Circles

By Patricia Donkers and Nancy Kelly

What happens when a crop circle appears in a neighbourhood farmer's field? The fictional novel 'Circles' explores that premise with a blend of humour, mystery, intrigue and drama. This is a character driven story that explores the effects of this unexplained phenomena on a circle of friends. Circles takes place in the fictional town of Durlin, Ontario. When Toronto journalist Joel Bennett receives a picture of a crop circle posted on his website, he travels to Durlin to investigate and prove a UFO connection. Once there he meets and influences a number of characters in his quest to find the truth. Teenager, Glen Dunn is the person who sends Joel the picture and lives with his religious mother, Theresa. Monk is a farmer with a hoarding problem in whose field the crop circle appears. Peter, Candy and Stacy Haverly are a returning family who are in crisis. Jerry Harper is the owner of the local newspaper who is in love with Theresa Dunn. Jean Watson runs the B&B where Joel stays and guides Joel in his investigation. They all lead separate but intertwining lives that finally climax in revealing secrets that Joel never expected.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Donkers
• Release date: Jan 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9780993650505

Patricia Donkers

The collective creativity of sisters, Patricia Donkers and Nancy Kelly arises out of a love of reading and an open mind to all of life's mysteries. Nancy lives in Orillia, Ontario with her daughter Kelly and Patricia is married with three children living in Barrie, Ontario. Stephen J. Donkers is the son of Patricia Donkers and is a graduate of film and journalism.

Book preview

CIRCLES

A Novel by

Patricia Donkers & Nancy Kelly

Circles

Patricia Donkers & Nancy Kelly

Copy Right © 2013 Patricia Donkers

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by Stephen Donkers

Image Courtesy of Wiki Commons

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual person's, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Grateful acknowledgement and appreciation to Stephen Donkers for his creative input in times of need.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

ISBN: 978-0-9936505-0-5

Chapter 1

Larry O'Reilly sat hunched over his kitchen table. The blue plaid flannel shirt he wore did little to hide his skeletal frame. His face was covered in a full grey beard but it didn't cover his sunken cheeks or the haunted look in his deep set eyes. All his attention was focused on the paper in front of him. His boney veined hand, pen clutched between his long fingers, moved in the same circular pattern over and over again. When the page was filled with the identical circular shape, he quickly pushed it to the side and continued the pattern on the blank page underneath it.

Earlier he'd cooked himself a simple dinner of fried fish, beans and boiled potatoes and it now sat, pushed to the other end of the table. Larry had just sat down to enjoy his meal when he'd felt a familiar feeling of foreboding wash over him like a cold shower. Deciding to try and ignore it, he put the first bite of food in his mouth but his stomach cramped, his throat closed and he knew he couldn't swallow it. The anxiety built up quickly until he grabbed the pen and paper and began the ritual of drawing circles. Larry was so engrossed in his task that he sensed rather than saw the bright white light that shone into his kitchen through the window. Lifting his head, he dropped the pen and lifted his once robust frame from the chair. Slowly he shuffled to his front door and opened it forcefully causing it to slam against the wall. The vibration of the bang shook the wall and a five foot piece of wood with a rope attached through holes on either end, fell to the floor. Larry didn't look back at the loud thud it made. He stood on the front porch, his eyes focused to the white light that hovered in the sky. Resigned to his fate, he closed his eyes and stretched his arms up in surrender .

#

The sun was just beginning to set over the town of Durlin. September in Ontario always ushered in the crisp cool air perfect for sleeping during the night but still warm during the day. The deciduous trees were beginning to turn to reds, oranges and yellows marking the end of a long hot summer. Early evening was still warm enough to sit on one’s front porch and that’s just what Jean Watson was doing, a hot cup of English tea pressed into her hands. This was one of Jean’s favorite activities, providing her with a view of the daily activities of the towns’ people so she knew what was going on beyond her front porch. Of course, it didn’t quite take the place of her beloved TV programs like ‘Coronation Street’ and ‘Murder She Wrote’ but it made her feel like she was involved in the community without actually having to become involved. Jean reluctantly removed her aching fingers from the warmth of her cup and stroked the orange fur of the cat sitting beside her on the cushioned bench. As she did she hummed her usual cadence, and a small smile pressed up the weathered corners of her mouth. The sky was cloudless, and the ensuing darkness was becoming peppered with the radiant shine of stars. Jean took her eyes up to the sky, looking for the big dipper. She quickly identified its location and proceeded to name aloud other constellations pointing her finger as she moved her eyes across the heavens. Cassiopia, Bootes, Leo, Scorpio, Northern Cross, Orion...my goodness, it's a wonderful evening for star gazing, she said to her cat.

Suddenly a light came into her view, different than the stars, brighter, high above the willow tree planted in her front yard. At first she thought it was an airplane and watched it streak across the sky. Suddenly it stopped and hovered then moved backwards and then moved forward and appeared to circle. Flying closer to her house, it suddenly stopped in midflight, hovering over her and then in a blink it shot over and out of view. Seconds later, off in the distance, a bright light appeared again, close to the ground and then it seemed to disappear into the forest line.

That looks like it’s just on the outskirts of town, she commented to her cat. The cat responded by blinking his eyes and turning his face away. Same as last time, she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

Swallowing the last gulp of her tea, Jean removed the crochet throw from her lap and gripped the arm of the bench. Inching forward, she was finally able to lift her ample body and she shuffled forward to regain her balance.

Well, Marmalade, let's go in, she said looking at the cat. It's starting to get chilly.Marmalade jumped from the bench and followed her into the house. Jean took one last look to the sky as she closed her front door. I believe things are going to get interesting around here.

#

Glen Dunn pumped the pedals of his bicycle as hard as he could. Not that he was in any hurry to get home, but he felt so good after the day he’d had, that he had extra adrenaline to use. He’d awoken early that morning and finished off the computer repair job for his mom’s friend, gotten paid for it and then had treated himself to the late afternoon viewing of the special double feature of the last two 'Star Trek' movies at the downtown cinema. Then as he was getting on his bicycle to return home, Stacy had walked right by him, smiled and actually said hi..He’d first noticed her at the convenience store and then a couple of weeks later he saw she was in his English class. He knew she was new to the school and found out her name was Stacy Haverly. She hadn’t paid him any attention so she did not notice his admiring glances, at least not until now. Since she had finally noticed him he couldn’t help but feel there was some hope of getting to know her. He was so immersed in these thoughts that he failed to notice the difference in the levels of road pavement under his bicycle tires until he was suddenly thrown headfirst onto the grassy side of the road. The jolt woke him from his daydreams but only temporarily. He rubbed his head and could feel a bump where he knocked his head, but even this and his skinned knee couldn’t deflate his mood.

He untangled his long gangly limbs and got them back where they belonged, righting himself and brushing the dirt and leaves off himself. As he prepared to resume his journey Glen noticed a bright light just out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and followed its travel across the evening sky as it stopped, reversed and hovered. Glen’s sparsely stubbly chin dropped in amazement. Slack jawed, he pushed his glasses firmly up the bridge of his nose and stared in wonderment. No way, he cried out loud. So cool! Glen jumped on his bike and pedaled as fast as he could, all his injuries now completely forgotten, as he tried to keep the object in sight without having another accident. Speeding down Walkers Lane, he took a sharp right onto Fairport Drive and then through the Durlin High School parking lot onto Duggars Road. He thought he’d lost sight of it a couple of times as it appeared to weave in and out behind the tall trees, but then he was able to pick it up again. He could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead and his legs were beginning to feel like rubber but he ignored all this as he raced out of town. He finally stopped at the top of Concession Rd 9, where he saw the strange light hover, noiselessly, over Monk’s farm. Glen quickly pulled his cell phone from the side pocket of his back pack and took a picture of it. Just as he decided to take another shot it disappeared over the tree line. Glen's eyes were transfixed on the horizon as the sky grew darker but the light didn’t appear again. He considered following to investigate further, but the dark road ahead of him and the encroaching gloomy shadows of the forest on either side convinced him otherwise. ‘Besides,’ he thought, ‘Mom’s expecting me home. I don't want to piss her off.’ Turning his bike around, he headed back to town. He was now anxious to get home and check the internet to see if there were any reported sightings of something strange in the sky over Durlin. What a day!

#

Known as Black Monday, this date saw the New York Stock exchange take a one day fall by 33%, said Alex Trebek.What is October 19th, 1985? asked a short balding man.

1987, it’s 1987 you stupid ass moron! yelled Monk at the television screen, grabbing at his head. I know this, I so know this. Aah, I can’t believe it. I would rock this game. Monk leapt from his lazy boy chair and threw his empty Sleeman’s beer can across the room.I can’t watch anymore, he said out loud in disgust. There was no one to hear him, since he was alone in the house as he had been for many years. Although he lived alone he had enough possessions for many more people. These possessions occupied almost every corner of every room in the big old farm house. Boxes, furniture, and bags containing long-forgotten items surrounded Monk. The only visible floor consisted of a path that led the way from the front entrance to the living room and the stairs leading up to the second floor, through the dining room and into the kitchen, where more piles, bags and boxes of canned goods, dishes and pots littered the kitchen table and most of the counters. A small area of counter space and the stove were still free from clutter, allowing Monk just enough room to cook his simple and solitary meals, but the piles were slowly encroaching on that area. Soon he would be limited to using only the microwave oven for cooking, if only he could find it! Oh well, maybe he could just buy another one, and solve that problem.

Over the years he had purchased enough items to furnish ten homes and feed and clothe ten families for a year and yet he still kept buying. His computer and large bank account allowed him this indulgence and he had taken it on with a vengeance. In this corner was a long sash window from which Monk now stood and stared out of. The sun was just beginning to set, marking the end of another day. Suddenly a bright light appeared just over the tree line on his property. Monk gasped and craned his neck to see around the corner of the window frame. He saw a bright light flying low, hover and then disappear behind the house.

Shit, shit, shit, shit! he cried and began pacing in the small space allotted him, rubbing his hand through what was left of his long brown hair. He took several deep breaths, trying to quell the queasy feeling of unease that was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach Cool it man, he said. It’s probably just a small plane, maybe an ultra light. Yeah, yeah, I was even thinking of buying myself one. Yeah, okay, I’m okay. I’m just gonna go to bed. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. He made his way to the stairs and began to climb them stepping over and around the items, boxes and bags that occupied every step up to the second floor. At the top landing he stopped to catch his breath. I... I gotta calm down first. Maybe, maybe I’ll see what’s for sale on Ebay. Making the trip back down stairs, Monk settled himself into his recliner and opened his Mac laptop and lit up a joint.

Chapter 2

The sun’s first morning rays penetrated through the partially opened blinds on the window, casting streaks of light across Monk’s face. He’d fallen asleep in his recliner again. His computer was on, but thankfully still perched on his lap. As he slowly opened his eyes he brought his hand up to shield them from the sun’s intrusion. Letting the foot rest down and placing his computer on the desk in front of him, he rose from the chair and yawned, stretching as he forced himself fully awake. He made his way through the stacks and piles, maneuvering along the narrow path until he had made his way to the kitchen, where he put on a pot of coffee to brew.

Finally, mug in hand, he took his first sip and mused over the events of the night before. At first thought he wondered if it wasn't just a dream. He was often plagued with strange dreams that left him unsettled in the morning but as his mind cleared he knew it had been real. Just thinking about it caused his heart rate to accelerate and he had to take a few deep breaths to ward off another anxiety attack. Finally feeling as if he could handle what he'd witnessed, Monk grabbed his jean jacket and opened the back door. From here he could see out over his acres of land and he found the spot where he’d last seen the light disappear the evening before. Teetering on the doorstep he hesitated, since he did not leave the confines of his house very often. Bracing himself with another deep breath and a final gulp of coffee, he set the cup down on a stack of boxes next to the door, then stepped outside. He set off with grim determination across the yard.

Beyond the large clearing directly behind the house was a strand of trees that made a natural separation from the yard surrounding the house and the rest of the land that made up his 200 acre farm. He set off slowly at first and then gradually increased his pace as his need to see if there was anything beyond the tree line amplified with every step. He stopped briefly at one point to pick up a large stick he saw lying on the ground. He did not own any guns, but felt better having at least some sort of weapon on him. He stopped again just as he came up to the trees. He tried to see through the low hanging branches of foliage and bushes to the field beyond but he couldn't make anything out. This is dumb, he reproached himself aloud. Man up and see if there’s anything on the other side. His self-berating done he pushed his way through the tall grasses and shrubs and now stood surveying the field before him.

Oh man…what the… Monk stuttered. Before him, sections of the tall dry hay had been pressed down. As he surveyed the area it appeared that there was some sort of pattern. Monk looked for the closest tree and climbed up as high as the limbs, and his little used muscles, would allow. Secured on his perch, he turned his head to look at the field and gasped at the sight. The intricate design consisted of a large circle in the middle and six arms made up of circles of various sizes, but in size order, that connected to each other at the end of each arm. The bent configuration of the arms made it look like it would be swirling. Monk was awe struck, unable to speak or to take his eyes away from the work of art because that is what it looked like to him. He sank back against the tree trunk and stared contemplating how it could be formed in his field.

Wow! a voice yelled from another tree further down.How cool is this!

Startled, Monk called out, Who’s there? Finally taking his eyes from the formation, he craned his neck around to see through the leaves. He could make out a figure in a red and white jacket perched in another tree.

Oh oh, a male voice said. It’s just me; Glen Dunn. Is that you, Mr. Monkman? Glen asked.

Yeah that's right, Monk called back. Now what the hell are you doing on my property and what the hell are you doing in my tree?

Sorry, Mr. Monkman, Glen said. I saw a UFO last night and this was the last place that I followed it to. I got up early this morning and came here to investigate and I found this, he said pointing out to the field. I didn’t mean to trespass.

Well get your ass down out of that tree, Monk commanded. Monk climbed down himself and walked over to greet Glen as he too climbed out of his tree. Monk regarded him a few moments noticing his tall thin build and red hair, before turning to look at the formation. Glen Dunn you said. Are you Theresa Dunn's kid? Glenn nodded. You don't look like her. At least not what I remember, but you do look familiar. Monk stared at him trying to place him to a recognizable memory. Never mind. I guess I've just seen you around town. Okay, so now you’ve seen it, he said gruffly pointing his head to the circle. Glenn, wide-eyed, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shook his head in agreement. Well, what do you think it is, I mean, it must’ve been some smart ass coming here, making it. Just trying to mess my mind up. So what do you know about it?

I…I don’t know nothing about it, honest. Anyway, I don’t believe it’s somebody, Glen insisted. He started to walk over to it and entered the outer edge of it. I’ve heard about them, seen pictures on the internet, but I've never seen one up close for real. Never thought, or dreamed that I would see one for myself.

See one what? Monk asked.

A crop circle, Glen said in amazement. When Monk didn’t respond, Glen walked further into the design and finally stooped down to study the flattened hay. Just like I read, the vegetation is pressed down but not broken. I recognize this symbol that's been made. It's called a triskelion. Amazing!

A tiska...triskit... Monk stuttered.

Triskelion, Glen repeated slowly enunciating each syllable.

Triskelion! Okay! Now just what the hell is that? Monk asked narrowing his eyes. I’d like to think I’m well read, but I’ve never heard that word before. I think you're just making that up.

No, I'm not, Glen said quickly. It's really a word. Honest, it's a shape, a thing with a certain shape.

Monk pursed his lips and lifted his eyebrows, his head tilted slightly in a mocking stance.

That's what the whole design is called, Glen continued. A triskelion is usually three sided but this one is six sided with interlocked spirals that has a rotational symmetry. You can see how it looks like it wants to turn counter clock wise. I...ah... read a lot of science articles, he said in response to Monks guarded stare.

You can be sure I'm going to look that up, said Monk. Anyway, so what? Who put it here?

Glen looked around him as if expecting someone else to be listening in on their conversation. Aliens, he whispered loudly leaning into Monk. But don't tell my mom.

Tell your mom? Oh give me a break kid! Monk said with a laugh. I didn't hear who you think made it.

I said aliens, Glen repeated in a louder voice.

Monk recoiled as flashes of memories of a time years ago bombarded him of bright lights framing dark shadowy figures. His breathing became shallow and he could feel the queasiness at the pit of his stomach and his heart starting to pound again. He tried to block out the memories by forcing his thoughts to focus on the present. He rubbed his bare forehead with the palm of his hand, trying to calm himself. Finally he looked at Glen, who was staring at him with a toothy grin displayed on his face.

Now you look here, Monk commanded, even though his voice quavered slightly, You just cool it with all that alien shit. There’s no such thing. This is just some ones idea of a joke. Anyway, I don’t want this to get around town. Do you hear me? I mean no one is to know. You don’t tell your family, your friends, even your girlfriend or I'll...

I…I don’t have a girlfriend, Glen interrupted.

Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass; just keep your mouth shut. I don’t want people all over my property trying to get a look at this trisa.. triska…

Triskelion, Glen again volunteered.

Yeah okay, just don’t tell anyone, you got it? Monk said trying to sound as menacing as he could.

Yeah sure, Mr. Monkman, I got it.

First thing, the name is just Monk, now get on home and just forget what you saw, Monk said. Glen turned and ran from the formation careful not to disturb the design as he headed for the road where he had his bike waiting.

#

Candy Haverly slowly opened her eyes and rolled on to her back. Stretching her arms and legs she turned her blond, tousled head to look at the other side of the bed.

Damn you, Peter, she growled. Peter wasn’t where Candy expected him to be and from the neatness of the blankets he hadn’t been there all night. Candy pulled her legs over the side of the bed and her feet found her slippers. The coolness of the morning warranted a robe and she slipped on her green silk one that was hanging on a hook on the back of the bedroom door. The house was still quiet and shadowed as she walked down the stairs and went directly to the small front room that had been set up as a home office. Sure enough, there he was, his prematurely grey haired head resting on his folded arms on the computer desk. Soft snoring noises filled the room. At least he had removed his dark rimmed glasses, as they lay on the desk next to him.

Wake up, she growled as she poked his back several times with a long painted finger nail.

Huh? The snoring abruptly stopped as Peter jumped and looked back at her over his shoulder. That hurt, he complained.

Aah, Candy cooed, You wouldn’t get a poke if you were in bed like you’re supposed to be.

I just dozed off, he explained stretching his arms up. What do you care anyway? You probably get a better night sleep without me in the bed.

That’s not the point, she started to say. Oh, what is the point? You’re just unbelievable, you know that? You spend so much time with your computer I don’t even matter! You're such a loser. I don’t even know why I----

Peter rose from his chair, pushed his way past his wife and quickly climbed the stairs to the solitary refuge of the bathroom. As he started the water running in the shower, he could still hear her voice berating him even though she was still downstairs.

When he was dressed for the day,