Saturday, August 31, 2013

The Lack of A Memory

I'm currently hard a work editing a collection of short stories, working on 3 big cookbooks, and writing new materials.  Below is one of my newer short stories, The Lack of A Memory I would love it if you could give me some feedback.  Tell me what you think!

The Lack of A Memory
by BD Manus

I was seated in the restaurant, I saw the police officer walk in, a big black burly man.  I peered around the corner, he saw me and called me over then motioned me to go behind the curtain on stage, I follow him.

He made sure no one followed us as we slipped behind another set of thick red velvet curtains to the back of the stage where the sofa was.  I sat down he remained standing.

“Are you sure this happened?” He asked me.

“Yes, I saw him with my own two eyes.  Why won’t any of you believe me?”  I asked him.

“Your case is costing us a considerable amount of time and money, that we really can’t afford.” He stated.

I walked away from him through the other end of the stage and out to the front of the restaurant.

A woman asked who that man was and what he wanted.

I replied, “He wants to drop my case.” as I walked out of the door.

The next day, back at the restaurant, the same police officer came back, again. Just as before, he ushered me to the back of the stage, but this time, we both sat down.

“I bet you don’t realize how much time and money we are spending on your case.”  He stated.

I replied, “If you can’t pay for the case, I’ll pay, how much do you need, one-thousand, two---.” 

“My, my, you are quick to put out a number.  Why?  What you are offering doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.”  The officer said angrily.

“I want you to find the man, the man who----.” I stopped, remembering.

“We will continue with your case for a few days longer, but if no evidence is found, we will have to drop it!  He shouted.

A few days past, I heard nothing, so I decided to walk over to the police station.  I made my way down the darkened alley, but when I arrived, the doors were locked, no one was in.

As I walked back to the restaurant, a situation was going down on the main street.  Two children were lying face down in the left turn lane, what I presumed to be their mother standing over them, screaming.  I looked up on the rooftop, a man holding a riffle, pointing directly at them.  The woman screamed a shot rang out.

I hurriedly took the back streets to the restaurant.

“Quick, quick, turn on the news, there is a hostage situation on the main street.”  I told the staff in the now emptied restaurant.

Later in the day, two police officers showed up, this time.  Again, I peered around the corner, as he motioned me back behind the stage.  This time, the women and I sat down, and he remained standing.

She placed a pad down on the sofa, and began writing.  Shortly there after, she removed three hospital bands from her pocket and held them up.

She spoke softly,” do you know why the buckles on these bands are at different places?”

“Yes, I think I know.  Each buckle represents how people perceive things.   People perceive thing at different times and different understandings.  My understanding of a situation will very greatly from someone elses.”  I told her.

“That is correct!”  She stated, and continued, “at this time, we are unable to continue with your case.  We have not found any evidence that a crime was ever committed.  We are not judging you, and what you perceived to be true.  It was nice of you to offer us compensation, but we cannot accept it.  As this moment, consider your case closed.”  She firmly stated.

She continued writing for a few seconds, then had me sign the sheet of paper.  They soon left the restaurant, never to return.

The whole ordeal was overwhelming for me.  For the life of me, after that day, I could not even remember what or why I filed charges.  I racked my brain for days and nothing ever came to me. 

I have to say that was the oddest experience I’ve ever been through.

The Lack of A Memory, Copyright (c) Manus Publishing.

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