Category: Stories

Stories

The Longest Story in 8 Seconds

J. A. GoggansLeave a comment

Stories I know, and ones I don’t know, tend on a regular basis to flash in my mind as an image. I don’t know if this is normal or not, but it does surprise me when stories I don’t know happen to pop in and out of view. It never occurred to me until more recently that I could write them down. I don’t know that there is a great deal of value in writing them down (and often sharing them), but I certainly can’t see any harm. Whenever I begin to think about or write the story, I tend to find out what happens in them. It is incredibly satisfying. You may understand the feeling, if you have ever been annoyed that you could never seem to finish your dreams because you always wake up too soon. Then one day you find a way to finish those dreams even if you wake up.

A few Sunday mornings ago, I was singing a song with an eternal world view. For a moment, the thought of the fear of loosing children and life seemed less painful. I thought of my grandmother living till over 100 years old. Losing much of how she defined herself, even her memory. I wondered, how do you cling to life—your own life, but also loved ones’ lives—while not being afraid of letting go and not giving up after so much loss?

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Photo by Jordan Heinrichs on Unsplash

The image of a cowboy on the back of a bull or bucking bronco flashed in my mind.
Holding on.
One hand free.
Knowing he inevitably will be bucked off.
Yet, hanging on without crippling fear that would cause him to fail even faster.

I didn’t know the cowboy on the bucking bronco, but I realized it was a story. A very short story—or is it a long one? You can decide. I think the story it tells must be why there is such a draw to watching that sort of thing for “entertainment.” Some might feel it’s a gross form of entertainment because its touched with the threat of real violence. But I now suspect there is something more to it than that. Maybe it actually touches something much deeper. Most entertainment these days distracts from the reality of dying and living.

Life and raging bull rides inevitably end. For the cowboy, to ignore that reality is disastrous. However, fearing the inevitable is crippling, therefore equally dangerous. We could read entire biographies, watch whole miniseries on a person’s life, and still miss the big picture. For often the big picture is actually small, or in this case very short: a ride on a bucking bronco or raging bull is the story of holding onto this perilous life told in seconds.

 

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Stories

House Call: The Cat Came Back

J. A. GoggansLeave a comment

…the longing feeling you get on a crisp Autumn day reminding you of things you can’t remember but without the joy of nostalgia.

Part 8

Chad sat outside his room hugging his knees with his head down. He held a small stuffed frog in his hands. It was the kind that felt like it was stuffed with mostly beans instead all fluff. Chad’s Dad had just come home and broke up a terrible fight between his older sister, Carrie, and his older brother, Matt. They had been arguing over what seemed like absolutely nothing, “as usual,” thought Chad with a roll of his very pale blue eyes. But today nothing became something that felt like standing over a large gaping hole. It made Chad feel almost sick with fear that even annoyance at his siblings couldn’t dismiss, even though he tried. The fear reminded him of the fear he had of his bedroom lately. Though it was not the same feeling, this was the longing feeling you get on a crisp Autumn day reminding you of things you can’t remember but without the joy of nostalgia. Not that Chad had any idea what nostalgia is, or any words to explain his fears. Somehow though the fears related to a sickening sense of dread of his room.

Chad’s Dad was currently walking through the neighborhood looking for the family cat, Charlie. The cat had run away that morning and a fight had broken out over whether it mattered if they called for Charlie or for Cat. Chad sat in the hall feeling like a whole was missing in his heart. But oddly he felt worse inside when he thought of the family pet as Charlie instead of Cat. Almost as if more than just his cat was gone. He wouldn’t of course noticed this if it hadn’t been for Carrie and Matt’s argument.

The kitchen wall phone rang loudly jarring Chad. He almost never made it to the phone before someone else picked up, but since Carrie and Matt were told to stay in their rooms for fighting he made it to the receiver first. He was so flustered he forgot how his Mom had taught him to answer it.

“UH, HI?” he said his voice was higher pitched with embarrassment.

“Chad!” said a relieved voice on the phone. “Cat, showed up at our house, but Mr. Wayne has him now. But to save Charlie and Mom you guys got to come back to–”

“What?”said Chad in shock, but the voice cut out and all Chad could hear was a dial tone. Chad hung the phone up staring at it in confusion. As soon as he hung the phone back up it rang again, vibrating in his hand. Chad jumped knocking the phone off the base attached to the wall sending it crashing to the floor, the ever present knot in the coiling cord tangled even more. Chad dived for the phone, sliding on the kitchen floor that was oddly void of cheerios.

“What?” he yelled still forgetting his manners.

“Hello, is this the Jeff and Jenn Jones’ residence?” said a calm man in a southern tone of both accent and politeness.

Coming to his senses Chad finally managed to put to use his mother’s phone etiquette lessons, “Yes, this is Chad Jones speaking.”

“Hello, Chad, this it Mr. Wayne. I have your cat here. He showed up a little while ago. I fed him and he’s happily sleeping in the screened in porch.”

Mr. Wayne had been their next door neighbor before they had moved. He had been like great-uncle to the kids ever since their Uncle Chris’s wreck. Chad didn’t know Uncle Chris because he was born after the wreck, but the loss the family suffered had brought Mr. Wayne closer to them. He had known Chris and Jenn since they were children. Chad loves Mr. Wayne as they all did, and he spoke to Mr. Wayne before politely hanging up the phone. His mother would have been proud.

Despite the directive to stay in their rooms Carrie and Matt came running into the kitchen to find out who kept calling, assuming Chad had forgotten how to answer the phone correctly.

“Who was on the phone?” asked Carrie in her Mom voice.

“Mr. Wayne, he said he has our cat!” Chad was careful not to mention the cats name, not wanting another argument to break out with him in the middle of it.

“Why did you hang up on Mr. Wayne!” Matt accused.

“I didn’t.”

“Then why did the phone ring twice! Huh!?” And without waiting for a reply he yanked the stuffed frog from Chad’s hands.

“Don’t swipe Matt!” yelled Carrie. Unfortunately for Chad, another fight did break out and he was in the middle of it this time. Carrie then tried to snatch the frog from Matt. Matt wanting the moral superiority of returning it to its rightful owner before Carrie could, but still not actually wanting to hand it back to Chad, ran down the hall to Chad’s room and threw it through the door. Carrie right on his heels ran into Matt and they both stumbled into Chad’s room. Chad stood in the kitchen watching them, not wanting to go to his room.

The fight came to an abrupt halt. “Chad?” Carrie called. “What’s all this in your room?”

****

Chad was a very active kid, he loved the outdoors, animal shows, climbing trees, and mostly jumping out of them. He was an athletic Dare Devil who seemed to rarely fall or get hurt doing the most hair raising stunts. His mother’s nerves had long ago been numbed by his jumping down stairs at the age of 2 and landing on his feet like he was part cat. With him, she had learned that kids climbing the walls was NOT hyperbole. His life plan was to grow up and be a paratrooper or skydiving instructor, or maybe he would just run away with the Ringling Brothers. However, he could never decide between trapeze artist or working with the elephants and lions. He was not afraid of anything. That is until shortly after his family went to a Labor Day Cookout when he developed a brand new fear.

First it is very important to understand one thing; Chad was not afraid of snakes. He loved reptiles of all kinds but snakes were immensely fascinating to him. He had just the year before rescued a King Snake from terrified neighbors who planned to kill it. Chad had been playing with the neighbor kids who were raking the leaves and jumping into the piles. Actually Chad had managed to convince the kids to rake their yard just so they could jump in the leaves. The kids were terrified by the snake and their Dad had planned to kill it. Chad, not usually a fast talker, managed to convince the Dad that not only was it a harmless snake but ate venomous snakes. It helped that he had one of his pocket reptile guide books with him at the time, though that was not uncommon, he carried it around frequently. Chad liked snakes, he was not afraid of them. To be exactly precise, his new phobia left him terrified that snakes were in his bedroom.

It began one night when Jenn and Jeff had just put the kids in bed and were sitting down to watch a popular sitcom about nothing when Chad began crying from his room. Jenn peered into the dark room lit with the faintest nightlight. What is it Chad?

“I had a dream that there were snakes loose in my room.”

“Chad! Did you catch a snake and hide it in your room?” His mother phobia fueled her adrenaline.

Jeff walked to the door.

“No. It was a dream.”

“What’s wrong?” Jeff asked.

“He had a dream about snakes in his room?”

“Chad, do you catch a snake, and hide it in your room?” Jeff was not afraid of snakes, but he knew his son.

“No. It was a dream.”

“Ok. So you know it was just a dream?” he said walking around the foot of the bed. Jenn walked away, relieved Jeff was handling the snake nightmare. He gave Chad a hug.

“I think it’s real.” He said uncertainty as though he was trying to make sense of it.

“You think there are snakes in your room?”

Uh,” he paused. “No.” But clearly he seemed uncertain.

Normally, Jeff would have turned on the light to show Chad there was nothing to be afraid of. But Jeff didn’t. He held back. It was not that he didn’t think to do this, but instead he ignored his good sense. He didn’t admit it to himself for a long time, but he preferred to stay in the dark and not see.

“Would you like me to sing a goodnight song to you again?”

Chad agreed, he was relieved his father did not turn on the light. Truth be told he felt he wanted to stay in the dark too.

To find out more about the Jones Family, subscribe to Rough Draft Paragraphs, and you can keep up with the Joneses.
Missed any part of House Call? Check out the links below.

Part 1- Stair Case

Part 2 – Wing-back Chair

Part 3 – Classifieds

Part 4 – Carrie’s Dream

Part 5 – Countdown

Part 6 – Phone Call

Part 7 – Matt’s Cat

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Stories

Catchin’ A Fishing Pole

J. A. GoggansLeave a comment
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Copyright J. A. Goggans 2017

Catching A Fishing Pole

Early one Saturday morning, Dad took Charley and Joey on an adventure. The boys may have been a little young for adventures, what with Charley only being barely five and Joey four. Dad wanted to relive some if his old adventures from when he was a boy—fishing on the pond down at the old family farm.

“It won’t be dangerous for the little guys, there are life jackets these days after all,” thought Dad.

Down at the back pond of the farm, he sat the boys on a big rock that makes the shore on one side of the pond with their fishing poles to keep them occupied while he got the canoe ready to go.

He was delayed right off because it wasn’t long before Joey called, “Daddy, Charley’s bobber is going under!” Sure, enough Charley had caught close to a 2 pound largemouth bass!  Now, when I say “Charley caught,” there was a fair bit of help from Dad.

Later, when the three were in the boat, Charley got another big one on the line. This time Dad couldn’t help him because he was at one end of the canoe and Charley was at the other end with Joey in the middle.  As Charley reeled the fish in, it started struggling and fighting with the Charley.  It flew out of the water; it was another nearly 2lbs bass! The fish was so big and was fighting so hard that it splashed all three of them in the boat. Fear began to grip Charley what with the fish fighting him and the water flying.

He started panicking. “THE FISH HIT ME IN THE FACE!” He grabbed his face, covering his eyes with one hand. The other hand absently held the rod.

“Hold the fishing pole!” Dad cringed.

“No! The fish hit me in the face,” he cried back, still holding his eyes.” The rod danced around dangerously, ready to pull out of his little hand.

“No, it just splashed you, it splashed all of us. Hold the fishing rod!” his dad pleaded with him.

Finally, Charley pulled his hand from his face and looked around.  The fish was so strong, and he was so small he couldn’t lift the fighting fish into the boat.

“If you keep trying to lift him, you are going to get too tired. Just hang on to it until the fish gets tired. Be patient with it,” Dad said.  Finally, the fish wore itself out just as Dad said it would and Charley lifted it into the bottom of the boat.

They kept fishing and were pulling in blue gill, one after another. Now, when I say, “they kept fishing” I mean the boys, Dad didn’t get much fishing in himself. He spent most of his time rowing the canoe, baiting hooks, and pulling fish off hooks as fast as he could keep up with the boys catching the blue gill. Since he was the only rower in the boat and he didn’t have anchors they started to drift a little in the pond and the boat began to sit at a funny angle to the casting direction. Dad helped Joey cast his pole since he was younger. Joey was in the middle of the boat where Dad could help him more. As I said, he had been baiting hooks and pulling fish off hooks for so long his hands were (I’m sorry to tell you this but it’s part of the story after all) pretty slimy. He had to cast Joey’s rod behind him because of the position of the canoe. This put force of the cast in the weakest part of his grip and with his hands all slick not only was the hook and line cast out,

But  so was the rod!

It tumbled threw the air handle over tip, tip over handle and landed five or six feet away!  It was so close. Dad could have jumped to get it if he was on land, but in a canoe, it was so far away. He madly paddled in the water.

Joey, now saw what had happened.  His beloved fishing rod floated for a moment on the surface of the water and then slowly sank out of sight.  His four-year-old little heart couldn’t take it. Tears streamed down his face as he began to sob.

Dad kept paddling. Maybe he could get to the bobber! It was maybe 8 to 10 yards away.  If he just got to it before a fish got to it! Never, has any self-respecting fisherman ever hoped a fish wouldn’t bite his line. He rowed harder and harder. It felt like he might not ever get there. Joey held his breath!

Then, the bobber-

blooped

under

the

water!

“Oh. No!”

“Daddy,” Charley called, “Keep paddling! Get the string! Its floating on the water! Reach it with the paddle!” Dad saw it too; he never missed a paddle stroke! Just a little bit further. He stretched out his oar, as far as it would go. He leaned precariously in the canoe. There are life jackets these days after all. He scooped the paddle under the fishing line and pulled up. The string was caught a few inches from the end of the paddle. He held it high up in the air pulling it tight. A fish (and by the feel of it a big fish), was on one end of the string down in the water wrestling a worm and on the other end of the line lay the rod deep at the bottom of the pond.  Dad patiently wiggling the paddle slowly, it still raised high above his head, trying to get the line to slide down the paddle where he could reach it.

It was a precarious moment sitting in a canoe with two distraught little boys not known for being still (if you know what I mean.) Finally, Dad got the line. Now, he had a choice. Lose a cheap kids’ rod that won’t last more than a fishing season or two, or lose a FISH. What fisherman LET’S the big one get away?! But he didn’t even need to look Joey in the eyes to know there wasn’t a choice. He forgot the fish. He decided to get the rod back. He started to pull. And pull, and pull, and pull. The reel didn’t engage—the entire reel had to be unraveled.  After a nest of string was piled at the bottom of the canoe, the rod was pulled up. Dad caught the fishing rod! Now it was time to see about the other end of the line. This meant more line to pull up but, as luck or providence would have it, up came a fish too!  Even though Joey couldn’t fish anymore, what with a scramble of string and an empty reel, he was relieved to get his water-logged rod and empty reel back. Also, they had another big fish! Even if it is was a rather unique way to catch a fish, to say the least.

The boys loved the adventure at the old family farm. Even Dad, whose adventure wasn’t quite the same for him as a parent as it was as a child. It never is of course. When they were all loaded up to leave, Charley looked at Dad and said, “Thanks for doing all of this for us, Dad.” No, the adventure wasn’t the same, nor would Dad want it to be.

Stories

House Call: Matt’s Cat

J. A. Goggans1 Comment
adorable animal bed bedroom
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

Part 7

Matt lay on his bed hiding his tears in his pillow. At first his tears felt shameful in front of his siblings and he hated them. But now in the quiet of his room the tears felt good–like expelling some of the pain that infected his heart swelling it and making it throb. He cried out all the ache, confusion, and loss of the last few months. So many new or strange things had been happening ever since they moved—things that scared him. He listed them off in his mind as the sobs escaped him—the loneliness of his oddly half empty room, the noises from the inside of his attic-closet that no one believed, his crazy dreams every night that made him feel as though he hadn’t been asleep, his baby brother Charley disappearing. And, if that wasn’t the worst, no one seemed to remember Charley.

His mother thought their dreams were just their minds processing all the changes they experienced after moving. His sister, Carrie, thought he was just imagining the bumps in his attic closet–that it was just his over active imagination, but no one had a theory about Charley. Everyone thought Charley was what he named their cat years ago because he had wanted to name his younger brother. However, his parents named him, Chad. When they got a new baby kitten the family allowed him to name the cat Charley. That’s what they thought, or what they remembered. Matt, on the other hand remembered both. He remembered another younger brother, one younger than Chad, who he had begged to name Charley and when they got a baby kitten everyone named the kitten Cat. He remembered playing a practical joke on Charley, the baby brother, when he disappeared. It was just a practical joke, he repeatedly said to himself and in his prayers. At first it was a justification, then it became a plea. Now Cat or Charley as the rest of the family called him had run away. Matt was terrified he would never see Cat or his brother Charley ever again.

After a while he ran out of tears and lay motionless on his bed. He still felt the pain and sadness, but now the pain resembled the soreness of an infected wound that had just been cleaned and dressed. Cat was Matt’s comforter. When Matt was afraid at night Cat would curl up next to him on his bed. His soft gray fur, warm body, and purring helped calm Matt when frightened by a nightmare. Last night was no different.

Before bed Matt had checked the knob lock and latch of his attic-closet to be sure they were locked and secure. In his dream, someone was calling from inside his attic-closest. The door knob rattled. The knob jiggled like someone was trying to turn it from the other side. The room was illuminated by silvery moonlight.

“Mom!? Dad!? Please comeback!” Matt heard from the other side of the door.

In his dream Matt was crouched in his bed, his back pressed against the head board. His blanket wrapped around him so only one eye peered out. The locked door swung slowly and steadily open in a way that made it seem to open completely on its own accord, revealing a pitch-dark emptiness.  The darkness could not be pierced by the bright moonlight—like a whole that had no bottom. Then suddenly, just inside the doorway, outlined by the darkness, was a boy. The light that illuminated him was golden—like candle light or a lantern and didn’t seem to come from anywhere, but the darkness around the boy did not change. He was about 12 or 13. Staring, his eyes didn’t focus on anything in Matt’s room. He held an olive-green wall phone up with a long curly cord stringing across his chest. The boy fidgeted with something in his other hand, but Matt couldn’t tell what it was.

“Hello,” the boy paused. “Mom, come home.” He paused again, “It’s Michael….”

But before he had even finished speaking Matt heard a dial tone, then suddenly the boy vanished in a jerking sort of way almost like a bad connection. The dial tone still lingered in the air.

Matt woke up to hear his Dad opening his door to check on him. “Are you all right? Mom thought she heard one of you calling.”

“No, I didn’t, but someone was calling her in the closet,” He said.

But as soon as he blurted it out, he realized his Dad wouldn’t think ‘calling’ meant from a phone call and he also realized that he was talking about a dream. Matt was too tired to explain. Jeff meant phone call as well and he was also too tired to explain that their mother probably was just having a dream.

Jeff had check on all the kids and Matt was the only one who was awake and while he didn’t want to give credence to Matt’s imaginations, on the other hand the best way to deal with fear, real or imagined, is to find a way to face it. Jeff walked across the floor, unlatched and unlocked the attic-closet door.

He flicked the light switch next to the door frame and pulled the door open. He stepped into the room. “Come here Matt.”

Matt absolutely did not want to go in there. He hadn’t seen it since they moved in and he had been so afraid of all the noises and nightmares from it that he couldn’t bring himself to look in it. He didn’t obey.

“Matt.” His father spoke in a stern tone.

Matt felt his heart beat faster. He felt his fear in his throat. The relative few feet he had to walk to his Dad seemed like it took minutes. Then he was through the doorway, in the room, with his Dad’s hand on his shoulder. He looked around. The attic closet was a room about 8 by 10. The roof of the room started sloping about 3 feet into the room. At the far end of the room the wall was only about 2-3 ft high. Along the edges of the room boxes stacked up as high as the roof line. The boxes were labeled things like winter clothes, Christmas decorations, and snow suits. There was a random bit of disassembled furniture in front of some of the boxes on the far end of the room.

“Matt,” Jeff said with calmness, “There is no one in here. It’s just as it was after we unloaded the moving van. Nothing has moved and I see no evidence of mice or raccoons or any other animal.”

Matt nodded but did not fully hear his Dad. He had seen something written on the boxes behind the pieces of furniture that distracted him.

A few minutes later Matt was tucked back in bed, closet door re-locked and re-latched. Cat jumped on Matt’s bed with a loud purr mixed with a meow and curled up right next Matt. Matt sat up and snuggled his pet close. Cat was always there for him when he was sad, always comforting him. Matt sat there with Cat until his alarm went off. He was thinking about what he had seen in the attic. Written on the all boxes behind the bits of furniture was a name—Michael.

Cat had only one flaw as far as Matt was concerned. Cat always wanted to go outside and tried to with every possible chance. That morning they had left late going to the bus. He, Carrie, and Chad had forgotten about making sure Cat didn’t escape, but instead they had all run outside at the same time.

Cat darted between their feet and across the yard in a second. At that very moment the bus came down the street and it was all they could do to run and catch it. Carrie had forced him to come with her. All day at school Matt worried over his cat.  He was mad at Carrie too. He wasn’t even sure if his parents knew the cat had gotten out. When they got home from school all three of them searched the yard for him. Matt kept accidentally calling him Cat instead of Charley which at first neither Chad nor Carrie noticed and maybe no one would have, since it is common to call any cat ‘Kitty.’ However, his big sister, Carrie, had a critical eye when regarding anything to do with Matt.

“Quit calling him Cat! He needs to hear his name!” she repeatedly corrected.

That made Matt defensive and eventually it escalated into a giant fight where each blamed the other for Cat (or Charley the Cat) getting away. Matt started crying and Carrie, afraid she might cry too, used her fear and sadness to fuel anger towards Matt and made fun of his crying. It was one of their uglier fights that only stopped when Jeff got home from work and broke up the fight. He sent them both to their rooms and got a box to use as a cat carrier and left to search the neighborhood.

Matt, in his room and unable to cry anymore, stared at the attic door. He thought about his dream from that morning of the boy in the attic. The boy looked familiar and Matt felt he knew him. That seemed very strange to Matt. Normally you feel emotions not thoughts or knowledge. How could he feel something he knew without actually knowing it? Matt took his suspicious gaze away from the attic closet and peered out of the window next to his bed. He saw his dad walking down the street toward their house carrying a box. Matt could not tell by the way his Dad carried it if there was a cat in it or not. Matt still didn’t know if Cat was in the box—dead or alive—or even if Cat had never existed like his little brother. While his dad made his way back to the house, all those possibilities were true for Matt’s cat.

 

To find out more about the Jones Family, subscribe to Rough Draft Paragraphs, and you can keep up with the Joneses.
Missed any part of House Call? Check out the links below. 

Part 1- Stair Case

Part 2 – Wing-back Chair

Part 3 – Classifieds

Part 4 – Carrie’s Dream

Part 5 – Countdown

Part 6 – Phone Call

 

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Stories

Homeschoolers go to school: Friday Afternoon

J. A. GoggansLeave a comment

And the older siblings are home from school at the end of a week. Everyone is puttering about the house on their chores. Our minds on the audio book rumbling over the speaker. And a bit of our old life comes back to life. It’s the bit that makes us an us. The bit of who we are that we take with us as each of us move off and go our way. The stories we share are part of our story. This moment will vanish, but the stories will stay connecting us.

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Stories

House Call: Phone Call

J. A. Goggans2 Comments

Part 6

antique close up cord dial
Her fingers reached the heavy base of the phone….

Darkness reigned outside unbroken yet by the approaching daylight. The Jones family house sat still in the silence of the waning night. However, those in it were sleeping fitfully.  The phone rang loudly next to Jenn’s head interrupting her restless sleep. Her right hand had fallen asleep, so she groggily reached for the phone with her left hand. Her fingers reached the heavy base of the phone on her night stand and felt without looking for the receiver. Rolling to her back, she put it up to her ear, her eyes still shut. “Hello?”

A distant voice said, “Hello.”

“This is Jenn, who is calling?” she mumbled on cue thanks to the phone etiquette her mother had ingrained in her as a child. The training took control in her sleep-deprived state.

“Mom, come home,” said the still distant voice. She opened her eyes with a gasp. She saw that she was speaking into the wrong end of the phone. She clumsily turned the phone over with her left hand, the coiling cord tangling and twining in her hair. “Hello?” she repeated, but her only answer was a dial tone.

“Jeff, I think something is wrong with one of the kids!” Jenn urged. Whether it was because Jeff had already also been awakened by the phone call or because of the edge in Jenn’s voice, he was out of bed in the ready stance before she even finished her first sentence.

“I think one of the kids was calling me on the phone! Please go check on them!” But he was already in the hallway.

Now fully awake, she sat up trying to think. Was that all part of my dream? It seemed like she had been dreaming about the kids needing her or calling for her. But she was actually holding the receiver and she really thought that she had heard the phone ring. As she detangled herself from the phone cord she thought, Maybe I accidentally bumped the plunger and hung the phone up as I was picking it up off the base. Then maybe I dreamed the rest? 

She had just set the receiver back on its base when the phone loudly rang in the silence of the morning. Startled, she snatched the phone up. “Hello?!”

“Jenn?” said a man. His voice carried worry.

“Dad?” Jenn said in surprise. Her father was not someone who generally called just to chat on the phone.

“Jenn, uh, I was just calling to see how you were doing?” Her dad replied sounding less worried.

Wondering what prompted this concern so early in the morning she asked, “I’m fine, Dad. You?”

“Oh, I’m OK.” He paused. “Do you remember what today is?” he asked.

With an inaudible sigh, memories quickly tumbled back. “Yes, Dad, I remember.”

“I just had a dream,” there was another pause. “A dream you were in the truck, too.” Jenn heard a catch in her Dad’s voice. He was clearly fighting for control. “It seemed so real, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Jenn felt a painful tension grow in her own throat that made it difficult to talk. She tried to swallow the lump and forced her voice to sound normal. “I’m OK, Dad. I’m here.”

“I remember that Chris had wanted you to go with him, but couldn’t get ahold of you,” said her dad. He sounded far away now, but in a different way than the far away voice sounded before. Jenn didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. She waited. Listening to the silence. “In my dream, you got the phone call—-it was very vivid—-Jeff and Carrie were in the dream but not the boys—-of course….” As if this was an obvious conclusion to his dream, as though dreams were logical and followed their own rules.  His voice trailed off.

Jenn steadied her voice. She didn’t know what to say, but she felt it best to state the truth. “I missed the call, so I wasn’t with him.” But as she said it a strange feeling crept deep in the pit of her stomach that was not nearly so steady and calm as her voice. It was a weak feeling, kind of like the way a lie might make you feel. She never could lie to her Dad.

“I’m here Dad,” she said, not changing her tone. That statement gave her more strength, though it did not erase the other feeling.

Jeff walked back into the room as Jenn was saying goodbye to her dad. “The kids are fine, what’s going on with your dad?” Jenn recounted her conversation with her dad and what she heard, or thought she heard, when the phone rang the first time.

Jeff sighed in relief, “So, you think it was your dad calling both times?” He slumped back into bed.

“I’m not sure. I didn’t think to ask him,” she said.

They sat in silence. Jenn wondered about what she had told her dad, “I missed the call, so I wasn’t with him.” How could that be a lie?! She had a similar feeling recently, when Matt had acted like he had forgotten who their cat was. She had done the same thing that day, stated the truth. However, the statement felt like an incomplete truth. What was more, the expression Matt made showed he had taken the statement that way–-as though it was not quite true, but he didn’t know how it could be false. But why? she thought.

“GOOOOOOOD MORNING, LISTENERS! IT’S JACK AND JILL IN THE MORNING! BRINGING YOU THE TUNES FROM MOON TIME TO NOON TIME!” The radio alarm rudely announced that the morning had begun.

To Be Continued….

If don’t remember what happened to Chris, check out Part 2 – Wing-back Chair
If you don’t remember what happened with Matt and the Cat check out Part 5 – Countdown.

All the links to House Call:
Part 1- Stair Case

Part 2 – Wing-back Chair

Part 3 – Classifieds

Part 4 – Carrie’s Dream

Part 5 – Countdown

To find out more about the Jones Family, subscribe to Rough Draft Paragraphs, and you can keep up with the Joneses.

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Stories

A Conversations Said a Thousand Times Over.

J. A. Goggans1 Comment
bedroom door entrance guest room
“And as I shut the door….”

I said, “Good bye.”

And Dad said. “Good bye

And as always he added, “Be careful.”

And I said, “I will.”

And as I shut the door I heard the thousands memories of him adding those words echoing in my mind; tumbling into each other like falling dominos into one moment. This moment.

And Grief thought it his turn to take control.

And I wrestled back control as I walked down the hospital hall.

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Stories

House Call: Countdown

J. A. Goggans8 Comments
Part 5

 

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By the time the family of seven began to look for a new home they had been slowly outgrowing their tiny home for the past decade. At first they were a small family and the three bedroom house felt spacious after living in a one bedroom apartment. However, it was really only the size of a small apartment. One and one made three, then four and so on and their diligent mother reorganized their home to make space for each one. First she gave up the office/guest room for a nursery.  Then the mother and father traded rooms so that the three boys could have the biggest room and they took the next smaller room that had been the nursery. This worked for a while. When the youngest came (who was the fourth boy) there was no more space for any more beds. They moved two of the young brothers to a bottom bunk together. They were still very little and could fit sleeping across the bed instead of lengthwise. However, as time grew on, so did the boys legs.

They longed for a house.
They searched for a house.
They found a house.

They packed up their crowded possessions.
They crowded them into a moving truck.
They unloaded them into a spacious new house.

When the family of six moved into their new house they were thrilled. The house had more rooms, more bathrooms, and more breathing room. Things were different though. No one could quite figure out the sensation. Was it that they were spread out more? Maybe that was it? Probably that was all.

The house certainly had different noises. Houses settle and creak in the temperature changes. This new house was no different. It was hard to get used to it. At night, especially, the noises tended to bother everyone at first. Plus everyone admitted to having crazy dreams. Matt, at bedtime, was convinced that someone was knocking on his closet door. It wasn’t really a closet at all, but an unfinished attic room used for storage. Each night he leaned boards against the door to make himself feel safer. One side of his room was empty. He had been so used to sharing not just a room but a bottom bunk. The change actually felt lonely instead of freeing.

One place that especially bothered Matt was the foyer. It was a small perfectly square little room with no windows and a coat closet. It was a little claustrophobic, though he didn’t know what claustrophobic meant. There were two doors into the little foyer. The outside door and the inside door which opened into a larger hallway that immediately opened into the living room. The room was actually more of an air lock than an inviting foyer. This setup worked well because the Jones family had a cat and Cat, as he was imaginatively named, was very intent on getting outside and exploring. The practice the family quickly began to use when they moved in was to open the first door and shut it behind them before opening the next door. This kept the cat from escaping past their legs into the great outdoors. Recently, the only light bulb in the foyer went out. This meant that even at noon on a sunny day, the tiny room was pitch black when the doors were shut. This was what especially scared Matt, his imagination seemed to run wild to the point he just couldn’t stand to go in there. He was convinced he heard noises in the dark just as he was convinced he heard strange things at night-time when he went to bed.

This afternoon the family was getting ready to go to an annual Labor Day Cookout at a friend’s house.
The kids had started in a new school,
And ridden a new bus,
And found new friends,
And joined new teams.
Everything was so different. Everyone was looking forward to this night. It was the sameness they were looking forward to. They did like their new home, and they had settled into their new schools. But lingering in the pit of their stomachs when all was quiet was funny feeling that their family had changed drastically. That should be normal, right? Families are always changing. Unless a family is a television cartoon, families need to change.

The afternoon was filled with commotion before they left for the cookout. Jeff was cleaning the van inside and out. Jen was making potato salad to share. Carrie wanted to make brownies to bring. The boys: Matt, Charley, and Chad were outside searching for snips, and snails, and puppy dogs tails.

Once the snails were safely stowed away in cargo pockets and the food packed away (not it pockets although though one brownie might have been slipped in without immediate notice) they were ready to go. Or they should have been ready to go.
Charley the youngest couldn’t find his shoes.
Chad couldn’t find his shirt.
And pretty soon Matt was in trouble for sneaking brownies.
There was chaos and scrambling and yes, everything seemed normal. Eventually, Chad put on one of Matt’s shirts he found in the dirty clothes (not that he told his mother) and eventually the shoes were found. (Well actually Charley settled on two mismatched shoes).

Jeff was the first out to the van. Carrying the potato salad in his one arm
He opened the first door,
Blocked Cat with his foot,
Shut the door behind him,
Fumbled in the pitch dark for the door handle of the outside door,
Opened it,
And headed out to the van.

“I got the brownies,” called Carrie. And she headed to the door.
She opened the first door,
Blocked Cat with her foot,
Shut the door behind her,
Fumbled in the pitch dark for the door handle of the outside door,
Opened it,
And headed out to the van.

Chad, found his Frisbee and with much pleading for his mother to “Go get in the van,” as she turned out lights and locked doors, he too headed out.
He opened the first door,
blocked Cat with his foot,
Shut the door behind him,
Fumbled in the pitch dark for the door handle of the outside door,
Opened it,
And headed out to the van.

Charley was trying to tie his shoes. He wasn’t very good at it but he did not want anyone to help him, “I can do it myself!” he exclaimed. Matt was having to change his pants as a consequence of hiding brownies in his pockets. He came down the stairs and stopped at the door. He did not want to go in their alone. Although he did not at all want Charley to know why; he waited on him to finish tying a Gordian Knot on his shoes. (Well, only one shoe the other was Velcro.) When Charley was ready

Matt opened the first door,
Blocked Cat with his foot…

Then an ugly little part of him woke up, an ugly little monstrous part of him grinned a sneaky grin. If we are honest, that little monster sometimes wakes in all of us. He let Charley go in first and shut the door behind Charley. But he didn’t step in with Charley. He held the door shut and suppressed a snicker. Charley, wasn’t particularly afraid of the dark, but he was not quite five yet and he had a hard time opening the door on the other side.
Matt waited to hear Charley freak out.
Matt waited to hear Charley fumble in pitch dark for the door handle of the outside door,
Matt waited to hear Charley open it,
Matt waited to hear Charley head out to the van.
He did not hear any of those things. He did not hear anything.

“Matt, go get in the car,” called Jenn.

“I don’t want to step in the dark,” he said, which was true but now he was also thinking that Charley was waiting for him.

“Ok, I’ll hold the cat so you don’t have to shut the door behind you.

Matt, opened the door, looked confused as he stared into an empty foyer. He dashed through the room as fast as he could go, slamming the outside door behind him. As he passed through the room, he was sure he heard breathing that was not his own.

Jenn set the cat down in his bed, “There you go Charley,” she said to the cat. She walked into the foyer leaving the door open so she could see. She reached into the coat closet. It was empty since they had only moved in that summer, and they had not unpacked their coats yet. Her summer hat was in there and she pulled it off the top shelf.
She pushed the cat out of the foyer,
Shut the door behind her,
Fumbled with one hand in the pitch dark for the door handle of the outside door,
Opened it,
And headed out to the van.

Matt was standing right out side the door looking guilty. “Where is Charley?”

“What do you mean?” asked Jenn.

“l thought I heard him breathing in the foyer when I ran past, he must be in the closet.”

“I was holding Charley for you remember, and besides I just got my hat out of the foyer and there was no cat,” explained Jenn.

“Cat? I don’t mean Cat, I mean Charley!” Matt said confused and that little monster inside him that made him grin just moments before, now began to accuse Matt. Guilt rose in Matt’s throat.

Jenn looked at Matt hard, she did not know what game he was playing. She firmly believed it best to tell the truth when she was confronted with possible deception even if it was to state the obvious. “Charley is the cat. You love Charley the cat. You even named Charley the cat because we didn’t get to name Chad, Charley when he was born.”

Matt said nothing. It was so like his Mother to state the obvious when He was being naughty. It usually irritated him. Now, though the truth stuck to him. He remembered now about Charley the cat, he remembered wanting to name his brother Charley but instead naming their new kitten Charley five years before. However, he also remembered a little brother named Charley with knotted miss-matched shoes and a cat named “Cat.” Though that memory began to feel like a memory from a dream and like a dream the details quickly faded as he tried to remember them. As they faded , they were replaced with a sickening sense of loss.

Jenn and Matt loaded in the van. Matt was confused as though he had just woken up from a nightmare that he couldn’t quite remember. If he could only remember the dream, or the… what? The feeling of fear and guilt stayed but the memories felt like a vapor.
Chad clutched his Frisbee.
Carrie gazed out her window daydreaming.
Matt felt miserable.
Jenn buckled her seat-belt.
Jeff backed out of the driveway.
The family of five headed to the annual Labor day cookout.

To Be Continued….

Part 1- Stair Case

Part 2 – Wing-back Chair

Part 3 – Classifieds

Part 4 – Carrie’s Dream

 

To find out more about the Jones Family, subscribe to Rough Draft Paragraphs, and you can keep up with the Joneses.

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Stories

House Call: Carrie’s Dream

J. A. Goggans8 Comments

Part 4

“Carrie! Wake up! Carrie, honey wake up! Its just a night mare.” Jenn patted the sobbing girl. The glow of the alarm clock on Carrie’s desk illuminated the room. Jenn switched Carrie’s purple lamp on, hoping the light might wake her.

“Michael? Where are you?” Carrie cried in her sleep.

“Carrie, you are having a bad dream, wake up.” Jenn said firmly but gently. She slid her arm behind the girl’s shoulders to sit her up. Carrie flailed for a moment. Then she opened her eyes with confusion as she was still partly in dream world.

“Where is Michael? I’ve been looking for him?” Carrie said but as soon as the words left her mouth she realized that she had been asleep.  Jenn watched Carrie as she tried to make sense of where she was and calm down.  “That was a real dream,” Carrie said to her mother.

“Would it help to tell me your dream? Whenever my dreams seem too real. It helps me to talk about it.” Jenn said in a motherly way.  Carrie looked at her mother in doubt.

“No it was a real dream.” Carrie paused, “Mom, who is Michael?” She asked with an air of confusion as though still being in a dream.

“Dreams aren’t real, Carrie.” Jenn reminded her as though she was her four-year-old little brother, Charley.

“No, it was real.” Carrie responded adamantly. “Like a memory. Mom, who is Michael?” This time her question came with an urgency.

“I don’t know,” Jenn said quickly as though she wanted to avoid searching her memory.  A cloud of sadness seemed to pass into Carrie’s face. A despondency overtook her. Grief took her voice away. Before she had been crying from a fear, now it was grief–an inexplicable grief. Maybe if it hadn’t hurt so much she could have explained it. Maybe if it she could have explained it, it would not have hurt so much. Grief is sneaky like that. Instead Carrie, just shook her had and turned over to go back to sleep. She managed to mumble that she was sleepy, to get her mom to leave. She managed to hold back silent tears till after Jenn had tucked her back in like she was small child and turned the light off.

The next morning, Carrie woke up with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She went through the motions of eating breakfast. She growled grumpily at Matt and ignored her father’s rebuke, though outwardly she apologized. On the bus she pulled her book out to read so she wouldn’t need to talk to anyone, but she only stared at the page. At school she managed to put her feelings and dreams out of her mind by distracting herself with classes and friends. But in the quiet moments the sick feeling came back.  By the time she was back home the feeling was back in full force. It felt like a she had forgotten something very important but couldn’t remember what it was.

She changed out of her uniform and abandoned her school things in a pile.  Carrie, desperate to jog her memory, headed for the bookshelves in den. On the bottom shelf were family photo albums. Jenn loved photos. On the shelves above the photo books, the shelves were lined with picture frames. Many were old black and white photos from an era belonging to grandparents. She started with the most recent books. They were not very orderly and had few notes or dates. Carrie set them back on the shelf. Carrie remembered most of the things from those books anyway. She kept looking and found the older books from when she was toddler. These books were much more orderly. Each page was decorated and most photos labeled. Clearly Jenn had more time before Matt, Chad, and Charley were born. However, there was something really odd about the book. There were blank spots on the pages as though pictures were missing, even some blank pages as if they were skipped.

photo album
These were from before Carrie was born.

Carrie put this book back as well. Then she pulled an older white book with curly silver writing and bells on the front. This book was of Jeff and Jenn’s wedding. They looked very young. The hair styles looked funny. Carrie liked this book. She set it next to her and pulled another book off the shelf. The beginning had some pictures of Jenn and Jeff doing things with friends and Carrie’s Aunts, Uncles, and Grandparents. These were from before Carrie was born. But then pictures seemed to dwindle in the book. Blank sections followed. Just when Carrie would assume the rest of the book was blank there would be a random page of a niece’s graduation or a wedding of a friend on a page carefully labeled and even sometimes with decorative paper and cut outs much like the first pages in the book. Towards the end was her new born pictures. There were a lot more pictures in these pages with careful labels and cute headings and stickers to decorate the pages but still there were a few blanks space that didn’t seem to make sense. Carrie put the book back on the shelf had sat quietly thinking. It felt like the memory books had forgotten something too.

Matt walked into the room. Seeing the Wedding Album next to Carrie he decided he needed to look at it too. Was it some kind of sibling rivalry or did he want to remember something? Either way he snatched up the album and began to look at it. Instantly angry at him for barging in on her thoughts Carrie yelled viciously. “Give that back, I was looking at it!”

Matt grinned a taunting grin and ran out of the room. Hot on his heels she sprinted after him up the stairs to the right and into his bedroom.

“Get out of my room!” yelled Matt. Not that Matt really cared if she was there, he just loved feeling that for once he could yell those words at her, considering all the times she insisted that he leave her room. Up until they moved, all the boys had shared the largest room in the tiny house. Jeff and Jenn had actually traded with them and took the smaller room. Carrie had always had her own room, being that she was the only girl. Matt never thought that seemed very fair. Chad and Charley now had a smaller room on the bottom floor. Carrie came up short in the room. Not because she cared that Matt told her to leave. She hadn’t been in Matt’s room since they first moved in.

“Matt, w-why is your room like this? “Carrie stuttered. Something in her face pulled him up short too but he certainly wasn’t going to admit it.

“Why do you care, it’s picked up! So you can’t complain to MOM!” he yelled.

“Why is half your room blank?” She countered, ignoring his defensiveness for probably the first time in her life. She was struck by how large it was for just him. This was exaggerated by the fact that all of Matt’s things were on only one side of the room. His dresser, night stand and bed were clustered in one corner. His posters and wall hangings all decorated one side. It was almost like an imaginary line was draw in the room. One side of the room was normal and the other side was blank.

“I don’t know, it just is. Now get out, or I’m telling Mom!” Matt yelled again. but this time the anger seemed to be covering up something else, something like pain. Carrie heard her mother coming to check on the commotion, and so that she wouldn’t get in trouble she left the room quickly forgetting about the Wedding Album.

writing in a book
Giving up, she pulled a journal from between her mattress and box springs.

Sitting at her desk in her room she sighed at her math homework. She had been staring at it for at least ten minutes. She couldn’t get her dream out of her head. Giving up, she pulled a journal from between her mattress and box springs. You can never be too careful with sneaky little brothers.

My Dream

I have had the same dream every night since we moved to this new house. I am walking down the hallway of my old house. Everything looks big, so I guess I am young. It is early morning and I am looking for someone. First I run into the kitchen and no one is there. I look in the living room and no one is there. I come back down the hall and no one is in the bathroom or spare office room. That is what it was back then, not Mom and Dad’s room. I remember that. I come back to my room and there are two toddler beds in there. They didn’t seem little like they do now. I look over at the bed across from mine and it is empty. I began crying. Mom comes in, her room was the only room I hadn’t checked. I ask her where Michael is and she looked at me like she knew before she walked in why I was sad. Like she felt sorry for not telling me earlier. “He is with Dad this morning, they went fishing really early. You get to go next time, but its his turn this time.” I remember feeling better because she knew why I was sad before I even told her. This dream bothers me because I am certain I remember it happening. 

Then last night the dreamed changed. It started with me crying in my room and asking for Michael but this time Mom looked at me like she had no idea who Michael was and she told me that I had just had a bad dream and dreams aren’t real. Then over and over again I kept waking up in my toddler bed, looking over to see if Michael was there. I then would search the whole house to look for him. Only, there were more hallways and more rooms that all looked like rooms that could be in our house but weren’t. Dreams are so weird like that.  Sometimes I would walk into a room and would see Mom working, and I would ask her, and she would look confused and say she didn’t know but that I must have just had a bad dream and dreams aren’t real. This kept going on ’til I woke up with Mom sitting next to me telling me I had a bad dream. I asked her about Michael and she said she didn’t know.

But I think it’s worst than that. I think she doesn’t remember. I remember. Or I remember something but I can’t remember what exactly.

But really, I’m scared. I’m scared I have lost someone. I am scared that I have forgotten an entire person, except on this one morning. I am scared that mom and dad have forgotten him.

And I’m scared that maybe she will forget me too.

To Be Continued….

Part 1- Stair Case

Part 2 – Wing-back Chair

Part 3 – Classifieds

Part 5 – Countdown

To find out more about the Jones Family, subscribe to Rough Draft Paragraphs, and you can keep up with the Joneses.

 

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Stories

House Call: Classifieds

J. A. Goggans8 Comments

Part 3

Jeff sat at the breakfast table trying to focus through bleary eyes. His coffee grew cold as he read his newspaper. Jenn buttered more toast and called, “Hurry kids your eggs are getting cold.”

“I can’t find my shoes,” called a voice.

Another cried, “I can’t find my uniform!”

“You have my shoes! You brat!” accused the first voice.

“I do not, you jerk!” exclaimed an 3rd voice.

Jeff snapped out of his stupor. “They haven’t even been awake 15 minutes!” He said as he strode out of the room to deal with the “brat caller” and “jerk accuser.”

Jenn peeked at the newspaper. Jeff had been looking over the classifieds. Circled with a question mark was a set of free-standing light house stairs. A piece that looked like it was a novelty for show more than a useful set of stairs.  A pencil drawing, accompanied the ad. It displayed a tightly spiraled stair case with incredibly shallow steps even at the outer edge of the spiral. It was not much more than a fancy twisted ladder. The ad was asking an exorbitant price of $7093.00.How odd?” Jenn thought. Yes it was odd, why would Jeff be interested in something like that? However, this is not what Jenn thought was odd. She was familiar with the staircase.

light house stairs

Jeff walked back into the kitchen, four kids in toe. “Sit down and eat your breakfast,” he grunted. He was not going to put up with any more nonsense. Carrie, their 12-year-old daughter, leaned over the circled advertisement. She was always interested in drawings and a twisted staircase is tricky to draw. Matt ripped it out from under her nose.  Carrie yelled at him.

The next few minutes were not the pleasant breakfast either parent was hoping for. Eventually, Carrie and her little brother Matt flanked their dad to look at the picture. It really was best if Dad was separating them. Charley, the four-year-old, couldn’t be left out and insisted on sitting in Jeff’s lap. Chad was quietly eating his eggs and toast. Just younger than Matt, Chad was a very energetic child and his quietness now was only an indication that he was recharging before running, jumping, and climbing the walls.

Jeff spoke, “I had the oddest moment of daja vu when I saw that picture.” This of course, lead to an explanation about what daja vu was before he actually got around to the picture. “I had the strangest dream last night.” He described his realistic dream of walking into their old house and how the staircase was inexplicably in the middle of the room  leading to a hole in the ceiling. “…and everyone was missing.” He concluded. “I don’t normally have dreams, but that one was really weird.”

Jenn looked very surprised, “I had a dream with those stairs in it too, but it was many years ago when we lived in our little house on 7093 Loop Avenue. The house was so small I often had dreams that the house had extra rooms that I had never noticed somehow. Once I dreamed about a spiral staircase just like the one in the picture. For weeks after I the daydreamed about putting one leading to the attic space and making it a playroom for the kids!”

Matt had a wild imagination and was often thinking everything was suspicious or some kind of conspiracy. He looked for patterns and clues all the time. He even dressed like a detective for Halloween the year before. “Hey! Look, the number next to the stairs, it’s our old house number! Maybe there are aliens reading our thoughts and sending us coded messages. Carrie rolled her eyes. Chad giggled and smirked, everything was a joke to Chad.

Jeff, remarked to Jenn, “You know that the attic in that house is barely tall enough for a short person to stand at the peak of the roof and that’s before putting in a subfloor.”

“Yes, I know, that is why I was picturing a playroom from for the kids. Plus, I dropped the idea when Matt was born. It would have been ridiculous to do such a renovation with kids and a newborn,” replied Jenn, “Still it is odd that we had such similar dreams though.”

Carrie looked at her Mom she looked troubled. “Kids?”

“What’s that, girly-girl?” asked Jenn cheerfully sensing Carrie was conflicted about something.

“You said, ‘A play room for the kids, before Matt was born, but it was just me?”Carrie looked a little alarmed.

“Oh, no. I’m sure I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did,” Jeff looked at her surprised peering over his glasses that set low on his nose for looking at the paper, “Twice actually.”

Jenn was sometimes stubborn but the odd looks at her family’s faces made her not want to argue, “Well, I’m so used to saying ‘The Kids’, that I guess it’s just habit now.” But she really didn’t remember saying it. Nor did she notice the inconsistency of such an intense desire for an extra playroom when they only had one child in a three bedroom house.

The kitchen clock chimed and reminded them they all need to finish breakfast. There was the normal chaos and fuss about who should clean up breakfast and who needed to find shoes and who needed their hair combed comb still. Finally, all the kids were safely on their buss with backpacks and lunches. Jenn found her keys under a pile of coloring books and left in a flurry.

Jeff, last to leave, spent ten minutes turning off lights and locking doors. How did the kids have time to open so many doors and turn on so many lights!  Pulling out of the driveway and down the street he sipped a 3rd cup of coffee. Recalling the strange conversation at the breakfast table, he suddenly had the same sense of loss and terror he had in his dream the night before. He had not relayed the feelings he had in the dream to the kids or Jenn that morning. He did not usually have nightmares; when he did he usually laughed them off the next day. He was not normally given to worry for no reason and certainly not from just some crazy dream. Yet hours after the dream his heart began to race at the memory. You have got to get a grip! He told himself yet again trying to snap himself out of…

Out of what exactly? He didn’t know.  However, no matter how reasoned with himself he still had an uneasy feeling.

To Be Continued….

Part 1- Stair Case

Part 2 – Wing-back Chair

Part 4 – Carrie’s Dream

Part 5 – Countdown

To find out more about the Jeff and Jenn Jones, subscribe to Rough Draft Paragraphs, and you can keep up with the Joneses.

 

Copyright 2018 J. A. Goggans

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