The Chair

By DM Stone

Collection of short stories centered around a chair. The people who sit in this chair see what they need to see. Not what they want. Some will see their past. Some will see their future. Some will see an alternate universe. Imagine if you could sit in a chair and have your most inner questions answered. Would you sit in this chair? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn Stone
• Release date: Jan 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224749287

Book preview

Lucas

On this day, every year for the last 18 years, Lucas comes here hoping to find answers.  And every year he is left feeling more helpless. More hopeless. More confused.  How could no one know what actually happened that night?  Or did someone know and just didn’t know how to tell him?

He knew the names of every headstone between his car and where his parents were buried.  He had walked this path so often that it had become second nature to him.  He could tell you the names with his eyes closed.  Sometimes he would talk to them as he passed.  He even made up life stories for each of them.  Somehow, it comforted him.

The ones closest to his parents had the better backstories.  To the right of his mother was Elizabeth ``Betty" Donahue.  She died in 2002 at the age of 93.  In his mind, she was a small woman barely five feet tall.  Maybe a little plump, but not more than her small frame could handle.  She dyed her hair until she was around 70.  After that, she just didn’t care anymore.  She had four children; three boys and one girl.  Once her grandchildren reached double digits, she stopped counting.  And we can’t forget the handful of great-grandchildren.  Her husband of more than 65 years is laid next to her.  To Lucas, she was what he always envisioned a grandmother to be.

To the left of his father was Benjamin Benny Moore.  Loving son, father, and husband.  He was only 32 when he joined the afterlife.  It took Lucas a while to pin down what happened to Benny. Drunk driver. On a late-night run to the corner store for medicine for his young child who had a cold.  Only he never made it home.  In his mind, it was quick and painless.  He always said a prayer for the child who lost their daddy.  No child should go through that kind of pain. 

Next to Benny was the saddest headstone.  Bryce and Royce Cavanaugh left this world the same day they entered it.  His heart ached thinking of what the parents went through.  What they might still be going through.  He never created a backstory for them. He just prayed.  For their souls. For the souls of their parents. He would occasionally bring them flowers.

These people didn’t make judgments.  They didn’t stare or whisper behind his back.  They knew what happened.  But they didn’t care.  They had departed.  He wasn’t the guy whose parents killed themselves.  He was just a lost kid, who was missing his parents, and that was permitted here.

Today was going to be a short visit.  A storm was coming in and he wanted to get home before it hit.  He talked to his parents for about an hour.  As he was leaving, he said his goodbyes to the others.  Told them he would see them again soon.  Then, he got in his car and just started driving.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been driving.  The storm hadn’t hit yet, but it was close.  He could smell it.  He could feel it.  So he pulled over to try to gather his thoughts.  That’s when he realized he was in a part of the city he had never been in before.  How did he get here?  Did he zone out that long?

He looked around and saw a little antique store.  Although he couldn’t quite grasp how he got there, he turned the car off and headed to the store.  He looked around and was in awe of how majestic the trees looked that surrounded this place.

As he got closer to the door, he couldn’t help noticing he had butterflies in his stomach. Why?  He opened the door and was hit in the face with such a sweet aroma.  It took a moment to place it.  Gardenia.  That’s what his mother always wore.  He didn’t realize he was smiling. 

He walked around the store absentmindedly.  He only looked at items here and there.  He dared not touch anything.  When he rounded the corner, he stopped, as if he hit a glass wall.  He slowly and gently inched his way to the most amazing chair he had ever seen.  The winged back was so powerful. So ornate. So majestic. There was that word again.  But it seemed so fitting. The seat was a cushion wrapped in black crushed velvet. While it appeared uncomfortable, when he sat down he seemed to sink in it.

It was dark when he opened his eyes.  Did he fall asleep?  Why didn’t anyone wake him?  He rubbed his eyes and then stretched.  That’s when he realized he wasn’t in the shop anymore.  So where was he?  He looked around trying to figure something, anything, out.  Then it hit him.  He was in his old bedroom.  The bedroom he had when he was a kid.  The bedroom he had when the events of that night took place.  But why was he here?

He slowly looked around the room.  Off to his right was his dresser.  Two wall shelves hung over it.  Trophies for t-ball and soccer games adorned them.  Pictures of him with his mom and dad.  A medal for a gymnastics meet he had won one summer.

He sat up and swung his feet off the side of the bed.  He sat there for a few more minutes, listening to the silence.  A crash snapped him out of his trance.  What the hell?  He slowly got up and headed out of the room.  Off to the left were two more bedrooms.  Straight ahead was the upstairs landing.  And just past the top of the stairs was the door to his parents’ room.

He strained to listen for something to fill him in as to what was going on.  He heard mumbling.  He slowly made his way to his parents’ door.  He put his ear to the door.  Somewhere inside he got the go-ahead to enter.  He opened the door as slowly and quietly as he could. Then he saw them.

His mom was as beautiful as he remembered.  She had long, light brown hair that hung straight to the middle of her back.  Her slender five-foot-five frame was highlighted by the light from the bathroom.  She had on her shorts that looked like men’s boxers and a t-shirt.  What she wore every night for bed.  Her bare feet looked so tiny.

His father’s six-foot-three frame towered over his mom.  While he looked thin, it was all solid muscle.  But he was not a scary man.  He was the kindest, gentlest man he had ever known.  His father made his way to his mother.  He gently wrapped his arms around her and started kissing her neck.

The young man realized his parents were about to make love.  How gross.  He didn’t need to see this.  He didn’t want to see this.  He looked around and noticed the door was closed. How was that?  Did he do it?  That’s not possible.  How is he seeing this, yet no one sees him?  Was this real?

The sound of shattering glass broke up the loving couple.  Lucas snapped his head around at the same time as his father.  There was a moment of silence before the door burst open.  A man stood in the doorway with a small handgun in his right hand.

Both the man and the woman froze.  They didn’t make a sound.  As the intruder slowly stepped into the room, Lucas let out a loud gasp.  But no one heard it.  He was shocked to see his uncle standing there.

What the...?  his mother manages to utter.

Shut up, Christine! the man yelled.

Bobby? his father asks.

You too, Jesse, his uncle tells him. Shut up.

The three of them stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity.  At least to Lucas, it did.  He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.  Was this real? It had