the kayson point trilogy, book one - white blood cells, chapters one & two

The Kayson Point Trilogy © Book One: White Blood Cells ©

THE KAYSON POINT TRILOGY

BOOK ONE: WHITE BLOOD CELLS

CHAPTERS ONE & TWO

BY ELE CLARK

Ele Clark


Introduction My name is Ele and I have two seemingly outlandish and ambitious goals. First of all, I aim to help change the world. Compared to the failed attempts of the past, my methods might be considered by some at first, to be a little peculiar and unorthodox. Secondly, I aim to avoid becoming the leader of some sort of new age cult, while trying to achieve goal number one. Nobody wants to be that guy. I believe we were all put onto this Earth for a reason. I am very excited and I look forward to, helping each and every one of you to discover that very reason; your Why. Why you were born and Why you are here. Just as you will discover at the end of my first book, nothing ever is as it first might seem. So before you make up your mind about anything, I ask that you hold off on all decisions and perspectives, until you have read the last chapter of my third and final book. Chapters One & Two I am releasing Chapters One & Two of Book One: White Blood Cells, in The Kayson Point Trilogy, for free. I am trying to build my customer base by releasing these chapters early, as well as hoping for some positive feedback to keep me motivated while I continue to edit the remaining thirty eight chapters. If I had to liken this creation of mine to anything, it would have to be Christopher Nolan’s “Inception”. I can guarantee you, that everything will probably make very little sense right now. But in the end, the sense that it will make, will hopefully be profound. Please share this PDF with your friends and family, if you enjoyed reading Chapters One and Two and think that they might enjoy them also. Facebook Find me here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheKaysonPointTrilogy/

Ele Clark

https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheKaysonPointTrilogy/


Chapter One We travel eastwards. Climbing onwards and upwards, we continue to make our way along

the winding and familiar stretch of road. The sun’s brilliance continues to grow with each second that passes us by. I know what comes next, yet it remains to dull my ever growing excitement.

Three… I reach forward. Two... With a twist of my fingers, I turn down the volume of the radio. One. With an intense explosion of magnificent radiance, the apex of the road is finally reached.

I am torn between the instinctive need to close my eyes and the desire to soak in this grand, yet gentle scene. So I squint. Waves break, as they near the shoreline; welcoming us, as we return to our favourite Point, at the head of this beautiful Peninsula. Down the entirety of the coastline, the familiar red and green display dances hand in hand with the cool ocean winds. The Pohutukawa is a symbol of this joyous day for a reason.

I don’t think this place’ll ever get old… Seasoning my sinuses with the taste of the sea, I breathe the crisp ocean air, in through my

nose and out through my mouth. The spray of the ocean is breathed upwards and into the hills. Sucked through our open windows, the cool breeze blows through our hair, as we continue to maneuver our way into paradise. Nearing closer to our favourite summer destination, the distance we cover continues to be traded for further sensations still. The first audible wave, breaks upon my eagerly awaiting ears. Unlike those that crash upon the shore, the waves of bliss that roll throughout my body, dissipate gently instead; flowing over one another and building my spirits, like an incoming tide.

Why do we ever leave… Why couldn’t we have just stayed here forever… Her small and perfect hand, reaches over the parking brake and grips me gently above my

knee. Squeezing and shaking it softly, she shows how she too, loves this place just as much as I. “What are you thinking about Zachary?” she smiles playfully, in her soft little voice; her

adorable accent, making this enchantress sound even more ravishing than she already is. Placing my hand upon hers, I turn to meet her gaze. Hmph… I can not help but shake my head, in dumb and utter amazement. I must have suffered a

million lifetimes for karmic retribution to afford me such luck. In my beat up, little red car, sits beside me the very thing I value most in this life. The most beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes upon and the only person who has ever been able to truly make me happy. The scenery and the fond memories I was so recently lost in, suddenly pales in comparison to her incredible beauty.

How did I ever get to be so lucky? Hidden by earth and by ocean, this beautiful creature was brought to me from halfway

around the world. Delivered to me, from a city of love. Little more than three years ago, she had boarded a plane in search of a better life. She had no knowledge of this country, save for the picturesque landscapes that had dwelt upon the covers of her father’s dusty books. Sceneries that would catch her eye, as she had spent her days toiling away, inside of his failing little bookstore.

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One cold and windy, winter morning, she had touched down on and disembarked out onto this land. Unable to string a simple sentence together and barely able to say hello, she had found herself alone in a country she had known very little about. But we had needed no sentences and we had needed no words. Our dumb attraction that was soon to be, would allow us an exception of speech. With no plan and with no place to stay, the actions of this young woman could be interpreted as foolish and shortsighted. A risky venture, lacking consideration for contingency. But luck favours the hopeful. With a pocketful of freshly exchanged notes, she had hailed a taxi and had begun to make her way into the city. Crawling slowly upon the wet and congested morning roads, she had crept her way towards the tall tower in the sky; swayed to this destination, by the handful of flyers that were available to her, in her native tongue. The fare alone had cost her a substantial portion of her humble and quickly whittling funds. A third in fact, if I remember correctly.

And to think I had probably thought it was gonna be just another day… That very same morning, I had been sitting within one of the smaller and more modest

lecture theatres, contained within a rather pretentious building, situated upon the business block of campus. Sustainable management was not a paper that would attract many volunteers. Scribbling down notes and barely awake, I had no idea of the two paths that were about to merge and bind with one another, on the outskirts of the country’s leading university.

“Alright class!” yelled the Professor, as he had clung to the remnants of the class’s quickly fading attention.

As the clock had signalled the technical conclusion of the lecture, students had started to close their books and rise from out of their seats.

“Don’t forget the assignment due this Friday!” the Professor had continued, “And don’t forget to turn in your electronic copies too! Have a good weekend and I shall hopefully see you all again next week!”

Rising from out of my seat, I had taken a moment to arch my aching back and to stretch out the dull pain that had persisted down the outside of my right leg.

“Have you done it yet Zach?” had asked a voice behind me; belonging to a pretty young woman, who had plagued me with the hints of her affection since the start of the semester.

“Almost,” I remember having told her; turning to look at the woman, who unfortunately for her, was simply just not my type, “I’ll probably turn it in some time tonight though.”

“I’ll see you on Monday then?” I remember her having smiled; unknowingly in vain. “Yeah...” I had smiled in return; reciprocating, as I had lacked the heart to decline this girl

her harmless consolation, “Yeah, I’ll see you Monday.” And with that, I had left the lecture theatre and had begun to make my way through the

atrium and towards the nearest exit. Having left the building and having spilled out onto the streets alongside a few hundred others, I remember finding myself exhausted from the triple threat of an undergraduate; late night cramming, due to poor prioritisation and time management; poor dietary choices, due to the very limited funds of a full time student; and of course, a drizzle of having had to have kept seated, while processing two hours worth of monotonouslydelivered information. Made even worse from the hundreds of milligrams of painkillers that were already in my system, I was the victim of unprecedented levels of exhaustion. Sitting on a public waiting list for more than two years, while looking forward to a seven and a half hour hip operation, the infinite wisdom of this country’s accident compensation system thought I might have been amused to hear that I had been denied cover, based on their decision to deem the

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trauma sustained by a snowboarding accident, to be somehow congenital. I had found myself placed within a doomed if I do and a doomed if I don’t situation of sorts. Under the daily influence of this opioid analgesic, I would knowingly allow myself to operate at a limited capacity. Without it though, I would be in so much pain, that I would not be able to even crawl out of my bed.

“...” I remember having sighed; watching my breath, as it had become visible against the cold morning air.

Final examinations were looming near and I had continued my day, as I would have any other. Adhering to tradition and about to make yet another poor dietary decision, I remember slowly trudging my way upwards on the foot path and towards the city centre. Having finally reached the intersection at the top of the hill, I had waited patiently until the the red man had tagged in and switched places with his little green counterpart.

“...” had sounded the accompanying noise of the traffic lights. The onset of beeps, had unleashed onto the road, a torrent of backpacks and books; the

students wielding them, beginning to merge into each other from all four directions. Having stepped off of the footpath and having stepped out onto the road, I had begun to maneuver through the swarming horde of preoccupied students; the screens of their cellphones, seemingly more important than the people before them. Letting me know just how much longer I had, a series of descending numbers had suddenly appeared, in lieu of the little green man. My concern of dodging inattentive students, would soon become one of dodging oncoming vehicles instead. Having stepped up onto the opposite footpath, after having made it safely across, I had begun my descent into the city centre. I had refused to acknowledge a single shop, if it did not sell the three dollar chicken and cheese Korean pancakes that my stomach had been yearning for.

“...” I remember my stomach having growled at me; distracting me from the snug pair of cheeks that were walking ahead of me, as they had each taken their turn to pronounce themselves within the jeans that had housed them.

Compared to many of my male associates at the university, whose intentions had reached far beyond the set curriculum and well into the realms of questionable extracurricular activities, I had believed myself to be promiscuous by no means. Provided that a healthy appreciation of a stranger’s backside was to be considered normal of course. At the same time however, I believe I was not so strange as to say that I had ever spared a thought for topics such as love, marriage, or anything romantic. But as I had discovered, life has a way of turning things upside down when one is least expecting it. And that is when I saw her.

“...” I remember having held my breath; stuck to where I had stood, with no regards to those that were travelling behind me.

Until that very moment, I had never believed in true love, or in love at first sight. Of course I had heard about such claims, but at the time, my understanding of such concepts were ones of romantic fiction. Purely fictitious ideals, existing only on paper and on film. Before I had been able to take my next breath, my paradigms had transitioned rudely and without warning. Parked outside of the establishment of my previous objective and stepping out from an open door, even the smell of Korean pancakes was no longer sufficient enough to divert my attention.

I’ll always remember that day… The first time I had ever laid eyes on my wife… With two large suitcases removed from the rear of the vehicle and placed down before her,

I had watched as a flustered young woman had tucked a flapping map under the arm of her pink

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overcoat. I had watched as she had held down her matching pink hat with the one hand, while she had tried to pay the driver with the other.

“Holy shit…” I remember having had whispered under my breath; this beautiful creature trying to keep herself from being blown away, as she had tried to reorientate an unsettled map.

She was very clearly lost and I was very clearly in love. My heart had been beating a million miles a minute and I had a fair idea why. She had been deciding where to go and I had been deciding how to get there; how I was going to approach her and how I was going to convince her, to one day be my wife.

Hmph… Who else can say they knew they were gonna marry their wife, after having first laid eyes on them?

With such a drive in my mind, I had grown from a boy who had possessed very little direction and purpose in his life and into a daring and clueless young man. I was still without a plan, but I was suddenly armed to the teeth with a purpose. Butterflies had fluttered along the walls of my stomach, as I had suddenly understood those apparently fictitious ideals. My medication might have been dulling the pain of my physical body, but her presence had accomplished what no amount of counselling and anger management ever could. The hate and the pain that has plagued my mind for as long as I could remember, was temporarily alleviated for the first time in my life. I was instantly addicted and I knew I needed more. A whole life’s worth in fact. Having held her in my sights, I had realised that those who would claim such ideals to be fictitious, had either yet to experience them, or were far too old and bitter to remember them. I still wonder how the people of that city could have been so busy in their days and so overly captured by the mundaneness of their daily tasks, to not have stopped for a moment and paid their respects to the creature of perfection and magnificence before them. Just as the flow of the river would move around a rock, I remember the throngs of men and women, young and old alike, having parted around her too. As if she had been an obstacle, obstructing their precious paths of rinse and repeat, everyday mediocrity, they had continued to move around her without end. But I had not seen her as an obstacle. No. I had seen her for what she truly was. The answer to my everything and the best thing that could possibly ever happen to me.

“...” I remember having choked, as her eyes had connected with mine. I recall just how embarrassed I had become. It had dawned upon me, just how long I might

have been staring at this stranger, with no effort to conceal my blatant love for her. Each and every day, as I had passed through the city centre and hiked my way upwards from the train station and towards campus, I would pass a series of benches. Each and every day, these benches would support a combination of middle aged men, that would stare unashamed, at the young women of this country’s future industries. These sleazeballs would sometimes even shower these enterprising young women, with untoward and inappropriate remarks. With their lustful thoughts and their hungry eyes, I had failed to understand how somebody could have relished in the inconsiderate amount of discomfort, that they surely must have known they would cause. Gawking like an idiot, I remember assuming how she had likely considered me to be one of those sleazeballs too. I remember hating myself, for having already blown my chances with her. I remember how I was just about to look away in embarrassment. That is, right before she had answered my stupid stare with that beautiful smile of hers.

“...” I remember gasping; the butterflies in my stomach, having begun a furious free for all. Before I could have stopped myself and before I had even realised doing so, I remember

having taken a single step forward. It was if my body were possessed by fate and as if destiny

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itself were moving me. It was as if my own accord could not have been trusted, to have acted in that most important of moments. I remember having taken another. Before I had known it, I was able to feel her breath upon mine. The five or so metres that had obstructed this seemingly destined union, was suddenly dismissed for us. Simply shooed away, by a force that seemed to have had wanted us together so badly.

Holy shit… And to think I was gonna skip class and sleep in that day… Having boarded that plane and abandoned her homeland, she had taken quite the gamble

coming here. She had rolled the dice, yet it was I that had won. I still give thanks to those books in her father’s little bookstore. I sometimes wonder if they still sit upon those very same shelves, remaining unsold and continuing to collect dust. Who knows, her father might have long since closed the store down. It blows my mind to think that those unwanted books, were the very same items that had contributed to a series of influences and events, that had plucked her from halfway across the world and had placed into my life. A series of events that I will be forever grateful most for.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” I lie; squeezing her hand gently and matching her smile with mine.

Even now, I remain unsure if she had found what it is that she had been looking for. To be perfectly honest, I am unsure what she had even constituted a better life to be. But what I do know, is that she is mine. Beside me, in my little red wreck of a car, sits my beautiful wife. My glorious companion.

“Tell me!” she smiles, as she frowns her brow and pretends to be mad with my reticence; knowing full well how I feel, but wanting to hear the words nonetheless.

Good god you’re beautiful… “Hmph…” I laugh to myself; a preposterous and hilarious concept in this day and age, to

be attracted to one’s own wife. My eyes look gently upon the flawlessness of her face. Irreplaceably precious, I behold the

very image of her with the utmost care and adoration. My god… That gorgeous smile, formed from two soft and tempting lips. Her daring, short brown hair

and the gentle curve of her perfect little neck. Her dangerously deep brown eyes. Like two Sirens, luring me to my unsuspecting end. And I would go willingly.

Hmph… As if I possess anywhere close, the conviction needed for me to deny this woman whatever it is that she wants…

Looking beneath the surface of her more obvious beauty, there remains many treasures yet to be found. Her warm and loving kindness, for starters. A sweetness that can sooth even the roughest of days. Her sexy stubbornness, for instance. An attitude so playful and fun, that it even makes compromising to her whims, an absolute pleasure. And her accent.

Oh god, her accent… I am a fool for her. I am still hopelessly in love with the woman I swore my heart and my

life to. Lau’ren Williams. My wife, and the love of my life. Lau’ren Williams.. I like it… Hmph… It’s got a bit of ring to it… Comprised of my poor choice of words and their even poorer articulation, I find myself

taking a strange offence on her behalf, towards my own lackluster thoughts. One half of me wishes that I possessed the words, to truly do this woman’s beauty the justice that it deserves. The other half of me wonders if perhaps, my folly lies with the fact that I insist on using these

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meager and earthly words to do so. And this is why I continue to fall short of portraying her celestial beauty. A beauty beyond words.

Huh? Her face is infected with fear. Wh… What is this? “...” I try to speak. Huh? Wh… Why can’t I speak? “...” I try again; realising instantly, the futility of my attempt. And why can’t I move? What is this? What’s going on? My eyes remain fixed upon the face of my wife. I am neither able to blink, nor am I able to

look away from this image of absolute anguish. Albeit confused and afraid, I find myself comparatively free in my thoughts and feelings.

Why does she look so afraid for? I notice for the first time, that it is not just my eyes that are unyielding. My peripheral

vision, locked in its place, indicates that everything around me is still. It is as if I were standing inside of a gallery, staring helplessly into a framed and untouchable piece of art. A no longer impressionable piece, forever frozen in its captured moment. Now corrupted and defaced, I am forced to look upon the only thing that I have ever loved more than myself. Formerly a source of solace and relief, she is now the cause of discomfort and distress.

Wh… Why can’t I take my eyes off her? For every second that I am forced to experience my wife in this undue state of affairs, I am

made to feel increasingly ill. What is she so afraid of anyway? I don’t understand? “...” I try once more; frozen not so much by fear, but rather by confusion. I wish I knew why… Instant regret creeps upon me. Heavy and black, I begin to understand why. But… Had I been able to know what was to come, I would have never wanted to know. I was an

unknowing fool, armed now with the power and cruelty that hindsight tends to afford. But how could I have known? It is too late. The pieces of the puzzle have already begun to connect. The dust of my

mind is reconstituted into the many pieces of a fragmented understanding. A reconstruction and a pursuit of clarity, that I can only wish to have remained ignorant of, only after having known of it in the first place.

No… I know that I am speeding. I need not consult my odometer to realise this fact. I simply

just know. I am always driving much faster than I should be. I wish I did not and I wish I were not. The truth of the matter though, is that I do and I am.

No… No… No… I attempt to deny this dreadful reality. A part of me wonders if perhaps, demonstrating

enough regret and despair might be looked upon with mercy. Perhaps an otherworldly benevolence might allow me an escape from this cruel experience. Ignorant of my pleading, the ordeal persists unrelenting and unphased. I am forced to experience, what I somehow already have. I am forced to remember, what I somehow already know.

Huh?

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Startled and confused, her scream pierces to the very core of my being. My fear is suddenly magnified and my senses attack me now, from more than one front.

Oh god… Her scream continues to resound, deafening and unchanging. The constant and unwavering

pitch, is shadowed only by the fear that it elicits. I become light headed and woozy. If I could throw up, I would. My pores are unable to coat my body, with the cold sweat that I anticipate. Stranded in this moment and frozen in time, all I am capable of, is suffering inside of this twisted combination of fear and despair.

This is all my fault… Trapped within the confines of my very own mind, my thoughts search frantically for an

escape. This is all my bloody fault… It quickly becomes apparent, that I am unable elude the depraved custody of my senses. So

I settle for less. Desperate for refuge and asylum from this perverse reality, I hope that I might stumble upon a recess or cavity instead.

I’m sorry… There is no place for me to hide. Deported back to my senses, I am forced to face the facts. I’m so sorry… “...” I try once more; wishing more than anything, that I could beg for her to stop. She continues to scream. This has long since become far too much for me to handle. Please… Reduced to a series of pathetic and unfulfilled wishes, I beg to be freed from the events that

unfold before me; as seemingly trapped in time as they may be. I just want it to stop… Please… Anything but this… Preoccupied with this most unbearable experience, I was ignorant enough to believe that a

darker wave of despair could not crash down upon me. But it can. And it does. No… My immediately prior experiences are now the lightest shades of gray, in comparison to

this black and putrid turn of events. I would have rather experienced her eternal screams, but as I am allowed to rediscover, hindsight only ever allows its owner the redundance of a pointless clarity.

No… Please no… In an instant, I am plunged into an ocean of chaos and I find myself drowning in despair. I

am helpless. There is nothing I can do but sink further into this thick and heavy madness. It is happening and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

Oh god, no… The sound of the radio slowly strengthens in its return. No. I had simply become

accustomed and oblivious to the quiet monotony of the constant notes. No… No… Please no… I would do anything to take back my indiscretion and return to the previous level of Hell.

The expression on her face begins to shift ever so slightly. A shift that I would have otherwise been blind to, if had not existed within the same, unchanging interval, for what had felt like an eternity condensed.

Huh?

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I can feel something beneath the tyre of my front, left wheel. It feels as if an otherwise unperceivable piece of asphalt, were to have displaced itself from the road and found itself being crushed by the weight of my car. Proceeding to pass gradually overtop of it, I can feel the internal pressure of the tyre increasing too. From this small and stray inconsistency upon the road, I can feel the tyres redirected ever so slightly towards the ditch. The resting weight of my hand alone, is enough to oppose the weak, counterclockwise pull of the steering wheel.

What’s happening? I can feel the temperature of my body slowly rising. I can feel my pores slowly filling with

sweat. I can feel the thinnest film of oil, between the skin of my hand and the taut leather of the steering wheel. Pressed firmly against by the nail of my index finger, I can feel the soft and sensitive underside of my thumb.

What the hell is going on right now? Becoming increasingly aware of the events unfolding before me, I begin to dread them

fiercer still. The inertia that had held everything dormant until now, is suddenly overthrown. Time begins to slowly unfurl. The external happenings of my outside world, are but a dull edge when compared to the surgical sharpness of my internal perceptions. Like a scalpel, I cut effortlessly through what my senses would ordinarily fail to discern.

How… I begin to draw breath. No. I was always inhaling. I was just simply unaware until now.

Usually autonomic, I can no longer overlook this generally unnoticed act. In this moment of rapidly growing awareness, I could not ignore it, even if I tried.

How is this even possible? I can feel every molecule of oxygen entering inside of me. I can feel every sinew of tissue

stretching within my lungs, as they continue to expand. I can feel the oxygen diffusing between the millions of alveoli and the millions of capillaries that run alongside them. I can feel the revitalisation of each and every one of my red blood cells, as the oxygen pours itself into them. Memories of seventhform biology come to the forefront of my mind, as I not only grasp, but literally experience the subject of gas exchange. I feel a subtle satisfaction of sorts, as the concentration of carbon dioxide within my blood is slowly abated; appeasing a yearning so strong, that it is no wonder my body unconsciously gives itself the air that it needs .

Impossible… My wife continues to scream. The intensity continues to climb. I can feel every vibration

of her vile screech, as it exits her mouth. Passing through the air and into my ears, I can feel the membranes of my eardrums, quivering as they are repeatedly struck with each wave of sound. I can feel the rattling of an arrangement of thin and very brittle bones, as the waves of vibration continue to conduct through them and into a deeper structure still. Striking what I can only describe as two, tiny, fluidfilled sacs, the vibrations permeate through this deeper structure and travel across the thick and mucousy substance inside. A delicate sensation tingles further inside of my head.

Wh… What was that? My attention becomes distracted, as I become preoccupied by her ceaseless screaming once

more. And again! Almost immediately, the tingling sensation runs along the same thread, before disappearing

once more. Each successive tingle, follows closely behind the other before disappearing, time

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and time again into nothingness. No. So faint at first, that I wonder if it might have just been my mind playing tricks on me, I feel a gentle prickling within my head. Continuing to disperse over the same, two opposing areas within my head, the sensation becomes increasingly apparent.

No way… I may not be able to feel it per se, but just as one perceives the throbbing arteries of a

jammed finger, I begin to determine its unseen structure. As the signals repeatedly discharge themselves throughout the inside of my skull, I am able to perceive for the first time, the very part of my brain responsible for the perception of sound.

Surely not… This can’t be possible… Growing continually conscious of these subtle sensations, my attention is drawn towards a

violent storm of electricity, as it rages within the forefront of my brain. Focusing upon this source of commotion, only proves to excite it further. Not wanting to provoke this region any more than I already have, I return my attention to the frightened face of my wife.

Huh? I feel the same subtle sensations, as they travel from underneath the raging storm and into

my eyes. Almost instantly, I detect another bout of electrical activity. Intersecting behind my eyes and travelling along two separate nerves, the visual interpretation of my wife and my surroundings are translated at the rear of my brain, for me to perceive them. Once more, my attention shifts to her undeniable scream.

Why? Why must she keep screaming like that? I feel everything. I can feel multiple parts of my brain, as they communicate with one

another. I can feel the signals, being sent down the centre of my spine. I can feel the signals dispersing over the top of each one of my kidneys and I can feel some sort of substance discharging from them and into my blood.

What… What the hell was that? The signals return through my spine and continue to loop within their circuit. My arterial

walls expand, as my blood pressure begins to rise. Yet to complete a single beat, the blood begins to accelerate as it continues to be forced

from the valves of my heart. Electrical impulses continue to travel throughout my body. My irises begin to constrict and my pupils begin to dilate.

What is this? Like a student who knows not just how little they know, I had been unaware of just how

unaware I had been. Everything is now so cruelly and blatantly obvious. The degree to which my senses are heightened, is inversely proportional to the degree in which I wish to escape from this hellish nightmare. As my senses continue to overload themselves past a series of limitless thresholds, I continue to grow ever more sensitive. While I sit here, wishing for nothing else but to be ever so numb, I wonder why I am burdened with senses that insist on remaining ever so keen. I did not think that such cruelty was possible in this world. I did not think that the human body was even capable of this much pain and suffering.

I can’t take this anymore! I resent my body for not failing me already. I wonder if my body tortures me, by

intentionally withholding the failsafe of unconsciousness; forcing me to sit and watch, until the end of the show. If her screaming will not stop, then I would love nothing more than for my eardrums to explode. But because they do not, I curse her for not having screamed even louder.

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My suffering shows no mercy towards my ignorant and unheeded hopes of release. Perhaps because of these very hopes, my reality grows to become sadistically more unbearable.

What is this?! Why the fuck is this happening to me?! As my pupils continue to stretch increasingly larger, my eyes allow me a never before seen

perspective of my wife. The skin on her face, is like the dry earth of a savannah; cracked and covered with innumerable blemishes. Fine blonde hairs, sprout from the flaking and craterlike pores on her face; kinked and unkempt. The buildup of plaque that coats her crooked and discoloured teeth, is absolutely disgusting. I can not believe how I had failed to notice, just how unsymmetrical and grotesque she truly is. Forced to stare at her hideously distorted face, I find myself quickly becoming repulsed and revolted. I try to look away, but my eyes insist on moving ever so slowly within this languidly creeping reality.

Just shut up already! Momentum continues to build. Another lifetime passes me by and my heart still remains to

have completed a single beat. Just shut the fuck up! The passing of each incremental and infinitely small moment, diminishes the degree to

which I am able to make sense of this hellish experience. Unable to escape from this suffering, I yearn for the only other way out. I can not endure this any longer. I have never desired for anything more, than I do the potential release of death. The cumulative sum of my past desires, are now but light and shallow pangs, when compared to the starved craving I have right now. Losing my mind within this eternal anticipation, my sanity continues to be sapped. This gluttonous parasite, having attached itself to the inside of my mind, continues to feed insatiably upon my hopes of cessation.

Huh? I am filled with a small sense of hope. Drowning out the screams of my wife, is the deep

and blaring sound of a horn. Of course… It dawns upon me. We are about to crash. An intermission from this madness presents

itself to me and I experience the long forgotten feelings of impatience and ambition. A car! I am excited. As mad and as irrational as my enthusiasm may be, I can not deny the furor

of this thrill. I can not be sure of the means of my demise, but there is one thing though, that I can be absolutely sure of. Whatever it is, I want it to hit us already.

Or maybe even a truck! I wait for the impact, but of course I am denied. Of course I do not receive what it is that I

so desperately wish for. I want to die, but it is simply not permitted. I would give anything to catalyze the collision and bring my life to an end. I would gladly trade my life for a single slab of stone. I would gladly reduce myself to a name, positioned above two hyphenated dates. I care not for the message inscribed. It is not as if anyone would visit me anyway. I want nothing further from this life, besides the release of death.

What’s taking so long?! I feel neglected. I wonder why I am denied what nobody seems to want. My insanity has

long since overridden the most fundamental of my human instincts. Pleading for death, there is no doubt about it. I have lost my mind. I have well and truly lost my mind. I would gladly

Ele Clark


embrace the most painful of deaths and meet it with open arms, if it could guarantee me an eventual escape from this madness. I only wish that it would happen already.

Fuck! I would throttle the steering wheel, if the flow of time would permit me. I would throttle

the steering wheel like a captive monkey, shaking the bars of its cage, in a perfect symphony of external heretical expression and an internal cry for release. But my impossible energies are trapped and so they are forced elsewhere. Like an aneurysm, the anguish bleeds from my brain and collects within the pool of my mental sphere. Lau’ren continues to scream and my insanity is fueled on further.

That fucking scream! And that fucking face! Shut the fuck up already! I’m so fucking sick of it!

I hate that I will be forced to have to listen to and stare at her forever. As I look at her in disgust, I begin to grow to hate her too. I had begun to blink many lifetimes ago, but my eyelids have yet to draw the curtains and conclude upon this ghastly scene. All because I could not keep my eyes on the road. Growing less able to deny the futility of it all, I am forced to abandon the last dregs of hope that I cling to. My fatigued mind can no longer persist within this tortuous ordeal. Overcome with exhaustion, the guard of my resolve can no longer be held high. I am left completely vulnerable, as it finally begins to happen.

Huh? My blood begins to travel through my arteries, a little faster. An influx of cells are

suddenly rejuvenated, as my heart completes its seemingly belated contraction. I was always going to be shat on, but the darkest reaches of Hell had been waiting patiently. Waiting until I was reduced to my absolute lowest, I was destined to be taken a little lower still. With my eyes still fixed upon the wretched face of my screaming wife, I know that I will never get to see the cause of my inevitable doom. But I know that I will feel it. In my hypersensitive state, I know that I will definitely feel it. I will feel everything.

Hmph… And what’s the bet that I’m not wearing my seatbelt either? And with that, I slowly begin to lean forward. Like a noisy roof, expanding on a hot

summers day, the bonnet begins to tick sporadically. My attention shifts to the lack of pressure across my chest and torso. My hunch is confirmed.

Oh shit… The sound of the impact is deafening. Synchronizing with the speed at which the car begins

to roll, my thoughts return rudely to real time. Fuck! We are now upside down. I am only able to orientate myself from the deafening noise

above me. I can only imagine that it could be the sound of the car’s roof, scraping over and against the jagged road.

“...” I scream, through gritted teeth; bracing myself, as I grip the wheel with one hand and press my forearm against the upholstery of the roof with the other.

Huh? No longer is there screaming and no longer is there scraping. No longer is there anything.

I find myself floating within this dark and empty void of infernal nothingness. Alone and afraid, I manage to scrape together a small sense of comfort and relief. My ravaged and gasping mind is finally able to rest.

“Zachary!” yells a familiar voice; desperate and afraid.

Ele Clark


Lau’ren! I attempt to twist my head, as I search frantically for her voice. Huh? I find though, that I lack the protuberance to do so. I find that I have no physical body to

do anything. Trapped inside of this black obscurity, I am but a vague sense of awareness. Am I… Am I dead? “Zachary!” she yells again. Lau’ren, I’m here! Lau’ren, where are you! The very little sense that this situation appears to make, is suddenly trivial in comparison to

the elation that I feel. Having heard her voice, I am hopeful once more. Full of hope and a fool. I regret all of my former thoughts and I take them all back. I am a fickle being, but I do not care. I want her again. I want my wife.

“Zachary!” I hear her crying, through her sobbing breath, “Answer me! Please! Zachary!” I panic further. I am unable to shake the feeling, that if I were to fail in seizing this

opportunity, that I may be forced to relive my sufferings once more. No! No, I won’t let it! Possessing the strength of a demon, I flail my limbs with all of my might. I grasp blindly

and wildly at the darkness. Clutching at straws, I hope to come into contact with something to reorientate myself with. I kick and I snatch, as I sink deeper into the darkness. Left with nothing but empty hands, I grow increasingly desperate and panicked.

My body… I can move! Lau’ren! Lau’ren, where are you! I reassure myself, that it was Lau’ren that I had heard. I convince myself, that it was

definitely Lau’ren’s voice that I had heard calling me. I just hope more than anything, that I might be right. I muster every reserve of my strength, as I prepare myself for one final show of fury. An outburst, that the Devil himself could not ignore. And with that, I unleash my desperation.

Come on… Come on… Co I strike upon a bearing, with the back of my left hand. Huh? A brief instant of something other than nothingness. For the briefest of moments, I find

myself absolutely ecstatic. My efforts were not in vain. But for fear that I might never find it again, I can no longer allow myself to relish within this seemingly trivial accomplishment. With the utmost urgency, I lash out once more. I reach to where I remember it being last.

There! Right there! Once more, I feel something across the back of my hand. Something cold and wet.

Instinctively, I retract my hand from this strange and ominous source. Or at least I try to. Huh? My stomach drops, as the menacing grip seizes tightly upon my wrist. The fuck is that?! Coiling itself tightly around my wrist, it continues to crush any hope I have of freeing

myself. I pull away with all of my might. Fuck! The integrity of the grip holds true, as it warms around my wrist. Get off of me!

Ele Clark


I feel a sudden pressure upon me. I feel something pushing down upon my stomach and restricting my already rattling breath. I continue to struggle and my breathing becomes quickly laboured.

No! Fuck! I had become complacent. Believing for an instant, that I could afford to have let my

attention shift elsewhere, my right hand becomes taken as well. Fuck! Fuck! “Lau’ren!” I try to yell, as I wrestle with my unseen oppressor; my voice strained and

weak. I can speak… “Lau’ren!” I try again, as I continue to struggle in vain, “Get out of here Lau’ren! It’s a

trap!” The pressure on my body, shifts further down my torso and onto my hips. With both of my

wrists held captive, I continue to be engulfed within this creature’s vile and clammy hold. “Zachary!” she yells again, “Stop struggling Zachary! It’s me!” Huh? Having foolishly eased at her orders, both of my legs are suddenly subdued. No! The warm and wet appendages of this mysterious creature, hook themselves over my

knees and bind my volatile and indiscriminate attacks. With my lower limbs restrained, I can no longer kick recklessly into the void.

Fuck! Not again! I feel stupid and naive. For the childlike and unquestioning trust that I possess, I resent

myself deeply. I know that were I were only a little more cynical, I might not have found myself in this predicament.

Never! Never again! Quickly tiring, I continue my exhausted efforts to fight against the holds that keep me at

bay. The more I try to resist the grips that bind me, the more they continue to tighten. I twist my wrists within damp shackles of this foul beast, believing that I might be able to slip myself free.

Damn it! Struggling against one another and juddering like two pieces of rubber, I discover that the

damp appendages of my callous oppressor only serve to constrict my wrists further. What is this thing?! I feel myself within the company of a cold and calculated entity. Biding its time to finish

me, I fight to prolong my inescapable fate for as long as I can. I might possess my tactile senses, but I remain blind to the form and appearance that my subjugator holds. In heed of its approach, I can not help but bare thoughts of a serpent, as I imagine myself being inevitably exploited in this predatory struggle with my unseen assailant.

The fuck is this thing?! I try to keep ahold of my quickly whittling hope. Capable of such a wicked patience, I

liken my opponent to a snake. An anaconda, anticipating and capitalizing upon each and every outward breath of its prey. My muscles had long since flooded themselves with lactic acid and my tendons teeter on the verge of snapping. As my finite strength nears upon its complete depletion, my weary struggle begins to conclude. I am being overwhelmed and I am about to be consumed.

Ele Clark


“Zachary!” I hear her yelling again, “Talk to me Zachary! Please!” “...” I am about to yell in return; paranoia hatching from the shell of my mind, just in the

nick of time. Wait a minute… How can I be exhausted if I’m dead? I grow suspicious of the voice I assumed had belonged to my wife. Questioning its source

and intentions, I wonder for the first time, whether or not it is really my wife that is calling out for me. A tactic perhaps. An auditory appeal to the weaknesses of my cracking mentality, as this demon attempts to defeat me in more ways than one. It dawns upon me, that I had never truly left this Hell. I had merely entered another one of its many, sadistic forms.

Wh… What’s that sound? So faint at first, that I question whether or not I had actually heard it, the sound of an

approaching siren continues to grow louder. Rescue, safety and other associated constructs enter into my mind.

Maybe I’m not dead? Or… Or am I just being led to believe that I’m not? Is this more false hope, so that I… Just so that I can be built back up and… And… And smacked back down again? Just like before?

I know that I can not be too cautious with my assumptions. I have learnt from my mistakes. I know that in this world, that hope is only given, just so that it can be snatched and taken right back. And then some.

“Open your eyes Zachary!” yells the voice of my wife; continually trying to deceive me, so that I might lower my defences.

I won’t be fooled again! I squeeze my eyes tight. A reflexive refusal, in denying this evil what it is that it wants. “Zachary, it’s me!” I hear her voice once more. I squeeze my eyes even tighter than before. So tight in fact, that the small muscles of my

eyes begin to shake and weaken with fatigue. Shut up! As I cower with a dreaded anticipation, it finally dawns upon me. My eyes… My eyes had to’ve been closed in the first place for me to’ve squeezed them…

My eyes have been closed this entire time! My curiosity overbears my sense of caution. I try to rationalize my inquisitiveness, in an

attempt to justify my upcoming actions. Whatever I do… I’ll be in one form of hell anyway, so… So why not right? I remain far from convinced, but it is something that I know that I must do. Mustering my

courage, I begin to slowly build my resolve. There is nothing I want more than to peek, but I dare not do it. I would rather commit to diving into the ensuing, than to dip a portion of myself into and get a small taste of what I must eventually saturate myself in. With nothing to lose and with everything to gain, I throw back the lids of my eyes. Contracting my brow forcefully, I expose as much of my whites as I can.

“...” I gasp; trembling with fear and unable to make a sound. There is an ominous presence upon me. I am pinned down and towered over, by a heinous

and malevolent silhouette. This place… My surroundings are familiar. I feel as if I have been here before. The faint glow to my

left, gently illuminates my surroundings.

Ele Clark


Wh… where am I? I turn my head. Blinking, as I allow my eyes to slowly adjust, I begin to finally realise

where I am. “Zachary!” she whispers sternly, as I continue to struggle within her grasp, “Zachary, it’s

me!” Through the improperly drawn curtains, the faint glow of the street lights is replaced with

alternating flashes of red and white. The blaring sound of the siren reaches its peak, before returning into the distance once more.

“Zachary!” she whispers once more; persuading my return to reality, as she straddles my waist and keeps my wrists pinned to the bed.

Lau’ren… I begin to relax my struggles, as a blend of exhaustion and relief washes over me. I feel her

hair and her hot breath upon my face, as we pant wearily together. It was just a dream… My eyes remain fixated between the two curtains, as my mind attempts to catch up with

and make sense of the events that have just now transpired. Just as a child would draw comfort from his nightlight, I too have found a small solace from this peeping glow. My mouth is dry and tongue is raw. Heaved from my starving lungs and passed through my aching throat, I try to regulate the breath that passes over my almost cracking lips

No… That was no dream… That was a nightmare… That same, god damn, fucking nightmare…

I continue to draw comfort from the glow, as I dwell within the thoughts of this infamous and recurrent encounter of mine. In my experience, I have found the establishment of Hell to be disturbingly customerorientated. It is my belief and it is something that I can attest to, that the Devil is a master of business. The Devil understands that each of his customers is unique. Believing that it is absolutely pertinent for each and every one of his customers to receive an equally unique experience, the Devil does what he does best; personalizing each encounter to suit and to cater for, each one of his customer’s individual needs. No doubt, it is because of these same values, that Hell has remained in business ever since it was established.

“It’s okay Zachary,” she assures me; relaxing her hold on my wrists, “You’re awake now.” I turn my head to my right and I stare into the darkness. Remembering my shame, I can not

bear to endure the brunt of her kind and arbitrary gaze. Undeserving of such compassion, I feel absolutely pathetic.

“...” I sigh, as I am about to place my hands upon her waist. Huh? Without the need for guidance or instruction, she slides herself off of me and onto her side

of the bed. Is this what it’s come to? I prop my elbow behind me, as I sit myself up shakingly. In one smooth motion, I pull

myself upwards and I turn to my side. Have I pushed her aside that many times now, that we’ve created some sort’ve… routine? Turning my pillow over, my arm shakes as I lower my head slowly upon it. The cold and

crisp sensation, soothing the side of my feverous face, offers me a minor and limited reprieve from the shame that I feel. I pull the duvet over my exposed shoulder.

“Honey…” she tries to comfort me; placing her hand gently upon my waist.

Ele Clark


Of all nights… “...” I sigh; drawing a full breath into my lungs, before letting it out slowly through my

nose. Well, of course it had to happen tonight… I have also discovered that inconvenience is an added extra, often included for free. Also a

master of consumer relations, the Devil is always happy to go that extra mile for his favourite and most loyal of customers.

“I love you...” she whispers, as she leans forward and kisses me on the back of my neck; removing her hand from my waist, as she accepts that her show of affection will likely remain unrequited.

I’m gonna be so tired tomorrow… God damn it… I can’t afford not to be at the top of my game…

“I love you too…” I whisper; placing my hand upon my waist and over the absence of hers, as she turns around and leaves me to feel sorry for myself.

Why do I have to keep blowing her off like that… “...” I yawn; removing my fist from out under the blanket and holding it before my open

mouth. What’s the time, I wonder? Pivoting the fist that covers my mouth, I squint at the faintly glowing hands of my watch. Oh god, it’s three o’clock already… “...” I sigh once more; closing my eyes and trying to cast from my mind, just how drained I

am bound to be on the most important of mornings.

Ele Clark


Chapter Two “Daddy!” I hear a small and familiar voice, yelling at his sleeping father. Oh god, what time is it? “...” I groan; turning my head in my pillow and squinting at the face of my watch. It’s still so early… “Daddy, wake up!” pleads my untimely son. Beginning to be dragged over my body, I grab ahold of the duvet that my son uses to pull

himself up onto the bed. Go away… Crawling across the mattress, he places his little hands upon my shoulders and rocks me

back and forth into a half woken state. I try my best to ignore this. Go away Elijah… The shaking becomes more bothersome. I doubt that it crosses his mind, that I may be

trying to ignore him intentionally. His underdeveloped and inadvertently inconsiderate mind, likely believes that such a deep state of sleep can only mean that a more powerful stimulus is required of him.

“...” I groan, as I rub my fingers into my aching eyes; opening one of them and peeking carefully through it.

Before me, with his teddy in hand and his head level with mine, stands my little creation. I am prompted to close my stinging eye, as it becomes unbearably sore.

“Ten more minutes...” I groan; rolling over and turning my back to him. “...” I hear him sniffing through his clearly blocked nose, as I attempt to fall back into my

slumber Oh god… A part of me knows that he will stand there for an actual ten minutes. It was Elijah’s fourth

birthday last week and he had wanted a watch like his father’s. So that is what I had bought him. Don’t worry about him… Let him wait… A part of me knows that his is looking at his little wrist and watching, as the second hand

ticks slowly away. I become uncomfortable and I begin to feel bad for the little man. But today is an important day and I am still very tired. Shrugging off my concerns, I decide it is best that I ignore him.

“...” he sniffs again. For fuck sakes… I know that I am fooling myself. How can I sleep when he keeps sniffing like that? Elijah is too young to understand, that ten minutes is usually followed by another ten

minutes. The boy is so literal in his interpretations, that he likely fails to anticipate that another ten minutes is usually followed by ten minutes more.

“What is it Elijah?” I ask him; trying to hold back my frustration. Today is the most important day of my life and I am already handicapped by last night’s

inconvenience. I know that the sooner I get this little man out of my hair, the sooner I can return to some much needed sleep.

“Elijah…” I try again, “What do you want son?” He fails to respond.

Ele Clark


“...” Elijah sniffs once more. Perhaps he didn’t hear me… “Elijah?” I try once more. What are you doing Elijah? “Elijah?” I repeat myself; this time, a little louder. “...” I am answered by another crusty sniff, through his little crusty nose. What the hell is he doing? “...” I groan, as I turn around once more. This time a little wider, I open my eye and blink back the sting. Elijah’s thin and mousy

brown hair, hangs over his forehead, as he looks to the floor. What are you looking at kid? I reach over and grab the lip of the mattress. Pulling upon the edge of the bed and

executing a lazy halfcrunch, I sit myself up and take a look for myself. A little red watch, on his pale little wrist. Just like those of his mother’s, he looks up at me with his big and beautiful brown eyes. Unlike his mother though, he does not think to blow his running nose. Rather, he lets it dry and cake above his upper lip instead.

Hmph… You dirty, little grommet… “...” sounds another sniff, right on cue. His eyes wandering all over my face, Elijah continues to blink and sniff in relative silence. “Elijah, what is it?” I ask him; admittedly a little intrigued now. Has he done something wrong perhaps? “I ” he begins sheepishly, before biting his tongue and looking to the floor. “You what?” I prod further, “Elijah, what is it?” My son lifts his head and looks again at me silently. Judging by the look on his face, he is

probably not quite sure himself. Huh? Suddenly, Elijah turns on his feet and scurries out of the room. With an incredibly heavy

gait for such a tiny person, I listen to him as he stomps his way down the wooden stairs. I wonder if perhaps, he is headed towards the kitchen, to make me another cup of coffee.

“Hmph…” I can not help but laugh quietly to myself; thinking back to the night before. It’s the thought that counts right? Only last night, after having dragged my feet through the door and slumped into my

favourite chair, Elijah had taken it upon himself to present me with half a cup of coffee beans, mixed together with cold water and milk. Had I actually taken a sip, I might have avoided last night’s terrors by mitigating the human body’s need for sleep.

Kids do the weirdest things… “...” I sigh; allowing my elbow to give out, as I fall onto back onto the bed. I arch my lower back and extend my leg out as far as it will go, as I try to stretch out the

dull and annoying pains that have plagued me all of these years. All this fucking money and nobody capable of fixing shit… Growing increasingly uncomfortable, I twist onto my opposite side. “Good morning honey,” she whispers softly; a warm foot placed gently against mine. I pull my foot away and pretend to remain asleep. Reminded of my shame, I can not bear

to open my eyes and look upon the source of such undeserved compassion. Morning sweetie…

Ele Clark


I turn around once more. My shame is soon distracted, as I realise how physically and mentally exhausted I am. As I feel my body falling asleep once more, I can not help but wonder about Elijah and his stomping downstairs. The lack of metal teaspoon, clinking upon porcelain cup, has me believe that I am at least safe from another one of his infamous concoctions.

“...” I breathe in deeply, before sighing it back out. Shit, I hope Caitlyn’s got everything sorted for today… I probably should’ve checked my

flight details before I left… Or maybe I should start putting a little more trust in her, given everything that’s happened lately… Well… I guess it’s too late if she hasn’t, so I may as well not worry about it right?

I relax further, as I verge on the edge of unconsciousness. Yeah, I suppose there’s really no point in worrying about i “Ah, what the fuck!” I yell, as something is shoved into my face, with enough force to

bring water to my recently arid eyes. Crinkling loudly, I push whatever it is away from my face. Seriously Elijah?! “Can’t you see that I’m trying to sleep?” I growl at him; opening my eyes to see my son on

his backside. Clutching a piece of paper almost half his size, it is clear to see that he is startled by my

more than apparent irritation. Oh god, please don’t cry… Elijah turns to conceal his wobbling chin and his downturned lips. Rising to his feet, he

scurries out of the bedroom. “He just wanted to show you the painting he made for you,” Lau’ren points out softly, as

she places her hand upon my waist, “He fell asleep in the lounge last night, waiting for you to come home.”

Yeah, nevermind that my son just assaulted me… “You said you wouldn’t be home late,” she continues, “Where were you last night?” Always on my bloody case… I get something shoved in my face, as I’m trying to sleep and

somehow I’m the bad guy? “Zachary…” she whispers; rubbing up and down on my waist gently. “I don’t need this right now…” I tell her; trying not to snap, as I push her hand off of me,

“Not today Lau’ren.” “Z” I hear her about to persist, before deciding to bite her tongue, “I’m sorry…” Always bloody apologising… Why does she always do that? Now I feel like the world’s

biggest asshole… “...” I sigh deeply; my lungs still aching, as I draw breath. Well, I’m awake now and I doubt I’ll be able to get back to sleep anyway… And there’s

bound to be some last minute stuff at the office… Hanging my legs out from under the duvet, I prop myself into a seated position at the edge

of the bed and place my feet onto the carpet below. Oh god… My head spins, as I find myself more than a little woozy. I was right. Holding my head in

my hands and closing my eyes tight, I try my best to pull myself together. Luckily my subpar performance is still better than ninety nine percent of the suits out

there…

Ele Clark


I reach a hand out towards the bedside cabinet and feel for the bottle I had left on top. Taking it in my hand, I proceed to unscrew the lid and bring it to my lips.

I did sweat quite a bit last night… Hopefully I’m just dehydrated… Taking a mouthful of water, it dawns upon me how barren my throat truly is. My eyes

water, as I try not to guzzle down the precious liquid. It feels good as it soothes my aching throat and travels into my empty stomach. I can not help but have another mouthful.

“...” I sigh once more; threading the lid back onto the bottle and returning it, to its place on the bedside cabinet.

Much better… Pleased with the progression of my recovery thus far, I lean forward and stand to my feet. Whoa… Stepping forwards and regaining my balance, it occurs to me that I may need something a

little stronger than water if I wish to remedy my sorry state of affairs. Take it easy big guy… One step at a time… Staggering towards the ensuite, my feet step from the carpet and onto the cold bathroom

floor. Shivering weakly, I feel the colour begin to return to my face. Hmmm… Looking down at the granite tiles below me, I feel the sudden desire to lie down naked

upon them. Entertaining the idea, I drop my briefs and let them fall to my feet. Nah, better not… As refreshing as it might feel in my imaginative experience and as much as I believe that I

might prefer any amount of discomfort over this spinning nausea of mine, I know that my bare ass would regret it instantly.

Yeah… Yeah nah, fuck that… With a single downwards swipe of my middle finger, the lights illuminate the room and the

extractor fan begins to whir away. Stepping into the open, granite shower and turning the shower head away from me, I place my hand upon the tap.

A cold shower perhaps? “...” I sigh, as I turn the tap to the far left and pull it upwards; the water bursts from the

shower head and strikes the granite wall. Who am I kidding… The cold water splashes and speckles my naked body, as I turn around and make my way

towards the sink. Bending over and reaching into the cabinet drawer, I grab ahold of the first toothbrush available to me, as well as a tube of toothpaste.

“Hmph…” I smile, as I uncap the toothpaste and squeeze it along the length of the bristles. I don’t get it? She’s happy for me to stick my tongue in her mouth… And if I’m lucky,

she’ll even let me stick my… Well… So why is it so disgusting for me to use her toothbrush from time to time?

Turning on the cold water, I wet the paste before placing the brush into my mouth. Throwing the toothpaste back into the drawer, I place my left hand onto the sink to support my wavering stance.

“...” I sigh; shaking my head, as I look into the mirror and upon my body. I’m getting fat… I do not like what I see. Although I do not have a belly, my physique is a far cry from what

I had achieved in my earlier days.

Ele Clark


I’ve got to start working out more… Between work and family, I don’t have a fraction of the free time that I used to though…

Still brushing my teeth, I look over the art that adorns half of my body. My eyes are drawn to my right breast and to the Baku that calls it home. Once crisp and ferocious, it is now stretched and fading.

How the mighty have fallen… Twisting my back, I look upon the workmanship, in all of its entirety; the seven virtues of

the Bushido Code, scattered along my upper arm; the Cherry Blossom and the mighty Dragon, stationed proudly upon my back; the two infernal Oni masks, hissing and cursing from my side; the Golden Koi, fighting against the current, as he swims from my ass cheek and towards the overhang of the Golden Gate Waterfall; and the stormgod Susanoo, engaged in battle upon my thigh, as he drives his divine blade into the throat of the eightheaded beast, Orochi.

Maybe I’ll go to the gym tomorrow… I run my wife’s toothbrush under the tap and place it carefully into the drawer. Yeah, it’ll be good for me… Holding the spittle in my mouth, I turn off the tap and walk over to the steaming shower.

Spitting at the drain hole, I watch as the paste is washed away and carried out of sight by the hot water. Adjusting the temperature to the desired degree, as I assess the water with my hand.

Oh god… The hot air melts the sweat that has dried on my body. I feel as if I am covered in oil. I

feel as if I am about to be sick. Furthermore, the whirring of the extractor fan is doing my splitting headache no favours, as my head spins with it. I feel terrible.

That god damn noise… And why did she have to get lightbulbs so bloody bright for? Weighing my options, I turn around and stare at the two switches. If I turn off the extractor fan, it’ll get even hotter… And if it gets even hotter, the nausea

will only get worse… But what good’s feeling a little more comfortable, if my head’s about to explode?

“...” I sigh, as I slump my shoulders and stagger towards the doorframe; unable to bear the racket any longer, I slide my finger upwards and over the same two switches.

The bathroom becomes a little darker and the fan fades to a stop. Better already… I turn towards the shower and assess the temperature once more. Experimenting with the

tap, I test for the perfect blend of hot and cold. Finally achieving this balance, I turn the shower head away from the wall and with a bow of my head, I step into the water.

It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be… Blasting me from above, I can feel the sweat beginning to wash off my skin. From my

head, down to the rest of my body, I feel myself slowly becoming clean. “...” I sigh, as I allow myself this simple pleasure. Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I present my face to the source of this warm and

cleansing downpour. With eyes still sealed, I reach for one of Lau’ren’s many face washes. Uncapping the lid, I squeeze a whole lot more than the recommended amount into my open hand. Rubbing this ridiculously overpriced product between my palms, I look away from the shower head, as I proceed to rub it into my face. Tiny granules begin to exfoliate my face, as I scrub as hard as I can, in an up and down motion.

Smells good… Like a vanilla coconut I think?

Ele Clark


Lifting my head, I begin to rinse my face clean. Rubbing the water away from my eyes, I tilt the shower head slightly downwards. Reaching for the head of another bottle, I pump a handful of shampoo into my rounded hand. Being very careful and placing one hand under the other, I flip it onto my head and begin to lather my hair as fast as my fingers will allow me. Before too much of the product can fall away and get washed down the drain, I am able to develop an impressive number of bubbles on top of my head.

Oooh… This one’s like a mango and a… And a… Hmmm… I’m sure I’ve smelt this one before…

Taking the bottle in my hand, I search for the identity of this suspected scent. Frangipani huh? I don’t think I’ve ever eaten one of those before… I must give it a go

someday… Scraping the bubbles from my forehead and pushing them back into my hair, I proceed to

rinse my hands clean. I am no expert on everyday hair care, but what I do know is this; the more shampoo, the better; the more bubbles, the better; the longer you can leave the shampoo in your hair, the better; shampoo that runs into your eyes is not ideal; and lastly, that conditioner is largely unnecessary.

What does it even do? It doesn’t even make bubbles… Returning the bottle to the shelf, I look about for something larger than a small sliver of

soap. Bloody hell, I thought I told her to get me some more… Soap scum, soap scum, soap

scum… If that bodywash shit actually did anything, I might not have to keep using it… Unable to settle for anything more, I grab the sliver of soap and begin to wash my body

with it. As my morning ritual dictates, I reach over my left shoulder and with the assistance of my hand, I am able to reach that little bit further.

Are you fucking serious Lau’ren? The bathroom fills once more with the blazing light of the bulbs and the blaring noise of

the fan. “Sorry honey...” begins my wife, “But the condensation will make the ceiling mouldy.” Oh my fucking god… It does not occur to my wife, that I might already know this and I am possibly not as thick

as she would have me believe. It does not occur to my wife, that I might have left them off for a reason.

She better not complain about me using soap either… It’s her own damn fault, for not allowing me to hire a cleaner…

Returning from my annoyed thoughts, I look at her, looking at me. “I’m sorry…” she whispers, as she continues to stare at me with a concerned look upon her

face. Come on Lau’ren… Not today… With a stare just like her son’s, she remains under the arch of the door, as I continue to

lather my body. Dropping her head, she stares quietly at the bathroom floor. Don’t Lau’ren… You know how important today is… Meeting my eyes only briefly, she looks once more to the floor. She obviously has

something to say, but I dare not ask. I can not afford to place more stress upon myself. Not today.

“I don’t want to cause a fight honey…” she whispers, after having not been asked.

Ele Clark


Oh my fucking god, here we go again… She really just did. Deciding that I am done here, I throw what is left of the soap at the

wall and I start to furiously rinse the shampoo from my hair. I am pissed. “Y” I begin, before thinking better of it. You just had to, didn’t you?! How many times must we fucking do this Lau’ren?! And of

all days too! Running my hand systematically over and between every inch of my body, I rinse the

remaining suds away, as I try to keep myself together in the face of this quickly warming temper. Fuck! “Za” she begins. “Not today!” I yell, as I swipe at the stuck sliver on the wall, “How many ti” “Then when?” she interrupts me right back, “If not today Zachary, then when?” I can not help but look at her. From her cheek to her jawline, runs the bane of my

existence. A constant reminder of the day I almost killed the woman I had sworn to protect. Fuckin’ hell… “Just…” I sigh; turning off the shower and running my fingers through my hair, “Just not

today. Please Lau’ren. Please.” “You can’t keep putting this off honey,” she reminds me for the first time today, “You need

to tal” “I need to talk to about it?” I beat her to it; laughing maniacally, as I step out of the shower

and grab myself a towel, “What, with a shrink? Because it’s really that simple right?” My wife crosses her arms and averts her gaze, as I ridicule her recommendation. You just can’t bloody help yourself, can you?! “Here!” I continue mocking, as I begin to dry myself, “Before we get started, here’s some

of my well earnt money! Now that that’s done, where shall we begin to waste each other’s time today? What’s that? You want to talk about something I already know, because I was there when it happened? Sure! What a brilliant idea! No, no, keep talking! I really value your input! What else do your textbooks say about me? Really? Oh wow! How insightful! Wait, what’s that? No, surely not! It couldn’t possibly be time already! What day would suit me, you say? You know what? I’d love to take more time out of my already impossible schedule, but I don’t think that’d be necessary! No, don’t get me wrong! No, it’s not like that! No, it’s not that I don’t want to see you again… No, I told you it’s not like that! It’s because I don’t think I need to! I was a little skeptical at first, but I actually think you’ve done it! I feel like I’m all fixed! I can’t wait to never have to think about that nearly killing my wife, ever again! My only regret is that I didn’t get around to doing this sooner!”

“Are you done yet?” she whispers. “I was done long before we even got started!” I continue to mock, “What about you

Lau’ren? Are you?” She wipes her brimming eyes and proceeds to sniff quietly, as she remains standing in the

doorway. Talk about a shit start to the day… “And it’s not about fixing yourself Zachary,” she sniffles, as I have obviously not heard the

last of her, “Or about trying to forget. It’s about forgiving yourself.” “Forgiving myself?” I yell, as I throw my towel onto the floor. Whoa…

Ele Clark


I place my hand against the wall, as my sudden outburst of energy has me feel woozy once more.

“How many times do we have to go through this?” I continue; this time a whole lot more reasonably, “How do you expect me to possibly forgive myself? You could have died Lau’ren! I could have killed you!”

“But you didn’t,” she whispers. “But I just as easily could have,” I remind her, as I bend over to pick up the towel and place

it into the laundry basket, “Look. This is something that will stick with me for the rest of my life and… And I don’t expect for you to ever understand that. I did what I did and I just have to live with it. I just wish that you’d let me.”

“But you don’t have to,” she continues trying to get a rise out of me, “It’s like you’ve already made up your mind.”

Unbelievable… “You think I enjoy this?” I shake my head in disbelief, as I try to hold myself together,

“You think I enjoy going to bed every night, wondering if tonight’s the night? Wondering if I’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep or not? You think I enjoy working myself to the point of exhaustion and being too afraid to close my fucking eyes? You think I ”

“You won’t even try!” she cries out; her tiny frame trembling, as she stands her ground. Oh god… She is clearly upset. Just like our son’s had, her chin begins to wobble too. I find my

temper quickly dissolving, as a stray tear rolls over the scar on her cheek. “...” I sigh, as I empty my lungs through my nose, “I know you want me to get better. I

know that Lau’ren. But these nightmares… These nightmares are just a part of who I am now. I just wish you wouldn’t bring up the past all the time. I just wish… I just wish that I could be left to deal with my own problems, in my own way. I wish that we could just be happy again.”

“But that’s just it Zachary!” she continues, as she wipes away her tears, “It’s not just your problem thought is it? It affects us too! We aren’t happy, because you’re not happy Zachary!”

“...” I sigh; my reticence a small admission of her accusations. “You’ve worked so hard,!” she continues, “You’ve drowned yourself in your work, as a

way to deal with everything! But you don’t have to anymore Zachary! You’ve made it! You have made it! You are the CEO of the nation’s largest corporation, for crying out loud! And for what? What more do you want Zachary? Why do you insist on still working yourself to death?”

“To buy you everything you’ve ever wanted!” I yell; trying not to pull my hair out. “But I don’t need anything Zachary!” she yells in return, “I just want my husband back!” I purse my lips, as I try to contain the profanities I hold on the tip of my tongue. Fucking hell Lau’ren, you’re so full of shit and you know it! “What about this apartment huh?” I continue; stark naked and shaking my head, with my

arms held out wide, “You wanted this big flashy apartment! And you know what I did? You know what I did Lau’ren? I gave it to you! What about all those god damn clothes? Who do you think paid for all that? Who do you think paid for everything that you own? All you ever did was dress up and go out to those fancyass restaurants, with your fancyass friends and eat those stupidass, hundred dollar salads! I’ve bought you everything you’ve ever wanted Lau’ren! And you know what? I was happy to! And I still am! So don’t you ask me why I work so hard, like you have no idea!”

Ele Clark


“Things are different now though Zachary!” she cries, “You have a son now! A son who barely knows who his father is! You spend more time at work than you do at home! And even when you are here, it’s like… It’s like you don’t even want to be! He just wants to spend time with you Zachary. We both do.”

“...” I sigh; unable to argue further. I thought that having a child together would’ve fixed our relationship… Not that I don’t

love the little guy… But ever since he was born, all she does is keep herself cooped up inside… I can’t remember the last time she went out with her friends, or spent time with them outside of liking and commenting on pictures of each other’s food… It never used to be like this… It never used to be this hard… I preferred it when she had wanted the world… At least then, I was able to give her what she had wanted… Every time I was able to pay for something, it felt like I was buying some… Some temporary form of forgiveness or something… I was happy to work myself into an early grave, if it meant being able to make her happy… But for years now, she hasn’t asked for anything except for my time… And it’s not like I don’t wanna give it to her either… I’d love to be able to come home and spend more time with my wife and son… But if I don’t keep myself up to my ears in deadlines and bury myself with work, then my mind starts to become idle… I need to keep my mind busy… I know I might not be dealing with my issues, but at least I only dream once or twice a week now, instead of every single night… I know that working this much can’t be good for me, but… But if I have to keep on revisiting that place, I’d rather do it as fewer times as possible, if I can help it… I work so that I don’t have time to remember and… And she knows that… I know she loves me and she knows I love her too, but… But I can’t just forgive myself, as easily as she makes it sound… I wish I could, but I can’t… I just wish she’d let it go…

“...for once” she sniffs, as she continues to wipe under her eyes with her sleeve. Huh? “For once, what?” I ask; a confused look on my face, after having just snapped out of my

thoughts. “Nevermind,” she whispers, as she pushes her shoulder off of the doorframe, “I’ll be

downstairs.” Looking at me once more, through the infinite kindness of her big brown eyes, she exits the

bathroom and leaves me to be. Fuck… I look into the mirror and wish how things could be different. I look along the shelf and at

each and every one of her cosmetics. She never used to use any of this shit… Now she spends a good half hour every single day,

just to make herself look pretty around the house… Trynna hide that scar from me… And she does a good job about it too… I can barely make it out most days, but it doesn’t help that I know it’s there… If I search for it, of course I’m gonna find it… The fact that she puts in so much effort too… To make being around her, easier for me… To make looking at her less painful… How can she be so kind to me? How can she forgive me so easily?

“...” I sigh, as I reach for my deodorant and roll it under my arms. No… She never forgave me, because she never blamed me in the first place… “...” I sigh again; pumping an iota of moisturiser onto my finger, before rubbing it into my

hands and my face. Gross…

Ele Clark


I have always disliked the feeling of moisturizer, sunblock, or any sort of lotion on my skin. Unfortunately for me, the face of Whitham Bryers can not afford to be anything less than perfect. I am no expert on everyday skin care, but what I do know is this; the less moisturiser one can get away with, the better. Continuing to hold true to routine, I spray myself with some fragrance, clean out my ears and spike up my hair.

The morning’s still recoverable… All that’s left to do, is get dressed and get some grub in me… This fight’s far from lost…

Returning to the bedroom, I see Elijah’s painting placed strategically on top of the bed. “Hmph…” I smile; knowing full well, he will pretend he had no part in this. One, two, three stickmen… I suppose that’s Lau’ren, Elijah and I… But what the hell are

those? Red dots of some sort? And a black triangle with white teeth? I have no idea what he’s trynna depict here, but I’ll make sure to tell him I love it anyway…

Opening the sliding doors of the closet, I begin to dress myself with my initial layers. After having stepped into my socks and briefs, I remove one of the many purple dress shirts from their coat hangers.

The colour of royalty… Buttoning the shirt downwards, I pull out a small drawer and scan over my selection of

cufflinks. These will do… Reaching for and climbing into a pair of black dress pants, I thread my favourite belt

through the loops of my waist, before tucking my shirt in and pulling it tight. Talk about a self esteem boost… Yeah, I’ll definitely be going tomorrow… Ignoring the fact that I might need a new belt soon, I reach for one of my deepest disgraces.

Positioning it above the uppermost button of my shirt, I clip on one of my many, black textured ties.

Hmmm… So dark that it is almost black, I slip into my selected waistcoat and begin to button it

accordingly. Dark purple on not so dark purple… I could’ve been a fashionista, with this flare for

fashion of mine… Feeding my arms into the lining of my best black jacket, I slip my feet into the pair of

alligator leather, laceup shoes before me. Fastening the top button of the suit, I step out from the wardrobe and stand proudly before the full length mirror of the master bedroom.

Hmmm… One more thing… Roaming into the wardrobe once more, I push the cufflink drawer forwards and pull out the

drawer underneath it. Selecting a dark blue and prefolded handkerchief, I slot in carefully into my breast pocket.

Let’s see what we look like… Stepping before the mirror once more, I can not help but smile. Black, purple and blue… Just like today’s deal, after I’m done smashing it! “Hmph…” I can not help but laugh at my own joke, as I puff my chest out proudly. Time to start writing history, you smart looking man… You’ve got this… This is what you

were born for… “...” sounds the grinding of beans and the churning of the coffee machine downstairs. Oh god, I could kill for one of those…

Ele Clark


I begin making my way downstairs, after remembering to swipe the mysterious painting from the bed. I can smell coffee. Hot coffee. Making sure that I do not miss the final and often overlooked step of the stairs, I maneuver my way through the toys that litter the lounge and enter into the kitchen unscathed.

“I smell coffee!” I announce merrily, as I clap my hands together; picking up my favourite mug and taking a small sip, “Did you make this for me Elijah?”

Elijah turns his head so far, that he turns his whole back to me. Okay, I guess I deserve that… I take another small sip from my mug. I wonder if anyone else’s ever bought one of these for themselves? They didn’t even ask for

a reference… I wonder how many other self proclaimed, number one dads might be out there? I stare at the back of my son's head and take another sip of my coffee. He is too young to

understand, that just because he can not see me, does not mean that I can not necessarily see him. Knowing that he is only trying to demonstrate to me that I have hurt his feelings, I decide not to point this out.

“I love your painting Elijah!” I lie, as I pretend to be in awe of it, “Is it for me? Can I keep it?”

Twisting his head even further, he continues to sulk in his chair. “…” I try not to laugh, in the face of such impracticality; turning himself so far now, that I

can see half of his face again. As illogical as his actions are, I see what he is trying to achieve. “...” I sigh, as I walk towards the table and take a seat next to my son. Lau’ren places a plate down before me. Bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, hash browns,

mushrooms, tomatoes and an already buttered piece of toast. Awesome… I nod a quiet thanks to my wife, as she leaves me to repair my relationship with my son. I

place my mug onto the table and position the painting between the two of us. “So this one is me right?” I begin, as I point to the tallest of the stickmen. Elijah quickly turns his head, before resuming to deny me his face. “No, that’s Mum!” he turns around quickly, to tell me matteroffactly. But I’m the tallest in this family, by more than a foot… “Ah, of course,” I agree with him sarcastically, “How silly of me.” Lau’ren throws me a glance, after having not satisfied her belief of how seriously I should

be taking this matter. Okay, maybe I’m being a little too critical of him… He’s only four and a half, so I guess I

can let such particulars slide for now… “And I’m guessing that’s you there?” I try again, as I point to another; with fifty percent

odds this time, I know that my chances are only getting better. “Yeah, and that’s you,” he blurts out, after having turned to identify the remaining

stickman with his little finger. Remembering his disdain towards me, Elijah suddenly resumes his demeanour and turns

away once more. Hmph… Before subjecting myself to any more of his capricious contempt, I take this moment to

dice up the items on my plate into many, bite sized pieces. I am no expert on gustation and the

Ele Clark


culinary arts, but what I do know is this; it is best to include a bit of everything, in every single mouthful; and when amassing each mouthful upon your fork, it is best to start with the most fragile items first. Licking the grease from my knife, I set it aside and place my fork into my right hand,so that I can begin stabbing at my plate.

Toast, bacon, sausage, mushroom, tomato, hash brown and egg… “H” I am about to ask my wife for some tomato sauce, before deciding to bite my tongue. Observing me from behind the kitchen bench, I gather from the less than impressed look

upon her face, that it might be a good idea to put my son’s feelings before my stomach today. Maybe not a good idea then… “So, ah…” I mumble, as I look over his painting, “These little red things… What are they

supposed to be Elijah?” “Cherry tomatoes!” he blurts once more. Cherry tomatoes? “Hmph…” I laugh quietly, as I bite down upon the root of my fork and pull it through my

teeth; sliding the assortment of goodness into my already watering mouth. Oh shit… Realising my mistake, I quickly nod my head and begin to make sounds of delight. Raising

my eyes nervously, she is a little too late in turning back to her stove. I had glimpsed the start of a smile.

“...” I breathe easy; realising that I had just dodged a bullet. One thing that I do claim expertise in, is getting myself out of trouble. The golden rule is

this; if one can make the scornful either smile or laugh, then one becomes free from such scorn. Every artist is proud of their creations and although they may not always want to admit it, every artist will take great satisfaction when their hard work is given the recognition they feel it deserves. Even if it is just a home cooked breakfast.

Untouchable… “Daddy…” he mumbles, with his head facing down and his eyes looking up, “Do you

know what that one is?” “Hmph…” I smile, as I can see that my family has forgiven me for the most part, “Which

one?” “This one Dad!” he smiles in return; stabbing with his finger, what could only be a

threesided monster, with a hundred white teeth. “I sure do son,” I tread carefully, “But I think your mother is having a hard time figuring it

out from all the way over there. Why don’t you her what it is Elijah?” Another head spins, as I am glared at cheekily. Yup… Definitely forgiven… “She already knows Dad!” he laughs, along with his mother, “I already showed her last

night.” Oh fuck… I search my usually witty brain, for a clever response to liberate me from my son’s surely

growing suspicion. Nothing. “It’s a piano Daddy,” he informs me. A piano? “...” I sigh; shaking my head at the woman who takes an apparent pleasure in seeing one of

the most powerful men in the country, at the mercy of a child.

Ele Clark


I am grateful for his unprompted reveal, but I am also a little concerned. Cherry tomatoes and a piano? We don’t even have a piano? And if I recall correctly, he

can’t stand the taste of tomatoes… Well, what did I expect from a kid who can’t even utilise height properly, in his illustrations? I think I’ll just put this one down to a very peculiar answer, from an equally peculiar boy…

“Why a piano?” I ask inquisitively. “Well...” he begins; circling his finger around what is apparently a piano. Well I suppose those white lines sort’ve look like keys… “Elijah?” I prompt him; watching as he continues to circle his little finger, after seemingly

forgetting his train of thought, “Well, what?” “So you can play for us Dad!” he answers, in his matteroffact tone once more; looking at

me, as if I fail to see what I obviously am. “Really?” I ask. “Yup,” he replies easily; now stabbing the supposed keys with his finger. “Elijah…” I laugh; trying to understand where all this might have come from, “You do

realise that I’ve never played the piano in my life right?” “I know,” he replies simply. I am left both extremely confused and a little bit amused. How does he not see the problem here? “I hate to say it son,” I can not help laughing; reflecting back to the vivid imagination I

once had, when I too was a boy, “If I did play, I don’t think I’d be very good.” “But you will be,” he answers again; unphased by any logic thrown his way, “You’ll learn

really fast. You’re pretty clever Dad.” Lau’ren leaves her station and places an omelette before our son. Kissing Elijah on the

head, she picks him up and sits him back down upon her lap. All the while, I am trying to quash the pride that threatens to escape from my tear ducts. Lau’ren and I look at each other, with beaming smiles. It is obvious that the feeling is mutual.

Yeah, we might have more problems than the average couple, but… Well, I suppose we’re not an average couple to begin with are we? But one thing’s for certain… We’ve created something pretty special right here…

“And the cherry tomatoes?” I ask; having partially regained my composure, “Where do they come into all this?”

“You’re going to grow some for us Dad,” he replies once more; answering as if it is something so blatantly true.

“I hate to burst your bubble kid,” I laugh again; countering with some more of my logic, “We live in an apartment. Where are we going to grow them, if we have nowhere to plant anything?”

“You know!” he smiles mischievously; raising his eyebrows, as if he were hinting to something I was privy to and his mother was not.

Note to self… Logic is not recognised as an accepted form of reasoning, in the dealings with a four year old…

I look at my son with confusion. I look at my wife with confusion. “Is there something I should know?” I mouth to her. Lau’ren shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head, with an equally confused expression

upon her face.

Ele Clark


“In our garden!” adds Elijah; having to spell it out, after seeing me struggling so much. Huh? “Our garden?” I ask; looking at Lau’ren for another hint. “At our new house Dad!” he laughs; slapping his forehead, as if I were dumb. Lau’ren’s eyebrows are scrunched with puzzlement, as she slowly shakes her head. Our new house? “What new house Elijah?” I ask him, as I assemble another forkful of my quickly cooling

breakfast. “The one you will build back home silly!” he slaps his forehead again, as if he has told me

for the umpteenth time. Back home? Looking at his mother, I see her shaking her head adamantly. I’ve never once mentioned to him where I’d come from? And it’s not like we have any

photos of the place, or keep in touch with anyone that still lives there? And I thought I made it clear to her, that we’re never to go back to that place? That is one country, filled with far too many memories… That’s one place I’d rather forget…

Lau’ren keeps shaking her head. She knows full well, my stance on talking about the place of my younger years.

Both of our accents are different to everyone else’s I suppose… I let this slide, as I shovel another forkful of food into my mouth. And he didn’t say where, so he probably just assumes that it’s somewhere other than

here… “You don’t even like tomatoes,” I realise; pointing this out to Elijah, with an open mouth. Oh shit… I can translate from her sudden glare, that I should not practice such ungentlemanly

behaviour in front of our young and easily influenceable son. I close my mouth, sorry that I had. “But you do Dad,” he points out, as he tries to stifle a growing laughter inside of himself. Huh? “What?” I ask, “What is it?” “Just don’t squirt it on your shirt again!” he bursts out laughing. “On my shirt again?” I ask, before it hits me. Wow… No way he could possibly remember that? Lau’ren looks oddly impressed, as she begins to remember too. “...” I laugh; a little amazed, as I begin to think back to the day. We’d been out to lunch together last year sometime… No, it was over a year ago now…

Almost two, in fact… We were at some pizza and pasta joint… I had ordered a pizza of some sort for Elijah and I to share and Lau’ren had ordered a pasta… Cherry tomatoes, parmesan and basil or something… Halfway through the meal, I stole one of her tomatoes and put it between my teeth and teased her with it… Mucking around, I bit into it, not meaning to and it squirted everywhere! My shirt was ruined… But to Elijah, it was the funniest thing in the world…

I begin to join in with Elijah, laughing hysterically too. Lau’ren can not help but join in the fun with us. Laughing between ourselves, I look to my son.

Huh? No longer laughing, but still beaming from ear to ear, he looks back and forth between his

mother and I.

Ele Clark


“Hmph…” I smile, as I become silent as well. Looking at me lovingly, I meet her eyes and we smile some more. Elijah continues to

beam, as he basks in this rare and precious moment of ours. The brush strokes of her foundation, leads me from her eyes and to the flaw that she covers. I could not help myself.

“Look, it’s almost seven o’clock!” I announce, as I rise from my unfinished breakfast. My wallet and phone… I reach over the kitchen bench and feel where I had left them last night. She looks at me,

with hurt in her eyes. I’m sorry Lau’ren… I pick up these items and I place them in my pockets. My son may not understand why, but

he realises the sudden change in my mood. My heart breaks, as I see him hang his head and look into his lap. I can not help but wonder, if he thinks that it might have been him that had done something wrong.

I’m sorry Elijah... “I love you,” I murmur, as I walk over to my wife and kiss her on the cheek; her left cheek. “I love you too,” she smiles meekly. “I love you buddy,” I sigh, as I kiss Elijah on his forehead; both a goodbye and an apology. I’m so sorry son… I feel terrible for having given him a taste of what we could have been, only to remind him

of what is. “Fly safe,” she tells me, as I am headed towards the door. “Fly?” asks Elijah; looking at his mother, before looking at me, “Are you going away again

Daddy?” He looks concerned. “Yes son, but only for the day,” I assure him, “I’ll be home before you go to sleep, to tuck

you in.” “Are you still coming tomorrow?” he asks; looking disappointed already, as if preparing

himself to be let down. Tomorrow? I look to his mother for a hint. “His soccer game,” she tells me, with an annoyance in her voice. That’s right… “O” I am about to speak, before I am stopped by a look that tells me to choose my next

words carefully, “Yes son, of course I’ll be there.” “Do you promise?” he asks, as he lifts his head hopefully; his big brown eyes trying to hold

me to my word. “...” I sigh. I don’t blame him… It’s not as if I haven’t let him down before… I notice that his mother is looking at me too. This time, a whole lot more firmly. Yeah, I don’t blame you either Lau’ren… “I promise Elijah,” I commit to him, “I’ll be there, if you’ll be there.” Jumping from his mother’s lap, he turns to look at her excitedly. Mirroring him, she spurs

his delight. Looking back to me with his big brown eyes, his mother takes this moment to abandon her false elation and flash me an expression, showing just how accountable I will be held for this, if I fail to follow through on another promise.

Ele Clark


“Well, I’ll see you all tonight!” I declare, as I remove my wallet from my pocket and swipe it on the panel before me.

“Bye Daddy!” waves my son, as I step into the open elevator doors. Lau’ren keeps me on edge, as her eyes continue to hold me to my promise. Come on… Come on… Close already, would you? “Bye son!” I smile, as I start pushing buttons. Come on, damn it… The elevator doors begin to close, as I wave my son goodbye. “...” I sigh, as a small weight falls off of my shoulders; not much, but some. Time to write yourself into those history books Zach… Today’s your day…

Ele Clark

the kayson point trilogy, book one - white blood cells, chapters one & two

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