EXCERPT FROM "16545 ½" short story


In all honesty, I have always been a reluctant hero. Though Carol claims I saved her life, I don't believe I did. Her family, her doctors, her own self-will certainly had greater impacts on the chain of events. But the spark for that chain of events ... whatever, whoever, pushed me out of that chair and forced me down the stairs is responsible for setting it all in motion. And perhaps it was set in motion months earlier, by the time I first saw the words "The Dugout".


There was a night that brought it all to an end for me, in some way, some months after Carol had been hospitalized and returned to health. I was standing in the short hallway to the front room, the one which overlooked the beach. I rarely turned on lights at night there, since there was no big city to snuff out the job the stars in the sky can do so much more admirably. I first sensed, and then I saw, something cold, something which to this day brings a chill to my body. He was there, a slight man, a tall man, a figure which at first scared me, of course. Was he someone on the roof? Or was he something hovering above it? I shouted in fear, "What do you want, leave me alone!", and it lingered. It was as if there was a reason. I saw no face, heard no sounds, but somehow I understood the message. And then I spoke aloud in a much calmer voice, trying my best to be friendly and grateful.


"You're welcome," I said. "You're welcome. And thank you."