mandibles clacking expectantly, floor beneath him crumbling slowly away...what could he want...? Nathan was safe here. Nathan looked up again, the sky overhead was tinged with blue, the rain ran cold, and his fur was plastered to his skin. He shivered, and looked back to Narren. The grasshopper tilted his head before taking a slow step backwards, the ground beneath his paw crumbling, and in an instant he was gone, leaving nothing but a distinct absence of emptiness.Nathan looked up again, and this time the sky was crowded with thunderclouds and he had to shield his eyes against the stinging rain-
He sat up quickly and looked around. The room was once again white, formless, unending. He vaguely remembered water, rain, sadness, missing...something...
A childish voice echoed through the room, descending from sweet oblivion, singing the tune of an old nursery rhyme, but as the words fell they tumbled over themselves, whispering new verses in a familiar voice.
"Listen softly. Speak silently. Hear loudly. Understand fully."
Nathan stood and began to circle the room, his paw feeling the smooth walls, listening to the cryptic words with simple contentment.
"Listen softly. Speak silently. Hear loudly. Understand fully."
He stopped suddenly as he felt something new with his paw, an irregularity, a fault, a crack. He turned to the wall and looked closely, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find the fine line his paw was detecting.
"Listen softly. Speak silently. Hear loudly. Understand fully."
'What do you mean...?' He said to the voice, but all that echoed into the air was the quiet iteration:
"Listen softly. Speak silently. Hear loudly. Understand fully."
He returned to the bench and sat down, his eyes fixed on the floor as he listened to the familiar voice as it repeated again and again through the empty chamber.
'What do you want!!' he tried to yell. Slamming his fists down hard on the bench, head snapping up towards the emptiness.
Silence...
Sadness...
"Listen softly..."
His ears fell flat against his head and he looked down again, between his feet a small series of cracks were creeping out towards the wall. He looked up again-
He was in a forest, surrounded on either side by walls of living tissue and verdant hues, and across from him stood the listing shadow of an empty outline, the air shimmering where it didn't stand. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and the outline seemed disappointed.
"Listen softly," It said
Nathan walked towards the entity, but the further he moved, the farther it was.
"Listen softly," it said, sounding as if it had more to say.
Nathan sighed and sat down in the soft grass, staring at the figure of Narren as he waited for more.
"Listen softly,"
And the silence stretched on.
Narren continued to walk ahead, always glancing over his shoulder to make sure Nathan was behind him, and with one final step he disappeared through a wall of glass.
Nathan approached the wall and looked through. On the other side he saw a small room, it was his dorm room, or, it had been his dorm room. He saw each curve of light was torn into shards, every corner twisted to a point, each surface covered in dark blacks and searing reds that burned his mind even to see them---but Narren was in there...he had to follow, even if it meant enduring the dangerous thoughts that lurked within, so with one last breath of reassurance he pressed a hand against the glass, and it shattered, crystalline dust rushing around him as he was pulled through in a rage of winds.
On the other side everything was normal...the bed was soft, but the corner was still hard, and harsh; the light was bright, the colors it illuminated didn't burn at his flesh or try to tear him apart, but washed over him and became real. He walked over to the desk in the corner and ran a paw along the rough grains, feeling textures and tangible lines, drifting his pads over the well kept papers and finally brushing against a dusty picture frame that lay face down on the oak. He picked it up and looked in it as a tear fell gently from one eye and landed silently on the floor.
Within the aged frame he and Narren were at a restaurant, a hideously yellow cake lay before them, candles sparkling in a frozen moment. Both of them were so happy, smiling wide as Nathan hugged his love with all his might, determined to never let him go.
"Beautiful, isn't it..." came a familiar voice from behind him. Nathan gently set down the picture and turned to see Narren leaning on the opposite wall smiling at him...as well as one could with mandibles.
Nathan smiled weakly before looking sadly at the carpeted floor, tracing a pattern of green fabric that made diamonds in the design. "Not as beautiful as the real thing." He replied.
"You -left- the real thing behind, " came the gentle chide, "when you decided to hide away from the world. You gave up on the life I was a part off..."
"What life?" Nathan retorted, helplessness running through the words as they fell off his tongue like bile, "I have nothing without you, -nothing- worth staying in this hell for."
"So am I worthless?" the words struck like a knife, dragging along Nathan's side and bleeding out his heart.
"What do you mean?" Nathan asked tears once more coming to his eyes, "You were everything to me!"
"That's just it Nathan, to you, that's all you've been thinking about, but what about me...what about Jaysen and Richie and Catherine?"
Nathan cringed at the name of his sister, she was so dear to him, and the thought of how much he must be hurting her swept over him, drowning out any protests he had. Narren's mandibles clacked impatiently and with a sigh he walked over to Nathan and lifted his chin until their eyes met.
" I can't stay here, you know that. This is not where I belong, and it isn't where you belong either." He smiled gently, "You belong out there, where the ones who love you need you." He tilted Nathan's head and pointed it towards the window. Nathan saw himself, sitting at the windowsill, eyes closed and head tilted against the frame. Richie sat across from him watching him carefully, eyes troubled and ringed with an obvious lack of sleep.
"Richie..." Nathan said, thoughts pouring through his head, a torrent of guilt hitting him like a flood. "I have to..." He turned back to Narren who was watching him questioningly, "but what about you...? I don't know if I can face the world without you anymore."
Narren gave a good-natured chuckle and smiled. "You'll never face the world without me, you never have. We make memories in the world, in fact, that's all we ever truly make: everything else fades with time and dies into the past. As long as you remember me, then everything that you and I have will forever remain, and nothing can take that away from you. Whenever you need me, just remember, and I'll help you through whatever you need, I'm here forever, and always." With that Narren leaned forward and gently kissed Nathan, smiled one last time, and faded slowly away."
Nathan watched his love go for the last time and in that last moment decided what it was he was to do. He walked over to the desk and picked up the picture---now clean and devoid of dust--- and set it down again: face up. Then, with one last glance at the memory of his Narren, he turned around, walked to the window, sat down, and opened his eyes, finally behind them for the first time in weeks. He looked up at his friend who remained faithfully by his side and smiled.