The Bemused Time Traveler (Paperback or Softback)
Idioma: inglés
Editorial: Trafford Publishing 7/26/2013, 2013
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The Bemused Time Traveler.
N° de ref. del artículo BBS-9781490706634
- Título
- The Bemused Time Traveler (Paperback or Softback)
- Autor
- Preston, Gloria
- Editorial
- Trafford Publishing 7/26/2013
- Año de publicación
- 2013
- Estado
- New
- Tipo de libro
- Book
- Encuadernación
- Paperback or Softback
- Idioma
- inglés
- ISBN 10
- 1490706631
- ISBN 13
- 9781490706634
- Peso del artículo
- 0,99 libras
“Sinopsis” puede pertenecer a otra edición de este título.
Fragmento. © Reproducción autorizada. Todos los derechos reservados.
The Bemused Time Traveler
A novel
By Gloria A. PrestonTrafford Publishing
All rights reserved.
Contents
PROLOGUE, ix,
PART ONE JOURNEY INTO FEAR, 1,
PART TWO THE CHAOS CONTINUES, 51,
PART THREE THE ART OF TIME TRAVEL, 113,
PART FOUR SOME DANGER INVOLVED, 185,
PART FIVE THE UNSHAKABLE TRUTH, 241,
EPILOGUE, 339,
ABOUT THE AUTHOR, 341,
CHAPTER 1
THE KISS OFF
He made less noise than a ghost. Only his foul smellingbeer-breath hitting her full in the face revealed his presence. Whenshe opened her eyes he was hunched over her, leering expectantly.She turned on her side and pulled the covers up over her head.
"Go away, Mitch, I'm tired," she yawned.
"Get up. Hell, it's almost noon," he bellowed.
She drove her head further into her pillow.
"Did you hear me?" he rasped hoarsely. "What I got to saywon't wait ... and neither can I," he warned, kicking hard at thebed with his boot.
"Later, Mitch ... go away and leave me alone, please," shepleaded, relinquishing a long, murmuring sigh in hopes ofplacating him.
The tirade of profanities and the blow from the back of hishand exploded simultaneously. Reeling in shock she screamedhysterically as the warm blood inside her mouth trickled downher chin.
"My God, you hit me; I'm bleeding," she shrieked, holding herhand to her face.
The outbreak of her high-pitched squeals startled him. "Shutthe fuck up," he warned, his slack jaw quivering in fury.
"I ... I ... I can't stop ...," she whimpered fitfully.
"You'll stop or so help me ...," he flew at her in rage, draggingher off the bed and throwing her to the floor.
Her head struck the edge of the nightstand opening a smallgash above her left eyebrow. As the blood oozed down her cheekshe grabbed a corner of the bed sheet to staunch the bleeding.
"Get out of here, do you hear me, get out, get out, you ... youmiscreant," she shouted through closed eyes.
"So you want to call names, huh ... why you rotten bitch ...I came in here to tell you something and you're going to hear meout," he growled.
"Go to hell, Mitch, I'm not listening to you anymore," sheyelled.
"Fuck you ... when I tell you to do something, you do it orelse," he ordered.
He was undoing his zipper when she looked up. Before shecould squirm away he had climbed on top of her. His overeagerhands held her fast, her wrists in a vice-like grip above her head,her body pinned to the floor amid the shreds of her nightgown.
She heard herself shouting but the words were incoherent.She struggled to free her hands; her fingernails clawing at theempty air. Her mind, clouded with humiliation, seemed unable toaccept surrender even as her body shuddered in gratifying relief.
Heaving himself off the floor he fastened his pants. "Don't sayI never gave you nothing, lady," he glowered, "and if you don't wantyour ass hauled up out of here you'd better get the fuck up now,"he warned, his face contorted with anger as he slammed the doorshut.
She ignored the ultimatum. Instead, drawing herself upright,she staggered to the dresser and rummaged through the drawerfor another nightgown. Repulsed by her own nakedness, shequickly pulled it over her head. She rinsed with mouthwash andput a bandage on her forehead before an onslaught of thoughtsfrom the sexual encounter forced her back to bed.
Who does he think he's kidding; that's the only way he canmake love to me without being turned off by my appearance. It'snot lovemaking; it's debasement but I'd be lying if I said it could bedifferent between us. God, what's happening to me?
Struggling with the absence of intimacy, the murky, pervasivebouts of loneliness proved an unrelenting force. Being alone wasnot some nighttime horror; it was emptiness without escape,minutes, hours and weeks of it. Convinced that moments ofconventional passion were no longer hers to have, she becamedesperate for a sense of connection that would free her heart fromthe aching void. Abandoning her last vestiges of pride, she allowedherself to be drawn to men who temporarily quelled the unceasingemotional pain. Never mind their superficiality and crudity; itwas enough that their presence offered a respite from the crushingisolation of aloneness.
"Oh Gogo, I don't envy you your nine lives; one is bad enough,"she said, stroking the cat's soft fur.
"Ann, get out here on the double before I come in and yankyou out." The surly voice had grown more demanding.
"He's in a vile mood, Gogo. I best not antagonize him or hemight do something really bad. Mommy has to act contrite or thebig ape will leave us. We don't want to be alone, do we, puss?" Shegave the tiger-striped feline a peck on the nose and placed himgingerly on her pillow. "Be back soon, my precious."
"Mitch honey, okay, I'm here already. What's theemergency ... . WOW ... what cyclone hit this place?" Ann's eyessurveyed the rubble-strewn room. "What's going on in here?" sheasked trying to keep her voice restrained.
"What the hell does it look like?"
"A mess; the place looks like it did when you moved in."
"Except that I'm moving out," he said, brushing his long, sandyhair from off his pock-marked face as he grappled with a tapedispenser and a large packing box.
"When did you decide that?" she asked softly, her face ashen.
His silence was unnerving.
She could feel herself freaking out.
"Well?" Her question hung in the air as she walked past thecarnage and on into the kitchen ... "Did you hear me, Mitch?Why now? I'm not mad. Let's forget the whole thing," she cajoled,"and I'll buy you lunch at Wu Chung's and get you that jacket youliked." She walked back into the room and smiled down at him.
"Not this time."
She chose to ignore him. "What do you say, honey? I'll get thisroom back together in a jiffy and we'll make a day of it."
"You like it caveman style, don't you, babe," he snarled.
"It was my fault, honey, totally; I shouldn't have gotten you somad; forgive and forget," she implored pathetically.
"You ain't got no pride left, do you? You look like you were hitby a truck and you're begging for more. I'm tired of this game ofyours. If you ask me lady, you need a shrink."
"Don't, Mitch," Ann said, blinking back tears. "What is it youwant from me?"
"Aw, quit the phony act ... you're not fooling anybody," he saidirritably.
"If I promise to see a shrink...."
"I don't give a damn what you do; I'm bailing the hell outof this joint before I lose my fucking mind. It's over. In case youdidn't recognize it what I just gave you was a wham bam thankyou, ma'am, goodbye," he said ruthlessly.
"Don't I deserve to know why?"
"Why? Why not? Your medical problems are one thing butI sure as hell can't put up with a crappy psychic junkie ... seeingthings and babbling in your sleep all the time. Face it baby, you'redelusional ... hell, you're the only one I know who can trip-out ona magic carpet ride without a hit. Besides, it's no good between usanymore, and hasn't been for a long time."
"Why don't you say what you mean? You can't stand looking atme anymore." She tore open her bathrobe and pulled at the neckof her nightgown.
Mitch stared at her. "Can the drama, babe. It's you who can'tstand to look at yourself; every fucking mirror in the place is gone.A lot of women have breast operations but they get fixed up andmove on with their lives. I'm not saying it's easy but hell, you'reacting like some kind of casualty ... like you were shot up in somefricken war or something."
"You don't get it. I tried but ... no options; no alternatives. I'mbegging you, Mitch, try seeing me as I once was. I couldn't bearthe thought of being without you," she said, going to pieces rightin front of him.
"I ain't got that much imagination, baby. I hooked up with youbecause I thought both of us wanted some fun but what I didn'tfigure on was a damn nutcase," he said bitterly.
"Well, Mitch, I'm finally seeing you for what you are ...an ignorant jerk without a high school diploma who's got theunmitigated gall to try to analyze me."
"Look, at least I know who I am; it's you who's got theproblem. I never bargained for no relationship with a kinky, kookybroad like you. You beat all, you know that; pointing your finger atme like I was some fucking pervert."
"So the charade's finally over." She felt her shoulders go limpand exhaled loudly. "I've got to hand it to you, Mitch. You'vefinally got my back up, so skip the lousy lecture and get the hellout already."
"Color me gone, baby."
"Where the hell's the coffeemaker?" she asked sorting througha box he hadn't yet closed.
"I packed it. I bought it when you threw the last one at myhead ... remember? I'm taking this one with me."
"Like hell you are! I'm going through every one of those boxesyou, bastard." She flew at him but he grabbed her wrists and flungher to the ground.
"It's not the coffeemaker, is it? It's Peggy. Isn't it, isn't it?" Helet go of her before she could answer and shook his head. "You'renuts."
"Why couldn't we have talked about it? You didn't have topull a silly stunt like this to get my attention." She got up off thefloor rubbing her wrists and stared at the small scar on his temple."Don't you want more of the same thing you had today? I couldmake it good for you. You don't need someone like her in your life.We've been good for each other," she said, trying to put her armsaround him.
He shrugged her off. "Like you said, the charade's over. We'vehad a good run; leave it at that. You spent some money on me andin return I gave you what you wanted."
"Thanks, Mr. Bottom of the Barrel," she sneered.
"Look who's talking," he retaliated, staring at her angrily."You're so afraid of being alone that sooner or later you'll dragsomeone else in here. Be careful baby the next guy doesn't put youin a body bag on some slab in the morgue."
"Mitch," she said reaching out for him, "I ... I want us ... to befriends. Please don't leave me; I couldn't stand it if you left me."
"Oh, knock it off already. You can't even level with yourself.I may be a dropout but even I recognize a crazy-ass spook whenI see one. Better find out what that's all about before they startfeeding you through tubes in some psycho ward." He put on hisleather jacket, pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number."You guys ready? Everything's good to go."
"I swear I'll call the police ... this is outright theft, youbastard," she spit the threat into his face.
"Go ahead, call the police. After all, you're one of their favoritepeople; your DWIs are famous at the Wabash precinct."
"On second thought, Mitch, you're right. I've got enough scarsand sure as hell don't need a prick like you to make anymore."
Mitch held up his nearly empty bottle of beer. "Here's to uskid, you, me and all the other assholes, dicks and pussies of theworld," he laughed, guzzling down the last dregs.
Ann heard the knock on the door and moved toward thebedroom. She sat on the bed with Gogo until she heard the doorslam shut. Even then she waited until it grew dark before comingout to survey the damage. He had left a tangle of wires, bustedfixtures and chards of broken glass. A lamp, a table and a coupleof chairs were the only things untouched.
"Probably things old Peggy couldn't use," she said, her wordsechoing in the empty room.
Sure, she had known about Peggy but it never occurred to her thathe'd go live in that bug infested flat of hers. Mitch was right though; hiskind were a dime a dozen and she couldn't stand to be alone for too long.
She went back into the kitchen, opened the cabinet andretrieved the last bottle of vodka.
"Shit, only one shot left," she moaned, pouring the liquor intoa glass of orange juice and gulping down the liquid. She tossedthe empty bottle into the trash, halfheartedly vowing it would beher last.
CHAPTER 2CAREFUL, YOUR DISTORTEDREALITIES ARE SHOWING
Contrary to Mitch's prediction no one came after him.Terrified that her sanity was deteriorating, Ann sank deeper intothe abyss of solitude as the apparitions grew in frequency andpower. Weird yet magical, they unfolded like unrelenting dreamsblurring the lines between wakefulness and sleep. Sucked into thedarkness of unreal moments, she was both attracted and repelledby the images and like an obedient sleepwalker watched the sceneswith a blank face.
Panicked that anyone should learn her secret, she avoidedthe few friends that remained in touch. She no longer kept herdoctors' appointments and had stopped taking her medicationspreferring instead to self-medicate with alcohol. Afraid of whather co-workers might think, she eluded work on the pretext ofprolonged disability. In the beginning she hoped this period ofsullen withdrawal was temporary but as the weeks passed she tookcomfort in quiet seclusion with only her cat for companionship.
For whatever reason, the movies proved to be her onlydistraction. For two hours in the early afternoon the world ofcelluloid freed her from the disturbing illusions that stalked herevery waking moment. Her dreary existence was obliterated bythe threads of commonality woven together on the big screen; asafety net of peace devoid of apparitions.
Hidden in the theater's darkness she relaxed; the shadows ofvirtual anonymity disassociating her from personal memories,intolerable thoughts and abject loneliness. Transported with herfellow travelers through the agonies and ecstasies of film, lifeonce again captured a reflection of hope; a brief respite from thedreaded foe. But sadly, like all finales, the end was never far away.
I wonder what a mind sounds like when it snaps, she thoughtgloomily.
Fearing the long commute home, she knew it would be allthe worse in the isolated confines of her apartment. Movingunhurriedly toward the exit, she dawdled at the popcorn andcandy counters before finally emerging from the darkened buildinginto the light of day.
Without warning she felt flattened. It was starting again.Swirling lights coiled up around her as sunlit shafts pierced hereyes. She reeled away looking for escape but movement was allbut impossible. Ignoring the brightness swimming in her vision,she fixedly gazed at the graffiti splattered doors decorating thetheater's façade, etching the images as reference points into therational sanctuary of her mind.
In the beginning she had stubbornly resisted the attacks buthad since learned it was futile to fight. Most disconcerting wereher limitations on control; the visions had a mindset of their own;happening anytime and anywhere.
By now she was well-versed in identifying the physical signs.Growing increasingly nauseous, she waited for the inevitabledizziness to drag her into despair, leaving her emotionally drained.As if caught in the clutches of a nightmare she surrendered herconsciousness; floating inward, she squinted against the light asthe surrounding scenes, in slow-motion, dissolved and faded.
* * *
When she opened her eyes darkness had fallen and thetemperature had dropped. Although the rain had stopped, shefound herself sidestepping the puddles on the sidewalk trying tomaintain a sense of balance. Suddenly her eyes caught sight of atree limb directly in her path. It was devoid of vegetation and hungprecariously low to the ground. Although she swerved to avoid it,she knew the attempt was unsuccessful and that in all likelihoodshe had torn her coat.
On closer look, however, she was surprised that the treeand its branches appeared unnatural, almost like wood carvedinto tapestry. There was a one dimensional quality about it andalthough tempted to reach out and touch the form, its lifelessnessdisturbed her.
No wind stirred the trees; a sinister eeriness prevailed. Eventhe people had vanished. The street appeared under-lit as thoughthe lights, shrouded in unearthly fog, were unable to penetratethe melancholy shadows of the night. The traffic noises had beenmuffled into silence and she strained to hear almost any sound.
The premonition of despondency deepened; she was desperateto shake it. As the sensation of foreboding engulfed her she lookedin alarm down the vacant street. She began walking briskly andthen ran as the urgency bubbled up within her.
The neon lights from an all-night diner beckoned her forward.She raced without gaining ground, her feet barely moving. By whatpresentiment she reached the eatery she had no idea, having neverseen the place before. She opened the door and stood hesitantly inthe narrow confines of the entranceway waiting for the occurrenceto unfold.
From out of nowhere, a huge, barrel chested man chargedthrough the door pushing her aside. He stood with his hands onhis hips; his broad shoulders straining against the seams of hishoundstooth jacket as he scanned the inside perimeters of thedimly lit café. Obviously annoyed with the results of his search hewhirled about in a hasty attempt at retreat.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Bemused Time Traveler by Gloria A. Preston. Copyright © 2013 Dr. Gloria A. Preston. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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