The Book of Finch: Tale of the Real 'Fingerling'

By Kris Attfield

The Book of Finch tells the true and rather remarkable story of a man who feels he is seeing moments of his life portrayed in modern popular media, most notably in the motion picture “The Number 23”.

Though the book might seem to be about a guy who’s made for Hollywood, the story takes a rather religious turn as Finch discovers a secret of the Universe – that miracles are reality, but Finch must struggle with a far from perfect church and the local mental health department.

This is the story of a most horrifying metamorphosis that can best be regarded as either truly magical or truly insane – it is highly evident that Finch characterizes at least one of those two characteristics. It seems obvious to many that Finch was crazy, but that which lurks in his past may have been indicative of the future.

What do those numbers mean, eh?

This book includes a series of 24 poems written during the latter portion of the story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kris Attfield
• Release date: Jan 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301122257

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The Book of Finch: Tale of the Real ‘Fingerling’

3.4 Edition

Kris Attfield

© 2013 Kris Attfield. All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

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All of the characters in this book are real and anyone noticing a resemblance to persons living or dead, probably knows me somehow or is aware of public figures, and well, it’s a small world, so there you go. Proceed No Further was the warning I heard... what’s the worst that could happen? Huge social outrage? Prison?

The following story is considered by the author to be true and authentic, based on his own personal life experiences. If you cannot believe what you read, then regard it as a ‘Fantastic Reality’, and not an unremarkable rip-off of a low-rated movie. By no means is this work an exhaustive presentation of all events and sayings. Details that are viewed as minor and not significant to the gist of the story are not included for the sake of those with short attention spans.

Some names have been changed.

Chapter 1 – Introduction

You can call me Finch, it’s not my real name, it comes from a pet bird I used to own, a Zebra Finch, the zebra finch is now dead, but these birds were possibly my very first pets (besides Fish – but my parents did have a cat before I was born). I can remember why we owned them: my sister wanted a dog, but my dad was allergic, so we got birds instead. All I know is I needed a name online, so I chose the moniker Finch. I wanted to use it, so I did, and now it’s been my alternate identity for over a decade, since approximately 1998.

Other influences for the name may be a) that I come from a half-Finnish family history and b) when I chose the name I was attending FFCA, the ‘Foundations for the Future Charter Academy’, which is kind of like a similar type naming deal because the F and C go well with the A, which is like a triangulated H.

Imagine me if you must, as someone in a story, someone perhaps you knew one time, or more likely someone who’s found himself repeatedly represented in entertainment, like music, TV, or movies. I see myself possibly being the real protagonist of the movie The Number 23 – and I wrote this first chapter as a parody of the first two chapters of the book in that movie, except my story is real – I’m trying to tell the truth as best I can.

As a kid I was top of my class, I hated school, but I was real smart, so I always did well. My parents brought me up in a Bownesian community (as opposed to the dustbowl in the movie), and I attended schools like Bowcroft Elementary or Bowness High. I had friends, but they all drifted away from me in life. I’ve lost all my original friends, and I’m very lonely. As much as I loved my father growing up, some of those friends at some of those schools ridiculed me for the ‘hunting’ lifestyle he raised me with, and as he didn’t have a job for most of my teenage and adult life, I lost respect and rebelled from him. Numbers were his life, he had a math degree, and he worked with computers a lot.

My family was really happy on my eighth birthday when I decided to become a Mormon; perhaps my childhood hell of name-calling and physical roughhousing with my sister would end, with a call to repentance.

Growing up, there always seemed to be a reason to hate or dislike a number of our next door neighbors, whether it be loud obnoxious music we don’t want to hear playing in the summertime, or a loud obnoxious neighbor who causes trouble, and the one that my dad really hated: his perceived enemy of a community of neighbors trying to force us out of our home, and he perceived they did this through the vandalism of our transportation. It sounds odd, but I find an easy comparison to Alfie, the neighbor’s dog in the movie, who was always in Walter’s yard, to my own next-door neighbor and his cat, Otis. Otis always came into our house whenever he could, and it was my job to get him out. I never went into the neighbor’s yard, but Holy Cow!! My next-door neighbor went off to Thailand and got shot to death on Christmas Day 2006!!! Mark Keffer was dead, and he was killed so far away from home I have no idea how they’ll investigate.

It was a whole day or two before the news reported the story, one headline reading Calgary man killed during Bangkok Christmas party mourned. I recognized the picture of the victim, and I knew his wife was Asian. Dead people might be why I gained fame, and now I’m trying to profit from it, by writing a book.

Chapter 2 – My Early Life

What is there to tell you about my early life? At the very beginning, I was born on July 29th 1984. My parents were baptized as members of the LDS church just months after I was born.

I can’t think too much of what my life was back then. I have a sort of memory of loving to fall asleep and nap with a big purple pillow my family owned – I remember being taken away from this pillow as I was taken to my first days of school – Kindergarten.

I remember there was plenty of playtime in Kindergarten. I remember during coloring time that the children had determined that colors like yellow, purple and pink were Girl Colors while other colors like blue, green and red were the Boy Colors, and the children made an unofficial rule that you could only draw with the color of your respective sex.

In Grade 1 I remember my teacher owned a bunny that she kept in the classroom, usually in a cage, but sometimes she would let it out to wander among us children. In Grade 1 I learned that the sky is not only blue at the top of the page, but that the air surrounding the people in the picture was also sky.

In Grade 2 we studied Penguins. The teacher showed us a filmstrip of penguin antics and we all loved it. I developed a love for the bird. I had homework to take home - reading assignments. The TV is a huge distraction for a young mind learning to read, and I have to admit that my learning ability wasn’t the best early on.

Somehow, however, I started improving my schooling ability. I was so good that at some point it was even suggested that I start reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis, but I have to admit that this book was still too advanced for me.

By Grade 4 I had every idea that sickness kept me out of school, and I disliked school so I was sick more than I probably had to be. That meant I missed learning about how to do long division – and I cried as I stared at my homework and couldn’t figure it out. My dad was good help in teaching me though, and I eventually caught onto the subject matter.

At the beginning of Grade 5 I joined the school’s army of patrols. We would help kids cross the street as they came to school and as the kids walked home from school, by holding out big red STOP signs to tell the cars to stop as we patrols would cross the street to block traffic. I maintained the simple rank of Patrol through most of my grade 5 career, only to be promoted to lieutenant for the last couple of weeks.

In Grade 6 I was chosen to lead as I was promoted to the rank of Captain for the whole school year. I was one of three captains - the other two were girls. At the end of that year I was greatly respected by my teachers and the principals - my high grades and clean nose (I stayed out of trouble) were likely what inspired them to hire me as the Elementary School Graduation Valedictorian.

A common theme of my childhood was that our family was very poor; I never really ever had an allowance, and the only money I remember my parents gave me were small two-dollar payments to help with delivering on the family’s flyer routes. I always got nice bonuses from my grandparents on my birthday and Christmas Day, usually about $50 from each grandmother per occasion, and I am thankful for that money – but as my father lost his job working for city hall, he had very little employment and life became very dull and very poor. I remember having to subsist on a breakfast of Shredded Wheat for the longest time; I never got to have any of the more tasty and fun breakfast cereals.

Grade 7 was the only year I spent at TB Riley Junior High School. I remember our original homeroom teacher that started the year for us eventually left his job, and us students had to wait for a new teacher. I never missed a day of school that year – I had become serious about getting good grades. When I missed some class and subsequently didn’t do so well on a thermodynamics exam in science, I was invited to visit the teacher about it – but I didn’t. That thermodynamics unit was the only time in that school year where I didn’t do so well.

For Grade 8 my Mom and I had a big argument about the new school she wanted to send me to. The new school was a brand new charter school. I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to wear the uniform, and I didn’t want to leave TB Riley. She was able to force me to go to the new school though, and I adapted to it and became successful. The other students were dimwitted – and they’d make fun of me with untrue, overemphasized and crude comments based on some characteristics of my lifestyle at the time. During this school year, I met Annie. I sensed enough vibrations to tell that she might’ve liked me, and I developed a crush on her in return.

I remember in grade 8 I wrote a position paper about why Quebec should be allowed to separate from Canada. The influence my parents had over me was apparent at this time in my life – my father’s family growing up had lived in Quebec and though he is of English descent, the Attfield family really seemed to voice the opinion that Quebec could or should be an independent state. It is interesting to note that my grade on that position paper scored higher than my friend who argued in his position paper that Quebec should remain a part of Canada.

Grade 9 was my last year at FFCA, the Foundations for the Future Charter Academy. At the end of the school year I got the award for having the highest average grade in all the classes. But, I was passed over for the valedictorian job because I had already been one. The valedictorian for Junior High graduation was the girl who was awarded with the top science grade award, I think.

When Grade 9 was over I sent a letter to Annie asking her if she wanted to be my friend. She eventually replied in the affirmative, asking me for my e-mail address in her response.

The best way I can describe a loveless life pre-girlfriend is that it is dull, boring, lonely and there is some slight heartache. Attaining a friendship with a girl you have a crush on who also likes you in return makes your soul sing for joy, the happiness goes to your head like a drug and one is as pleased as punch. Of course, with me, paranoia developed that the friendship would end – it was an irrational paranoia, there was no real reason to suspect that our friendship would end, but in my case the paranoia did have some merit.

Chapter 3 – Broken Love

I am an LDS, but growing up I made a mistake and I could never feel good enough for the church, even if I was generally a nice good guy. Since the day I was baptized, I was a CTR type guy. CTR is an abbreviation of choose the right. But life would not stay that way. What was my sin? Ever since my grandmother died, on the 1998 Christmas break from school while I was in grade nine when I was fourteen years old, I had a masturbation problem. I started masturbating right after she died, and at that point I was too embarrassed for myself as an LDS to consider myself a worthy member of the church, so I lied about the addiction, and that only made me less worthy. I do, however, believe that the solo-sexuality I engaged in was not only not-solo, but also not really my own choice to begin with: the ghost of my dead grandmother had decided to sexually molest me after she had left her body and I had to live under the social pressures of being a guy who was just too unworthy to progress in the church, and go to the temple.

I mentioned I had lied about it, which would explain how I got into the LDS temple for baptisms for the dead in early 2001. I didn’t like myself and I wasn’t proud of myself for my transgression, I was really quite low about my imperfection, but still I wasn’t the greatest guy for lying about a masturbation addiction and then attending the temple.

It was at the temple in early 2001, whilst I was standing in the library after doing some proxy baptisms, that I sensed an invisible being in the room with me, and the thought entered my mind, the inspiration, that now is the time for me to receive my patriarchal blessing. Eager to do something right with my life, after that evening at the temple I managed to lie to the bishop again to qualify for a patriarchal blessing recommend, and receive my patriarchal blessing from Gerald Melchin.

At the time I was suffering from a social hardship, Annie, my friend from Grade 8 and Grade 9 FFCA, was ending our friendship. I was interested in a loving relationship that could someday bloom into marriage but she was acting like she never wanted anything to do with me. I wouldn’t have bothered with her if my time at school and church indicated nothing between us, but at school I could tell she liked me and at church there was a guy who attended the church youth dances who somehow discovered her love, and announced to the rest of our youthful priesthood quorum that there’s this girl at the dances who really liked me.

During my friendship with Annie I met her as she worked at a public library, walking to her house with her and engaging in conversation on the way. I also liked to e-mail her and talk to her on the phone. Perhaps I should mention that I wasn’t just an unanticipated stalker she never intended to have around – it was Annie, herself, who gave me instructions on where and how to find her home and her place of work. My visits were not uninvited.

I thought our relationship was going well, she was nice, and I figured she would make a great girlfriend, so I eventually tried to claim her as my girlfriend, so perhaps we could engage in a friendly courtship over a few years, if I could manage my church life - I could have gone on a mission and returned home to this girl, for marriage. Our friendship was so enjoyable one never would have suspected that it would end so suddenly - and viciously.

There came a point where all of the sudden my communications weren’t coming so easy with her, she wasn’t responding to my e-mails and she was asking me not to meet her at the library anymore. I had already been professing my love for her, and I thought we had a pretty good relationship, so I grew concerned about WHY she and I couldn’t be in a happy friendly relationship anymore.

I had told her I would always love her, yet when I phoned her at the time of the break up, she had told me I COULD NEVER LOVE YOU! Those were very hurtful words, and there was no explanation why, as she claimed, I NEVER WANTED THIS! I didn’t understand what it was she didn’t want, and I got really confused as she exclaimed YOU RUINED MY LIFE. I have no idea how I ruined her life and she never explained.

Throughout my relationship with Annie, I had stated at least several times that I wasn’t good enough, feeling guilty about my masturbation problem and then lying about it – though I never told the reason why I wasn’t good enough for her. When we broke up, she loudly explained NO, YOU AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME. I was generally not given any reason for why she and I couldn’t be friends, and that really confused me – but being told I’m not good enough for her was really quite hurtful.

Her parents started to answer the phone on her behalf. One time, her mother, Veronica, bitched at me If her father knew you were calling he would be really angry! That really hurt my feelings, and the hurt was extreme. I drew the conclusion that her parents were forcing her away from me, and it really hurt me that I could not know