One person's craziness is another person's reality.
-Tim Burton
Birds chirping, dogs barking the smell of fried bacon and coffee wafting through the air, I rolled over and opened my eyes feeling stiff and sore, my head ached my neck had a kink in it and my eyes burned. Yeah I was still alive. The sun filtered in between the drapes covering the door to the deck, on the west side of the house, afternoon. Late afternoon from the angle of the sun, Eric must have doped me up with something last night. Looking at the clock on the night stand as I rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, it read 4:25. I had slept away most of the day. Sixteen hours into the National Novel Writing Month and I had not even written one word yet.
Getting up I headed for the bathroom first, when I finished my morning/afternoon absolutions I headed downstairs. Walking into the kitchen I smelled no coffee or bacon now, no skillet on the stove no cup of coffee waiting for me. Man I was definitely losing it. On the counter a note standing against a bottle of aspirin, "Gone to the store back soon take some aspirin. Love Kate""
She was always looking out for me, even when I'm bonkers. Well if I'm going crazy I guess I had better do what the doctor tells me to and relax. I open the fridge and grab a beer and head for the patio, time for some relaxing. Nice sunshiny day, a little cool but much better than the sweltering heat of the last time I was out here last...... no wait. That was not real, no matter how vivid it was in my memory it was just my stressed out imagination working overtime. So forget about it, time to carry out the doctor's orders now. Sitting at the patio table I twist the top off the beer bottle and take a deep pull from the long neck. Oh yeah I think I'm going to like being under doctors care. I stand up and move over to the chase lounge and kick back and relax. The warm sun, cold beer and the after effects of the sedative do their magic and I slip into a peaceful slumber.
Knock knock.
Rough hands grab the front of my shirt, jerking me up out of my sleep and off of the chase lounge. My eyes pop open and I am starring into the face of a Neanderthal, well he meets my definition of one anyway. He was large and hairy with a low brow and protruding brow ridge. Bulging biceps and obviously large and strong as I am looking him level in the eye and my feet are not touching the ground as I hang from his grip.
"Who the hell are you?" He growled. "And what are you doing on my property?" Being a reasonable person and very aware of his size and temperament, I decide it is best if I play this politely.
"I believe you may be mistaken sir. This is my yard, behind my house and I was napping in my chase lounge. My favorite chase lounge to be exact."
His eyes narrow as he takes in what I have said and I am sure I can see movement inside his head as he attempts to process what I have said. Suddenly his hands open and I find myself dropping to the ground and landing on my feet with a jar.
"Buddy you must have really tied one on iffen you believe that shit. This ain't your place here."
"I really hate to disagree with you but I think maybe you have wandered into my back yard by mistake. I assure you this is my house.""
"Fella look around behind ya."
Knowing that the only way I was going to get through to his small brain was to humor him I turned and extended my right arm to point at my house. "This is where I have liv......" I trailed off in dismay. "What the hell?" I stood there frozen, my arm half raised in my gesture to claim ownership of my house. Staring at the empty clearing where my house should have been. In shock I spun around in a circle taking in my surroundings. We stood in a large clearing completely enclosed by forest. Now I grew up in Missouri on a farm. We had plenty of fields and plenty of woods with clearings in them. But we did not have forest! There were large towering trees easily 90 to 100 feet tall and 10 feet in diameter on all sides. They looked to be some type of oak trees, but not like any I had ever seen before. Something was off about them but I was in too much shock to know what exactly.
No sign of the house anywhere. Looking around where I stood no patio furniture, no chase lounge. Just a depression in the ankle high grass where I had been laying and my empty beer bottle lying beside it. Oh no not again. I was deep in the grip of another hallucination. Maybe the beer so soon after the sedative was a mistake. Instead of relaxing me it had caused another episode. Now what to do, I knew none of this was real, but I had no idea what to do about it.
"Buddy you better start talkin' O'm tarred of waitin."
Okay now I knew what to do. "You listen to me you over grown reject from the zoo." Very brave words said as I turned to face him. Said before I saw him towering over me mere feet away like a redwood towers over a willow; damn he was huge. I would put him to be at least 7 feet tall and I bet he had to weigh more than my car, with me in it, and that fist looked like it was the size of a football and getting much larger as it came shooting toward my face like the perfect spiral pass. "What the hell....."
Knock Knock.
Knocking on Reality's Door (The Chronicles of Clark Wilson) Page 3
