Bind

By Lucus Anthony Ren

Two of the most congenial residents at Province Living retirement complex, open and willing to assist in any, Hans and Lizzy, were rightly viewed openly as, hallmarks of good living. A young couple, new comers at the complex were lost in the property, couldn't find their own apartment, saw the party and rode the elevator seeking directions. For Jovan and Aria being lost wasn’t the problem, in knocking on that door opened unto a world forgotten, where its hosts so hospitable informing you can see everything is clearer now, now that you're feeling yourself. Isn't it? Now, in a moment or two you'll feel right as could be, just as nothing happened at all. And all those silly dreams you had will run away not to be seen again. Isn't that grand? Of course it is, now let's hold that breathe a little longer and all will be as right could be. Those tears down your little faces will be swept away never to grace your pretty sunshine...what's that now? You don't believe this? You want to go? But you are here. There isn't any place to go too. And why would you? Don't you like it here? Isn't it splendid? Look at all these moments and treasures you have.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lucus Anthony Ren
• Release date: May 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370561865

Book preview

Bind

Lucus Anthony Ren

© 2015, Lucus Anthony Ren

Self-publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. Limit of Liability and Disclaimer of Warranty: The author / publisher has used its best efforts in preparing this book, and the information provided herein is provided as is, and makes no representation or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaims any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for any particular purpose and shall in no event be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damage, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damages.

Chapter 1

How far?

That's what it was. A sound in the rain of falling metal, rolling slowly off in the left about a foot away. A light metallic tinkling. A strange dropped coin spinning before that lying flat sound coins make. But this rolled. Then only the rain could b heard. Along with his panting. And a fading. Slipping. A slipping, bending control onto itself. Normally, the only sounds on Monkey Mountain were distant train whistles and occasional car horns. When hearing another, a different sound, focus intensifies leaving a blank spot in the center of your thoughts, slowly filled with recollections searching common situations while the surface forming the outside of a perceived object, collapses. They left in the morning; it was 20 minutes later when they reached the site. Monkey Mountain had no light at that time. During the day birds filled thin, twisted pine trees seeking light at any cost. The forest depth at night reached beyond what most wouldn't dare guess of. Those who did, roamed its paths without companions. They were no different from the pines surrounding them. Only they could walk. And in that mobility, that gift of movement often forgotten halted by a sound which shouldn't have emerged. When things that shouldn't happen yet do, the attention enlarges through bounds and truth.

How far was it from his foot? Did it fall off the path? If it did then what? And what would you be looking for should you even think it was that, you sought after? Madness. It was nothing, simply a car or high pitch train whistle echoing off the trees, changed by the rain on the stones. No. It was something. He wouldn't have dropped it had it not been. Jovan bent slowly not wanting to lose balance, removed his left glove and touched where the sound last reached him. Nothing. Only the wet, cold stone. The story of his life before he saw her, in that one brief moment. That single time he met her. That moment of clarity it is often said. Yet what is really known about such a fragment of time, unless it was taken from you? If so its knowledge and power indeed have your commanding rights. You alone own that and not a soul may alter it.

In that flash he knew they'd only have, that briefness. Remembering the look on her face at that last second, was looking in the mirror. Too exact with the same thoughts, same eyes, hopes and fears, yet all would soon be taken. That moment was his. His time. It was his compensation for he'd all the reasons to understand and all the meanings in his life summed up in one moment. Like so many, they had their own conception of time. What both their minds processed isn't very clear, resulted in the fact they'll go the rest of their lives knowing very little, some form of reality intertwining a form of accursed, horrible nightmare of their own created lives.

The panting grew heavier. He could feel the warm breath on his face. He caught the faint sounds of whimpering. Shifting the weight on his left foot, he spun around reaching further out with the left hand. Nothing. He knew he was close to the edge of the path. Whatever made that noise must be close, either off the past or stuck between it's cobbled stones. The chill of water and wind on Monkey Mountain crypt over the exposed skin of his hand. He could feel the coolness of recent deaths decay growing up, into the arm.

Thoughts of warmer spring nights with coffee rose in his mind, then quickly faded, leaving him only with the cold and heavy breathing of a straining pant. How easy it is for animals, truly remaining their own masters. And as we are so close to dogs what more could you have for your own true friend. Their desire to please without reward, commitment to a bond lasted since both brought together thousands of years hence. The panting and whining increased and the clicking from the dogs nails on the cold stone circled him. They always walked together. The German Shepherd only a little in front or off to the sides, never far or too near, was nervous. 'Something you've found has caught us both,' he said. The Cale tilted his head to the side, searching for a better understanding of what was just said, while looking down urging the man's wet hand more to the right where what he searches, lies. 'Oh come on Jesus. Are you blind, it's right there!' thought the Cale.

Coffee, cold, wet animal fur, a mind rounding one of its bends that wouldn't happen till diapers worn, with teeth in a glass smiling at you next to your head all the while wondering, 'How far do people actually think?' but he always knew the answer. This whole silly mess, was all rather boring. The Cale made it real though. Plants too. Anything really apart from people, created surprising developments. The strain of humanity became too much causing a mind to snap. Those usually insane weren't, while those weren't, usually were. Animals never lied, nor plants. They could fool though. Still we adapted becoming both, liars and fools, creating our own worlds. In seeing her, one world closed, opening another.

Happening on any given day perhaps a hundred times, we become so innate with our own-self in that nothing really matters. And it is in this shock most have, these worlds colliding, Jovan mastered. Able to extract from these collisions required perception, a trick most never accomplished. And becoming this wizard-of-sorts was the very trade never expected. Why would you? Sometimes the thinking went too well, the insanity too real. So when around Ron their neighbor, things remained always tilted.

Ron retired at sixty-three, obtaining his wealth through a chain of hardware stored owned and operated over forty-five years. He'd stand there, legs spread wider than the shoulders scratching his back against the wall spouting the same ten things he always spoke about leaving Jovan wondering whether these were the only ten points in Ron's life. Even in the rare chance of meeting on Monkey Mountain Ron was never far from his points. Away from his store empire but holding the scribbling's that no one could ever decipher of how to repair this or that on paper which he always carried to remind those he ran into, as most wanted to avoid him, that he was in charge. Ron was looking to make it all the way to the end. And no one, for any reason, could change that. Joan contemplated on walks with Cale if Ron was truly insane. When you talked with Ron something in him changed. And you knew if you looked too deep into that, you'd get scared. Jovan supposed that's how Ron survived with his stores. He also supposed Ron collided all the time, but only with himself, so in that last effort in reaching, his fingers feeling something colder than the rain, and it was Ron he felt, as they closed around it.

Cale moved quickly licking Jovans hand. His gloved hand moved for the neck of Cale to calm him but the dog turned quickly extremely alerted looking back where they came. Something was there. Not far off. To get close was rare when Cale was near. The dog always vigilant, even sleeping Cale would cry out chasing some dream, paws running in the air. When challenged he'd stand the ground not moving until commanded or the threat was too high in which instinct took hold. In their world the conflict was short and always extreme. Our world was the opposite. Things simply dragged out till both parties gave up, killed each other, or had sex. That's why the animal kingdom prevailed and Jovan enjoyed it so. There was no second guessing. No imagination on exchange of money, or whether it would even matter. True, animals did offer food and territory