Quote:<center>Chapter 1</center>

It was going to be a bad day.

Samuel Patrick Ellington, Attorney at Law, and soon to be one late son of a bitch, jerked the key in the ignition of his Olds Aurora. The dry grinding sound reminded him of one forgotten item on the day’s agenda: refueling his car. The orange pin lay upon the E on the dashboard indicator, as if to mock Sam’s forgetfulness. It wasn’t goddamn fair, he thought. It couldn’t have been more than three days ago when he gassed up this guzzler last. Sam beat his thigh in frustration. It would be a good mile to the Texaco down the road, and Valerie was out, at Allison’s school, probably impatiently waiting for him to arrive on time for a change. Sam Ellington was many things, a good father, a good husband, and a successful attorney among them, but one thing he was not was punctual.

Still swearing under his breath, Sam got out of the Olds and opened the trunk. Inside, next to a tire iron, hydraulic jack and an empty quart of Pennzoil was a two-gallon red gas can. He didn’t even make it out of the neighborhood when the Aurora consumed the last bit of gas. Can in hand, Sam began the trek toward the Texaco station on the next street.

It was a chilly autumn day, October 18th. The trees here in Poplar Grove, Pennsylvania had all lost their lush green tones, replaced by russet-colored leaves that did not yet cover the lawns of the suburban landscape as they usually did this time of year. The air was crisp, and a chilly breeze fluttered through it like the caress of a dead hand. The sun was obscured by a thick cloud cover, which Sam knew meant that one of the old bone chiller rainstorms was fast approaching from the direction of Ohio. A native of Pennsylvania, he was very used to the fall rains, and the effect on the human body. This lent an extra bit of speed to his step, for he certainly did not want to be out in this rainstorm when it hit.

Sam turned onto the main road and headed toward the Texaco on the right shoulder. Cars sped by intermittently in the pre-rush hour afternoon. Not one of them stopped to give him a ride, for which Sam was guiltily thankful. His initial anger at being late for being late for his daughter’s school play was slowly replaced by the relaxing and comforting feeling of solitude that he would be enjoying for the next hour or so. He had promised both Valerie and Allison he would make it on time, but sometimes things just get in the way, nothing to be done about it but press on. Part of him felt sick for trying to justify his feelings. The other part of him really did not want to waste a precious day away from the office to sit in a cramped elementary school auditorium and watch a group of children botch up “The Big Bad Wolf”. There would be missed lines, and whining kids, and the seats would be too small for his ass. Not his idea of a fun recreational activity. Again his oft-ignored conscience berated him, it was important to his daughter and she was his little sunshine.

The wind picked up, and Sam’s eyes began to water. He pulled his jacket over his head and increased his pace to a steady jog. He was not very overweight, but his days of high school sports were more than a decade behind him. Factor in his penchance for a cigarette every once in a while (down to only a half-pack a day now), he arrived at Wayside Texaco feeling winded. He popped a couple of quarters in the battered old Pepsi machine and chugged the Diet Pepsi the machine spit out. Noting that he was now almost twenty minutes late, Sam brought the two-gallon can to the first empty pump he found, and began to fill it. As he did he thought of Valerie.

She’s going to be livid, he thought, she’ll accuse me of doing this on purpose and the nagging will start again. Then again, don’t I deserve that? Wasn’t I just feeling relief a few minutes ago because I would be able to miss this ridiculous romper room play? Doesn’t matter either way, I’ll still hear about it from the both of them, whether my conscience joins the party or not.

Sam remained lost in thought until he realized he overfilled the tank a bit. Acrid petroleum fumes assaulted his nose as a small amount of amber-colored gasoline flew out of the spout of the gas can and splashed the calf of his khaki pants.

“Sure isn’t my day,” he muttered.

Sam left the can next to the door of the Texaco’s food store, and headed straight for the service counter. Behind the counter, a pretty brunette girl sat, idling through a tabloid. She didn’t look to be older than seventeen or so. She wore the standard red Texaco polo shirt, and affixed to it was a gold nametag that read MARY. She pushed the tabloid out of the way at the sight of Sam.

“Only two gallons? You run out of gas?” Mary inquired.

“Right up the street from my house, isn’t that a bitch?” Sam replied with a half-hearted laugh. “And here I am, running late for my little girl’s school play.”

Mary smiled at him. “I’m sorry, sir. These things happen at the worst times, always. Anyway, that’ll be $3.18.”

Sam dug a five out of his black wallet. Suddenly feeling the urge for a smoke, he also bought a pack of Marlboros. He dropped the change in his pocket, and started to leave when Mary called to him. “Mr. Ellington!”

Sam turned around, not remembering telling the cashier his name.

Mary held his wallet in her left hand. “You left this on the counter, sir.”

Sam folded the wallet and returned it to his pocket. “Thanks a lot, Mary. I don’t need this day to get any worse.”

Mary laughed, understanding. “Do you live nearby?”

“Pardon?”

“My shift ends in about five minutes. If you want, I’ll give you a lift, save you a long walk. Plus, it looks like rain any minute now.”

Normally Sam didn’t like to rely on the goodwill of others, but Mary was right. Drizzle mist was already forming on the windows and the sky was darkening. And if he wasn’t extremely late, Valerie might not be as willing to verbally hand his ass to him. “I would very much appreciate that, Mary”, Sam replied.

“Alright then, Mr. Ellington, if you’ll just wait a minute while I lock my till away, I’ll be out in no time. The evening clerk Rodney is already here, so I don’t have to wait up for him.” Mary removed the cash drawer from the register and disappeared into the back room. A few seconds later, a gangly-looking kid exited the back. His nametag revealed him to be Rodney. Rodney paid Sam little notice as he replaced a fresh till into the register.

Sam stepped outside and leaned against the wall. Fishing out his lighter and a cigarette, he lit one, took a deep drag, and glanced at his watch. The hands read twenty minutes past four. The play didn’t start until 4:30, if he got to his car, gassed it up completely and ignored a few speed limits he could plant his oversized ass in the elementary school auditorium seat by ten of five. He took another drag, and then Mary exited the station, wearing a light jacket and a faded Pittsburgh Steelers baseball cap. He tossed the butt down and crushed it.

“Oh, Mr. Ellington, are you ready?” She asked.

“Call me Sam, Mary” he said, flashing a smile. “And yes, I’m all ready.” He lifted the gas can and followed her to her car, a blue Elantra. She got in the drivers’ side and unlocked the passenger side door. Sam sat shotgun, holding the can in his lap. Mary turned the ignition and the car growled to life, the radio antenna rising into the sky as if to herald a great day. A Van Halen tune played softly on the car stereo. Mary gunned the gas once, then backed out of the parking space.

“Mary…” Sam said, “You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Thank you very much.” Despite his earlier desire to skip the school play altogether, his words were sincere. The wipers that flicked on reminded him of what he would have experienced on his walk back to the stranded Olds.

“It’s no trouble at all, Sam,” Mary said, “You live up near Indrey Park up the way?”

Sam nodded. “It’s the street before Indrey, right up the hill.”

He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “That won’t be necessary, Sam, I don’t charge for a ride up the street, you know.” Mary said.

Sam didn’t put the bill away yet. “Are you sure? It’s the least I could do for you.” Mary again refused.

“If you’re so sure then…” Sam folded the bill in his right hand.

Rain began to fall in sheets as Mary’s Elantra turned onto Ramsey Terrace, where his black Olds sat. Sam motioned Mary to stop here. He opened the door and stepped out, making Mary a final offer for payment. Again she refused, and bid him good day with that same warm smile. Sam thanked her again and closed the Elantra’s door. He stood and watched as Mary drove down the street and turned the corner. He opened the tank of his Olds and began to pour the gas. It was raining hard now, and Sam quickly set the can down and dug out the black umbrella he stored in the back seat. He then finished pouring the gas, not an easy task with his one hand occupied, and placed the empty can back in the trunk of the car.

He got in the car and started it up. Instead of dry grinding, a healthy rumble followed the revving of the engine, now supplied with fuel. Sam pulled forwards and headed back to the Wayside Texaco to fill the tank, glancing at his watch and knowing he’d get to the school by ten of five. He had Mary’s good will to thank for that, and although she refused his attempts to pay her, the next time she cleaned out the cab of her Elantra, she would find a little surprise when she looked alongside the passenger seat.

Sam made a beeline to the Texaco station and filled the remainder of the Aurora’s tank, running in quickly to hand the sixteen dollars cash to sullen Rodney. He then peeled out and away, up past Indrey Park towards R. J. Sullivan Elementary School. By now the rain was in torrents, and the clouds had darkened the sky enough to bring an early night to Poplar Grove. Traffic had steadily increased, and Sam found himself constantly changing lanes to push though the mess that had suddenly descended.

By the time he finally parked the Olds in the lot behind Sullivan Elementary, his watch read 5:03. He grabbed his umbrella and ran towards the school. The wind whipped the rain into a nearly horizontal barrage of wet, chilly bullets, the likes of which defeated any defense Sam’s umbrella could offer. By the time he burst through the double doors and into shelter, he was soaked. He ran into the boy’s bathroom nearby and wiped himself down with paper towels. It didn’t help much but at least he wasn’t dripping anymore. Still damp but satisfied that he could do no more, Sam left the bathroom and jogged down the hallways, passing knee-high water fountains and blue lockers, nearly tripping over a chair left in the hall, and finally into the cramped auditorium six minutes after five.

The lights were dimmed and there were children on stage. Apparently, the Big Bad Wolf, a six-year old wearing a self-made brown paper mask and tail, was about to huff, puff, and blow down the straw tenement of the first little pig. Apparently there had been a delay in the show, and for that Sam was thankful. Allison played the part of the third little pig, in her breath-proof brick fortress. He scanned the rows of seats for sight of his wife, hard to do in the dim ambience.

Out of the left corner he saw a hand wave to him. The person waving sported shoulder-length blonde hair and wore a familiar navy blue dress suit. Sam made his way to her aisle and tried his best to squeeze past the other parents, who muttered at the intrusion. One lady with a black camcorder even cursed at him, snotty bitch. Finally, he sat in the seat next to the woman who hailed him. He felt like he was parking a battleship in a garage.

“Hello, darling,” Sam said, with a guilty smile, “Ran out of gas.”

Valerie was obviously not pleased. “Damn it, Sam!” she hissed softly, “I told you to fill it up this morning! Why can’t you ever listen to me? Ally told me she wasn’t even expecting you to show up!”

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, “It’s not as if I plan these things.”

I don’t love Sam because he’s handsome, Valerie thought to herself, I love him because he’s a great guy, I love him because he’s the daughter of my child, and he’s damned lucky I don’t factor responsibility into the equation. And that smugness!

However, “Hell,” was all she said out loud, “Hush up, and let’s watch the play. Allison’s part comes after this.” Onstage, the Big Bad Wolf was now leveraging his cyclonic breath upon the Second Pig’s house of sticks. Hell of a housing contractor they have in those parts, Sam absently wondered to himself. He stretched his legs as far as the child-sized seating arrangements would allow, and vacantly stared at the stage, lost in his own thoughts.

The purple curtain came down from the rafters to signal the end of the second act. The audience gave applause, and a few whistles. Sam felt a tapping on his left wrist.

“Wake up, Sam!” Valerie whispered, “Allison’s part is coming up!” Sam shot a dirty look at her, what she always called his ‘hurt pride’ look. He gazed up at the stage, stifling a yawn. The faint sounds of talking children and shuffling sets were audible from behind the velvet curtain. Sam did not easily identify with children; he wasn’t ‘good’ with them by his own admission. He could not comprehend how a person could spend so much effort to get a bunch of kids to act out a play like this. Half of him felt distaste at the educational time wasted on this display of children in paper masks and sets constructed from old pallet wood, and the other half felt sorry for the teacher who organized the event, Ms. Kimble, for something like this must require far more patience than Sam possessed. Yet, it was his child that meant most to him. Despite not being a star parent, he loved his daughter with every fiber of his being.

He thought of Cathy DeLuise, a former client who Sam had helped win a settlement for almost half a million dollars. Settlements were always good business, and his share had made life quite comfortable for awhile. Then there was the extra payment, five adulterous encounters with the brassy divorcee. He could remember each encounter in perfect detail, each kiss, each thrust, each explosive release...

Sam remembered them so well as a method of self-punishment. He took pleasure in what he did, but guilt gnawed at him each time it happened. Finally, he called it quits with Ms. DeLuise. The sex was great, but he could not look his wife or daughter in the eyes while it happened. So far as he knew, Valerie did not know of his infidelity, and for that he was thankful. He considered that he was still a decent human being since he ceased his sinful behavior and made subtle amends, even if it would have been more courageous to admit his wrongdoing and ask for forgiveness. He knew Valerie would, in time, forgive him, but the thought of Allison, what she would think about it, scared him much more than anything his wife might think or say. Thus, his apology was an unspoken one.

Finally, the recorded music started playing again and the curtain rose. A lone spotlight centered on a small wooden shack painted red and black, loosely imitating the design of bricks, and within stood his daughter, Allison. Wearing a rubber pig-nose and ears, she mock-gasped as the other two pig-like kids (one of them, a chubby boy with a round face and the early makings of a pot belly, filled his role effectively, Sam noted) entered the shack and warned her about the Big Bad Wolf that had huffed-and-puffed their tenements to the ground.

“Ah, brothers!” she recited, “The Big Bad Wolf may be bad indeed, but he will not blow my house down!”

At that, another kid came out onto the stage. He wore a black mask that resembled a dog more than a wolf. Attached to his backside was a bushy tail and wolf-like footpads were attached to his sneakers. He loudly and proudly stomped across the stage to the dwelling of the third, and final pig. He pounded on the makeshift door with his fist and proclaimed, “Little Pigs, Little Pigs, Let me come in!” He then pressed his ear to the door.

Allison turned to the door, and all three shouted “Not by the hair of our chinny chin-chins!”

The child in the wolf costume stepped back, in apparent shock at being denied. Sam mused that the wolf kid deserved his starring role. The boy raised his fist and shook it in the air in the direction of the shack.

“Then I’ll huff! And I’ll puff! And I’ll blow your house in!”

He took an exaggerated deep breath, and blew upon the door. Nothing happened. Allison and the other two pigs giggled. In mock rage, the Wolf drew another deep breath and exhaled, again to no avail. The brick building stood unwavering. The little pigs burst into laughter. Again the wolf kid tried to blow the house down, and once again failed. He then made a show of hyperventilating and crashed to the stage floor. The three little pigs cheered, and gave a bow as the purple curtain lowered to the floor. The auditorium filled with applause from parents and bored groans from siblings who definitely wanted to be elsewhere.

Valerie stood and Sam rubbed his eyes. Hell of a thing, to go through so much just for a play that short. He stood with her, and together they exited the aisle, carefully navigating the ocean of proud parents, and their cameras and bored little brats. Finally they made it into the hallway outside.

Valerie removed the clip from her hair and let her blonde hair fall across her shoulder, just as Sam liked. She turned to him and said, “She did wonderfully, didn’t she?”

Sam smiled at his wife. “She’s a natural, that girl is. She’ll be the first actor in the Ellington family, I’ll bet any money on that.”

“Ha, if she’s still an Ellington by that point.” Valerie added.

“She’d better still be an Ellington by that point. By my estimates she’ll have five Oscars by the age of twelve.” He said. Valerie laughed at that, and then took his hand.

“I’m glad you came, Sam. This meant a lot to her, you know.” She whispered, and then kissed him on the cheek.

“I know it did, honey. And the next time you stop at the Texaco on Wayside, be sure to thank one of the employees, Mary, I wouldn’t have made it without her.” He said, and kissed her back.

“A story I’d love to hear about later, hon. Let’s go get Allison, she should be ready soon. We can stop for supper on the way home, alright?”

Sam ran his fingers through his still-damp hair. “I’ll catch up in a minute, Val. I need to use the restroom.”

“Alright then, we’ll wait here. Don’t take too long.” She walked down the hall to the waiting area where the children were removing their costumes. Sam watched her for a moment. He was very relieved that he didn’t catch hell from her this time, even if he did have it coming. And if his conscience had a problem with that, it could go to hell, so far as he was concerned.

As he suspected by seeing the water fountains being low to the ground, the toilets in the bathroom were designed for people of similarly small physical stature. Not for the first time, Sam was glad to be born a male. He did his business and washed his hands, and with a curse noted that his string of shit luck continued, as there were no paper towels, nor was there one of those delightful dryer machines. He wiped his hands on his still-damp pant legs, and left the bathroom looking more miserable than he felt. That mask of misery faded away the instant he saw Valerie, with his little starlet in tow. Upon sight of her father, Allison ran as fast as her little legs would allow, and leapt into the arms of her much-loved Daddy, who had stooped low in anticipation. He hefted her into the air almost effortlessly, and she squealed and giggled as any seven-year old girl happy to see her father would.

“Daddy!” she said, “Why are you all wet?”

Sam laughed brusquely, almost theatrically. “Well, my little future Academy Award winner, as you’ll notice when we leave the school, the weather’s become kind of nasty outside. That said, you better button up tight. Are you going to ride home with me or with Mom?”

Allison stopped to consider his question. “I’d better go home with Mom, I left my books in her car.”

Sam set her back on her feet and handed her his umbrella. “Give this to Mom and make sure you stay close so it keeps you dry too, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” she nodded, and stuck the slightly damp umbrella under her left arm. Sam hoped the rainstorm had diminished in fury enough for it to be effective, one look at him testified to nature’s power over the pitiful umbrellas of mankind.

Sam knelt down beside her and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Oh yeah,” he said softly, “We’re going to stop somewhere to eat on the way home, and since you’re the family star tonight, you get to pick where we go!”

“I want to go to Neddy’s!” Allison squealed, her common response to that question. Neddy’s Texas Grille cooked a barbeque burger that Allison simply loved, never got tired of. Sam also liked that particular burger, but not with his daughter’s zeal. Also unlike Allison, Sam and Valerie had limits as to how many times a month they could feel like going there again. However, Sam had promised that it was her choice…

“Alright then, Neddy’s it shall be… not that there will be any question as to what you’ll be ordering.” Valerie said, easily hiding her disappointment having to go there yet again.

Upon exiting R. J. Sullivan Elementary School, the Ellingtons found that the storm had not decreased much in intensity, although the whipping winds that had been responsible for Sam’s earlier soaking had definitely calmed. All three of them took off in a full run, Sam to his Olds, Valerie and Allison to the family’s other vehicle, a Ford Explorer. Valerie and her daughter got to their car first, and scrambled inside as quickly as their dignity would allow. Valerie fired the ignition and quickly flipped the switch for the heater full blast. Within seconds, warm air began to alleviate the deep chill caused by these lake storms. Neither was overly wet from the experience, thankfully.

In the back seat of the Explorer there was an old yellow blanket that Valerie used to protect the seat from rips and tears when she wanted to transport something back there. At the moment there was nothing being transported in that manner, so Allison grabbed the musty old thing and wiped it over her face to dry.

“Allison honey, don’t wipe yourself with that, it’s filthy!” Valerie admonished her daughter.

“But Mom, I’m all wet! How can I dry off? It’s all I can find!” the little girl protested.

Valerie pushed the old raggedy blanket back into the rear of the cab and backed the SUV out. Sam had already done the same, and was waiting for her in his Aurora. As Valerie began to follow her husband, Allison reached over to the radio and clicked it on. Crosby, Stills and Nash’s “Suite Judy Blue Eyes” was just finishing, and without pause for inane deejay chatter or trite commercial breaks, Kansas’ “Dust In The Wind” began playing without delay.

The roads were pretty rotten by that point. Valerie’s sister Trish lived in Virginia, and told her on many occasions how even minor snowfalls could nearly paralyze a region unused to winter weather. Trish had always said that driving in the snow never bothered her, having been raised in Erie and subject to snows Virginians couldn’t even imagine, but what did bother her was the other people driving in the snow, because native Virginians simply didn’t know how to do it. While almost everyone in Poplar Grove was well used to the odd torrential downpour, Valerie was of the opinion that the experience of driving in poor conditions was good, but a crappy driver is still a crappy driver. They passed several such examples, distraught people on the side of the road, watching their damaged vehicles being towed away because they stupidly thought they could go ten over the limit because their cars magically held their traction perfectly even on a rain-slick highway.

It was a twenty-three minute drive to Neddy’s Texas Grille. By the time they had arrived, Allison had dozed off, her head resting against the shoulder strap of her seat belt. Valerie parked the Explorer next to Sam’s Olds and cut the engine.

Valerie put her hand on Allison’s shoulder and shook her slightly. “Ally baby, we’re here. We’re at Neddy’s. You have to wake up if you want one of those burgers!”

Allison, for her part, tried to look both passive and unresponsive, for she was rather tired, but her mother’s mention of her favorite meal in the whole wide world was more than sufficient to crack both her pose of sleep and her feelings of fatigue. She didn’t say anything, but threw the door open and let out a yelp of glee. She let out another yelp as she was forcibly reminded of the intensity of the storm thrashing western Pennsylvania at the moment. She leapt back into the passenger seat and shut the door.

“Gracious!” Valerie exclaimed, “I know you’re dying to get in there, but wait until I have the umbrella out! You just got over a cold, I don’t need you catching another one already!”

Allison took the scolding with all the grace expected of a seven year old on the verge of getting something one longed for. When Valerie finally steeled herself to get out of the warmth and comfort of the Explorer and into the icy, violent embrace of the rainstorm outside, she locked her door and rain to the passenger side, her feet splashing in small forming puddles. She opened the door for Allison, and the little girl quickly sought shelter underneath her mother’s umbrella, an umbrella that was a veteran of some nasty storms in the years Valerie owned it, but never one like this.

Sam parked the Olds a few spaces away from Valerie, and since he had a longer path to the shelter of the restaurant’s awnings, he sprinted right past his wife and daughter, pausing only for a half-second to admonish them to hurry. Valerie heeded her husband’s request and together with Allison, she ran as fast as she could manage.

Fortunately, everyone made it inside without getting overly soaked. Sam’s khakis got a fair drenching again, but he felt he was beginning to feel used to it. Allison, not quite tall enough to fully benefit from her mother’s umbrella, also was pretty wet, but she hardly noticed. They all scattered to the restrooms to dry off a bit, and a few minutes later, were seated at a table. The table was in front of a window looking out behind the restaurant, giving the Ellingtons a clear view of the storm. And perhaps, Sam hoped, a good idea when it lets up enough to make it to their cars unsoaked after dinner ended.

Their waitress for the evening was Zelda, a plump older woman with a round face and a perpetually happy disposition who had made the acquaintances of the Ellingtons quite a few times in their numerous visits. She knew Allison well enough to correctly guess her order, which always made the little girl giggle. Sam scanned the menu and decided his reward for this long, hard day was going to be a 12-ounce ribeye steak, extra potatoes and spicy sauce if you please. Valerie, almost as regularly as Allison, ordered her favorite, the Chicken Caggiotori, a rather odd menu choice for a Texas-themed restaurant, but Valerie certainly wasn’t one to complain. She couldn’t stand spicy food, and what else would you find at Neddy’s Texas Grille?

The food was served in timely fashion, and the meal proceeded as many Ellington family dinners had in recent times; Allison chatting about school and her friends and one or two disgusting boys, Valerie updating Sam on various aspects of their domestic situation, and to her chagrin, Sam joking around with his daughter in ways unbecoming of an adult. It was a surprisingly pleasant end to a rough day, and with Sam’s late hours at the office lately it was a welcome opportunity for him to spend quality time for two of the three women he loved the most, the other being his mother, good old Mama Janet. He felt a small pang of guilt about being away from his loved ones so often, despite the necessity of it.

It was these small pleasures that make life worth living.

Another small pleasure was a full stomach, and it was three full stomachs that held residence inside three tired bodies more than willing to relax at home. Unfortunately, between the Ellington family and their receptive beds, sofas and recliners was five miles of road and the worst storm to hit the area in a decade.

Sam steeled himself for yet another excursion into the rainstorm from Hell, lamenting the fact that he still hadn't dried up from this last. Valerie made light of it, unusual for her, though it was almost certainly inspired by little Allison, who alone among them seemed excited at the prospect of starting Mother Nature in the face and laughing. Her cavalier bravado was infectuous, and both Sam and Valerie stood beneath the awnings, with comically grim looks of defiance on their faces. She handed him the umbrella, and he made a mad dash across the parking lot, adroitly leaping over swelling puddles, and also learning how insufficient a mere umbrella was against this monster storm.

Sam reached his car quickly, soaked yet again. He clambered into the cab as fast as he could manage, and keyed the ignition. Immediately, his fingers activated the heater, and cranked it to high, as the chill deepened with the end of daylight. He swung the car around to the front of the building, and leapt out again, umbrella flying open to provide his wife and daughter with the illusion of a dry walk to the Explorer. It was hard for one person and impossible for three, and Valerie and Allison both sat down in the vehicle saturated. She too blasted the heater upon starting the motor, and she pulled out first, Sam following her to the main road, and the return voyage began.

Undiminished in the slightest, the storm slashed and raged, seeming for all the world like the perfect metaphor for a poet's comparison to the armies of Ghengis Khan or a husband's allusion to an overbearing mother-in-law. Traffic had eased, but visibility was still awful, and both Sam and Valerie took it a few miles per hour slower than normal. One or two other drivers did not care much for the caluclated pace the Ellington family kept, and voiced their displeasure via the old car horn. Sam cheerfully responded with the single-finger salute, making sure he'd remember to laugh if he saw them wreck ahead. When he considered his inconsistent luck this afternoon, he felt it was better to be safe than sorry.

The semi in the left lane was mostly unnoticed by either of them. Had they noticed the slight swerve, they'd likely have shifted from the center lane to the right. The tractor-trailer was loaded, and going along slightly above the speed limit. Sam finally took notice as it passed his Olds. He noted that the driver was not the most intelligent person he'd chanced across this day, and returned his eyes forward. In the Explorer in front, Valerie held a similar opinion as she too was passed. Alone of them all was Allison, whose full belly had caused her to doze. She lay with her head leaning against the shoulder strap of the seat belt, a look of peace and contentment on her small face, as if she were the very antithesis of the weather. Valerie glanced at her with a warm smile full of adoration for her only child. It was this sideways glanced that caused her not to see the truck, now only thirty feet ahead, hydroplane.

The driver of the cab was tired, irritated, and slightly drunk. Eighteen hours of hauling with almost no rest was taking its toll, and he dozed off several times at stoplights and crossings. Finally, unable to withstand the wracking fatigue, his eyes drooped down with his foot on the gas. When his truck hit the skid, he instantly became wide awake, but it was too late, for even if his reflexes were not dulled by lack of sleep and the occasional swig of whiskey, the weight of his truck ensured that he was going to lose control.

The massive vehicle banked hard right, sending it straight across the eastbound lane. Sam had his eyes forward, and his instinct made him slam the brakes and jerk the wheel as hard to the left as he could. Valerie did not have the time to react, in fact, she barely had time to scream. The truck tipped onto its left side, and the trailer cracked at the top. Valerie slammed the brakes with all her might, but it was too late.

The Explorer struck the underbelly of the trailer head-on, and even with the engine running, stereo playing and rain pounding, Sam heard the terrible, sickening sound of steel and aluminum crunching. It was a low but sharp blast of sound that he felt more than heard. His own car skidded and twisted, and finally came to a stop when the back of his Olds struck the rear of the Explorer.

The force of the impact caused little damage, but it did make Sam's head snap forward a split second before the airbag deployed. His forehead struck the window, and he was dazed. He felt the sudden and urgent need to sleep, and almost did, until he saw the flashing lights approaching. As if they were a clarion signalling disaster, he suddenly came fully awake, and leapt out of his car.

The blow to the head left him a bit groggy, but when he glanced away from the approacing emergency vehicles, he saw a sight that nearly shattered his sanity.

The Explorer's rear had only a small dent on the frame where his car struck it. The front end, however, was completely destroyed, crushed like a soda can underfoot. He rushed over, eyes wide with disbelief and fear that was justified when he looked through the shattered driver's window.

He could not see Allison, but Valerie's head slumped over the steering column that was cruelly smashed against her chest. Blood trickled from her nose and mouth, and her arm was bent at a painfully impossible angle.

Sam could not think, but he could feel, and he felt his reality smash, as ruined as the lifeless form of his beloved wife. He let out a mindless howl of rage and grief, and attacked the hulk of the Explorer. Broken window glass cut his fingers and palms as he tried to force open the door with strength born of tragic desperation. He slipped, lost his grip, and hit the pavement hard. His head made a muted crack against the wet asphalt, and his mind retreated within itself, away from the horror of the end of his world, and the terrible storm which heralded its arrival.

It was a bad day. A very bad day.
End Chapter 1.

Quote:I'm not all too familiar with Pratchett

Quote:Originally posted by Weltall
If so, it's unintentional, as I've only read one Crichton novel, that being Jurassic Park and not for many years. If anything, it's Steven King who is my inspiration, though his writing style tends to be more visceral than I prefer to use.

Quote:Chapter 2
Outside the house it had grown dark. The sun had long since passed below the horizon and the moon had not yet begun to rise, so it was pitch black outside except for a few beams of light coming from the inside of several houses. A shadow detached itself from the side of one the houses. It made scarcely as sound as it moved closer to Steven’s house. It lurked around the corners of the house. It also loomed, but only slightly, which is still quite an amazing feat since it was still lurking.
Inside the house Milragh was having trouble getting to sleep, so he decided to sit out on the front porch and watch the stars for a while. He sat down in one of the chairs and let his mind wander. His life had been rather hectic over the past month. He had been a professor at the Ludly Banes University of Magic and he enjoyed his job, although he admitted to himself that it had been very boring.
He had been working on an experiment to try to use diamonds to enhance a person’s magical powers. He had worked out all of the theories on the matter, but from the start the experiment was doomed to failure. The first diamond he used was blown into a million tiny pieces when he attempted to use shumarion on it. In theory the shumarion should have enhanced the diamond to allow it to retain large amounts of magic, but instead it only exploded.
The diamond had cost a fortune, but somehow he had managed to convince the Board to buy one more. This time he used a solution of bromine and glaritene to prepare the diamond. The diamond transmuted into a ruby red bird, which pecked Milragh on the nose and then promptly flew out the window. He begged the Board for one my diamond. Third time was most definitely not the charm for Milragh.
A vast assortment of chemicals and compounds had gone into this particular mix. He decided to use everything in the hope that somehow his concoction would have the desire effect. It didn’t, but the results were spoken of in hushed tones for many months after the fact. When he put the mixture on the diamond at first nothing had happened. In his disgust Milragh struck the diamond with the steel hammer that was sitting on the table beside him. That seemed to be the catalyst the diamond had been waiting for. After he struck the diamond it sucked up all the magic in the entire University and then in one horrifying moment spewed forth it’s contents in a vast explosion of lights and sounds and some very unpleasant things.
All of the spells that had been sucked up by the diamond went off upon being discharged. The devastation was incredible. One wing of the university was blown completely apart, the library was full of exotic animals, which began to fight each other, several classrooms reported golems appearing in the middle of lectures, horrifying though it was the students didn’t mind too much, the janitor reported strange sounds coming from the bathrooms but no one came to investigate, and the headmaster’s beard had caught on fire. Needless to say it was not a good day for Milragh the magician.
Reminiscing about the past always made Milragh depressed. He preferred to look to the future, unfortunately the future wasn’t going to be much better unless he could convince a certain young boy that the sword that was in his possession was more important than a few cavels. Actually it was more than a few cavels, but the point remained the same. He drummed his fingers idly on one of the arms of the chair as he stared off into space.
Something caught his attention and he quickly jerked his head toward the corner of the house. He thought he saw one of the shadows move. After a few moments of seeing nothing he relaxed. As he leaned back a loose board creaked behind him. He turned out, but could see nothing. He figured it must have the just been the house settling. Something didn’t seem right though, but before he could go any further with that line of thought the door to the house burst open as Steven jumped through it. There was a muffled “thunk”.
“Oh there you are, Milragh. I didn’t see you in your room so I thought something might have happened to you.” Steven said as he took one of the other seats on the porch.
Milragh and Steven talked for a while that night. Milragh attempted to explain how going on a quest would be a much better thing than selling the magical sword, even though it was, truth be told, worth a lot of money. It took a while.
Near the edge of town a shadow was muttering to itself. Among the things it said “stupid boy” stood out. The shadow rubbed the back of its head as it shuffled through a field going toward the east. It paused only briefly when it fell over a sleeping cow.
The next morning came with the promise of another fine day, provided that there was no whistling. Steven was running from room to room as he gathered up anything that he thought he even remotely might need and his mother was busy fixing him a big breakfast to help him get a good start on his journey. Neither seemed to be at all concerned about the potential dangers that might lie ahead. Milragh wasn’t certain whether these two were stupid, crazy, naïve, or perhaps this was just some strange way that normal people coped with things of this magnitude. He decided that it was probably a mixture of all four.
About two hours after sunrise Steven had finished packing and had eaten his breakfast. His mother had found an old scabbard that had belonged to Steven’s father. And with that they were ready to go. They stood on the front porch, unsure of what exactly was supposed to happen next.
“Milragh?” The boy asked after a moment of awkward silence.
“Yes, what is it?”
“What are we supposed to do now?”
“Well…at this point…we’re…you see we…and then…with the dungeons…I don’t really know. I never thought this far ahead.” The wizard admitted.
“Um…maybe we could…go to Varkstan?” The boy offered.
Milragh thought it over for a moment. He decided that probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. The trip would give him time to think of where their destination was and it was quite possible that they might even be going in the right direction.
Steven stopped so suddenly that Milragh almost fell over him. Steven was staring ahead at something in the tall grass. He motioned for Milragh to be quite.
“Look over there! A monster!” He whispered excitedly.
Milragh peered to where the boy was pointing. It was a white rabbit.
“Umm…it’s a rabbit.” Milragh stated.
“Shall we kill it and takes it’s treasure?” Steven asked clearly to full of adrenaline to realize that his “monster” was only a rabbit, a small one at that, and it wasn’t likely to have any kind of treasure. But…it was only a rabbit.
“Sure, go ahead and…uhh…be careful of its poisonous fangs.”
Steven grinned wildly and charged the innocent creature his sword swinging above his head. As he got within about 15 feet from the rabbit there was a sudden flash of light. Milragh rubbed his eyes and looked around. They appeared to be in some sort of astral plane. The area where they were at was roughly 20 feet by 20 feet and contained what appeared to be a section of grassland. The edges fell off into empty space.
“Steven…do you know where we are” He asked attempting to mask his rising fear, but having little luck with it.
“Oh, this is battle-mode.” Steven said matter-of-factly.
“Battle-mode? What are you talking about?”
“You see when you attack something, you go into battle-mode. I usually avoid monsters so I don’t really have any experience with it.”
“And this is…battle-mode?” Milragh asked spreading his arms.
“That’s right. Look! There’s the monster!” Steven shouted pointing to what appeared to be large white bear behind the only tree on the plane. It had very large fangs. Milragh momentarily taken aback by the sight of it, failed to notice the large bar with a green stripe that was near his feat. He fell over it. The green stripe on the bar moved slightly.
“Don’t worry, Milragh, I can handle it!” Steven said down to him.
Steven ran at the rabbit-monster his sword raised high. He swung the sword downward and sliced it in two so fast that it couldn’t react. Milragh thought for a moment that he saw a number floating in the air. He shook his head.
“Alright!” Steven yelled just as there was another flash of light. Milragh looked around fearing that they might end up somewhere worse, but he could see they were back in the field near Steven’s village. He brushed off his clothes and walked over to where Steven was still expressing his excitement.
“I’m confused.” Milragh admitted.
“Confused?” Steven asked, not understanding that there could possibly be someone in the world who didn’t know what battle-mode was.
Milragh looked at him for a moment.
“Never mind.” He finally said with a sigh.
The wizard walked over to where the rabbit had been. There was a small pouch lying in the grass. He studied it for a moment wondering whether it would suddenly turn back into a rabbit again. It didn’t. After Steven had finished his victory dance, which consisted mostly of him jumping up and down and yelling at the top of his lungs, he came over to see what Milragh was looking at.
“Just look at this! I’ve only been on a quest for fifteen minutes and I already have a bag cavels!” Steven exclaimed.
This is just weird, Milragh thought.
“Steven…let’s not do that again, okay?” Milragh pleaded with the boy.
“If we get close to a monster it’ll just happen, not much we can do about.”
“Then let’s avoid the monsters.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Steven said somewhat disapprovingly.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to find it. Anyway, it’s all ready mid-day so we’d better hurry if we want to make it to Varkstan before nightfall.”
Steven picked up the bag of cavels and the two were on their way. Milragh talked very little as he was trying to figure out how Steven’s “battle-mode” occurred and where they actually went. As best he could tell there must be some magic field covering the whole world that transported those about to engage in a battle to some unknown dimension. It also appeared as though the magic field evened the odds for the lesser opponent as seen by the gigantic rabbit.
Milragh wondered where the gold came from. If it just created gold out of thin air then wouldn’t that eventually drive down the value of it? Or did it dredge the gold out of someone previously undiscovered facet somewhere in the earth’s crust? He would need to study this phenomenon further, a prospect that he was not altogether against, for despite expressing his desire to avoid encounters like that again it was, in a way, very exciting.
About 4 hours later the two travelers arrived at the town of Varkstan. It was middle-sized and contained within its boundaries 6 strip markets near the town center. The town center in Varkstan was actually a town center. It even had a small statue, upon which a few birds were perched. There was a man trying to drive them away with a broom, but as soon as he left they always came back. Milragh watched the man for a few seconds and then glanced back at Steven. Where Steven had been there was now a very large chicken. Milragh looked at it curiously. It looked back at Milragh. Milragh poked it with his shoe. The chicken spurred him and then ran squawking toward another part of town.
“Milragh!” Steven shouted from one of the strip markets. “Over here!”
“There you are! I thought that you…I mean I looked back and…” Milragh broke off not sure whether to continue the sentence or not. The boy waited. “That is I thought that you…might like an ice cream cone!”
Steven thought this over for a second. “Are you going to buy the ice cream to go in it too?”
“That’s not…yeah, sure”
It was about six hours past noon when the two sat down to eat the ice cream at one of the outdoor cafés. Steven had ordered chocolate chip cookie dough and Milragh had ordered vanilla. A glimpse at their personalities perhaps? Actually, it probably just meant that they liked different types of ice cream. Most of the townsfolk had already gone home for supper by now, so the streets were relatively clear. A small number of people were just coming out to eat at the various cafés that dotted the town.
Across from the café where they were at was as an inn and it even looked slightly reputable. Milragh decided that they would stay there. As he went to pay for their room he found that he didn’t have any cavels anywhere on his person, even though he remembered having some just a day or two ago. Steven offered to pay from the bag of money he had got from defeating the rabbit. Milragh once again wondered about the exact origins of the pouch of gold.
After Steven had gone to sleep, Milragh drifted down into the commons room. He ordered a mug of grog for himself, using a few coins he had gotten from Steven’s pouch, and took a seat in the corner.
While Milragh was certainly not the greatest wizard in the world he did know a few things about surviving. Any thing that had happened in the anywhere would be discussed in the inn at one point or another, Milragh only had to wait and listen. After about two hours he decided he might as well get some sleep.
Just as he was about to get up a detachment of imperial troops came into the inn. They ordered a few mugs of grog and took seats about the room. While it was not unusual to see troops in a town the size of Varkstan it was clear that they were looking for something…or someone.

Quote:Originally posted by Darunia
[b]*Scoffs arrogantly* Well, those are cute little starters...but I've been writing multi-hundred-page stories since sixth grade. I'd love to post my latest one (seriously, I would like to...) here, but it's 474 pages. I'm writing a sequel to it, which is 141 pages as of now. [/B]

Quote:Originally posted by Weltall
It's not our fault we get out more :)

Quote:Nobody ready any

Quote:She doesn't have boobies?

Great Rumbler Wrote:In the story she's 13, so I'll leave that decision up to you and your sick mind...you perv. :p