Lucifer Travels-Book #1 in the suspense, mystery thriller

by Malik Will

You know, I can remember it so well. And that sometimes can be a bad thing. But this wasn’t one of those times. Maybe it was the whole idea of Christmas that made everyone transform. So much so that my dad was even in a good mood.

  It all started in the wee hours of the morning.

  Before sunrise, he came into my room. He must’ve thought I was sleeping but I heard him hovering over me. I could smell his foul breath as he exhaled loudly as if he were troubled. He placed his hand softly on my head and massaged it. I couldn’t move. A part of me was afraid as if he was a not my father but a stranger. As if we had no history or lineage.

  I feared him even though he had never laid a hand on me. I felt broken by him as if I was shattered glass, fragile. I could not bear to look at him in the dark. So I closed my eyes and hoped the darkness would hide me from his demons. I shut down completely, and pretended he was not there.

  What happen next troubled me because it didn’t make a bit of sense at the time. This man, whom I feared like nothing else, opens his mouth and whispers to me so softly and says, “I love you, son.”

  I felt my heart stop then. Tears broke from my shut eyes onto my blanket as memories of his past sins smothered my thoughts. I began to lose breath and exhale loudly. I was hesitant to reply.

  I thought of all the pain he caused and nightmares he starred in, and his penchant for causing my mother’s tears. But I also thought of how he held me and called me his little man. I remembered how we said we were best buddies. I focused on the good times. It was then I forgave. It was then I open my eyes and turned around to say “I love you too”, but by then he was gone from my room, leaving me to dream until sunrise.

  One of the reasons why that Christmas was one our happier moments was because everyone was at peace as if we had forgotten ourselves of yesterday. Everyone had changed. Momma even cooked us a meal. Yes, sir! Now, it wasn’t much, but it was a helluva lot better than anything we ever had before. She was so happy, dancing around the kitchen as my daddy watched from the living room as if he hadn’t seen her in forever.

  They exchanged words, though I heard no sound. I was lost in a daydream, wishing I could go back in time, so tomorrow, I could return to this moment whenever I am troubled.

  I was truly joyful that day. It was so beautiful in so many ways. I was afraid to let the day end, because I knew what tomorrow would bring.

  So that night, as my mom and dad slept, I arose from bed and quietly whispered to my sister, “Caroline.”

  But she did not respond.

  “Caroline,” I said again.

  Still she did not respond.

  She had fallen asleep, leaving me to bear the night alone. I wanted to wake her, but I was hesitant to do so. I imagined her face underneath those covers, dreaming so peaceful about places that she may never reach. This was all bittersweet, because she would awaken tomorrow to see that her happiness was nothing but a dream, and her dreams nothing but fantasies.

  So I reached for her covers, hoping she would embrace all that I wanted to show her. But when the covers of that bed were pulled from the spot where she usually lay, it exposed only pillows set to confuse any wandering eyes. She was gone. And positioned underneath those pillows laid a neatly wrapped envelope entitled simply: To You, My love

  I reached for the envelope but my hands hesitated to even touch it. I wondered what it could say. I hoped nothing. No good could’ve come from inside those lines.

  As I pulled the paper from that envelope and unfolded it, at first, I couldn’t help but notice that there were several damp spots sprinkled across its surface. I suspected she wrote it while in tears. At that moment, I imploded with fear and all its features. I began to pant heavily. And the melody of the paper flickering became the only sound the house could hold, even muting those pestering crickets.

  “Let Destiny live it,” she would say every time I questioned things I didn’t understand. So, I read the letter. I am not sure how to put this into words that would sound kindlier. We have lived inside two separate worlds and it has been this way since before we were born. For so long, I have counted the days that me and you could travel to a place away from all the things that afflicts us. But I now know I can no longer follow behind you down that desolate road that so many have ventured from. Because, just like them, I too am not strong. I am nothing like you. I am weak and afraid. All those promises we made, I cannot keep. I am so sorry, my dear. I am so sorry.

  I stood, angry in disbelief that those words could even come out of her mouth. What could’ve troubled her so much that she would abandon me without ever saying goodbye? There were no words that expressed how I felt. She had been more of a mother than my own mom. Just the day before, she was caring for me and sheltering me from things I didn’t understand. And just like that, she was gone. She was gone.

  So alone I was. Alone in the darkness as the sounds of wind hitting the windows resonated through one ear and out the other. I decided to go outside and witness the Christmas night. I had to walk slowly on my tippy toes because our creaky wooden floors could awaken my parents.

  I opened the door and walked onto the porch. The stars were out and about. There was something about the entire scene that made me feel free. All the pain and heartache I once had, had somehow been leveled. Where sorrow once lived, became bliss; where fear was instilled became courage; and where hatred reigned became love.

  For the first time in a long time, I became contented. I was joyful, just by the feeling that wind gave me as it brushed against my skin. The funny thing was, it all happened outside of that wretched home. And there, I decided.

  The world was so much more than the hell we lived in and I had just started to see it. I decided to leave it all behind just like she did. I took one last look through the front door and whispered somberly, “Goodbye home.”

  With both eyes full of tears and pockets empty of money, I walked away into the darkness of the night, free from the past, yet unsure of the future.

  As I began my journey into the night, I noticed I had forgotten to take a coat to shield my body from the winter’s cold. I thought of turning back but I had come too far to let the elements derail me. I jammed my hands into my pockets, but the winds still trampled my face.

  I was in the middle of nowhere, walking down a dirt road with no human being in sight. The silence of the night terrified me. The roads, dim and desolate. The only sounds were that of the wind and my shoes scraping the gravel as I moved forward.

  I remember there being this giant open space of grass on each side of the road. It was really huge. The sight of it, strangely, took me back to memories that were not of my own. I envisioned children playing from sunup to sundown until their mothers called them in for dinner. I envisioned ranchers with their cattle imitating cowboys like their fathers once did.

  All of this, I saw as if I had witnessed it with my own eyes.

  The life I always wanted was right there in that field. I could see them with my own eyes as if they appeared from my fantasies into reality. So, as I walked down that long dirt road, those fantasies accompanied me. They were more understandable and forgiving than earth. It was more real than reality.

  In my darkest moments, it was my imagination that kept me sane. It sheltered my soul when I could not bear the turmoil of this world. It was in this imaginary world I found my solace. It was there I found myself lost in a field of dreams, trying to ultimately hide forever.

  But, as time would eventually tell, the world’s heartaches always seem to find me. Only when I am truly happy, there awaits a scenario I’ve known far too long. I am then taken back to my world, a world I will never understand.

  I walked and walked, and finally, the sun had rose above the clouds. Cars passed, forcing me to move off the road onto the grass. I was so tired, I waved at each car that went by hoping someone would stop. I waved and waved and waved. But no one stopped.

  I was just about to give up and lay right on that grass until I heard the engine of a car idling. I turne
d around and there was an elderly man on the driver’s side and a young girl about my age on the passenger’s side of the car.

  The old man’s head was completely bald and he had a thick white beard. “Why you out here waving at folks?” he asked.

  “’Cause I need a ride.”

  “Boy, where are your parents?”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “You don’t have any?”

  “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “Well, where you headed?”

  “I don’t know. Anywhere away from here.”

  The old man looked into my eyes as if he was trying to read into my soul. Nervous and a tad shaken, I looked to the ground. He reached over the young girl’s lap and unlocked the door on the passenger’s side. “Come on. Get on in,” he said.

  He looked to the young girl. “Scoot over, Sammy, and give the boy some room.”

  I got into the car and closed the door.

  “I’m Oliver McKenzie and this is my daughter Samantha,” he said. “Now go on Samantha, and say hi to the boy.”

  “Hey,” she says in a reluctant tone.

  “Hello. My name is...umm. Umm.”

  Samatha rolled her eyes. “You don’t know your own name?”

  “Be nice,” Mr. McKenzie said.

  “Sorry, Papa.”

  Mr. McKenzie turned to me again. “Now boy, I don’t know where you from, but in the south, we’re polite to one another, and when someone tells you their name it’s polite to respond by saying, my name is Sean or Randy or Zachary, or whatever it may be, understand?”

  “Yes sir,” I replied. “My name is Daniel.”

  “Well, alright now. Nice to meet you, kid.”

  McKenzie put on his seat belt and started the car. The engine made a loud roaring sound that could be heard for miles.

  “You ever been to New Orleans?” he says.

  “No, sir, but I always wanted to go there.”

  Mr. McKenzie shifted the car into gear and proceeded to drive off. “Well boy, today is your lucky day.”

  Everything was so quiet during the ride. Not many words were said either. Samantha fell asleep; I pretended to as well. But I kept my eyes open, peeking out as much as I could as we drove through the back woods of Louisiana. I remember all the greenery and the smell of rich pine and rain. It’s virtually impossible to not fall in love with something as striking as that, something in its natural state, untouched by humans. How could it be so plain and yet so perfect, so beautiful in its own right? I kept thinking about how life would be if we simply left things untouched. What would happen if we simply lived like trees in a forest? How would life be if we just existed without being altered, or if all our faults were the exact thing that made us beautiful? How would life be? I kept asking that same question until we made our way out of the woods and into the city.

  “You hungry?” asked Mr. McKenzie.

  No. I’m okay. Thank you.”

  “Well, are ya thirsty?”

  “No, sir.”

  Through the side of my eyes, I could see Mr. McKenzie look back and forth from the road to me. He seemed like a person who had many questions. But I had no answers to give or words to speak. I had nothing. I just kept my head down and my eyes closed until I felt the car stop.

  “We’re here!” shouted Samantha.

  I opened my eyes and noticed a home similar to that of my own. But when you’ve come from where I’m from, the grass is always a tad bit greener.

  “Let’s get inside where it’s warm,” said Mr. McKenzie.

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or Samantha, so I didn’t move.

  “You deaf, boy?”

  “Uh, no sir.”

  “Well, get on in this house,” he said.

  I was stricken by his kindness. Yet, as I walked into the home of this stranger, I was, for the first time, apathetic about what the future held. Instead I seized this moment for what it was.

  I thought of how, at home I would cry and how my sister would attempt to console me. She would take my head and lay it across her chest and whisper, “I am my brother’s keeper.”

  I remember her saying it was one of God’s phrases in the bible. My sister watched over me just as Mr. McKenzie was. He was my new keeper. He was my new Friend.

  “Now make yourself at home,” he said.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Mr. McKenzie placed his hand over his mouth and yawned for about ten seconds. “Well, I’m beat.” His eyes were red and his face looked like a man who’d traveled a thousand miles. “Samantha, come here for a moment,” he shouted.

  Samantha walked from her bedroom into the living room. “Yes, Dad?”

  “Honey, I’m a little tired from driving all night and I need get some shut-eye before I fall out. So I need you to keep our guest company.”

  “Sure thing, Papa,” replied Samantha.

  Mr. McKenzie yawned one last time and proceeded to his room and lightly shut his bedroom door, leaving me and Samantha in the living room.

  Samantha seemed like the shy type because she did not look at me, nor did she speak. She just sat on the opposite side of the couch twiddling her hair. I didn’t know whether to speak or to keep my mouth shut.

  She was way out of my league. She was one of them God-fearing, polite, do-right types. But it was her beauty that held my eyes. I wanted to make eye contact so I could start a conversation. So I continued to stare. I did not blink for about 30 minutes. I just stared mindlessly at her as she continued to twiddle her hair with her fingers. I stared and stared and stared.

  Until, she just looked up, turned her head to me, stared directly into my eyes, and asked, “What the fuck you looking at?”

  “Uh... huh?”

  “Are you deaf?”

  “Uh... No. I’m not. I just—”

  “Oh, Okay. I get it now, you’re retarded.”

  “No! I ain’t no goddamn retard.”

  “No way! You have to be! I mean, look at you. You’re sitting there on the couch with your tongue sticking out, saliva dripping everywhere like you’re some fucking Chinaman looking at a fucking German shepherd.”

  “Uh...what?”

  “Your heard me,” she screamed. “You have all the signs of retardation. I mean, what in the blue hell were you doing in that field the day after Christmas?”

  “I was taking a walk!”

  “In the middle of bum-fuck nowhere?!”

  “It was good exercise.”

  “Exercise? Your way to skinny. You look sick like one of them Africans!”

  “What the hell you say?”

  “I’m serious. I swear to God! You really have no meat on your bones. Look at you, all emaciated.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, I’m skinny because all the meat and bones are in your mother’s mouth!”

  “You watch your mouth,” she screamed.

  “Yeah? Well, you should try telling your mother to close her mouth ’cause everybody been in it.”

  “Stop it now!”

  “Seriously, her mouth has more customers than a dog store in Vietnam.”

  “That’s it,” she says. She jumped from the couch, her fist balled, and punched me right in the face.

  “OH SHIT! MY EYE! MY EYE! YOU PUNCHED ME IN THE EYE!”

  “Well, I warned you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I did, I said stop.”

  “Yeah, you said stop. You didn’t say you were going to turn into a crazy bitch!”

  “Keep your voice down!”

  “But you nearly broke my fucking jaw!”

  “Look, I’m sorry.”

  “Well, sorry won’t fix my face.”

  “I said I was sorry, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Samantha walked into the kitchen. “I’ll get you some ice,” she said.

  “Forget the damn ice.”

  She ignored me, grabbed a handful of ice and placed it in a plastic bag. “
Here. Put it on your face. It’ll stop the swelling,”

  “I don’t want it,” I said stubbornly.

  Well, you’re taking it,” she screamed. She plowed onto the sofa and placed the ice gently on my face.

  I just sat there, angry. I couldn’t believe what happened. I, Daniel Freeman, had been beaten up by a girl! A girl!

  “Does it still hurt?” Samantha asked

  “What do you think?”

  She didn’t respond. She just put her head down and sat quietly.

  “Why’d you have to get so mad when you started everything?” I asked.

  “You went too far. You had no right to say what you said about my mom.”

  I placed my hand on her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  “Well, it’s going to be hard to look your mother in the eyes now,” I joked.

  Samantha closed her eyes and turned away.

  “Uh. Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, it’s nothing.” She looked down as if she was trying to hide her eyes from me. The room, silent. Words of what I should say, poured into my head, but I whispered not a sound.

  She stared into my eyes.

  “Look who’s staring now,” I said.

  She smiled. In fact, that was the first time she smiled since I met her. Eye to eye. We both looked at each other’s pupils as if we were reading a good book.

  Yet, this was more like an epic. All our highs and lows showed through our eyes. We both could see it all. The unbearable stench of truth had arrived, and we hadn’t had a chance to brace for it. She was young and so was I. But we had been here before. In some other life or some far away world. I gaped in to those same eyes and felt those same feelings. And it felt good. It felt real; I didn’t want it to ever go away.

  So excitedly, I whispered, “Let’s go.”

  I remember specifically watching as one single tear slowly dripped from her left eye down to her cheek as she forcibly held this bittersweet smirk. As that tear finally fell from her chin similar to as a raindrop would falls from a leaf, she spoke one word that would soon define all of what we came to be.

  “Okay.”

  Thus with one little bag and some food that would surely not last, we walked out of that home and trusted ourselves unto the world. I only wish someone would’ve told me that we would never return.

  The priest interjects. “So you ran away again.”

  “We did,” answers Daniel.

  “Where did you go?”

  “Everywhere. We went everywhere.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Flourish without water