Runaway Time

By David E. Schauble

RUNAWAY TIME

Every person is far more than what we perceive when we rely on our senses to judge. We are all one thread in the same fabric of life and share the same heartbeats, time and life-force.

Just graduating from an upscale small high school, Lisa looks forward to taking flight from home and starting a new life of independence. She has grown up in an affluent and sheltered environment spending her formative years raised by close and loving parents. Her father, whom she has idolized, tried to pass on to her the lessons of life, people and the world. But after his tragic death years earlier, Lisa has closed off and built walls stagnating that development. Now she is about to learn big and real lessons from life. The roller coaster ride into bad and ugliness of the real world will open every emotion, provoke inspiring thoughts and teach her that what is real is far more than what she has seen. Time and real life events will take her through unexpected twists and turns inspiring thoughts and gaining a true reflection of life, people and purpose far more than she has ever imagined. No matter one’s age or life, people and life events are not what we may judge or perceive, but often dramatically and unexpectedly different.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662455216

Book preview

cover.jpg

Runaway Time

David E. Schauble

Copyright © 2021 David E. Schauble

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-6624-5520-9 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-5521-6 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

To my wonderful and beautiful daughters, my family, and all those whose life and time has inspired this writing

Prologue

Spring 2012

On an early crisp spring morning, nature began to slowly lift the dark curtain it had shrouded over the city. A haunting coastal fog magically weaved its cold and clammy tentacles around the massive buildings and through the asphalt streets. Any details distinguishable with the newborn light were obscured in the thick gray haze that swallowed all in its path. Only the faint reds and greens of the changing traffic beacons penetrated the fog. Solitude seemed the only form of existence to survive the passing night. Suddenly an old truck engine broke the silence, followed by the rhythmically occasional thud of bundles of morning newspapers as they impacted the ground.

Several hours the previous evening, the flashing bright glitter of business lights had exposed the buzz and commotion of the city streets and its nightlife. Young and old alike dancing, dining, full of laughter, and brimming in the search for excitement and self-indulgence, it was a life existing parallel with but unaware of the world of those who actually lived on these streets. The outpour of commotion, engine noises of parading cars, and weekend celebrations overshadowed the neglected pangs of hunger, misery, and fears of those who dwelled here behind the walls and within the structures of this city. The buildings, architecture, and forms made this city unique. But the occupants and their plight patterns within tragically made it no different from any other.

A young couple meandered down the avenue, embroiled in their own world of conversation and plans for the upcoming evening. She was dressed in a lavish shimmering black Jovani evening gown, and he sported a double-breasted dark tuxedo. Both appeared to be on their way to a gala for the highest of dignitaries. They passed many others on the crowded walkway, singles, couples, and groups, each with their own style of attire and with their own agendas. Street vendors verbally shouted out advertising for the wares they were selling along the storefronts while on the other side, all types of vehicles cruised up and down the boulevard.

Just ahead, on the cold dusty steps of a closed storefront, sat an elderly Black man, deteriorated by his apparent years on the streets. The dingy green stocking cap pulled over his long shoulder-length snowy white hair, the oversized blue jacket, and tattered baggy pants—all remnants of the local Salvation Army—hid his true frame and structure. A scraggly white beard matching his hair color masked the wrinkles deeply engraved into his supple yet dark skin. He sat relaxed as if at home in his favorite lounge chair, his striking light-brown eyes staring at the stars above the skyline of the buildings. Those who passed by ignored his presence as if he was only part of the weather-beaten structure he inhabits. He sat as motionless in deep thought as did the paint-chipped and rusted handrails flanking the steps.

As the young couple approached, oblivious of the old man on the steps, the younger man stumbled over the elder’s large, torn, and laced barren boots, scuffing one of his new custom-made Louis Vuitton shoes. The old man abruptly broke his gaze from the stars and looked to the sidewalk. As the younger regained his balance and composure, anger filled his cold eyes as he glared down at the dingy figure on the steps.

You son of a bitch, move your damned feet, you old fart. Why don’t you pander your trash elsewhere, he harshly blurted out. I ought to kick your ass. Then he kicked the old man’s foot as if to even a score.

Without raising his saddened eyes, the old man apologetically replied with hurt in his voice, Yes. sir…okay, sir.

Restraining any further outburst of anger, the young man buffed the top of his shoe on his lower pant leg, muttering contemptuously under his breath. He turned sharply, appearing quite irritated for being so interrupted, grabbed the girl by the arm who appeared unsympathetic, and gingerly continued down the street. They faded into the crowd of passersby, again preoccupied with the festivities ahead. Everyone passing by had ignored the uproar as if it didn’t exist or would have made any difference anyway. Their lives continued uninterrupted and apathetic.

Remarkably, those earlier hours had now transformed that once-festive and colorful milieu of a world back to the now hazy, solemn, and dimly lit street world surrounded by massive brick-and-mortar structures hovering above it. The vendors, autos, crowds, and festivities had disappeared. The only movement was the fog, the steam rising from the underground manhole covering throughout the streets, and a few windblown paper scraps through the vacant alleys and down the sidewalks. The sound of the newspapers hitting the ground faded into the morning silence. The calm and seclusion reset and reinforced the vacancy of life as if an impeding catastrophe had forced the evacuation of the city’s inhabitants.

Suddenly the foreboding silence was shattered by the clamor of an overturned trash can then a ruckus and a young girl’s scream of No no no! Neighborhood alley dogs began to bark, then two loud gunshots tragically ruined all hopes of the natural, peaceful melody of the morning. First, there was one, then within seconds the second shot. Run, run! was heard, then scrambling feet echoed through the alleys as the dogs continued to bark, but only nature’s sleep seemed disturbed. No one awakened, no lights were seen to switch on in the dusk air, and no signs of life appeared as if this was a city of deaf inhabitants.

Soon sirens pierced the air, penetrating the fog as if it did not exist, and traveled methodically toward the dawn’s unrest. The red flashes of the pulsating and the blazing sirens zipped around the corners, rushing to the unseen disorder. The squeal of tires stopped the movement of the lights.

Then in a loud desperate tone came There are two down, there are two down!

Chapter 1

W itnesses report the first car blew a tire, swerved, hitting the second car as seen behind me, which struck the median and then flipped over twice before landing upright. As firefighters work feverishly to free the trapped occupant of the car, one can only look at this snarled and bloody mess and think, How could anyone survive this catastrophe?

All of a sudden the wailing cry of a woman’s voice can be heard off-camera.

No, no, oh my god, no.

The camera view quickly pans to a distant stretcher being carried to an awaiting ambulance, a woman struggling and reaching out to the mangled sports car. Again her horrified shriek abruptly breaks the broadcast.

No…no.

Present 2012

As a tear swelled up in the corner of one of her dazed yet grief-stricken blue eyes, Lisa’s own quiet unconscious utterance of No…no and the dropped hair brush striking the hardwood floor awaked her perception of reality. She sensed a knot in her stomach, and flushness coursed through her tensed body as the memory of that fateful morning 4 years ago again tore at her still-mending heart.

She felt she deserved almost all she had in life and had always been ambitious, yet even though being raised religiously, she had fallen away in these later years. She believed in what she had been taught but could never understand why she deserved to be unfairly stripped of her hero.

Instinctually reaching for a silver heart-shaped pendant draped around her neck, she stared at angel wings that made up the arches of the heart, an angel standing watchfully over a small child. Turning the pendant over, she read to herself the inscription on the reverse side, Wherever you go, whatever you do, may your guardian angel watch over you. She smiled at the comfortable warmth as it invaded her body. The treasured gift from her father was a cherished memento of his love, and it had always given her peace and security in troubled times. It was a special treasure and, as much, part of her as her own heart.

Glancing up towards the new twenty-four-inch flat LCD television perched on the wall above her white princess desk flanking the left of the window, she stared for a moment at the black screen of the lifeless box. Taking a deep breath, she wiped the wetness from her eye with her forefinger. Lisa used to be an avid watcher of the morning news until that one intensely fateful day. Now it was just a dark symbol to her and a dark hole, which it had left in her life. Taking a deep breath, she looked around her room with thoughts that soon she would be out on her own, possibly off to college and a new life.

At the end of her dresser, her eyes focused on her black leather baseball glove. Above it on the white wall shelf was a picture of her dad and her from years ago, surrounded by several trophies she had won over the past high school years. She had learned baseball from her dad, his favorite sport, starting at a young age and had become very proficient at it.

She wished he had been there during those games and accomplishments with her mom and brother over the years. Her pride swelled as her mind wandered to the many treasured and missed times in her young life in which her father would toss the ball with her and recalled one of the conversations he had with her.

You are a natural at this. But always remember a sport, just as life, is a team venture. Your strengths culminate from others too, enhancing your position in life just as you can enhance and uplift them but only with shared team play and team spirit.

Bing, bing! You have mail. The soft bell and announcement from her small laptop computer resting on her desk interrupted and averted her trance state.

She looked quickly at the alarm clock beside her bed—7:32 a.m. A little time left, she thought. She sat down at the desk and hurriedly opened her Facebook account, which she had only started up six months prior. It opened with a cheesy picture of her and a group of young girls dawning baseball gear and uniforms. A new message flashed

Good morning, movie star, Ms. Goldie Locks.

Her stepfather and mother had bought her the computer two years earlier for schoolwork and team sports communications. She had accepted the gift with the understanding with her parents it was not a socializing tool. But with all that was happening in her life and her rebellious teenage years, she knew they trusted her, and she had been sneaky chatting online. What they didn’t know, they didn’t need to know. They have made their lives. I deserve my own, she thought to herself.

Warmth flooded her insides, and she gleamed a girlish smile. Goldie Locks was her pen name from Joshua, a high school senior from out of the area whom she had met online and been writing to for about two months. He had shown interest in her after reading the daily diary of activities she had posted and always expressed nice and flattering words. She liked the way he complimented her pictures and his similar thoughts about baseball and her upcoming life and ambitions.

Opening the message with anticipation, she excitedly looked forward to the day, their first face-to-face meeting as he was planning to pass through town later that day on a scheduled work trip south of the area. As she began to read, the butterflies disappeared, and her heart sank in chagrin as she read on.

Sorry, plans changed, and I won’t be able to meet you today. Hope the freedom party goes well tonight, and you have fun at Jaime’s. I will try and get there next week, movie star…promise.

Disappointed, she opened a file to her collected pictures and scanned down to one headed Joshua. She stared at the picture of a young good-looking man with crew-cut blond hair and blue eyes. She gave a deep sigh. She had so looked forward to their first meeting. It was not a date, just a short meeting face-to-face. Even though she had never dated before, always wrapped up in school work and athletics, she was drawn to Joshua’s understanding and kindness toward her online chats.

Only two people had really ever understood her—her father and Jaime, her best friend whom she had known since grade school. Now there’s possibly Joshua, the only male friend she had ever opened up to and let into her life’s events and thoughts other than her father. Maybe that was her age, her own rebellion, or just a need to make her own decisions.

The newness of having a male friend was alluring to her as well as a personal taboo. Only Jaime knew about him, but he was a safe distance away, making it acceptable and safe in her eyes. Even though they had planned to innocently just have a short introduction meeting, he was still living in another town—a safety net to Lisa.

With the teenage years soon coming to an end and the desire to venture out and explore at her fingertips, she recalled her fathers’ words spoken years before,

Always live life to its fullest, and be true to your dreams and goals. But most of all, be true to yourself.

Saddened, she slowly turned off the computer, stood up, and adjusted her stance at the desk. Her eyes automatically shifted upward to an enlarged portrait hanging on the wall above it. Her posture straightened as she lifted on her toes as if to grow an inch or two. A smile cracked her brightening face, extending to the dimples being imprinted on each side. The photo memory depicted her father and a younger pigtailed image of herself sitting together on an old park bench with colorful playground equipment in the background. The admiring and loving gaze, as she looked at the picture, was the same as on the younger girl in the picture looking up at her father, her idol and champion.

A military vet from the Vietnam War, a successful businessman, loving husband, and parent, he was her shining example of sainthood whose nurturing in her life could never be rivaled. She distinctly recalled their conversation that day in the park.

* * * * *

One day you will grow up and be a young lady, off on your own…

No, Daddy, I will always stay with you and Mommy, she interrupted and continued, repeating the words he would always say. We’re family.

With a little chuckle, he placed his strong large hand firmly over hers and continued.

My little pumpkin, that’s a beautiful thought. And yes, we are family. This you will just have to take my word for. And always remember throughout the time that life can change in the blink of an eye. Live life to its fullest, and treat each day as if it was your last and best.

* * * * *

Lisa never fully understood everything her father would tell her but never forgot his sage-like teachings, his soft caring words always firmly engraved into her subconscious. With a deep sigh and smile, she quietly uttered to the picture, Today’s the beginning, Daddy. Today’s the day I start my own life, and I will make you proud.

With renewed spirit, she continued her morning primping and prepping. At the same time, she heard a door open and close down the hall outside her room. She froze all movement as she heard the heavy footsteps of her stepfather walking past her closed bedroom door and down the stairway at the end of the hall, knowing he was readying for his workday.

Just then her attention was seized and averted back to the window by a familiar muffled engine roar rounding the corner below. Moving quickly back to the window and peering out, she spotted a shiny, well-preserved, and polished canary-yellow 1995 Mustang GT round the corner and glide to the curb in front of the house. Tinted windows obscured any evidence of the occupant inside, but Lisa recognized the car and shined a smile.

No sooner had the car stopped and the motor became silent when the door swung open and an athletic-appearing teenage girl vibrantly sprung from the sleek carriage. Her hometown high school team ball cap, trendy Nike shoes, and white-lined dark-blue sweats flaunted her sports and school spirit. Her long curly brunette hair was only seen through the back of her baseball cap and bounced off her back as she spryly sprinted toward the house. Even though a few pounds overweight and short in stature, she hurdled the ten-speed Schwinn bike lying across the edge of the sidewalk with nimble grace.

Well, it’s about time, James, Lisa hollered down at the girl in a teasing manner as she waved.

Stopping to look up, the girl shouted back in a satirical tone, Jaime’s here at your service, Your Majesty. In loud laughter, she continued to the house entrance below, out of Lisa’s sight.

Lisa had known Jaime since they were both fourteen, meeting in high school. Although having financial differences, they had very similar interests as well as life situations. Jaime had never really known a father who had passed away of cancer at an early age in her life. Her entire life, she had been cared for solely by her mother, who was content retiring early, working from home, and providing a very modest yet nurturing lifestyle for her daughter. The loss of Lisa’s father cemented their bond. Jaime was just as void of a male parental figure as she was even though Lisa now had a so-called stepfather in her life.

As the churchlike rhythm of the doorbell chimed, scampering feet passed by her bedroom door and pattered down the steps. She recognized her little brother’s clumsy young footsteps immediately.

She grabbed her stylish Levi’s purse and a stuffed full Levi’s overnight bag sitting on the bed as she elfishly shoved her pajamas under the bed with her foot. Walking to the bedroom door and in a cautious slow movement, she gently cracked the door open, peering carefully through the small slit in the door as if a foreign spy. Gradually opening the door, she precariously stuck her head out, viewing to the right down the hallway, paused for a moment, then feeling a sense of safety, timidly swung the door open, turned left, and quietly tiptoed toward the balcony overlooking the downstairs entryway.

Reaching the railing, she timidly crouched down and sheepishly peered through the corner of the railing down to the front door and stared at her younger brother as he turned the large brass knob and swung open the massive oak door that dwarfed his small frame.

Lisa watched and listened intently as her sibling, a childish-looking thirteen-year-old boy not yet having reached full puberty but losing his pudginess as he developed into a young man fumbled at the door. The freckle-faced youngster smiled bashfully as he spotted the older girl. His school clothes had been thrown on in haste, and his hair was still damp and uncombed from his usual morning shower. An oversized beach towel was draped around his neck as if he is doing a calendar spread for a young athlete.

Hi, Jaime, the words fumbled meekly from his throat. Lisa snickered to herself at the scene, knowing of her brother’s infatuation. She loved her brother deeply but wasn’t as communicative with him since their father’s death. Nor she was with her mother for that matter.

Their family had always been very close, and Lisa carried so many warm and special memories together growing up. But once her father died, Lisa had fallen into her own world as had her mom. But then both her mom and brother, too young at the time to hold on to memories, had accepted another man to replace his absence, something she couldn’t do or wouldn’t condone. He had bought both of them many tokens of affection, which Lisa refused to accept. Her attention and affection weren’t going to be so easily bought. That had caused a distancing in all their relationships, but her love for her brother and mother was always unscathed even though she now seldom expressed those feelings.

Lisa peered down and was amused by his infectious sick look as he gazed at Jaime, displaying an awkward starstruck grin. Although years younger than the eighteen-year-old high school senior, adolescence had roused his thoughts of girls, dating, and flirtation. Suddenly as if awakened from a dream, he turned and hollered upstairs, blindly not spotting Lisa peering through the edge of the rails at him.

Lisa… Cinderella is here with your coach. Puffing up in the pride of his ingenious declaration, he returned his stare with a gleeful, now more confident, yet still shy grin. "Uh, I better go now. Uh, see you