Point Freedom

By Huston Bartley

A trip through 1970s California in search of the last remaining sources of freedom.
Huston Bartley's new novella explores the audio and visuals that quietly inspired generations and where they all lead to.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Brick Publishing
• Release date: Mar 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005129668

Huston Bartley

Californian author

Book preview

Point Freedom

by Huston Bartley

COPYRIGHT 2020 BLACK BRICK PUBLISHING

ISBN: 9798569441907

Visit www.blackbrickpublishing.com

This e-book is licensed solely for your personal enjoyment. This e-book may not be sold or distributed for profit. Thank you for your consideration.

1

I spent the morning trying to piece together the fragments.

You were right. I shouldn’t have gone to the beach. It was too much.

Matt shrugged. Anything on today?

I don’t know. Layne sighed and smiled. I might do some arranging. Matt watched as she scuffed her flip-slops against the grassy margin in front of the house she shared with six others, an easy drift from her nearby parents sprawling bungalow. You doing anything cool?

Gonna go down to the fields and watch the heat haze. After that, I don’t know. Matt looked up to see if there were any clouds in the sky, his voice vibrating silently. See if I can pull up anything.

Cool.

I told Milo I might go up to Big Sur with him.

You should go. A bunch of us went up there last month. Layne grimaced. Why wouldn’t you go?

Well. Matt could feel the vibration. It’s okay further up the coast, but Big Sur doesn’t have it anymore.

What d’ya mean?

I better hit the road. The unspeakable truth forced a detachment.

The time between lying flat on his back and the haze inducing a disjointed stream of memories was lost on Matt. They might have been just moments, but something trailed after them. Street lights flashed through his eyes as he saw himself watching a couple of city workers laying asphalt on the end of his road, the smell still filling his lungs, a tarry hit out of sync with the creeping heat. He willed himself to let it bounce away.

It was an hour past dinner time and every minute was taking him further into the fine his mother would be forced to levy. The clear smell of early summer grass filled his lungs, the memory of late summer straw a rough reminder of skidding through his formative years. The real danger to a four-year-old gone walkabouts was the ticking clock of the neighborhood smoke signals, steadily moving from one house to the next until the mothers came to put an end to the fun.

The lime green grass faded into the haze, gently ushering Matt to his next escape, a rolling green framing a time of no responsibility. The feeling wasn’t just another replica of the previous decade... there were no shackles in the space between where school ended and curfew began. Grounded to nature through a grassy bed, he connected to every shard of sentience from back then, even if only momentarily. Matt wondered if his memories had been warped in time immeasurable, running through him like water through fingers.

As the haze abated, Matt recounted the tracts. He was still reverting to stock memories in between the ones finding him... the only worthwhile response was to access pure flows no matter the cost. Nostalgic safe spots were like landmines.

As he pulled himself up and flicked grass off his blue t-shirt, Matt realized he was lucky to be in 1974. It was a temporal bounce away, a trail of the supposedly magic ‘60s but without the clampdown… a golden time to operate in the now. Besides, there was the promise of a citrus dusk later on. He went over the clips in his head one more time, trying to retain them. It was in the details where he hung himself.

Miles. The payphone crackled like a faulty drill. Can you hear me? Matt could just about make out a voice, but it was from another generation. Mrs. Daley. If that’s you, please tell Miles to meet me at the Silver Ring before six. He’ll know where. He hung up, realizing it may have been Miles’s father. That would mean a military-style dressing down next time he visited. It was probably a good thing... socializing in the family home was a distraction.

Work it out, work it out. Matt hated when instructions invaded his mind. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t think of another way to direct himself. He knew he needed to get rid of everything resembling an order. Only then would there be hope. And that meant even cigarettes would have to go. Miles wasn’t going to like that, but sometimes friends are lost with changing habits.

****

The warehouse district had lost its way. Boxes and stray pieces of metal were strewn along